The Boys of Summer

by C. J. Duggan

  Chris was flat out taking money and filling pots; he looked up to see us standing before him as he pulled on the beer tap. His serious gaze didn’t change.

  “Two Lemon Ruskis, please, Chris,” Ellie said sweetly.

  “Everyone’s in there, don’t draw attention to yourselves.” He set two glasses of coke on the bar for us, and walked away to serve the next customer. I guessed that was a no to the Ruskis, then.

  Ellie slumped in bitter disappointment. “Could we look any more like teenagers?”

  “We are teenagers,” I said.

  “Yeah, but I don’t have to be reminded.” She took a long draw from her straw. “I suppose people might think it’s Bourbon and Coke?” she said hopefully.

  “Well, don’t complain too much, they were free. I doubt Chris’s generous mood will last.”

  The poolroom was packed, a trail of gold coins lined up along the pool table’s ledge indicating there was a fair wait for the next game. The forty-four-gallon barrels dotted around the room were stained by circles of drinks and ashtrays, as people sat around them on bar stools. The couch in the far corner was overcrowded to the point people were forced to sit on the coffee table or perch on the arms of the chair. The French doors were wide open letting a breeze roll off the lake and filter through the bar, which helped a little with the smoke and strong cologne all the boys caked on for the night’s festivities. I was only interested in one kind of cologne and I looked around, wondering who Chris had been referring to when he directed us to the poolroom.

  Then I saw him.

  Toby was leaning in the alcove of the French doors, talking to someone I didn’t know, a shorter guy with a buzz cut and a sock tan that clashed against his boat shoes. He leaned closer to him struggling to hear over the loud music. ‘Hurts So Good’ blared from the flashing jukebox. A couple of girls flipped eagerly to find some Shania Twain. Ellie spotted Stan leaning over the bar for a straw; she made her way over, sneaking up behind him, and whispered in his ear.

  “Hands behind the bar, please,” she said. He spun around, grinning from ear to ear.

  “You’re not going to tell the big guy upstairs, are you?” he teased.

  “Maybe, can’t make any promises.”

  I wanted to roll my eyes at the goofy looks they were giving each other, but an inner pang of jealousy overcame me. I envied how they could be openly flirtatious with one another. They were sending out signals to each other, and they both knew they were reciprocated. I was used to unrequited love and just as I was about to cast my usual doe-eyed longing glance across the room to the boy I knew I couldn’t have, I froze to see his eyes were on me. I smiled, and he mirrored me. I made my way over, and he watched my every step as he took a deep drink from his beer then placed it on the window ledge and leaned back on the doorframe.

  I looked at his beer with an arched brow.

  “Can’t even hold your own beer,” I said. “Are your arms that sore from all the swimming today?”

  “Almost as sore as my ego, but I’ll live.” He looked at my drink with a frown. I didn’t want to have to confirm I was only drinking Coke. I wanted to pretend as Ellie had done that I was not seventeen, and that I was just hanging with a boy in a bar on a summer’s night.

  “I’ll have the contract drawn up by my solicitor and have it to you as a matter of urgency.” I felt nervous, half thinking that he would laugh at me and say, “You didn’t expect me to follow through with the bet, did you? I was only joking, kiddo.” But instead he grinned; it was the teeth-exposing kind, the true grin, the unhinged Toby that made my tummy flutter.

  “I suppose two out of three would be out of the question?” he mused.

  “Not on your life, I couldn’t handle the humiliation,” I said.

  “Yours or mine?” he laughed.

  “Wow, were you seriously not there today when I shamed you? You were literally choking on the lake water I was kicking up in your face.”

  He crossed his arms, laughing. I sipped on my drink, innocently looking at him, loving every minute of our exchange, the exchange I was hoping to have this afternoon that never happened.

  Toby was wearing jeans and a navy polo shirt. He smelled amazing, his cologne was fresh and sharp. I wanted to step closer to bask in it all.

  Instead, I played it cool, waiting for his retort.

