“I don’t think there are going to be that many parents here, anyway,” Eliza said. “Ryan told me his parents aren’t coming this year, because it’s mostly kids now.” The fact that the party had changed since we’d been gone felt strange, but I was more caught up in wondering just how many things Eliza and Ryan had discussed, and how long they’d talked for. Our walk home suddenly seemed brief and obligatory by comparison.
As my sisters and I made our way across the beach toward the cluster of people who’d gathered around the clambake, heads turned to look. It felt like the moment in a movie when the music screeches to a halt and the whole party gets quiet.
Jessica came over first, followed by some other Harborville kids, most of whom I recognized. She immediately wrapped me in a big hug. “Oh, hon, it’s so good to see you. This must be so hard for you.” She squeezed me so tight, I could barely breathe. I knew she was being sincere, but the last thing I wanted to do right now was talk about my mom.
“You, too, Jessica. Thanks. I’m doing okay,” I said, stepping back from her death grip. “I’ve missed this party,” I said, and I meant it.
A girl named Allie, who’d gone out with Ryan’s best friend, Morrison, stepped forward next. She squeezed my hands and said, “I’m so, so sorry.”
Eric Houser, a brash jock who always cheated at sand volleyball, awkwardly patted my shoulder with his meaty hand. “It must be so hard to be back here without your mom.”
I nodded, and said nothing in return. I got it, of course: People simply didn’t know how to act around someone who had lost their mom. They felt badly if they didn’t say something; you felt badly if they did. But no one really understood that.
Next to me, Becca looked trapped in a hug with a girl her age who’d slept over at our house a few times. I could tell Becca didn’t want to cry, and I was having a hard time holding in tears, too. It felt like being at my mom’s wake all over again, but now, with a speaker pouring out Macklemore’s latest song, it felt all wrong.
This was the one part of coming back to Harborville that I’d been dreading: being the girls who’d lost their mom. When I got to Berkeley, I’d decided, I wasn’t even going to tell people about it. It would be mine to share if I wanted to, but I could finally avoid being defined by what had happened. My mom would always be a part of me, but for now, I wanted to try as hard as I could to just be Kate.
“This sucks,” Becca mumbled next to me. She pulled on one of the elastic hair ties she always seemed to have on her wrist, snapping it back with a painful zing.
“Just be polite. We’ll get through this,” Eliza said. She was the only one of us who didn’t seem rattled.
After accepting a hug from a girl named Renee, whose family owned a boat-tour company, I pulled away from the crowd and told Eliza I was going to get a drink.
“Okay, but come back,” she instructed, checking her phone. “Devin will be here soon.”
“I’ll make sure to see him,” I said, making my way toward the coolers of drinks on the fringes of the party. Jessica’s uncle Tom was a Harborville cop, which was how they always got away with serving alcohol at their clambake.
I smiled at some of the people waiting to fill red Solo cups at the keg. I knew some of them better than others. Everyone gave me watery half smiles, like it would be wrong to seem more than half happy in my presence. The whole thing was awkward and I decided to just head home. I could text Eliza that I wasn’t feeling well, and call Jessica tomorrow to see if she wanted to do something alone.
I started heading away from the crowd, drawing my phone from my pocket, when I crashed into someone.
“Whoa, Katie.” I looked up to find Morrison Davies, Ryan’s best friend, looking down at me.
“It’s Kate now,” came Ryan’s voice, just a few steps behind Morrison. He was freshly shaved and carrying a six-pack of beer in each hand, displaying every sinew of his arms. Flanking him were his younger brothers, Pete and Garrett. Garrett had always had a touch of a baby face with blond curls that only served to make him more angelic, but now his hair was cropped close to his head, military-style. I wondered if he was trying to make himself look more manly. The youngest, Pete, had Ryan’s darker hair but a stocky build. He was a talented baseball player, and had always dreamed of someday playing for the Cape Cod baseball league, a feeder for the majors. But you’d never realize what a tough competitor he was thanks to his ever-present, affable smile.
