by Helen Frost
on the table says “Cari’s candles” in Dad’s writing.
Dad and I went out to the shed yesterday and
brought in some boxes. Just a few. Not everything.
I hand Pam a jar of glitter to sprinkle on a warm,
wax-dipped pinecone. Thanks, she says. Do you want
to help? Sure—why not? I look around the cabin.
Blake’s (Tyger’s) things are scattered around. A plant
Pam brought home the other day is blooming on
a shelf they emptied. Dad told Abi and me to take
what we wanted of Mom’s to our room. A few books.
Her red sandals. Her painting of a sunset on the lake.
A Haircut and a Kiss
Claire
Ever since Abi drew that picture, and gave me
her hair clip, I’ve been using it in my hair. Now
I decide to cut my bangs. I get a pair of scissors
and hold a chunk of hair, just above my eyebrow.
But when I cut it off, and then another, I look
nothing like I thought I would. How do you cut
your own hair, anyway? When I see myself
in the mirror, it seems like it will be easy, but
it definitely is not. There’s this zigzag line
across my forehead, and not enough hair
left to make it straight. What should I do?
Forget it—I’ll leave it this way. I don’t care.
I pull my cap down over my face, but I must
have a funny expression, because Pam says, What
happened? She gently lifts my cap to look
at me. She doesn’t laugh. I appreciate that.
I can fix this, she says. Not too long ago
I might have stomped off and told her
I did not need fixing, but today I say, Really?
She says, Sure. On my laptop, I have a folder
full of pictures of girls’ hairstyles. Have a look,
and see what you like. She doesn’t hover
over me, she just studies the picture I find,
gets a hand-mirror, and a towel to put over
my shoulders, and then snip, snip, snip,
and she’s done. Dad says, You look more
like an eleven-year-old this way. Pam shakes the
towel outside. I sweep the hair up off the floor.
Just as good as Chloe, Abi says. Pam takes my chin
in her hand, tilts back my head. I don’t squirm away.
She smiles, admiring her handiwork, then leans in
to kiss my forehead. I have to admit, I look okay.
Eleven
Claire
Happy Birthday, Abi says, as soon as we wake up.
Then, early afternoon: Are you going to the beach?
Jonilet might be there, and I bet she’s wondering
where you’ve been. It’s not hard for me to reach
two conclusions: Pam and Abi are planning
to make my birthday cake—they’ve agreed
it’s Abi’s job to get me out of the way. And
Abi isn’t going to the beach herself, but she’d
love to know if Brock is there and, if so, whether
he’s sad and lonely—or not. Yes, I’m going, I say.
I head out in the kayak, paddling through
the water lilies, counting by elevens all the way.
I pass eleven docks, and see eleven ducks.
Eleven puffy clouds roam the clear blue sky.
They seem to float in front of me as I cut
through the water. When I get to the beach, I
pull the kayak out and count some more:
Eleven teenagers in the group Abi usually
sits with—two girls wave to me as I walk past.
Brock sees me and looks a little bit confused.
Maybe he’s wondering where Abi is.
Trinity walks over from the concession stand
with an ice cream cone she gives to him.
Good, there’s Jonilet. She waves, and
calls out, Claire—Happy Birthday! Sit with me. Wow,
she remembers my birthday from last summer. Hey,
she says, we’re the same age again. What’s different
about you? I shrug. Your hair, she says. I like it that way.
Benjamin Bunny
Abi
From what Claire says, it sounds like Pam is right
that I should try to talk to Brock before we leave.
He might still be thinking he did something
that made me not like him anymore. Which isn’t true,
but I don’t know what more to say, or how to say it.
Now Claire is sitting on her bed across from me,
holding Benjamin Bunny and lecturing: I still say
you should give him back to TJ. (Does TJ remember
giving him to me?) I have an idea, says Claire.
When they come over tonight, why don’t you
leave Benjamin Bunny out on a chair and see what
happens. If TJ doesn’t remember, he won’t even notice,
and if he does, you can give him back. It’s logical enough,
but there’s something I can’t admit to Claire. After all
these years, I’m not sure I want to give this bunny back.
Abi and TJ Sitting in a Tree
Claire
It’s crowded in our cabin with the whole
Johnson family plus the five of us. Devon
and the twins start to squish onto a narrow
bench on one side of the table, but then, even
though there are enough chairs for the rest
of us, Abi and TJ offer to take the bench. It’s
so obvious. Sadie and Sophia start singing
that song: Abi and TJ sitting in a tree, K-I-S—
But before TJ has a chance to stop them, Dad
interrupts, What is it with children’s songs and trees
anyway—that one, and the other one about a cradle
with a baby in it, falling down from a treetop? These
days, would anyone really rock a baby in a treetop?