  “Tess, if it wasn’t for your manicured nails, I would have beaten you today, that’s how close it was, photo finish.”

  “You mean I have my dainty nails, on my dainty hands, to thank?”

  He picked up his beer, and then nudged me playfully with his foot.

  “You know I didn’t mean anything by it, right? When I said your hands were dainty. I meant it as a good thing.”

  “Oh yeah, sure.” Act cool, Tess.

  I knew it wasn’t meant in a spiteful way. Had I gone home and looked up the meaning of dainty in my pocket Macquarie dictionary? Maybe. Did the meaning state:

  Dainty: Delicately pleasing in appearance of movement?

  It sure did.

  And perhaps he didn’t know the meaning of the word so thoroughly as I did now, but it definitely wasn’t meant as a bad thing.

  As we gave each other a sly smile, each almost lost in our own world, a figure walked in the open French doors and wrapped herself around Toby like an octopus.

  “There you are! I wondered where you got to.” Angela smiled.

  And the moment was gone.

  Angela completely ignored my presence, turning her back to me as she pawed at Toby who stiffened in the surprise of her appearance.

  So much for being away for two weeks.

  “You sure you won’t come?” She pouted.

  “No, you go with the girls. Have a good time.” He held her upper arms, which were linked around his neck. I tried to sidestep away. I wanted to dissolve into the crowd, retreat into wallflower Tess again. I was about to back out of the French doors when I heard it, that all-too-familiar voice shout out from behind me.

  “TIC TAC?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  There are many levels of mortification.

  I turned slowly around and there he was. Scott, frozen on the footpath outside the French doors, looking at me as if he couldn’t quite believe his eyes. Oh no. No. Shattering a glass had been embarrassing. Wearing the teeny tiny bikini had been humiliating. But nothing – nothing compared to the flush of mortification, the rush of horrible high school memories. I felt it in Mr Burke’s Biology class when he read out that stupid note and coloured the rest of my high school experience with that stupid name. But nothing compared to the shame I felt now, in front of the Onslow Boys – in front of Toby.

  Angela, Toby, the girls at the jukebox, Sean from outside and even Chris, flat out in the bar, still managed to hear over the deafening music and collective chatter. He may as well have shouted through a megaphone, it was that loud.

  “I thought it was you, we were just on our way to Stevie’s when Dusty said, ‘Hey isn’t that Tic Tac?’” Scott said. “I thought ‘no way is it Tic Tac; Tic Tac Tess would never be hanging in a bar’.”

  Oh God, could he say that name any more times?

  It was like someone punching me, again and again, punching a hole in my chest. And the worst thing was, he wasn’t even trying to be malicious. To him, it was just my name.

  But to me, it really wasn’t. I couldn’t breathe. I had to get out of there. I had to. Scott was polluting the air with his mouth, and I could feel Angela and Toby’s eyes burning into the back of my head. I just gave a small smile and excused myself, darting through the crowd, straight to the refuge of the Ladies’ toilets.

  Again!

  I slammed through the door and clutched the basin with a white-knuckled intensity, thankful that I was alone. I flipped on the faucet and concentrated on the water, its circular motion around the sink and down the drain as it made its way out into the great beyond. Oh, how I wished I could go where it was going. I didn’t dare look at my reflection; I
didn’t want to see my scarlet flushed cheeks, or the tears that welled in my eyes. Why here? Why now? I had been doing so well. I had finally started to become something more than high school, more than that name. But then Scott thrust me straight back there. No, he had done worse than that, he had brought it into my new world, where I was not Tic Tac, I was simply Tess McGee.

  I had become a girl that could hold her own, could verbally spar and even flirt with the best of them. But now it was all tarnished. As soon as I gathered myself, I would walk out of here and just go home. It was a good plan. Ellie wouldn’t mind, she had Stan to hang with, and I would be home by a decent hour, and keep my parents happy. Win-win.

