Girls of July

by Alex Flinn

  “It’s not like that.” Britta hated being characterized as just another stressed teenager.

  “What’s it like?”

  Britta took a tile. It would be weird to unburden herself to a stranger—even her vacation abuela—about her life, Mom, Rick, how icky it was when he said she was pretty or brought her presents like an expensive Body Glove bikini. Ruthie would probably think he was just being nice, which is what her mother had said. “How do jokers work?”

  “They can substitute for any tile, and if you have the tile it’s substituting for, you can take it and use it yourself.” Ruthie took a tile.

  “Got it.” The joker smiled up at her from between a red two and four. Britta had a red three, so she substituted it. Her eyes fell on Ruthie’s nightstand. In one photo, two girls stood arm in arm, wearing costumes of the type you’d expect in a production of Oklahoma! Instead of looking at the camera, they stared at one another. The shorter girl was obviously Ruthie. The other girl was tall, with brown hair. The expressions on their faces were almost dreamy.

  Britta looked around and noticed a few other photos of the brown-haired girl. In one picture, she was part of a group wearing 1920s flapper costumes. There was another of the same girl, all alone. She must have been someone special. Britta wondered who she was.

  “Are you finished?” Ruthie reminded her.

  “Oh.” Britta looked away from the photo and at the tiles. She added an eleven to a group. “So that’s Spider?” She pointed to a photo of a girl with braces, smiling gummily at the camera.

  “Yes. She was at an awkward phase when that was taken.” Ruthie contemplated her tiles.

  “And those are your other grandchildren?”

  Ruthie looked at the photo again. “Yes. That’s Ben, Alicia’s brother, and the girl is her sister, Emily. Her cousins Zoe and Zack are in this photo.”

  Britta pointed to the photo of the two girls. “And that’s you?”

  “Yes. It was a summer stock production of Oklahoma! I played Gertie, that annoying girl. I was good at playing annoying girls.”

  “I played Gertie in middle school too. I thought it was Oklahoma! And who’s the other girl? The one in the picture?”

  Ruthie’s old mouth twisted into a smile as she placed four fives. “That’s Janet. She was in the chorus, and we were . . . best friends. It was my first summer stock, and I was so frightened, but Janet was my rock. She taught me to meditate before performances to relax. And sometimes, I’d pass her backstage, and she’d say, ‘Deep breaths.’”

  Britta put down a blue six and a seven. “Do you still see her ever?” She clapped her hand over her mouth. What if the answer was no because Janet was dead? That would be a typical Britta screwup.

  But Ruthie said, “You’re getting the hang of it.” She added an eight to Britta’s tiles. “No, it’s been a long time.”

  Britta wondered again if Janet had died, but there was no polite way to ask, so she took a tile. Ruthie said, “We just lost touch.” She started to make an elaborate move that involved taking a tile off the beginning of one run, another off another group, and adding them to two of hers. Britta heard footsteps on the stairs, heavy ones that sounded like army boots. Spider must have gotten up after all.

  “Did you ever try to find her, like on Facebook?”

  “I looked once. She had an unusual name, Janet Calisti. But the only Janet Calisti I found was younger and lived in Minnesota. She wasn’t my Janet.” She moved some more tiles around and added them to another of her own.

  “Maybe she got married and changed her name.”

  Ruthie smiled and shook her head slightly, but then said, “Probably.” She added a last tile to a group of four, then turned over her tile rack. “Done.”

  “Oh,” Britta said. “Wow, that was quick.”

  Ruthie shrugged. “Luck of the draw.”

  Britta yawned. “I was tired anyway.” She helped put away the tiles.

  “We can play again tomorrow, if you want. I’ll teach you some moves. And maybe we’ll buy a set of dominoes at the drugstore.”

  “I’d beat you for sure.” Britta swept the last of the tiles in. “Good night.”

  She took a final look at the photo of Ruthie and Janet Calisti. It was weird to think about it, that people who were her close friends now might be completely out of her life. Sad.

  She had to wait for Spider to come out of the bathroom. Princess Kate had a whole bathroom downstairs. She wished she’d gotten the downstairs room. What was Spider doing, flossing each tooth? Finally, she finished.

