“I thought you were gonna grow your hair even longer to look like a pirate,” Ella heard Jamie say.
“I tried but it looked dorky,” Ethan replied.
“I bet it looked cute,” Jamie cooed sappily.
Ella rolled her eyes, stabbing her toes in between the slats of wood on the pier, and trying to ignore Jamie and Ethan as they were sucked deeper into “The Couple Zone.” She was still disappointed that the hottie singer never showed up. When Ella had gotten to the beach, he hadn’t been there, and after a long search of the pier, she’d settled near Jamie and her boyfriend by the stage, waiting for the singer to somehow magically resurface there. What else could she do?
The third and headlining band had just finished up, and now there was some lame romantic song playing over the speakers. The sound of Faith Hill crooning was peppered with the occasional kissy noises issuing from Jamie and Ethan. Though Ella was sort of happy for them, she didn’t think she could take it anymore. “I think I’m gonna go find Kelsi and head home,” she announced. Jamie and Ethan snapped to face her, clearly surprised that she existed.
“Okay, see you later.” Jamie’s smile was so big, it almost didn’t fit on her face.
Ella wove down the pier, occasionally rubbing past other sweaty bodies. Some couples were still dancing, and other people were just standing around talking as the party simmered down. Ella spotted Kelsi near the pier’s entrance, perched on the rail with her long skirt hanging between her legs. She was talking to some boy, and her face was flushed and shiny.
The guy with Kelsi reached out and put his hand on her knee, and Ella felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up as she studied the guy’s profile. It was impossible. Could it be?
Kelsi was laughing at something the guy had said when she spotted Ella.
“El!” Kelsi waved Ella over and flashed her a bright smile. “Did you see the band earlier? This guy is…Peter, this is my sister, Ella.”
Peter, of course, was none other than the hot singer.
Finally, they were making the eye contact Ella had tried for earlier in front of the stage, and she felt her stomach drop.
“Hey,” Peter said, giving her a friendly handshake.
Ella enjoyed the feel of his calloused fingertips on her skin. She noticed that he had a tiny, adorable cleft in his chin that made her knees wobbly. But even though she was all caught up in his magnificence, Peter’s hand didn’t linger in hers. He didn’t even glance at her chest or her legs or even so much at her face. He just resumed chatting with Kelsi and gave Ella a nice view of his profile again. Ella’s entire body began to feel numb.
“I loved that third song, the one about the space dog,” Kelsi enthused, her voice fluttery. Ella tried to remember the words to any of the songs the band had played and came up blank. Perhaps she was too busy processing this insane situation—she was being ignored, and Peter kept touching Kelsi’s knee, and Kelsi kept moving and laughing like a natural nonpatchouli flirt, and up close, Peter’s vibe was much stronger than she expected.
His bronze skin tone made Ella think that he might be half Polynesian. In fact, Peter resembled a guy Ella had seen in her friend’s photos from Tahiti. In the picture, the guy stood in an endless sea of turquoise water, his hands on his hips and beads of moisture dripping off of him. He stared at the camera like he was born to be on the cover of a Chippendales calendar, only not such a pretty boy—just kind of graceful and sexy. Now that Ella thought about it, Peter and Mr. Tahiti could have been identical twins.
As Kelsi and Peter yammered on for several agonizing minutes, Ella continued to stand there, frozen and freaked out. But when Peter’s gaze quickly darted her way, she felt a surge of her old confidence and got up the nerve to talk to him.
“You live around here?” she asked, smoothing her tinted lip gloss with her pinky.
Peter nodded, and then shifted his attention back to Kelsi. “Have you guys been down to the Look Out Diner on Hallowell? I’m a short-order cook there.”
Ella stepped closer, so she’d be in his line of vision. “Ooh. Do you have pecan pie?”
Peter shrugged. “We might. Why don’t you come down and find out?” Again, his remarks seemed to be directed at Kelsi, and Kelsi only.
Ella swallowed. She felt the situation getting away from her. She had to do something drastic—right now.