  The door opened, and I knew it would be Ellie checking on me. But it wasn’t. Angela sauntered in and propped her designer bag on the basin as she smoothed out a perfectly manicured eyebrow with the tip of her equally perfectly manicured fingernail.

  I busied myself with washing my hands, a task I pretended to be so fascinated by, that I couldn’t even tear my eyes from them. She was still; I could feel her watching me in the reflection of the mirror. I pretended not to notice. She tilted her head a little in my direction.

  “It’s Tess, isn’t it?” she asked in a gentle voice.

  “Yes,” I managed to say.

  She ran her fingers through her hair, fixing her already perfect reflection.

  I could see her eyes dart to my chest, and I felt myself flush even further, if that was possible.

  “You’re not small, you know?”

  Oh my God, this was not happening?

  She turned fully to me, facing me directly. There was no denying it: yeah, this was really happening.

  “He’s probably never even touched a booby in his life.” She shrugged and turned back to the mirror to reapply her lip gloss. “I would seriously doubt he is an expert on the subject.” She pouted at herself in the mirror and scrunched her hair.

  Was Angela Vickers going all deep and meaningful on me? And did she seriously just say booby? Who says that?

  She cast me a fleeting smile and without a word, picked her bag up off the counter and sashayed out of the bathroom.

  I stood stunned from what I could have sworn was a small act of kindness from Angela Vickers. I didn’t know exactly how I felt about it.

  I could do one of two things. Get Chris to sweep up my shattered ego off the poolroom floor, while I ran out the back door. Or two, I could play the ‘ignorance is bliss’ hand and go out and pretend that it didn’t even happen, all while completely avoiding Toby for the rest of the night. I was so humiliated I couldn’t even bring myself to look at him. Maybe Adam was right. I had changed, and Scott had wrenched me jarringly back down to reality. Reminded me who I was. I pulled my mobile out and began to text.

  To: Adam

  Fashionably late as usual? Where R U at bozo?

  We’re at the O Hotel.

  A second later the screen lit up.

  Adam

  Bozo?? I’m out the front.

  And with that, I gathered myself together (making sure I didn’t look too pitiful) and left my refuge to hang with Adam. Instead of going with the flow, I was going to go with what I know. And I knew Adam.

  We made peace. Things seemed back to normal between us as we both obviously didn’t want to bring up the conversation from earlier. Turned out Adam was only home for the weekend, so I was glad that I had this time with him. We sat on the outside picnic table, sharing a packet of crisps, when we saw Angela and four of her friends pile into a car. They were way too overdressed for Onslow. They must have been heading to Redding, the next biggest city half an hour away; it was the place to go once you turned eighteen.

  Adam snared the last chip.

  “So you going to Stan’s later?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, not fussed either way.”

  “Who’s going to look after Ellie?”

  “I think she will be right. Stan’s a good guy.”

  “Yeah. I don’t think she’d know if we were there or not, the way they’re making doe eyes at each other.” He shuddered.

  “Well, well, well, what do we have here?” My seat dipped as Sean sat down next to me. Toby was right behind him, standing at the head of the table. His cool, reserved manner was back and I mentally slapped myself for the flips my traitorous stomach made at the sight of him.

  Get a grip, Tess.

  “We’re heading off soon, there is far too much Shania Twain pouring out of the jukebox.”

  “The netball girls are on a bit of a rampage tonight,” added Toby.

  Sean stood. “You coming?”

  I made a point not to look at Toby even though I could feel his eyes on me, waiting for my reply. Instead, I looked at Adam and posed the question to my best friend.

  “What do you wanna do? It’s your weekend.”

  “Hmm. Shania Twain or a party at Stan’s?” He drummed his chin thoughtfully with his finger.

  “I don’t know how much better it will be,” Sean said. “I’m pretty sure you’ll be reduced to witnessing Ellie and Stan suck face all night if their actions in the bar are anything to go by.”

  I cringed. I’d left her alone for five minutes, and she had already publicly disgraced herself.

