“Yes, really.”
“I’m just surprised. I mean, you go to a fairly decent school, right?”
“It was a great school, one of the top ones in the district,” I said, defending the place that I’d complained about for four years straight. You found yourself doing strange things when you were insulted, when your West Side Lions pride was at stake.
“So what are you planning to major in?”
“I don’t know. I want to leave myself open and be flexible. Photography, maybe?” I said.
“Photography. Huh. Can you actually major in that?”
“Why not?”
“Seems kind of lightweight.”
I didn’t know if I could do some kind of Spider-Man move and swing down to his balcony and kick him in the teeth, but I was tempted to try. “Do you really need to put me down? You always have to get your digs in, like you’re so much better than the rest of us.”
“Sorry!” Spencer laughed.
“It’s not funny.”
“I didn’t know you were so thin-skinned,” Spencer said.
“I’m not. You’re so rude and arrogant.” I pushed back my chair and stood up, wondering if it was too late to follow Blake and his pals into town. That sounded like a lot more fun than hanging out here, getting insulted by Spencer.
“Come on, Em, I was only—”
“And I’m only going inside,” I said, sliding the door closed behind me.
Some people had changed more over the years than you expected them to, and some people hadn’t changed at all.
Chapter 6
The next morning I managed to get up very early and took some gorgeous photos of the sunrise over the ocean. I was hoping that Blake would wake up early, too, see me out on the beach, and feel compelled to come join me. It could be just like in my dream. Sure, why not? He’d run out, call my name . . . I’d run toward him and jump into his waiting arms, and he’d twirl me around, the way in-love couples were supposed to do.
But no, the only being that had approached me so far was a seagull—a very aggressive seagull, who’d nearly made off with my breakfast bar. He’d twirled around me for about five minutes before giving up. That was the only twirling going on this morning.
I lay down on my towel and stretched my arms above my head, then I rolled over onto my stomach and rested my cheek against my arms. I was so relaxed that I was nearly ready to go back to sleep. Maybe it was time for me to go get another cup of coffee, I thought. Or maybe I should just give in: After all, this was my vacation, and maybe Blake would see me sleeping out here and decide to . . . I don’t know . . . snuggle up against me because—
Suddenly, I heard someone clearing their throat.
I looked up just in time to see Blake drop onto the sand beside me. “Morning,” he said. “Did I wake you up?”
“N-no,” I said as I turned over to sit beside him. He was wearing long, madras plaid shorts, a bright yellow polo shirt, a white cap, and no shoes. Something about his getup didn’t quite add up, but I didn’t say anything.
“Nice day,” Blake commented. He held out a white bag. “Here. We stopped by the bakery on the way home last night. There were thirteen to start with. I think. Have one,” he offered.
“Thanks,” I said, gently pulling a powdered doughnut out of the bag. “I think I saw you guys leave last night, when I was out on my balcony.”
Blake snapped his fingers against my bare leg. “Was that you who shrieked?”
Oops, forgot that part. “You heard me? Well, I kind of slipped and lost my balance—no big whoop.”
“You almost plummeted to your death. No big whoop,” he teased. “Y’all are crazy.”
“Anyway, what did you guys do?”
“Oh, we went into town to see if we could find something to do. We didn’t. But we did find out about a band coming in a couple days. They’re great—I’ve seen them play before.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. We’ll have to go,” he said.
Was he asking me out? I’d hardly ever been asked out before, so I wasn’t sure. Did “we’ll have to go” count as a date? “Definitely,” I said.
“Look out, you’ve got some powdered sugar right there.” He brushed at my arm, and I felt a shiver go up my spine. “You have a great body. You know that? I mean, you probably know that. Never mind.”
I knew that by this point, my entire upper torso must be blushing. I was used to having ballet instructors comment on my line—not guys comment on my curves. “I do? I mean . . . thanks.”
“You do sports? Work out?”
“I dance,” I said.
He shot me a questioning look.
“Ballet,” I explained.
“Isn’t that kind of expensive? Don’t you have to starve yourself?”