“Ouch!” Ella screamed and clutched the back of her left thigh.
“What’s the matter, El?” Kelsi asked, looking genuinely concerned.
“Damn it! I think something bit me!” Ella whined. She began to limp around in circles.
“Could be a mosquito. They’re vicious out here,” Peter said.
“Let me take a look,” Kelsi said as she approached Ella.
“Okay,” Ella whimpered while pulling up her skirt a bit.
Kelsi inspected the lower part of Ella’s left thigh and shook her head.
“I don’t see anything.”
“Well, I know I felt something. It stung like hell,”Ella insisted.
Peter closed in on Ella and started peering at her leg.
“Pull your skirt up higher so we can get better look,” Kelsi said.
This was working like a charm.
Ella hiked up her dress a tad more, just enough for Peter to get a nice eyeful of her thigh and the teeny heart tattoo she secretly got last summer with that ever-so-wonderful fake ID.
A smile crept over Peter’s face when he saw it. “That’s an interesting bug bite.”
Kelsi, however, was not as amused by her little sister’s prank.
“Where did you get that, Ella?” Kelsi demanded.
“What? Don’t you like it?”
Kelsi let out a “Hmpf” and yanked down Ella’s dress. She leaned over and spoke softly into Ella’s ear.
“You little bitch. Just wait until we get home.” And with that, Kelsi spun around to Peter.
“Do you feel like going for a walk?” Kelsi asked. “It’s such a beautiful night.”
Peter replied with a lazy shrug and took Kelsi’s elbow. Ella watched their backs as they began to walk down the pier, then glanced down. Her plan hadn’t worked out at all. But before she could accept defeat, she heard Peter’s voice call out to her, and she looked up
“Hey, Ella,” he said over his shoulder. “Tattoos rock!” Then he raised his arm and gave her the devil sign with his hand. Ella responded in kind and even went one step further by sticking out her tongue.
After Kelsi and Peter were out of sight, Ella felt that things were looking brighter. She soaked up the view, which reminded her of another postcard her friend had sent from the same Tahiti trip. It had had an arrow pointing to a lounge chair on the beach, under green-and-brown palm trees. There had been red writing scribbled in at the top, above the arrow: “You should behere.”
3
“I really don’t think this is right.”
George stood blinking in the morning sun, his minigolf club dangling between the fingers of his left hand, his right hand scratching the back of his head. He was undoubtedly perplexed.
“No, I don’t think I can play this hole,” he told Beth.
Beth surveyed the long, slightly curved shape of the green again, and then scanned the sign:HOLE #2:THE DOLPHIN’S FIN. Every respectable minigolf course has a theme, and the one in Pebble Beach was “Circus, Circus!” Above where George and Beth were standing, plaster trapeze artists, decked out in purple tights, walked gingerly through the air. All over the course, shoddylooking concrete bears and elephants stood forlornly by their corresponding holes. In the far left corner, Beth could just make out the fire hoop that, she knew from years of experience, spit out a tiny flame whenever a ball rolled through it.
George was unhappy because therewere no dolphins in an actual circus.
“Maybe they’re just getting the circus theme confused with a Sea World theme,” Beth said thoughtfully. “C’mon, George, let’s just play.”
George shook his head in defianc
e. “No, this is just unacceptable. They obviously didn’t do their circus research. I’m going to ask for a refund.”
Beth rolled her eyes. She knew he was actually considering it. George could take jokes too far, often enough to forget he was joking in the first place. Sometimes, Beth thought, this was an endearing quality, but most times, it was just plain annoying.
“George.”
The gauge on Beth’s tolerance meter was almost on empty.
George looked at her, resigned. “Okay, okay.” He shrugged. “It’s just not right, is all. When was the last time you saw a dolphin at the circus? Little kids play minigolf. It’s giving them misinformation.”
After he finished his diatribe, George shook his shoulders exaggeratedly and lined up the blue ball he’d chosen from the rainbow of colors the cashier had offered. Just across the street and beyond some dunes was the ocean. The wind blew off the water and tousled Beth’s blonde hair. She watched George tap his ball. It sailed forward for a moment, then it slowed on a slight rise, approached the hole, and dropped in.
