Unplugged Summer: A special edition of Summer Unplugged

by Amy Sparling

I pull off the chain and study it, wondering what made it break. Dirt bike chains are thicker and stronger than regular bicycle chains, but they also go through a lot more damage when riding.

  A shadow moves in the upstairs balcony of the house next door. I don’t bother looking over. It’s probably that old guy deciding if he wants to come yell at me again. Then there’s a small crashing sound, like glass breaking, and I still don’t look up.

  The shadow talks. “Oh my God, no!”

  It’s a female voice, and it sounds like someone younger, not like an old woman. But it also sounded really fake and weird, so I ignore it. Then she talks again. “This sucks!”

  She sounds distressed, and I put two and two together. She must have just broken something. I look up, but the shadowy figure has disappeared. A few seconds later, a girl walks out the back door, bending down to where whatever she broke has landed.

  I can’t help myself, I walk over there.

  “Hi,” I say, waving so she doesn’t get scared out of her mind when she turns and sees some strange dude standing here.

  “Hello,” she says, standing and facing me. Oddly, she doesn’t seem surprised at all to see me here. Most girls freak out when guys appear in the dark. We shake hands. “I’m Bayleigh,” she says, her lips twisting into a nervous grin.

  My stomach tightens. When I’d heard her cry out, she sounded younger, like a kid. Now I see she’s not a kid at all. She’s my age. And she’s really cute.

  But I am not allowed to think that because I’ve sworn off women and dating and everything that goes with them.

  “I’m Jace,” I say remembering that we just shook hands. “What happened?”

  She cradles some broken glass in her hand. “I dropped it, and it rolled off.” She frowns and tosses the pieces down to where the remnants of a snow globe sit on the concrete. “It’s definitely not repairable.”

  “That blows.” I take a deep breath and keep the conversation light. “Do you collect snow globes?”

  “It was my mom’s.” She nods toward the room with the balcony. “That room was hers and it still has all of her stuff in it.”

  “So this is your grandparent’s house?” I ask.

  She nods. This is good, because there’s no way I can spend time thinking about the granddaughter of the guy who hates me. Still, I can’t help myself. I have to keep talking. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here.”

  “I’m just visiting for the summer. The whole summer.” She groans, and I can’t say I blame her. This town sucks.

  “The whole summer in this hick town?” I say. “Welcome to my nightmare.”

  She laughs, and then I’m laughing too. She’s very adorable when she laughs, but I can’t be thinking that right now.

  “There’s really nothing to do here,” she says. “What are your plans for tonight?”

  Trying not to think about you, I think. Instead, I shrug and say, “I’m just going to watch HBO.”

  “I love HBO, but my grandparents don’t have cable.” She looks so sad, so deprived of such fantastic television. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself. I ask if she wants to come over and watch it with me.

  “Sure,” she says with a shrug. I’m not some kind of girl genius or anything, but it seems like maybe she’s excited about it, but she’s not letting me know. I know where she’s coming from though, because I’m excited she agreed to come over, but I’m not going to show it either.

  I take her inside, realizing only a few seconds later that I should have warned her about the state of the place first. “Yeah, umm, I didn’t decorate the place,” I say, nodding toward a taxidermy quail perched on the mantle. The situation is a little awkward so I duck into the kitchen. “You want a drink? I’ve got Coke, Mountain Dew, sweet tea…”

  Bayleigh smiles. “Coke is cool, thanks.” I toss her one and then she says, “So if you didn’t decorate the place, who did?”

  “My grandfather.” As much as I want to sit next to her on the couch, I slide into the recliner instead so I can keep my distance from this girl who gets a little cuter each time I look over at her. She sits on the couch, choosing the seat that’s far away from me.

  “Do you live with him?” she asks.

  “He died a few years ago. Cancer.” I gesture toward the room around us. “Left me the whole house and everything he owned.”

  She frowns. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Eh, I never really knew him that well. Him and my dad had a falling out and they never spoke, so I dunno.”