“Kate,” Morrison said, and—as if remembering something—his smile faded. “I’m so sorry. You know, about your mom.”
“I know,” I said, suddenly remembering, “You were at the funeral.” The Landrys, because they were old family friends, had been the only Harborville people invited, but Morrison had come with Ryan. He was practically a fourth Landry brother. “Thank you for being there.”
“Hey, man, Kate is here for the party,” Ryan interjected. “Let’s get her a drink, and get her sisters drinks while we’re at it. Pete, Gar, aren’t you gonna say hi to Kate?”
His brothers seemed relieved to be given the prompt and said hello with easy smiles. I smiled right back, and for the first all night, it didn’t feel forced. “Did Becca come?” Garrett asked.
“Yeah, she’ll be glad to see you,” I said. He and Becca were the same age and had always been really close.
As they headed toward the party, I allowed myself to be swept up into their group. In the center of this group of boys I’d known for so much of my life, I felt more protected than I had all night. I knew they’d take care of me.
We made our way to my sisters, still clustered together. Eliza saw us first. She beamed widely, eyes locked on Ryan.
“Sommers sisters in the house,” Ryan said, high-fiving Becca, Tea, and finally Eliza, who looked a little shocked to be given the same greeting as the other girls. . . . His brothers and Morrison followed suit, and I could see Becca and Tea smiling.
Eliza looked at my hands. “Where’s your drink?”
“It’s, um—” I began, fumbling for an excuse, but Ryan cut in.
“She saw us and figured why wait in the keg line? She knows we’ve got the good stuff.” He opened the case of beer and winked at me, and I wondered if he realized that they’d caught me in the middle of an escape attempt. “A clambake is not a clambake without Sam Summer.”
He handed a Sam Adams to me and one to Eliza. Morrison passed some out to other older guests. Eliza allowed Becca a beer, but shook her head no at Tea.
“As if I’d drink that crud anyway,” Tea said, holding up her palm in refusal.
Ryan grinned at Morrison. “You like making toasts, Mor. What can you say to this?”
Morrison held his bottle aloft, as did a few dozen partygoers. He raised his voice and addressed the crowd in mock-formality. “The Sommers girls are back, which is momentous in its own right. But tonight, we have many things to celebrate. I officially declare this the start of the summer!” With that, he let out a loud cheer that was picked up by the rest of the revelers.
We held our bottles and cans aloft and clinked them together festively. Across the circle from me, Ryan raised his eyebrows, as if we were in on the same private joke. He mouthed, “Aren’t you glad you stayed?” and I tipped my beer toward him in salute. “Aren’t you glad I stayed?” I mouthed right back.
There was a solemnity in his gaze as he nodded at me, sending shivers down my spine.
CHAPTER FIVE
“GREAT PARTY, RIGHT, bee-yatch?” Jessica and I were sprawled out in the sand, both of us a little tipsy.
“Wasn’t it only cool to say ‘bee-yatch’ for four seconds like four years ago?” I tried to kick some sand at her, but instead sent my flip-flop sailing toward the tide. I pushed myself off the ground to retrieve it, being careful not to tip my beer.
“What do you want me to call you instead? Ho-bag?”
“That’s Miss Ho-bag
to you,” I said, laughing.
“I’m glad you’re back, Miss Ho-bag,” she said. “I’ve missed hanging out.”
I bumped shoulders with Jessica. “I’ve missed this, too.”
The party was starting to get fun. Either that or I had finally had enough to drink to feel warm and fuzzy inside.
Devin had finally arrived, and he and Eliza were now cuddling near the bonfire. Tea, Becca, Pete, and Garrett were playing some game that only they seemed to know the rules to. Jessica and I had hung out with Ryan and Morrison for a while and then I’d made some small talk with people about what schools we were going to in the fall.
In New Jersey, I was invited and went to some gatherings, but I wasn’t what anyone at my high school would call a party girl. I was the kind of person to whom well-meaning aunts gave copies of books about introversion. But I didn’t think that label fit, either. It was just that I was most comfortable when in the company of the right people. And right now, I was there.