Or sit in a tree kissing, for that matter? By the time
he’s said all that, nobody’s paying any attention
to how close together Abi and TJ are sitting. I’m
telling Devon where everything is on the table
so he can help himself, as Sadie and Sophia try
to get ketchup on their hot dogs, while Mom and
Mrs. Johnson are— Whoa, stop right there. Did I
just say “Mom” when I meant Pam? Not out loud,
but still. I want to think about that a little more.
After we eat, Dad and Mr. Johnson suggest
a Frisbee game, and we all head out the door,
trying to decide if boys-against-girls would be fair
this year. As TJ goes out the door, I see him pause
to pick up Benjamin Bunny from the chair that
Abi sat him in. Abi, you still have this? Because
I was thinking, we could give it to Blake—or should
I say Tyger? Funny, I thought it had more hair.
Abi laughs. I guess I kind of wore that off
when I was little. He does look kind of threadbare,
doesn’t he? She says “he” and TJ says “it.”
TJ doesn’t care about this, and he knows Abi
will enjoy sharing Benjamin Bunny with Tyger.
So that’s all settled. After we play Frisbee,
we make strawberry ice cream to go with the
chocolate-marble birthday cake Pam and Abi made.
We build a fire on the beach and sit around it,
talking, remembering other times we’ve played
Frisbee on people’s birthdays. Dad asks, What will
we all remember about this summer, after we’ve gone
home? Abi and I look at each other, thinkin
g of things
we won’t say, but she does say, I’ll never forget the swan
and her cygnets coming out of the channel. She lets
it be known that TJ showed them to her, and once
the twins hear that, it’s: When did you go? How come
you didn’t take us? We want to see the swans!
What a commotion. I tell them, This is why you two
can’t go. When you get near the swans, you have to be
quiet or you’ll scare the babies. Devon pipes up,
I can be quiet. Can I go? Abi and TJ look at me,
and we nod to each other. We could take Devon.
The twins start yelling, No fair! We can be quiet, too!
We laugh at them, and they get the joke and
quiet down. Promise, Sadie whispers. One canoe
could hold four people, but not six. We make a plan:
TJ and Devon can take Sadie in their canoe, and Abi
and I can take Sophia in ours. Sadie gloats,
Sophia and I can go, but not Tyger. He’s a noisy baby.
See You Next Summer, Maybe
Abi
Okay, I know I have to talk to Brock. I owe him
some kind of explanation—as honest as I can be
without hurting his feelings too much. This is
when he usually goes running—I’m headed his way,
hoping (kind of) to see him. Sure enough, there he is—
he waves and slows down a little, lets me catch up.
We run together for a few minutes without talking,
then stop at a drinking fountain with a bench beside it.
I want to get this over with—I sit down, and Brock sits
beside me. I wish I knew how to begin. Then, before
I say anything, he starts the conversation: Abi, he says,
I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but— What? I was not
expecting this—you’ll be leaving in a couple days,
and I’ll still be here. I think Trinity might like me,
so … He looks at me with a question on his face.
Oh. That’s okay, I say. I understand. He looks surprised.
You do? he says. I nod. Somehow, we’ve each said exactly
the right words, and no more. How did we figure this out?
Friends? he asks, putting up his hand for a fist-bump. I answer,
Sure. Bye. See you next summer, maybe. Is this how Claire felt
the other day, when she swam home from Anna’s Island?
The Swans Swim Closer
Claire
Midafternoon, Abi and I paddle to TJ’s dock
and get Sophia settled in the center
of our canoe. Devon and TJ, with Sadie,
lead the way across the lake. After we enter
the channel we stay together as we get closer
to the swans—the twins are ready to explode
from the effort of keeping quiet. Is this
exactly where you were when TJ showed
you the baby swans? Sophia whispers.
Abi points, No, they were right over there.
We paddle carefully that way, but stop
before we get to the nest so we don’t scare
them. TJ brings his canoe beside ours
and reaches out to take Abi’s hand,
pulling our two canoes together. Sadie
and Sophia hold hands, too, and
I glance over at Devon to see if he wants
to help, but he’s facing the other way.
Plus, he’s nine, and probably thinks
girls have cooties—which is okay
with me. We stay together for a while. Then
Abi and TJ drop hands so they can steer.
