Summer Boys

by Hailey Abbott

  Beth rolled onto her back. She balled her hands into fists and slammed them against the mattress about ten times.

  How had this happened? She felt consumed with hurt and jealousy. But why? Was she, like, in love with George or something? Jesus. What if she was? It was too late to do anything about it.

  And it was too ludicrous to even be funny.

  Beth’s eyes started filling up with tears. She swallowed and clamped her jaw tight. Beth wasn’t an emotional girl. She was physical. So she grabbed her pillow and tried to choke the life out of two fistfuls of fabric before going slack and blank.

  She wasn’t going to let anyone, not even Chauncy the cork fisherman, see her cry over George.

  17

  Most people would have Ella pegged for a roller-coaster kind of girl, but really she loved the Ferris wheel. It was the view from the top that excited her. From Funville, U.S.A., which was slightly inland, you could see just the hint of the ocean, and the sweep of the town in between. Ella and her youngest cousin, Jessi, sat stopped at the second-highest spot, staring down at the twinkling orange lights just beginning to pop in the dusk. Ella felt a breeze on her neck and wondered about rain. There was supposed to be a storm on its way, but she hadn’t seen any sign of it yet.

  “We gotta go to the haunted house,” Jessi said cheerfully as she peered over the other side of their basket and pointed at all the rides. Ella followed her gaze. The park was small, so it was easy to pick out the haunted house, the merry-go-round, and the pirate ship among other rides. There were two old-school-style wooden roller coasters along the outer rim—miniversions of the ones you see at real theme parks. A group of riders was beginning the descent down one of the dips, with a collective scream that could be heard for miles.

  “You almost peed your pants the last time we went, remember?” Ella said.

  Jessi got perturbed. “I’m much older now.”

  “Whatever you say, Jess.”

  Ella bit back a smile. It was already the end of July. In another two weeks or so, Ella and Kelsi would be heading home. And by that time, Jessi might feel as if she had grown up even more.

  They were the last pair of their group to get off the ride. Kelsi, Peter, and the two other little cousins, Drew and Jordan, were waiting for them by the white metal exit gate.

  “These guys want to ride on the go-karts,” Kelsi said, holding Drew and Jordan by their hands. Ella stole a glance at Peter. He hadn’t looked at her the few times she’d seen him since the night behind the cottage, and he didn’t look at her now. Ella had already decided not to let it bother her. But her chest pinched a little. She wouldn’t even have come tonight if the kids hadn’t roped her into it.

  She put on a smile for Jessi. “How ’bout it, Jess? Can the haunted house wait?” Jessi nodded eagerly as she pulled Ella down the path that led to the go-karts.

  “Actually, would you mind taking them for a while on your own?” Kelsi asked Ella. “Peter’s hungry. I think we’ll go get some fries or something and sit this one out, if that’s okay.”

  “Um, okay.” Ella couldn’t think of a reason why not. The park was small and easy to find people in. Drew and Jordan let go of Kelsi and ran to catch up with Ella, who let them drag her away.

  Ella consoled herself by thinking that at least Peter and Kelsi couldn’t exactly go off and have sex in Funville, U.S.A., unless they found a secluded corner in the fun house. She freed her hand from Drew’s and brushed her bangs out of her eyes. She supposed anything was possible.

  On line for the go-karts, Jessi pulled Ella’s arms around her. Jordan tugged at her elbows. “Ella, I want you to hug me, too.” Drew kept slapping his arms until Ella finally dug out some bug spray from her bag. What was it about little kids and mosquitoes?

  They rode the go-karts three times. Then they walked to the closest roller coaster and waited on line for twenty minutes for a ride that jerked Ella around until her neck hurt. They went to the second coaster and waited for thirty minutes. From the top of a high curve, Ella thought she glimpsed Peter and Kelsi on the ground, waiting outside the Himalayan, but when they walked by it a few minutes later, they were gone.