  “One thing I can be sure of, though, there will be no chick power ballads,” Sean added.

  I pouted. “What? No ‘I am woman, hear me roar’?”

  “Definitely not!”

  Either we were to stay at the Onslow with the netballers and be subjected to tabletop dancing or head to Stan’s for a game of pool and semi-decent music. Deep down, okay, not even too deep down, I knew what my choice was. I knew it the second I looked up at Toby.

  We walked through the night, making our way to the caravan park nearby. We gave up worrying about waiting for Stan and Ellie who were stopping every five minutes for a quick pash against a tree. I wanted to get as far away from them as possible. The rest of us walked in uncomfortable silence, and Ellie giggled and squealed followed by sucking noises behind us. Over and over again.

  I felt the butterflies in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t miss Scott, that was for certain, but I did miss the weight of a boy on top of me, making out for hours, and chaste stolen kisses on the walk home at night. I missed the heart palpitations and the strange stirrings I was only just beginning to understand. I missed being the object of someone’s affection.

  As we walked, Adam and Sean played footy with a crushed beer can, even going so far as to run some commentary for themselves. According to the commentators (Adam and Sean), Sean was the number one Champion in the World and Adam was the undefeated five-time Premiership Captain.

  They were somewhat ambitious. I laughed at their deluded fantasies as they darted further in front of Toby and me.

  And then I was painfully aware that I was walking in the dark with a boy. Not a boy, the boy. But I couldn’t have him. I couldn’t steal kisses from him. I shouldn’t even look at him the way I do, the way I always have. Still, it didn’t stop me from wanting to walk closer to him, just so I could listen to his breathing or his low laugh as Sean tripped over his own foot.

  “And the World Champion goes down!” he mused.

  “Oh no! The impact of his ego hitting the ground could tilt the world off its axis,” I added.

  “Tsunamis and earthquakes will ripple through the world.”

  “A crater will form and create a new lake system.”

  “Where are you heading? Oh, we’re just going to Lake Sean.”

  We both lost it in dual fits of laughter at our own commentary.

  “What’s so funny?” Sean asked, but we were far too amused to answer.

  We stopped at the gate to Remington’s Caravan Park, thinking it only appropriate to wait for the host of the party to lead the way. Toby climbed onto the gate and sat, while I fidgeted with impatience and shuffled from one leg to the other. Finally, a figure appeared from the darkness. Ellie was walking, her eyes cast down, arms cross
ed against her chest as if stemming off a wayward chill that didn’t exist.

  “Where’s Stan?” Sean asked.

  She walked straight past us through the gate. “Who cares?” she said coldly.

  Adam and I looked at each other with grim expressions.

  Uh-oh.

  “Is she alright?” Toby jumped down from the gate.

  “Yeah, it’s probably nothing,” I said. Knowing Ellie, it was definitely something, so friend duty beckoned, and I followed her into the park.

  I sat opposite Ellie on one of the logs that had been cut purposefully and arranged in a circle. So campers could sing ‘Kumbaya’, probably. It took everything in me not to so much as crack a smile as I stared blankly at Ellie, registering what she just told me. She was pretty upset so I had naturally thought the worst: that nice guy Stan wasn’t actually a nice guy after all and tried to force Ellie into something back in the bushes. But as unlikely as it seemed, I was truly taken back when I found out why Ellie was actually so distraught.

  “You know how I have put on a bit of weight since school stopped …”

  I didn’t know or notice. Still I humoured her with patient silence, urging her to continue.

  “Well, we were kissing and his hands were wandering around my back. Which distracted me and I just said to him as a joke, ‘Don’t touch my flabby bits’ and then he said ‘But I like every part of you, even your flabby bits’. Can you believe he said that?”

  I cringed inwardly, not because he said what he said, but because my heart went out to the guy. What had been meant as a really nice compliment along the lines of ‘I like you just the way you are’ had received punishment. He had suffered one hell of a case of foot in mouth that would take Ellie some getting over.