  A minute later, Britta was in bed. The quilt was yellow and white, with a ring pattern, like she imagined ladies made in simpler times. All thoughts of home and lying to her mother and skeezy Rick were gone or, at least, pushed to the side. It was so beautiful here! It would be all right—she was sure of it. The window was open, allowing a breeze, and life was good. She heard the screech of a bird, maybe an owl, in the distance.

  Britta burrowed into the nest of quilts and pillows and blankets. It was her first night in the mountains, and she was going to have thirty more! Thirty nights to uncover the house’s secrets, everyone’s secrets, even her own secrets.

  Finally, she drifted off to sleep.

  10

  Kate

  WHEN YOU WALKED among tall trees, the sky seemed higher.

  Or maybe she just felt smaller.

  It was morning. Kate trudged uphill, close to a mile from the house. Coming here had seemed like such a good idea. Fresh air! Sunshine! Peace on earth, good will to all! No mother or father or debutante balls . . . or soon-to-be-revealed political scandal.

  And no Colin.

  Now she wasn’t sure. The cell phone reception here was weird. It wasn’t nonexistent, as Daddy believed, but, as Spider had said, spotty. Random. If the wind was blowing right, she could get a text. But when she tried to respond, it wouldn’t send.

  She had not expected this to be a problem. But, apparently, she wasn’t as heartless as she had led herself to believe. She thought about her mother’s last text: Did you know?

  And the thing was, she had, since dinner a month ago.

  They’d been having tilapia. Daddy often joked that the fish hadn’t existed when he was a kid. “My brother and I, we’d sneak onto someone’s dock and get a rainbow trout or maybe even a tarpon. We’d never heard of tilapia. They created it in a lab in 1995.” Mother hated when Daddy talked about fishing. She said it made him sound so low-class. That day, he was silent, cutting off a burned portion of skin.

  “Did you know that there was tilapia in ancient Egyptian art?” Kate’s brother said.

  Her father didn’t seem to hear. Kate said, “So we’re eating Egyptian fish?”

  Blake looked at Daddy. Still nothing. He said, “Yeah. They were a symbol of rebirth. So they’ve been around a while.” Blake met Dad’s eyes like he thought he was smart.

  The sound of forks on a plate, then chewing.

  “I saw Patty Lind at the grocery store,” Mother said. “She was wearing a scarf and pretended she didn’t see me. But I knew it was her.”

  Nothing.

  Blake said, “So, with the tilapia, it’s aquaculture that’s made them more—”

  “Did you say hello to her?” Kate asked.

  “Well, I . . . no. I didn’t think she’d want that, what with her husband’s disgrace and all.”

  More silence. Her father stopped eating. Then, her mother added in a low, conspiratorial voice, “I wonder if she’ll quit the club now.”

  Daddy’s knife clattered to his plate. “Probably the club that got him into this mess.”

  “What?” Mother scoffed. “He’s in this mess because—”

  “Because he had to pay for club dues and charity balls and private schools, and ski trips. Every small-town politician isn’t a Bush or a Kennedy, even if y’all spend like we are.”

  That had shut Mother up. Kate knew Daddy didn’t come from money, the way Mother did. He didn’t really
care about things like country clubs and debutantes. That was Mother.

  That night, she’d heard her father downstairs, pacing. She went to his study.

  “Oh, Katy. I was just thinking about you.” He showed her the ad for the cabin. Kate didn’t know how he’d found it, but it wasn’t open to argument. Kate was to tell her mother it had been her idea, that she needed to rest up for her debutante year. Her brother was off to some college science program. “At least you’ll miss the worst of it,” Daddy said.

  “The worst of what?”

  He looked at her, surprised she hadn’t figured it out. “Edwin Hamilton, he’s going to tell the feds I took a bribe from him.”

  Edwin Hamilton was one of her father’s best friends. His daughter, Lacey, was a classmate of Kate’s. They were on debate team together. “So you’re being . . . ?” Arrested? Put in jail? She pictured something like Orange Is the New Black, only worse because it would involve big, tough men. Kate didn’t even ask if it was true.