  “Wow, he left everything to you and you didn't even know him?”

  “Well, he had no one else in his life,” I say.

  “And you just live here without changing anything?” she says, opening her drink.

  “Nah, I live in California. I just came here for the summer. Take inventory of what is now mine and all…” I just say some bullshit because I can’t let her know the real reason I’m here.

  “So you’re from the west coast and you like dirt bikes.” She smiles, and I’ve seen that smile before. She’s impressed.

  “It’s a little more than like, girl. It’s my entire life.” I might get a little too emotional here, but I can’t help it. Motocross is my entire life, and it’s what I’m fighting for.

  Her brows pull together. “What do you mean?”

  There’s no way I can possibly explain it. I’ll sound like a lunatic with how obsessed I am, or I’ll get angry about Luke or… yeah, I just can’t. I change the channel on the TV and pretend like I’m super invested in it. “This movie is hilarious,” I say. “Want to watch?”

  She nods. “So what do you mean?” she asks again. Now almost want to tell her. But I don’t. “Okay fine, don’t tell me,” she says, turning to the TV.

  I am a shit bag. I lean forward. “Sorry, I know that’s rude of me, but I’m not in the habit of telling people about my career right now.”

  “Career?” she says, lifting an eyebrow. “Yeah, you should definitely tell me.” She giggles and it makes my stomach hurt because she truly is one of those girls who are just adorable no matter what. She’s not even dressed up or covered in makeup, and she’s still so fucking cute. “You can’t possibly be old enough to have a career,” she says.

  “I race motocross for a living. You can go pro at eighteen. It’s my first year of being pro.” I lift my chin a little. “You know, getting paid to ride.”

  She seems genuinely surprised. “Wow, so you’re like really good?”

  I nod, but my self-esteem falters because although I’m fast as hell on a bike, the career part of it is kind of hanging in the balance right now. She must notice the weirdness on my face because she says, “So is it the off season?”

  “Not exactly,” I say. I turn back to the television because I am so not talking about this anymore. Everyone else I know already thinks I’m a failure in my career. I don’t really feel like explaining it to yet another person.

  After the movie is over, I offer to give her a grand tour of the house. She says yes, which surprises me in a good way. I’d kind of feared she’d immediately go home. I show her around, pointing out weird things I’ve noticed in the time I’ve been here. Like how my grandfather kept every National Geographic magazine for the last twenty years.

  When we get to my room, her eyes go wide and she stares at my bed as if she’s never seen something so amazing before.

  “Jace, I know we don’t know each other very well, but do you think I could please, please borrow your phone to call my friend real fast?” she says, her knees bending as she pleads with me.

  Kind of weird, but whatever. “Sure,” I say. “Knock yourself out.”

  She practically dives toward my phone and begins punching in a number. “Thank you so much. I’ll only be a second. It’s that my phone…broke…and I haven’t been able to call my best friend for days.”

  I smile and wave away her excuses. It’s really not a big deal. “Yeah, it’s cool. I’ll just be in the livin
g room when you’re done.”

  “Thanks,” she says again. She grins at me and puts the phone to her ear.

  I venture back out into the living room, but a few minutes later I hear her gasp as if she’s really upset. I can’t help myself. I walk back to my room and lean against the door. She spins around when she hears me approach. Anger is etched across her face, my iPhone clenched tightly in her hand.

  “Something wrong?” I ask.

  She looks me dead in the eyes, and she lies to me. “Nope.”

  Chapter 7

  It was hard to sleep last night. It’s been hard to sleep a lot of nights lately, but this time the thing keeping me awake wasn’t my jail time, The Ex, or my failing motocross career.

  It was a girl.

  The smart part of my brain is fucking pissed at me for letting one visit with a girl I just met screw me up like this. I know I should be focusing on my bike, my training. Anything but girls. But the stupid part of my brain can’t stop thinking about her. It was only one visit, one night, one movie on my couch. I didn’t even make a move on her like I would have in the old days back in California. All we did was hang out, and she left rather abruptly after having a phone call.