“Should we get another?” I asked Jessica. She was looking down the beach at a group of guys getting out of the water.
“Aaron Gray is single again,” she said, ignoring my question, her gaze distant. She didn’t need to say any more. Jessica had had a crush on Aaron Gray for just about forever, but he was kind of a player, dating around during the school year and then finding a different summer girl as soon as June rolled around every year. “This is my summer,” she declared. “No more of these stuck-up summer bitches. He’s dating my townie ass whether he likes it or not.” She turned to me. “No offense.”
I laughed. “None taken.”
She stood up determinedly. “I’m going to talk to him.”
“Well, okay,” I said, clapping for her. “This summer bee-yatch isn’t going to stop you.”
She strutted across the sand, bolstered by the night’s drinks. Aaron definitely wasn’t ignoring her, judging by the way his gaze took her in.
On my own, I made my way over to the keg—Ryan’s beer supply long gone at this point—and poured myself a cup.
“Hey, Kate.” I turned to see Devin, Eliza’s fiancé. He smiled, his deep dimples showing.
“Hey, Devin, having a good time?” I hoped he couldn’t smell just how much beer was on my breath. Though he was only a few years older than Eliza, Devin felt somehow parental to me, probably because he had a job in the city and said things like, “I need to check my calendar.” But he was nice, and he was a good match for Eliza.
“I love it here. It’s a lot more low-key than the Hamptons.” He looked out over the expanse of beach, where the waves were quietly lapping the shore.
I nodded, even though I’d never actually been to the Hamptons before. Devin was from Connecticut, from a family that was definitely wealthier than mine. He never came off as snobby or above us, which I appreciated. Still, he was an investment banker, or hedge fund guy, or something, and it was always hard to know what to talk to him about. “Are you going to do anything fun tomorrow?”
“I think we’re in wedding-planning lockdown,” he said, with a look of faux-horror. “I’m hoping to work in some beach time, but as you may have noticed, your sister’s a bit of a taskmaster.”
“That’s Eliza,” I said. I leaned in and gave him a quick hug. Though he’d been around plenty over the last few years, I wanted to get to know Devin better now that he would be family.
“Yeah, I’d better get back with these. The taskmaster awaits. But we’ll talk more later,” he said, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Have fun, Kate.”
He headed back to the bonfire with the rest of the couples. I did notice that Ryan wasn’t paired with anyone around the fire. I decided to look for Becca and Tea. It felt good to be on the beach at night, and sleep could wait.
Sipping my beer and trying not to spill as I flip-flopped over the uneven sand, I saw Morrison coming toward me.
“So, Sommers, been dreaming about me?” Morrison asked. He had a red cup in each hand. Some beer sloshed over the side of one and he lifted the cup to his mouth, slurping the overage.
Morrison was cute and goofy, and I knew that he’d had his fair share of girlfriends. Even now, I could see his ex Allie watching us, despite the fact that she was sitting by the bonfire with another guy.
“You wish,” I laughed. Morrison and Ryan were opposites. Morrison tended to run at the mouth, where Ryan was quieter, but could deliver a sly remark better than anyone. Morrison was reedy and thin where Ryan was solidly lean, and he loped where Ryan glided. But they were the kind of friends who stuck by each other for everything.
“Is that a fresh cup?” Morrison nodded toward my beer and looped an arm over my shoulder. A bit of his beer dribbled onto my shirt but I ignored it; it was just an old blue tank top. “So, let’s do this: You’ll be my beer pong partner.”
“You guys play beer pong at this party now? Man, the times they are a changin’.”
Morrison grinned around his solo cup. “Gotta get some of you kids ready for college life.”
“How’d you know I was declaring a minor in beer pong?” I said, scrunching up my eyebrows in mock confusion. “My major is a toss-up, though. Do I do foosball or quarters?”
“More money in quarters,” Morrison quipped, steering me toward a folding table where a crowd was watching a fierce beer pong match.
“Kate and I got dibs on winners,” he said.
The game was nearly over, he told me, and had me watch how it was played.
