Summer of Yesterday

by Gaby Triana

  “Yes, those shorts are great, and no, I haven’t seen my dad.” Not since yesterday afternoon. But I have seen my mom!

  He presses his lips together and nods. I wonder if he really wants me to reunite with my imaginary family or if he secretly hopes I won’t find them. “Hey, I thought maybe we could go do something fun after you’re done eating. Want to?”

  “Like what?” I gnaw at the drumstick.

  “I’m not going to tell you. That would ruin the surprise.” He flashes a gorgeous smile at me. If he keeps up with the hotness, I’ll be forced to kiss him later.

  “I didn’t know there would be a surprise, but yeah. Can I finish my food first?”

  “Sure, you just . . .” He hesitates, as if wanting to touch my mouth, but not quite. “You got some sauce. Right . . . there.” He points to a spot at the corner of my lips. I know he’s noticing the sauce, but I can’t take my eyes off his fresh, clean-cut beachiness closing in on me.

  He retreats a bit. “What? Is something wrong?”

  “Nothing, you looked like someone I knew for a moment,” I lie.

  He smirks. “Wait, let me guess. Christopher Atkins? Girls always tell me I look like I could be his twin.”

  “I . . .” have no clue who Christopher Atkins is. It’s times like these that I want to whip out my phone and Google Christopher Atkins on the spot. But I can’t keep acting so clueless, so I just say, “Yeah, you sort of do.”

  “I knew it. It’s the nose. Maybe I should quit my towel-shack job and be an actor. It’s great that you know who Christopher Atkins is. That says a lot about you.” His eyes do that thing where they disappear into a squinty smile.

  “Of course I know! I’m not a moron!” Crap, I’m such a moron. “Don’t change your look, though. You wouldn’t have that Calvin Klein model, all-American thing happening, which I think suits you.”

  “A what model? What is that?”

  “Oh, Calvin Klein? A designer brand. Never mind.”

  “See, I don’t know much about clothes.”

  “Ahh, so you admit to not understanding the fashionable properties of my shipwreck shorts!” I point a finger at him. “Ha! Which are called Daisy Dukes, by the way.”

  “Ooh, Daisy Duke. Man, she can jump in my General Lee anytime,” he murmurs, and I have no idea what any of that means. Then he adds, “Hey, have you ever heard of Duran Duran? They’re this band from the UK. They played a song last month on that TV show Dancin’ On Air? But I haven’t heard it since, and I’m trying to remember what it’s called.”

  Duran Duran? Aren’t they those guys with the song where the girl hiccup-laughs at the beginning? I played it on Rock Band 2. I start humming it quietly.

  “Yes! That one!” Jason’s eyes fly open and he joins in. He actually sings pretty good! But he doesn’t know the words any better than I do, because he mumbles half of them, and the other half don’t make any sense. “Seen in the subway, up is a wire . . .”

  “Doo-doo-doo-do-do, doo-do-do, doo-do-do, doo-doop-doo-doooooo!” We sing together, finally sharing some pop culture thing that we both understand. “I’m hungry like the wooollllf . . .” We finish off, laughing like two idiots.

  “ ‘Hungry Like the Wolf.’ That’s it!” he cries, sitting back, ­staring at me in awe. “I can’t believe you knew that. Nobody I’ve asked has known what the hell I’m talking about.”

  “Well, yeah, I like that song,” I say, as if everybody knows it. Doesn’t everyone? Maybe they’re not super famous yet. Either way, I love the way his whole face changed just now after singing and laughing so hard. His eyes and smile loosen up. Even his nose, which is strong and makes me think of running my fingertip down the length of it.

  He nods. “Yeah, me too. They have a video on MTV that’s sexy. That one’s called ‘Girls on Film.’ I hope they make it big here. Have you seen that one?”

  “I think so,” I say, trying to remember if I ever saw it on I Love the 80’s.

  “You would remember it. It was a bunch of girls mud wrestling.”

  “Oh, right!” I fake-remember.

  “You’ve seen it!” He’s amazed again by me. I feel so fake. “That one is supposedly censored unless you have ONTV. You have ONTV?”

  “On what?”

  “Cable television. You pay for it. Not like ABC or NBC. Wow, I thought everyone had heard of cable by now.”

  “Well, I do. I mean, of course I know about cable. I just never heard of ONTV.” I feel the urge to tell him how between my two parents’ houses, I must have at least seven hundred satellite ­channels, more than he would even know what to do with. Jason would love hearing about it, especially since he’s so into previewing things before they come out. It saddens me that I can’t share that with him.

  “What are you thinking about right now?” he asks quietly.

  “I’m just . . .” It’s going to be really hard having any kind of friendship with him if I don’t come clean. Not that I’m going to. I can’t. “Have you ever watched Doctor Who?”

  His eyes get big all of a sudden. “On PBS? Yeah. You watch Doctor Who?” More and more, he seems impressed with things I know, as if girls don’t watch sci-fi or know anything about technology or music.

  “Who doesn’t know what a TARDIS is?” I ask, impressing him into stunned silence. “But, I guess I’m curious to know, since you like technology, the future, and, well, EPCOT—”

  “EPCOT Center,” he corrects.

  “Sorry, EPCOT Center. Do you think that’s possible? You know, for people to travel between times like that, the way the Doctor does on the show?”

  He shrugs and looks out at the lake. He obviously doesn’t realize how his answer will map out the course of how much I might venture to tell him. “I think it’s cool to think about it, to imagine that it might happen. But I never heard of any documented cases, so it’s hard to believe.” He looks at me again, judging how well I might receive his answer. “Why? Do you believe it could happen?”