  The next path they took led them to the farthest back corner of Funville. The haunted house—which was actually more like a trailer—stood ahead of them in the distance, against a fence that bordered an empty field. It should have loomed ahead of them, but it was not that scary. It was covered with an array of poorly painted demons and a terrified, big-breasted woman that Kelsi had said was “misogynistic,” whatever that meant.

  Reluctantly, Ella got on line. The kids were squeezing her hands hard now.

  “If you guys keep doing that, I’m gonna lose my circulation and have to get my arms amputated,” Ella warned.

  When they made their way through the slow-moving line, a man dressed as the grim reaper emerged through a hinged, black door. He told them to “Enter at your own risk,” in a voice that was meant to be menacing, but instead was squeaky-sounding, kind of like SpongeBob SquarePants instead of the devil.

  The first hall was completely black. Ella confidently felt her way along, knowing the way almost by heart, the kids clinging to her waist and her hands. They wandered through a collection of black-lit gravestones made of Styrofoam, then a lab full of experiments in beakers, fake-looking eyeballs, and plastic hands. The obligatory mad scientist laughed maniacally.

  It was a combination of the fakeness of it all and the fact that there were cracks in the walls where you could see the cords and pulleys that made the whole thing more funny than scary. By the time Ella reached the bridge, which was her favorite part, the kids had run far ahead of her, eager to see what was next.

  The bridge crossed only a couple of feet above the ground, but the spinning neon lights underneath it gave you the illusion that you were dangling thousands of feet up in space. At the other end, Ella could see a figure, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. It was dark, but she could have made him out anywhere. Where had he come from? And where was Kelsi? He was holding his hands out to the side like Ella sometimes did, like a trapeze artist, to heighten the feeling of floating. Watching him, her chest throbbed.

  Her feet took her two steps backward. She would turn around. Kelsi was probably outside, waiting. Ella should go outside and wait with her.

  But something in her caved. She padded across the bridge, shaking. She paused within inches of his outstretched hand, then moved forward slightly, so that his fingers brushed her collarbone.

  Peter turned to look at her. Without a word, he reached down to grab her waist, his fingers pressing into the skin underneath her shirt. Ella smiled, and he gave her a half-amused grin. He gently pushed her against the railing of the bridge. Ella raised her eyes to look at him, and he instantly caught her mouth with his. His stubble rubbed the top of Ella’s lips. His tongue tasted of smoke and salt. He was delicious. Ella kissed back, hard, pressing close to him. She felt like melting into oblivion and never coming back to Earth.

  His hands traveled down from her waist to her behind. He pulled her in even closer, kissing her with such hunger that it was almost frightening. Ella kept her eyes open, watching his face while his eyes were closed, as if he was having a wonderful dream.

  Then she realized she wasn’t melting at all. With the lights spinning around them, she felt like an astronaut, cut loose from the shuttle and drifting into space.

  18

  “Look, Paul Bunyan. I didn’t ask you to chop anything down.”

  Beth watched George backing down the beach with some wood he had found for his birthday bonfire. He pulled it up to the pile Beth had already made, not turning to look at her until he’d laid it down. It looked like he had killed an entire a tree.

  George smiled proudly. “I didn’t chop it down. I found it. Who’s the man?”

  “George,” Beth said, tapping at the log with her toe. “There’s no way we’re gonna be able to get this onto the fire. It’s too big. We’d need to chop it up
with an ax or something. You don’t have an ax on you, do you?”

  George scowled. “You just can’t accept that I have a big one.”

  “Oh, puh-lease. You can be so freaking gross.”

  “I say it’s fine. My work here is done.” He brushed his hands together in an “all finished” gesture. “Deal with it, Beth. I’ve got a big one for you.”

  “You are so sick.” Beth didn’t laugh. She didn’t even smile. In fact, she could hardly look at George. Why was he getting such a kick out of teasing her that way? “Anyway, it looks soggy.”

  George studied her for a second, his hands on his waist. He was wearing a bright orange T-shirt and black shorts. Beth concentrated on his clothes. She couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eyes.

  “It’s been raining for a week,” he said. “Everything’s soggy.”