“You’re lucky with those blue balls!” Beth shoved George and smiled suggestively, trying to act like she didn’t care that he was already winning—she was way over par on this one. True, it would be humiliating to be beaten when she’d been coming here her entire life and George had only visited this course once last summer. But even though George knew how much his winning was eating Beth up inside, he was nice enough not to gloat (at least, not yet).
They waited while the couple in front of them lollygagged over Hole #3—the Elephant Trunk. The concrete elephant that stood peering down at them from the other end of the course was skinny and anemic-looking, its gray paint long since turned to a dirty white. The green AstroTurf wove in a long, curvy line, making it almost impossible to get a hole in one unless you lined up your ball perfectly to within a fraction of an inch.
The couple, however, was making it a bigger problem than it had to be. Mostly because they seemed to have no concern whatsoever with actually playing. The girl, a brunette in denim cutoffs, would hit the ball once, and it would go a couple of inches. Then she’d turn to the guy and they’d both giggle. It was obvious that the worse shot she took, the cuter they both thought it was.
“I might have to forfeit,” the girl said between giggles.
“I might have to vomit,” Beth muttered.
George tapped Beth’s shoulder with his own.
“Hey, Beth, where’s your sense of romance?” he whispered.
Beth rolled her eyes. “George, I have a sense of romance, but romance has no sense ofme.”
Beth knew that he knew it was true. She had always loved boys. As a kid, she used to chase them around the playground and try to kiss them, but they always got away. And although they appreciated how good she was at sports, boys neverreally noticed her.
That is, until ninth grade, when size C alien boobs had taken over Beth’s chest. Suddenly boys were standing in line to kiss her at parties. While she didn’t mind the ogling, she did think it was kind of funny that guys liked her for the one thing she felt had landed on her body by mistake. Even now, two years after the breasts had arrived, Beth still felt like the Puberty Fairy had played an unfunny trick on her.
But the hooking up never led to any serious relationships. No boy Beth really liked ever returned her affections. Beth decided her love life was best described in the lyric of a song she’d heard on a classic rock station: “Love don’t love you.”
“But maybe that’ll change this summer,” George offered.
“What do you mean?”
“I dunno. Maybe you’ll find a summer boy.”
“A summer boy?”
“Yeah, one of those guys your cousins hook up with.” George nudged her and raised his eyebrows.
Beth and George had become friends at a party two years ago. Instead of staring at Beth’s breasts, George had chatted with her about sports, school, whatever. Beth had known right off that she wasn’t attracted to him—he was too skinny and pale, and she didn’t go for guys with curly hair. But at the same time, she’d felt something click. She and George were platonic soul mates, like Will and Grace, only without the gay thing. They’d been inseparable ever since.
Beth eyed the couple ahead of them again. The guy had his hand on the woman’s butt.
“Like that guy? Is he a summer boy?” she asked George.
George took a quick glance at him. “Could be. They look really smitten, like they haven’t known each other long enough to figure out that the other person is actually going to drive them crazy. Definitely an indication of a summer thing.”
“You seem to know a lot about it, George. When did you meet your summer boy?” Beth teased.
George was undeterred. “Don’t you worry about me. I’ll get some action this time. I’m declaring this the summer of George!”
Beth rolled her eyes. George had been saying that since he’d seen it on aSeinfeld rerun, and not once had any summer turned out to be his. Of course, this summer he was staying at the beach until mid-August, which allowed for more exposure than staying at home and working at the Family Dollar in Martin, Massachusetts.
“I’m telling you, Beth. Summer’s the time to act. New places, new faces…”
His voice trailed off, and they both turned to watch the couple again.
“I’msooooo bad!” The brunette was crooning, finally plunking the ball into the hole.
“You had just two strokes, right?” the guy said, grinning and writing her bogus score on his golf card. They finally moved to the next hole.
“Praise Jesus,” George said. But now Beth was absorbed.