I’d never played before, but it didn’t seem all that difficult. Like a liquid version of shuffleboard. We played a few sets, and I had to drink several times, but we were holding our own thanks to Morrison. Despite his crazy limbs, he was ultra-focused whenever it was his turn.
By my fourth turn, I could feel my competitive streak start to force its way to the surface. I leaned over and whispered to Morrison, “I’ve totally got this.”
“Don’t I know it? That’s why I picked you,” he said, rubbing my shoulders like I was a boxer gearing up for my next round. He stood back, giving me space to concentrate. I arced the Ping-Pong ball across the table and it splashed perfectly into my opponent’s cup.
“Nice!” Morrison whooped. Then he surprised me by lifting me into the air and spinning me around.
As he put me back on the sand, I saw Ryan standing in a circle with some other guys, watching us. He gave me a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. I smiled back, wondering why he looked so disapproving. I knew he could be protective of Morrison, but I also knew that nothing was going to happen between us.
Morrison and I had won three more games of beer pong, but still celebrated each victory with ample quantities of beer. It was just hitting midnight, but it felt like it was three in the morning. Any party that started before sundown and went late into the night always hit a point where it felt much later than it was. Or, so Morrison had declared. His party wisdom reminded me a little bit of Smokey’s.
With a yawn that sealed it for me, I said my good-byes and started to head up the sand.
“You’re not going home yet, are you?”
I paused where I was standing. How was it that his voice was like its own physical presence? Was this a phenomenon unique to Ryan Landry or unique to Ryan Landry when he was talking to me? His words at my back were enough to make warmth spread across my shoulder blades. His voice made me want to be touched.
“I was thinking about it.” I turned around to see Ryan smiling. The moonlight added shadows to his jaw. He looked as good in the dark as he did in the light. Maybe better.
“Walk with me,” he said. He didn’t seem like he’d had much to drink, but I could smell a faint whiff of beer on his breath.
I fell into step beside him, watching our feet as they hit the sand, leaving footprints that would be washed away when the tide came up. The celebratory sounds faded and it started to fe
el like we had the beach to ourselves, save for the odd slivers of laughter or beer pong cheers in the background. We were headed away from our houses, not toward them.
We moved up the beach, into the dunes, and every star was apparent. I inhaled the smell of the water, briny but clean. The ocean sounded like it was sighing contentedly, again and again.
“So, how’s working for Smokey?” Ryan asked.
“He’s not really someone you work for, now is he? I think you just coexist.”
Ryan’s laugh welled up from somewhere deep within him. It was a generous, warm laugh and had been one of the very first things I liked about him before I even knew how to like boys.
“And you’re still writing?”
I looked up at him, surprised, in the dark. I’d never told Ryan about my writing. “What do you mean, ‘still’?”
“You were always writing things down in your journals in the summer. You seemed to bring a notebook everywhere.” He shrugged and peered at me. “Do you still do that?”
I didn’t know what was the odder revelation: that Ryan Landry had noticed I carried around notebooks all the time or that, aside from the day I went to meet Grace Campbell, I hadn’t really carried a notebook around with me since my mom had died.
“I’m trying,” I said. “I’ve been a little stuck. Life feels weird, sometimes. Like earlier . . . I don’t like being the person everyone feels bad for. I know they mean well, but still. Thanks for what you did back there.” I didn’t know why I was telling him all of this. The drinks probably had something to do with it, but I also got the sense that Ryan understood. He’d always been RYAN LANDRY, all capital letters, and someone I regarded as so out of my reach, but now I realized that there was a lot I still didn’t know about him.
“Well, Morrison wasn’t sorry for you,” Ryan said, his voice slipping lower. “It looked like you guys were having fun.”
Not knowing how to answer him, or if it was even a question, I waited for him to say something else.
“Are you, you know, into him?” Ryan had stopped walking and was looking away from me, anticipating my answer. Had he really led me on this walk down the beach to see if I liked his friend? Morrison was a big boy; he could ask me himself.
The Summers Page 4