  “I don’t know, Katy.” Daddy handed her a thick envelope. “Pack this with your things.”

  When she reached her bedroom, she opened the envelope. There was five thousand dollars cash inside. Kate hid it in her carry-on. Before the trip, she broke up with Colin. No need for him to be involved in a scandal. They probably wouldn’t even be in school together in the fall. She’d get kicked out of Bradley Prep. Or they wouldn’t be able to afford it.

  Now Kate squinted to see her mother’s text in the brightening light.

  Did you know?

  She wondered if it was in the papers yet, or on the news.

  Kate saw the little road going uphill. Service Hill, Spider had called it. Ruthie had said she could call home when they went to the grocery store. But Kate wanted to talk in private, in case she cried. The climb was long, steep, but she couldn’t help noticing it was also beautiful. She heard a bird’s mournful cry. Kate gazed at the blue-green pines but saw nothing. She hadn’t ever spent much time in nature. A few summers, she’d gone to camp, but the cabins had been air-conditioned. Other years, they’d traveled to Europe. This year, though, she’d wanted to stay home, to be with Colin.

  But here she was, walking a strange road she didn’t know, a road lined with flowers, white lace and fluffy purple and gold. It would be so beautiful if she weren’t so perturbed. Even the ache starting in her calves was freeing, invigorating, normal.

  Her steps quickened, not, she realized, because she wanted to reach the top sooner but because she wanted to see how fast she could go. Though it was July, the temperature had been below sixty when she left, and she felt the cold, persistent breeze against her skin. She climbed faster. Only when she reached the top, did she stop and check her phone.

  It was as Spider had said. Three bars even though her phone had flashed “No Service” since they’d entered Adirondack Park. Her legs throbbed, but in a good way. She felt strong enough to take whatever happened. As she watched, more texts from Mother loaded up. She didn’t want to talk to her mother. It was too early anyway. Let her sleep.

  Instead, she dialed her father’s number. She knew he’d be up though it was barely past five. As predicted, he answered immediately.

  “Kate?”

  “Were you arrested?”

  “I got bail. Apparently, I’m not a flight risk.”

  A flight risk. That made him sound guilty. She knew, somehow, that he was. Still, the thought of him in jail was too disturbing. Needing bail wasn’t much better. “I am.”

  “What?” He sounded confused.

  “A flight risk.”

  “Katy, I don’t want you to worry about me. I sent you away for a reason.”

  “Mother’s hysterical. She texted me fifty times.”

  “I’ll tell her to stop. She can’t get much madder at me.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Kate saw something moving. There, at the side of the road, among the black-eyed Susans and goldenrod, were a doe and her fawn. For a moment, her eyes met the mother deer’s. Then, as if connected, the pair trotted off.

  Kate sighed. She missed home.

  “Kate? Kate?” Her father’s voice over the phone.

  “Reception’s bad here. I climbed a hill.” The sky was pink and red behind dark trees.

  “I know. I wanted it that way, so you wouldn’t have to hear—”

  “But I was worried about you. Is it bad, the news coverage?” She wanted to ask if Colin had called. Even though she’d broken up with him, she wanted to hope she was wrong about him, that he really loved her.

  “It’s not that bad,” her father was saying. “I’m just a small-town councilman. Some rock star will lick a doughnut, and I’ll be old news soon.”

  “And . . .” Colin? “Mother?”

  “Don’t call your mother. I’ll tell her you had nothing to do with it. Enjoy yourself. Try not to think about us too much.”

  Like that was possible.

  “That boyfriend of yours came by,” he said. “What was his name, Caleb?”

  “Colin.” He had come to look for her.

  “I told Marjana to say you were away.”

  Kate shivered.

  “Katy?”

  “Okay. I love you, Daddy.”

  “Love you too, Katy. Goodbye.” He hung up.

  She started to walk back downhill. It was cold, and though she had brought several sweaters and hoodies, she hadn’t thought to wear one.

  But some instinct or muscle memory made her call Colin, just this one last time. Probably he wouldn’t even answer. Probably he was asleep.

  “Kate?”