In this almost perfect silence, Devon picks up
some small sound that none of us can hear
and points in a direction we weren’t
looking. Sadie lets out a squeak of delight,
then claps both hands over her mouth
as the whole swan family—the two white
parents and four gray balls of fluff—come
into view. Sophia is so quiet, I glance
back to make sure she’s okay. She whispers,
Claire, I never thought we’d get a chance
to be this close to them. The swans swim over
to where we float in our canoes. No one speaks—we
don’t need to. It’s like we’re all one person. One
heart beating. At least that’s how it feels to me.
This Day
Abi
I love everything about this day.
The swan family, our two canoes
coming home late in the afternoon,
Devon offering to put their life vests away
and take the tired twins back to the house.
And Claire paddling our canoe home
by herself without saying why. She knows
TJ and I want to be alone for a little while,
to say goodbye. She guesses that we’ll kiss.
When we do, it’s different from last year.
A thousand memories, a million maybes,
a flash of joy—like lightning, only softer.
Heartstones
The lake
One more day
before they leave. Ah, a heart-shaped
red stone—let me move it close to shore.
Abi’s head is in the clouds today, but
Claire sees the stone right at the
edge of my water, and
stoops to pick it up. She
turns it, admiring its lines and colors.
Eleven years I’ve known her—from baby, to
rambunctious toddler, to this strong young girl
now beginning to consider the possibility that
even she might want to kiss someone—not
right away but, maybe, someday?
Today she’s content to find and
hold this stone. She lifts it to the sun to let it dry,
and dips it back into the water. After she does that several
times, she puts it in her pocket so she can take it home. Every
summer, she searches for a perfect stone, and often finds one on
the last afternoon before they go back home. I’ll always
remember the words she said the first time she found
a heartstone and proudly showed it to her dad:
Is this from Mom? Since then, I always try to
nudge one to shore for her to find.
Until We Come Back
Claire
I show Dad and Pam the heartstone I found this afternoon,
and Dad gives me a hug. I’m superstitious about this now:
It brings me luck until we come back next year, I explain to Pam.
She turns the stone over in her hand, thoughtful. Is that how
the lake got its name? she asks. Yes, I say. I find a heartstone
every year. You’ve seen them, in my room at home, in a bird’s-nest
I keep on my dresser. Dad says heartstones are a sign of love—
we should find one for you. Abi jumps up, missing the rest
of the conversation as she bounces out the door. I bet she’s
going down to the lake to look for one to give to TJ.
Sure enough, she’s gone for over an hour, and comes back
smiling. I found a heartstone, she announces, and gave it away
(to TJ of course), and then TJ gave this one to me!
Dad, she asks, when will we be coming back to close
the cabin this year? Dad laughs—Abi and I usually
hate that weekend, and from her expression, he knows
she’s looking forward to it. Sometime around Halloween,
as usual, he says, and then he adds, just to tease
her, You could stay home this year if you don’t want to help.
She says, No, we’ll come. Right, Claire? An
d then, Please,
Dad, could we come up for Thanksgiving and Christmas, too?
I want to see what winter is like up here. Dad says, It’s cold!
But he adds, We’ll see. I’ve been thinking we should
winterize this place pretty soon—before I get too old
to do the work. I think he’s joking about that—he’ll be
young for a long time—but it makes me wonder
if Abi and I will still be coming up here years from now
when Dad is old. Our babies crawling around under
the table, Abi and I and TJ and Devon and the twins
all grown up. Tyger and the Johnsons’ new baby
might be the age we are now. Dad interrupts this
line of thought with a reminder: Claire and Abi,
when your own things are packed, could you help
clean up the kitchen and get things in the car?
We go in our room and pack things in boxes, to stay
here, or in suitcases, to go home. Abi picks up the jar
of rice and fishes out her phone. I guess I’ll
have to tell Dad my phone went for a swim,
she says. She gave up on it about a week ago,
but she tries once more. I wish I didn’t have to tell him
about that, she says. I hope he’ll get me a new one. She points
the phone at me, something clicks, and she waves it in the air.
Look! she says. The rice dried it out—at least the camera
works. Abi-luck strikes again. In the picture, my hair
looks different than I’m used to, but I don’t hate it.
Which really means, I have to admit, I don’t hate Pam.
If she’s not too busy being Tyger’s mom to make time for me
and Abi, and if she wonders if I’m ready to accept that—I am.
As for Abi—when I saw her start to change so much,
I missed her. I felt like she was leaving me behind.
But it’s interesting to see where she’s going, and if I
ever head down that path, I won’t be traveling blind.
After we get our room packed, I ask Pam if she needs
help in the kitchen, and she says, Thanks, Claire. I sure do.
I can’t get anything done while Tyger needs all my attention.
Could you try to keep him occupied for half an hour or so?
And that’s how I come to fall in love a little bit myself.
Pam wraps him around me in the baby sling and we