  Beth just rolled her eyes. George shrugged his shoulders in confusion, then disappeared back into the brush for more wood.

  When he came out again, he was carrying two normal-size pieces. He dropped them by the pile. “Good enough?”

  Good enough? It washis birthday bonfire. Beth had gotten the permit to have the fire on the beach. She’d gotten Ella to get them beer with her fake ID. She’d made all the cousins swear up and down they were coming. And George was acting as if picking up two logs required some kind of Herculean effort.

  She had to bite her tongue or risk getting into a fight. But she just couldn’t resist. “I’m sorry, George. Are my pesky birthday plans getting in the way of your other festivities?”

  “There are no other festivities.” George shifted from one foot to the other.

  “Right.” Beth wanted to say something about the festivities being in Cara’s pants, but this time she held back. “You know, you’re leaving in two days and I thought you might not mind spending time with me.”

  “I don’t mind spending time with you.”

  “That’s big of you,” she spat out, before she could stop herself. Since the night George had come into her room, she was still feeling very small inside. She hated that she couldn’t shake that emotion. She was used to being open and honest with George.

  Lately, Beth had tried to avoid hanging out with George and Cara. It seemed he wanted Beth to do everything with them. When they went downtown for ice cream, he begged her to come. He wanted her to give Cara surfing pointers because he said Beth was a better teacher than he was. He didn’t seem to get the hint when she kept making excuses.

  George let out a sigh, then walked off into the brush yet again. Beth sank onto her knees in the sand and started organizing the wood and kindling. She glanced at the sky, hoping the clouds would pass. Mostly because something had to go right. The fact that rain looked inevitable seemed to prove that the dark forces of the universe were conspiring against her.

  “Want me to get more?” George said, coming to the edge of the pit with an armful of kindling.

  “No, that’s fine,” she said, contrite. “That’s really great.” He watched as she arranged and rearranged the kindling. Then he knelt beside her and tried to help, reaching out his hand for her to hand him some wood.

  Beth glanced at the familiar scar on his palm. As a joke one night, after watching Stand By Me on HBO, they’d decided to become blood brother and sister. Beth had sworn up and down that if George cut his hand she would, too. Of course, some of their silliness that night could be attributed to the fact that they’d been drinking George’s stepdad’s Smirnoff Ices—almost an entire case worth.

  George had sliced his hand, just near the thumb, with a paring knife from the kitchen, but when it came time for Beth to do it, she couldn’t go through with it.

  George hadn’t pushed it like Beth would have if the situation were reversed. He’d nodded and said it was okay. He bit his lip while his hand throbbed and Beth was nice enough to put a Band-Aid on the cut. He’d never brought it up again.

  Now, remembering, Beth felt evil for treating him so badly. George was always so good to her, which may have been why she felt so tormented by him now.

  “So, are you and Cara gonna keep in touch?” she asked, putting all the kindness she could muster into her voice.

  George nodded. “Yeah, I think so. I guess we’ll e-mail and maybe try to visit each other. I mean, we haven’t really talked about it.”

  Why was this stuff so difficult for Beth to hear?

  “It’s more the ‘right now’ I’m worried about,” he said, sinking deeper onto his knees and clasping his hands.

  “What do you mean?” Beth had picked up a stick and was cracking it into little pieces. What could happen in two days?

  “Well, we’ve, you know, fooled around. Kissed or whatever. But I think she probably expects more.” George’s face was beet-red.

  Beth fought the urge to clear her throat. “And that’s a bad thing?” She was trying really hard to sound like a supportive friend.

  “No, no. Definitely not. But, I’m just—well—you know.” He looked up at Beth from under his eyebrows, shyly. Beth knew, of course, that George—like her—was a virgin. But she wasn’t going to help him out here. “I don’t want us to end the summer without, you know, me showing her I’m…uh, up for it. I don’t want to go into a long-distance relationship like that.”

  “I thought you said you hadn’t discussed that.”

  “We haven’t.” George stared at the ground.