“Yes, and no.” I held up the doughnut, and we both laughed.
“What did you guys do yesterday?” Blake asked. “I looked around for you a couple of times but you weren’t around.”
He’d looked around for me? Why did I have to be touring lighthouses? Mom and her plans. Her wicked plans. “We, uh, we saw lots of things. We were basically stuck in a van with our parents for the whole day,” I admitted, hating to seem young. “Today we’re going to see if we can, you know, do something without them.” Unless I get a better offer, that is. “What are you up to?” I asked.
“Us? We’re off to play golf again.”
“Barefoot?” I asked. Who do you think you are, Spencer? I almost added. And was the fact they had something in common a bad thing?
“My golf spikes are in the car. You only wear them on the green.”
“Right. Of course. Well, then that makes sense, I guess.” Open mouth, insert sand-covered foot.
Blake glanced at his watch. “I should get going.”
“Yeah, me too, probably.”
We both got to our feet, and I was about to ask him if he maybe wanted to teach me how to golf when Heather and Spencer came outside. Heather grinned when she saw me standing with Blake—me in my bikini and long T-shirt, and Blake in his golfing clothes.
“Well. Good morning,” she said, walking up to us.
“Hey, y’all,” Blake said. “Doughnut?” He held out the bag to Spencer. “We got them late last night, but they’re still really fresh.”
Heather’s smile widened. “You guys have been out here eating doughnuts all night?”
Spencer looked slightly horrified by the thought as he pulled a chocolate doughnut out of the bag, as if the idea of me and Blake eating a baker’s dozen tainted his breakfast somehow.
“No, not all night.” Blake laughed. “I just came out and found her here.”
“Funny. It’s almost like she was waiting for you,” Spencer said.
“I was taking pictures,” I said through gritted teeth. I wanted to get Blake’s golf clubs from the car and whack Spencer in the head with them.
He was just happily munching on the chocolate doughnut, like he hadn’t suggested a thing.
“Actually, more like sleeping, when I saw you,” Blake said.
“She needs to rest between pictures. Very exhausting work, photography,” Spencer said.
I glared at him. “You have no idea.”
“Anyway, we’ve got great news, kiddo,” Spencer said, after taking another big bite of doughnut and polishing off the whole thing.
“I’m not a k-kiddo,” I managed to stammer, despite the fact I was feeling like a kid with a crush. On Blake. I couldn’t believe I’d ever had a crush on Spencer.
“We found three bikes in the shed beside the house—we’re planning a trip down the coast,” Spencer said. “There’s enough for all four of us—one of the bikes is a tandem.”
I glanced at Heather. Did we necessarily want to spend the whole day with Adam and Spencer?
“You guys have fun,” Blake said. “I have to get going or I’ll miss tee-time. See you tonight?” he called over his shoulder as he headed off the beach toward the parking lot.
<
br /> “I don’t know,” said Heather. “I’m not sure.”
He stopped walking and faced us. “Oh, come on, you’ve got to be there.”
She laughed. “I was just kidding. Of course we’ll be there!” she said.
“Oh, yeah, you won’t get rid of them,” Spencer said. “You’ll try, like we’ve tried, but still, no. They’re like—”
“We’re going now,” Heather said, dragging Spencer away by force.
“Okay, so . . . how did you convince our parents to let us go exploring on our own?” I asked.
“They’re going to play golf too, and they couldn’t see any reason to drag us along when none of us actually play,” he said.
Well, no, but, um . . . If we were to happen to go to the same golf course as Blake and everyone, wouldn’t that be kind of a nice coincidence? “We could learn,” I suggested.
“Run around hitting a tiny ball wearing plaid shorts?” Spencer shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“What are you talking about? I love the plaid shorts,” said Heather.
“Me too,” I said. Especially on certain people.
Spencer stared at both of us and let out a long sigh. “Well, you guys can golf. I’m going to explore the Outer Banks and try to make something out of this vacation. Emily, what are you waiting for? Where’s your camera?” he asked.