“It’s hopeless, George. All guys wantthat.” She nodded toward the annoying woman. “They want flirty. They want girly. I’m not either.”
“What?” George asked, looking over his shoulder to follow Beth’s gaze. “That?” George said loudly, pointing his club in the woman’s direction. “Are you kidding?”
Beth grabbed George’s club and shushed him.
“No way,” he said, lowering his voice. “That annoying giggler’s got nothing on you.” He gave her his lopsided grin. George could be incredibly charming when he wanted to be.
“Well, it seems that way,”she said, touching but not hitting her ball, just trying to get the angle that would take it home. “I mean, look at the facts. She’s here hooking up and I’m here with…you.”
“Okay, I’m going to pretend you didn’t just insult me, because I must have pity for those who lose to me in minigolf,” George said with a sly grin. “But seriously, Beth, you’re pretty and you’re fun to be around. You’re gonna find your guy. It’s only a matter of time.”
Beth looked away quickly. She couldn’t explain it, but whenever George complimented her like that, it felt weird.
“Thanks,” she said nonchalantly. Finally, she took aim and hit the ball. It sailed past the curves of the trunk, one, two, three. “You know, you’re pretty, too. In fact, I don’t think the Fab Five would change a thing about you.”
“Oh, that’s really funny. Now you’re doingQueer Eye jokes.”
Then the sound of the ball clunking into the hole echoed throughout the course. It was her second hole in one of the game—she was mounting a comeback of megaproportions. Beth tried not to smile too big, but she couldn’t help it. Maybe her winning minigolf was a sign that she could triumph over her sucky love life as well.
George and all other boys beware.
4
Jamie leaned back in the hammock, taking the ball of white yarn on her lap and straightening it so that the loops smoothed themselves out. She was three-quarters of the way done with the tiny hat she was knitting for her mom’s schnauzer, Schmidty. Her mom had requested it, claiming that Schmidty couldn’t stand the New Jersey winters. Personally, Jamie thought Schmidty wasn’t bothered by the cold one way or the other. But she loved knitting, so she didn’t mind humoring her mom. Anyway, it gave her something to do with her hands
until Ethan came over.
The phone rang in the cottage a few yards behind her, but it stopped almost immediately, and she could tell by the sound of her aunt Claire chattering that the call wasn’t for her. That was fine.Knit, purl, knit, purl—her fingers worked the needles deftly in flashes of silver.
It was her first full day at Pebble Beach. She guessed it wasn’t so bad that Ethan had made plans to go dirt biking with his friends for a few hours, but she’d been expecting him to block out the whole day—maybe even the whole week—just for her. Between the crowds at the party last night and the walk home with Ella, Beth, and George, they’d hardly had any time alone. Still, Ethan was independent and free-spirited—and she loved that about him. She didn’t ever want to be one of those clingy, possessive, my-boyfriend-is-my-life-and-without-him-I’m-nothing girls.
Jamie held up the half-finished hat in the air and inspected the ear holes. She couldn’t wait to show it to Ethan. He loved all the stupid little things Jamie liked to make with her hands. It was almost like she couldn’t ever keep her fingers still, and he said that her creativity was sexy. Before Ethan, Jamie had never thought of herself like that.
Suddenly, Jamie heard heavy footsteps coming across the deck, and she knew it was him.
“The artist at work,” Ethan said, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her. He nestled his chin into her neck and she dropped her knitting, curling up a bit because of the shivers that raced down her spine from being embraced by him. She turned her head and their lips met, which made Jamie feel like there was no one in the world but the two of them. He pulled back to look at her.
“Hi, gorgeous,” she whispered, barely able to contain her giddiness. It still shocked Jamie that such an amazing guy thought she was beautiful. He had a swimmer’s body—taut and toned with lean muscles. He had wavy, sand-colored hair that constantly got in his eyes—he usually brushed stray strands from his brow in an alluring way. There was just something about him that made him magnetic, and Jamie couldn’t pull herself away from him, not that she even wanted to try.
Summer Boys Page 2