  He wasn’t asleep. She pictured him lying in bed, phone in hand, waiting for her call.

  “Now you know,” she said.

  “I don’t know. That’s why you broke up with me? Because of your father?”

  Kate laughed even though nothing was amusing. She thought of admitting it. It would be easier on her, not having to lie. She could tell Colin the truth, that she still loved him but she didn’t want him to have to deal with her family’s disgrace.

  He, of course, would say it didn’t matter. But then, after a week of everyone talking about them the way her mother had talked about the Linds, he’d see she was damaged goods.

  “Kate? Kate, what’s wrong?”

  What’s wrong? He’d said that to her the first time they met, at cotillion classes at the club, a bunch of thirteen-year-olds learning the cha-cha. She’d been on the side, wishing she was home. The others had probably assumed she was a snob, but he’d drawn her out, imitating a French dance teacher talking about how “zee cha-cha dancing will be a zignificant asset in zociety.” He’d made her laugh. He took her hand and cha-cha’d her across the floor.

  But he wasn’t laughing now. “Kate?”

  Better to rip the Band-Aid off the open, festering wound.

  “What?” she said. “Bad service around here. I’m in the mountains.”

  “In the mountains? What mountains?”

  “I’m . . . visiting a friend. It’s out in the sticks with barely any coverage. I had to walk a mile uphill to make this call.” Be strong. She was strong, strong from the exercise.

  “You have mountain-man friends suddenly? You’re going on a pleasure trip when your dad’s . . . your family’s . . . ?”

  “I came here to get away.” Her own voice sounded unreal to her.

  “Get away?” His tone was incredulous. A black bird landed before her. It was such a big bird, with a bright-yellow bill. She wished he could see it. That was stupid—why would he want to see a bird? Kate always wished Colin was with her.

  “Yes. Get away from everything, my parents and . . .”

  “Me?”

  “Yes! Yes! I needed to get away from you. We can’t be together anymore. I don’t love you.” She loved him. “Why is that so hard to understand?”

  “I just can’t believe you’re saying this.” Colin’s voice sounded different now, husky.

  “Look, I have to go. They�
��re expecting me for breakfast.” They probably were.

  “Your mountain friends?”

  Kate didn’t want to hang up on him. It was too cruel. Suddenly, she realized that, if she walked downhill, the call would drop. Then, it wouldn’t be her that hung up. She took a step forward. It was like walking into sludge. The bird, startled, flew off in a flurry of wings.

  “Colin, the service is really bad here. I’m losing you.” She wasn’t, but she took another step down the hill, away from him.

  It worked. His voice was missing in pieces. “Don’t I . . . choice?”

  She remembered the feeling of his hand on her cheek, when they’d kissed in the school library stacks. She wanted to walk back up the hill, walk back up to Colin. But it was no use.

  “I’m losing you, Colin.” I’m losing everything.

  “Can you . . . ?”

  Then nothing.

  “Colin?” She couldn’t stop herself from asking. “Colin?” But the call had dropped.

  She walked back down, trying not to imagine him calling her name on the other end. She looked around, taking in the mint blue of the sky, the whiteness of clouds. She drew a shaky breath in, let a shakier one out. Breathe in, breathe out. If she did it a million times, the summer would end.

  She kept walking. Her father was right. She should try not to think about it. First, she needed to make her lie true by going back and talking to her newfound friends.

  If she could just get back to the cabin without seeing anyone, she’d be okay. She could calm down.

  So, of course, someone was coming up the hill. Meredith. She’d pretend to be taking pictures, so she wouldn’t have to talk.

  11

  Meredith

  Essay topic: What historical moment or event do you wish you could have witnessed?

  MEREDITH WAS UP at dawn, wondering if people really recognized history while it was being made, or if they figured it out later. Dawn turned out to be four thirty a.m. here. The sun had set at nine. Everyone else was still sleeping, so it was the perfect time for college essays. Except she couldn’t think of anything to write. She decided to take a walk.

  If there were woods in Florida, Meredith had never seen them. Probably she wouldn’t want to because they’d be in the boiling red-hot, mosquito-filled center of the state.