  Beth searched her mind for the most well-intentioned thing she could think of to say. It was a stretch. “Well, you know, you’re probably fine. You don’t have to pretend you’re more experienced than you are, I don’t think. You can just, maybe, let her take the lead?” She was proud of herself for standing by George and giving him advice.

  He shook his head. “You don’t understand, Beth. If you were with someone you’d wanthim to take the lead.”

  “I don’t know.…”

  “Well, that’s the thing. You don’t get it.” George sighed and stood up.

  “Wait, wait, wait. I don’t get it?” Beth stood up, too, trying to quench the burning starting at the bottom of her throat. “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know,” he said in a confused tone. “You just haven’t, you know, had sex or anything yet. Really.”

  “I’ve been closer than you have,”Beth countered, her stomach trembling wildly. She knew that probably wasn’t really true.

  George realized that he’d hit a nerve. He was silent for a moment. “You’re right. Never mind.”

  But Beth couldn’t let it go. She felt all the hurt welling up in her at once. It was like a freight train that would run right over what they were saying to each other. “Wait, how did I all of a sudden become the person who ‘doesn’t get it’?”

  George tried to backtrack. “Forget it. I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

  “Maybeyou don’t get it.”

  George half laughed. “Get what?”

  Beth searched the air above her head for an answer. “I don’t know. Maybe you don’t see that you’re just Cara’s…summer boy. It’s not going to last, George. You’re talking about the long-distance thing, blah blah blah. You’re making all these plans. Do you really think she’s interested? You’re, like, her little fling. I don’t see why you’re making it into this huge romance when it’s obvious to everyone but you that it’s not.”

  George’s face had gone from flushed to pale. He clenched his jaw tight. As soon as the words were out of Beth’s mouth, she wished she could take them back.

  “You’re probably right. I never said it was this big serious thing.”

  Beth stared at him. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights of an enormous SUV. She wanted to say she was sorry, but she just couldn’t.

  “I’m done with making this fire,”he said. “I’m going back to the house.” His face became familiar again, but still distant. Like the George she knew had taken on a different form. In all the time she’d known him, Beth had never seen him really angry with h
er.

  “Okay,” Beth whispered.

  She pretended to be busy as he walked back down the beach.

  She knew she’d been wrong to yell at him. She was probably wrong about Cara. They could end up married for all Beth knew. But she was still afraid that she was losing him.

  Then it occurred to her that maybe she already had.

  19

  Regis and Kelly were interviewing Nicolas Cage. It seemed to Jamie that Regis and Kelly were always interviewing Nicolas Cage. She reached down to the floor and picked up her coffee mug, taking a long gulp as she stared at the TV screen. After Ethan’s disastrous party and her getting sick, she’d holed up inside again, hiding from the world. The phone rang.

  “Mom,” she said into the receiver, seeing the number on the caller ID. These days the phone was wherever Jamie was, just in case Ethan might call again.

  “Jamie, I’m afraid I can’t make it up this week,” her mom said, sounding extremely apologetic. “There’s a crisis at work and…”

  “I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.” Jamie shifted around so that her feet touched the floor, knocking over a bag of Tostitos. The floor surrounding the couch was a minefield of snack bags and coffee mugs.

  “I just can’t stop thinking about what a jerk he was.”

  “Mom, Ethan’s not a jerk.”

  “I don’t want you to talk to him anymore, Jamie.”

  “Don’t worry. He went to that writer’s workshop. I don’t even know if he’s coming back.”

  “Well, if he does call, I want you to hang up on him.”

  “We’re just about to leave for the beach.” Jamie picked up the remote. “Talk to you later?”

  After she’d hung up, she turned up the volume on the TV and grabbed a doughnut from the nearly empty box on the coffee table. Lying back on the couch, she flipped through the channels and finally settled on a documentary about death rituals in Thailand. A bunch of people were standing on the edge of a body of water, tossing petals at a floating coffin. Bored and restless, Jamie fiddled with her locket mindlessly, and then opened it and stared at the picture inside.