“Right here. Why?”
“Don’t you want to get a picture of that?” he asked.
“Of what?” I replied.
Spencer held out his hands as if he were framing a picture. “Volleyball dude driving away. Car vanishing. Taillights. Turn signal. Et cetera.”
I laughed and shook my head. “You have no artistic sense.”
“Oh, sure. It’s me without the artistic sense,” he scoffed.
“What, are you saying I don’t have any?” I could have smacked him with my camera for saying that, except I valued it more than I valued Spencer at the moment. It might break on his hard, stubborn head.
“I’m just saying that your subjects are kind of limited so far,” he commented.
I glared at him. “So is your imagination. How would you know what I photograph and what I don’t? Are you psychic now in addition to being older, smarter—”
“All right, kids. Do I have to separate you?” Heather asked.
“Let’s just say we won’t be the ones riding the tandem bike,” Spencer said as he walked into the house.
“Works for me!” I called after him.
After a lot of discussion, we’d decided to head out on the bikes to find a different beach to hang out at. Heather and Adam were managing to stay well ahead of us on the tandem bike, while Spencer and I were riding in single file. I didn’t know how—or why—he managed to ride barefoot, but he did.
We’d talked Heather out of riding bikes up to Corolla in search of the lighthouse guys, since we’d already sort of seen the area. We’d headed south.
Finally Adam and Heather stopped at the entrance to a beautiful, sandy beach. “You guys, let’s stop here and hang out,” Adam said when we caught up.
I took off my helmet and brushed a damp strand of hair off my forehead. “Sounds good to me.”
“Then maybe we can find a place to go windsurfing,” Spencer said as we locked our bikes to the rack in the parking lot.
“Oh, yeah, we’ll do that, we’ll totally do that,” I said, grabbing the towel I’d fastened onto the back of the bike.
Heather laughed. “Can you picture me on a windsurfer? I’m too short. I’d get knocked down.”
“Not necessarily,” Adam said. “It’s all about balance, which you’re good at. But you need upper body strength, too.”
“Can I have some of yours?” asked Heather as we traipsed onto the beach.
I watched Adam and Spencer strip off their shirts and dive into the ocean. Heather was wearing a bikini under her T-shirt and shorts, and she stripped down and followed them.
I took out my camera and took pictures of the long beach, the rolling surf, and the trail of clothes leading to the water. There were a few small children farther down the beach playing in the water and building sand castles, and I tried to get good photos of them, too. I put my camera away, stashing it inside my shorts pocket and covering those with a towel.
“What are you waiting for?” Spencer called to me from the surf.
I stood there, water up to my ankles. Then my lower shins. Then my mid-shins. Then my knees.
Spencer swam a little closer. “What’s the matter? Are you scared?”
“No, I’m not scared,” I said. “I like to think of it as smart, actually.”
His arms cut through the water as he made his way toward shore. He didn’t have the same gigantic biceps that Adam had, but he was definitely in good shape. Just not the same weight-lifter look. “How do you figure?”
I wrapped my arms around my waist. “It’s freezing! Why would I want to go all the way in?”
“Because the water feels great once you’re in. But hey, if you want to stand there and shiver, feel free.” He stood up and pointed. “We’ll head out past the break, float for a while.”
He turned to swim back out. I didn’t want to go in, but I didn’t want to be the only one who didn’t, either. “But I—I can’t just leave my camera here, without anyone watching it.”
“No one’s going to take it. Do you even see anyone else around? That’s not it. You’re afraid of seaweed or jellyfish or something,” he teased.
“No, I’m not!” Although, come to think of it, I didn’t like slimy, gel-like stinging creatures floating past me in the ocean. “Well, maybe. Have you seen any?”
“Come on, live dangerously for once. Do something not on your mom’s list.”
I slowly tiptoed farther into the water until it came up to my waist. “Since when do I not live dangerously? I mean, I’m here with you, right?”