  I’m a little ashamed to admit, but I Googled the phone number she called after she left. Nothing came up, so I guess it was just the cell phone of a friend or something. She’d seemed pretty upset so I can’t help wondering if she was talking to a guy. I also can’t help but think that if a girl like Bayleigh were my girl, I’d never say anything to make her seem so upset on the phone.

  But I can’t think like that, so I go outside and get ready to ride, only I’m not really feeling it today. I put on my gear and roll my bike out of the shed, then set it on the stand. One of the side panels is a little scuffed up, so I grab a screwdriver and take it off. I don’t really know why, because it’s not a big deal. I just need something to do with my hands. After it’s off, I sit on the porch and stare at the bike, trying to will myself to get on it and ride. For some reason, I’m just not in the mood.

  The reason is a girl. And that girl just walked into my back yard. “Hey you,” she says.

  “Morning,” I say, leaning in closer to my bike so I can pretend I’m working on the stupid fender. I have to look at the bike, otherwise I’ll see those tight leggings she’s wearing and my mind will wander places. Okay, well that didn’t work, because it’s already wandering to those very places it’s not supposed to go.

  “I brought you some brownies,” she says, holding out a plastic tub.

  I grab one and take a bite. The thing is good so I stuff it in my mouth and get back to staring intently at my bike.

  “Wow, fatass, you want another one?” she says with this little sarcasm in her tone.

  I can’t help but smile. I like a girl who can talk shit. “Watch it, girl,” I say, taking another brownie from the tub. She laughs and sits next to me, her hand reaching out for the screws from my fender.

  “Don’t lose those,” I tell her. The Ex used to play with stuff when I was working on my bike and she’d always forget where she put it.

  “So what are your plans for the day?” Bayleigh asks while she plays with the screws in her palm.

  “No one ever has plans in this damn town,” I say. “There’s nothing you could possibly do here that doesn’t involve having a plane ticket to somewhere else.” I reach over and take one of the screws from her hand and replace the fender back on the bike.

  “I don’t have plans either,” she says. She stands up and dusts off her ass, which only makes me look at her ass, which is a very bad thing for me. “I brought a stack of DVDs from home, so I’ll probably just watch movies all afternoon.”

  She gives me this little smile and then starts to leave and I know she needs to go and get out of my life and stop tripping me up, but my dumbass starts talking so she won’t go. “What kind of movies?”

  “About a hundred of them actually.” She’s grinning sheepishly and I think I love this grin of hers more than the rest of them.

  I nod. “I think you should go get that shit immediately,” I say. “I’ll order us a pizza and we can veg out all night.”

  Her eyes crinkle at the corners and I can tell I’ve made her day. She heads home and as much as I want to watch her ass walk away, I slip back inside and brush my teeth real quick, then give my hair a look over in the mirror. Luckily, I haven’t been on the bike all day, so I’m not covered in sweat. I look up the number to a pizza place and then call it.

  When she gets here, she knocks on the front door, which is kind of adorable. The Ex used to just barge her way into wherever she wanted. My house, my RV, my hotel room. She had no boundaries. I let her inside and pour us each a soda while I tell her about the pizza that’ll be here in twenty five minutes. “I also ordered cheese bread but I’m in a pretty horrible mood so I might eat it all.”

  She doesn’t ask why I’m in a horrible mood. I kind of wish she would, although I don’t want to talk about it. I guess I just want her to want to know about me. Anyhow, we get our food and we watch some movies and I try like hell to stop myself from looking over at her. As much as I know I should stay away from this beautiful girl, the thought of her going home at the end of the night makes me feel lonelier than when I was in jail.

  Bayleigh leans forward on the couch. I glance over at her, and she seems like she wants to say something. We’ve been talking this whole time, but not about anything important. Her lips are flattened, like what she wants to say is very important.

  “Do you have a girlfriend back at home?” she says finally.

  “Nah,” I say, looking at my hands. “Not anymore at least.”