“You are so going under.” Spencer struggled to get close enough to push me into the ocean, but before he could, someone else pulled my leg out from under me and I went straight down into the water.
I came to the surface and saw Heather standing behind me, laughing. “Sometimes you just have to give Emily a little push,” she said to Spencer, who was laughing.
“Oh, my God, you should have seen your face,” he said.
I glared at both of them, then dove under an approaching wave and escaped out to calmer water by myself. I floated for a minute or two, looking up at the deep blue sky. It was very peaceful, and I felt myself getting lost in my thoughts as I gently bobbed in the waves. I was so lucky to be here, lucky to have this vacation with my family and friends.
I didn’t want to get too deep—either in thought or in the ocean—but I couldn’t help thinking that this was some sort of turning point, between high school and college. It wasn’t just that it was the last summer before college, and not that I was one to make swimming metaphors . . . but I felt like I was on a diving board, about to plunge into a new life. Sort of like how I’d stood in the water just five minutes ago. Wasn’t I ready to take more risks than that? Did I have to stand there and wait? Couldn’t I just jump right in, like everyone else?
Maybe it was time to start doing things first, and worrying about them later.
“So.” Heather swam over to me while I was contemplating how I could change my life. “What time are we going to go over to Blake’s tonight, and what are you going to wear?”
I appreciate friends who can keep things in perspective.
We got out of the water after swimming for about twenty minutes. I felt like a prune. A very cold prune.
“You might have given up ballet, but you still have ballet belly,” Adam commented as we walked up toward where we’d left our outer layers.
I laughed. “What’s ballet belly?”
“No belly. A complete lack of belly.”
I felt myself turn red. “Oh. Thanks. I guess.”
You know how sometimes when certain people make comments
, you really aren’t sure if it’s a compliment or not? That’s how it was with Spencer and Adam. They were so used to teasing me and Heather, making fun of us, that you couldn’t take anything they said seriously. They’d always follow it up with a quip about something we were doing wrong.
Then again, we weren’t exactly kind to them, either. Over the years we’d learned to give back as good as we got.
Adam spread out a large T-shirt on the sand and sat on it, while Heather unfolded a beach towel. I grabbed the towel from where I’d tossed it in the sand, being careful to take out my camera first and place it carefully on top of my tank top.
Spencer dropped right onto the sand, soaking wet. “You look almost blue.” He reached out and touched my arm. “You know what it is? You’ve got that ballerina skin. Gets cold faster.”
“I know, I’m pale and—look, would everyone quit with the ballerina comments already? I’m not a ballerina!” I laughed, but I was serious. You know the expression, beating a dead horse? This was the same thing. It hadn’t even been all that funny—or true—the first time.
“Maybe you just have thin skin,” Adam said.
“Ballerinas don’t have thin skin and neither do I,” I said.
“Could have fooled me,” Spencer commented.
I turned over and buried my face in the towel, wishing that everyone would stop talking about me. I was so tired and sleepy from getting up early that morning, and the sun felt so warm and nice . . . I could almost fall asleep, right here. In fact, I should.
“Let’s not just sit around,” Adam said. “Let’s do something. I know—I stashed a Wiffle Ball and bat in my bike bag—I’ll go get it and we can play Wiffle Ball.”
“How about playing the napping game?” I mumbled into my towel.
“How about the game where we find a beach with other people on it?” Heather asked. “I’ll go with you, Adam. I left my bike bottle on the bike and I need some water.”
Spencer sifted grains of sand onto the back of my feet while they were gone. “Come on, get up.”
“Why?” I muttered, still facing the sand.
“You know Adam—you have to play Wiffle Ball whether you want to or not. Besides, if you just lie here, facedown, you’ll miss something else. I’m not sure what, but something. And everyone at home will ask how your amazing Outer Banks vacation was, and you’ll have to say, ‘Um, I slept through it.’ Then you’ll get to Linden and everyone will have to sit around in a circle during orientation and talk about their summer. Everyone will be bragging about canoe trips and mountaineering and NBA basketball camp—”
The Summer of Everything Page 6