  “Girlfriends are overrated anyhow,” she says with a cute little shrug.

  “So you don’t have a girlfriend either?” I tease her.

  “Oh shut up,” she says, but her cheeks redden. She takes another slice of pizza and busies herself by staring at it. “So did you come here by yourself? Why didn’t you bring friends or something?”

  “I don’t have any friends I could spend a summer with,” I tell her and I realize it’s pretty damn true. My best friend Park is too busy and I don’t have anyone else. “They would drive me insane after a week.” I want to smile, but now I’m thinking about the reason I’m here and I just can’t. “Plus, I deserve to spend a summer alone.”

  “Why would anyone deserve isolation?” she asks, her eyebrows pulling together in the center. “That’s harsh.”

  “I’m gonna need a drink if I’m going to tell you this sory.” I stand up and take my empty soda glass into the kitchen. Bayleigh follows me, and when I pour some whiskey into my Coke, she puts her glass next to mine.

  “Me too,” she says.

  I narrow my eyes. “You’re too young to drink.”

  “So are you.” She straightens her shoulders.

  “So.”

  She makes this little puppy face. “One shot?”

  I sigh, and pour a shot into her soda. I’m not thrilled at being a bad influence on this girl, but I can’t say no to those eyes and that little puppy face she just pulled on me. Totally not fair.

  Back in the living room, Bayleigh sits next to me, downing her drink faster than she should. I get the feeling she’s not like the girls back home who have been drinking themselves into unconsciousness since they were twelve.

  I put on another movie and enjoy the closeness of someone so sweet and innocent sitting next to me. There’s a pretty good chance she won’t steal my wallet and order shit off the internet while I’m not looking. The Ex did that shit. Not this girl.

  She sighs and rests her head on my shoulder. My whole body freezes and then floods with a warmth that is not at all what I should be feeling right now. I want to lay my head on top of hers. I want to wrap an arm around her shoulder, or better yet, pull her into my lap. I want to see if those glossy lips of hers taste as good as I’m imagining.

  She sighs softly. “This night is exactly what I nee
ded,” she whispers.

  I reach over and grab her knee and squeeze it gently. “Me too.”

  Chapter 8

  This is really fucking bad.

  For the last few months, when I wake up all I’m thinking about is my career and how to get it back on track. This morning? I woke up thinking about her. That is not okay. Why, Jace? Why are you such an idiot?

  Just to take my mind off her, I go for a jog at the crack of dawn. I don’t allow myself to look over at her grandparent’s house as I jog by; I just stare at the road in front of me and pretend her house doesn’t exist. I jog for probably two or three miles before I realize my little escape plan isn’t going to work. Jogging doesn’t require my mind, just my body. While my legs are moving, my brain is free to think about whatever it wants.

  So I turn around and go back home and look around for something to busy my mind instead. I shower quickly because in the shower all I think about is her. Then I get to work unpacking my clothes and organizing my room to make it a little neater and not so disorganized. I load up my iPod with some educational podcasts and then blast the speakers so I can hear it all around the house. Educational podcasts are the perfect thing to think about, right? There are no girls involved in learning about what physicists think causes dark matter.

  I find a duster in the laundry room and I go around the whole house, dusting off the years of neglect. I’m not exactly Mr. Chores or anything, so I have to figure out how to do all of this shit. I grab a vacuum and get the floors and then I use the hose attachment thingy to dust off the ceiling fan blades. I’m pretty proud of myself for getting the house clean, but it hasn’t taken my mind off of her. She’s too pretty to forget about.

  Once the house is clean, I dive onto the couch and try to watch some TV, figuring I might be able to find a show interesting enough to take my mind off her. And then I see her DVDs on the TV stand. My heart lights up because I finally have an excuse to see her.

  I give myself a once-over in the bathroom mirror, making sure I don’t have food in my teeth or anything, and then I grab her DVDs and rush over to her house. Maybe she’ll want to hang out and watch more movies with me. Maybe I’ll invite her to dinner or something.