  I look away and start drawing a circle in the sand. Had someone asked me this two days ago, I would’ve said no, point blank. I’ve never believed much in ghosts, the supernatural, or anything that hasn’t been proven, but look at everything that’s happened to me! So much has changed in only two days. I’m sitting here in another time and dimension. Do I really need a scientist to validate that for me? How much more proof do I need than actual experience?

  “I’m not sure,” I say honestly. “I’m only now starting to think that humans don’t know the tiniest fraction of what there is to learn about science. We think we know it all, but that’s because of our egos. Things are always happening to change everything we believed just minutes before. Life is challenging that way.”

  I get that now, which is why Mom is always telling me not to make excuses, live my life, and never apologize, and Dad is always stressing family, family, family. Because you may never see them again.

  As Jason watches the water, it seems something has changed in him. He’s gone back into his serious shell. “That’s smart, and yeah, you’re right about that.”

  I touch his arm. “Hey, you okay?”

  He’s absorbed in his thoughts a minute more, and I feel bad for whatever I said. But then he pops up and shakes the sand off his butt, offering me a hand. “Totally fine. Ready to have a blast?”

  Oh my God—a blast. I can’t help but smile. I place my hand in his. It feels firm and cool. It feels really nice.

  “Let’s go.” He leads me toward the golf carts lined up against shrubs. I couldn’t be more confused about my feelings right now. Am I getting too distracted? I mean, I should be trying to find my way back to the future! The thing is, I’ve noticed I’ve been smiling. Smiling A LOT since I met Jason. That wasn’t happening much before I slipped back in time. So what does it matter what year I’m in, as long as I’m finally enjoying my summer?

>   I have to stop obsessing over all this. First of all, there’s nothing I CAN do. And second of all, if my mom and dad are both right, we should all live like there’s no tomorrow. So maybe that’s what I should try.

  Live, as we jump into the cart and drive into the warm evening of the campground.

  Live, as we sing, “Doo-doo-doo-do-do, doo-do-do, doo-do-do, doo-doop-doo-doo,” driving through the wilderness roads, laughing and yelling like dorks when Jason turns off the headlights at one point.

  Live, and forget, if only temporarily, that I have another life. It’s the only way I will ever enjoy this moment. Because it’s perfect. And if I really am dreaming, then guess what? I don’t ever want to wake up.

  twelve

  We laugh so hard, we barely notice when we pass another golf cart and three familiar faces stare back intently. “Whoops.” Jason stiffens up.

  “What? What is it?” I look back, but the other cart blends into the darkness. Oh my God, don’t tell me it’s Jake.

  “They’re making a uey. Hold on, Haley.” He steps on the gas and speeds down the road as fast as a golf cart can go. My hair flies into my face. Then I see headlights shine in our rearview mirror. “It’s my brother,” he mumbles.

  “Shit.”

  “Shit is right. He’s been poking around my business all day. That’s why I’ve been avoiding him, and he’s with Marsha and that Oscar dude.”

  My dad’s in that cart too? I can’t let him see me. What if he recognizes me in the future as the girl who was with Jason, the River Country towel-shack kid, thirty years ago? I’ll be in so much trouble!

  “We need to lose them,” I tell him. I mean, this could be it. Jake will tell Jason I was trespassing in River Country, and this’ll be the end of the gig.

  “I couldn’t agree more.” Jason swerves off the road into the woods, a hard ride at twenty miles an hour. We bump and boing out of our seats like we’re on WaveRunners. I screech and firmly grip the sides of my seat.

  “Hang on.” Jason grips the wheel, concentrating on the lit-up foliage ahead of us.

  “Where are we going?” I yell, now hanging on to the frame of the cart. Behind us, his brother’s headlights bounce. We’ll never lose him like this. “Cut the lights,” I say.

  “What?”

  “You know your way around, right?”

  “Yeah. But so does he.”

  “So turn off the lights!”

  Surprisingly, he chuckles. “Yes, ma’am!” He slams a pulled-out knob with the palm of his hand, and oh my friggin’ God, we are speeding into absolute blackness like it’s Space Mountain minus the ambient lighting. We could easily plow into a lake or canal, fall off a cliff, or who knows what! I am so stupid! This is awesome!

  “Woooo!” I yell impulsively, forgetting the fact we’re trying to escape unnoticed, and Jason woos with me.

  We make a sharp right, and a sharp left, and then we’re suddenly scraping bushes. I have to pull in my arms to keep them from getting scratched, all the while laughing. I don’t know what’s so funny about nearly getting sliced by branches, but the extreme retreat strikes me as hysterical.

  He makes another quick turn and stops, holding his hand over my mouth. “Shh, they’ll hear us. He probably turned his lights off too. Man, this is crazy.” I can’t see much at all of him, but my eyes work their hardest to adjust quickly. I can just make out the contour of his face. There’s something extremely hot about sitting here in the dark with nineteen-year-old Jason, army-bound Jason, both of us panting like escaped convicts.

  Slowly, he uncovers my mouth and checks behind us, listening carefully when I really, really wish he’d look at me instead. I’ve never been the kind of girl to sit around and wait for a boy to kiss me if I really, really wish he would, but something tells me I shouldn’t be the one to make the first move. We’re in 1982. This is a whole other era. What if he thinks I’m too aggressive? I don’t want that. What did girls do in 1982?

  “Do you hear anything?” he whispers.

  “You, breathing.” Even though it’s still nearly pitch-black around us, I can hear him smile. I can feel his heat, his energy, and smell his clean skin near me.

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” And I don’t know why, but I take his hand and gently move it back over my mouth, then the side of my face, and lean into it a little.

  “Haley . . .” His voice drops a bit.

  I’m not going to kiss him. I’m just going to wait and see. In the shadows, I can now make out more of the outline of his face, his parted lips, eyes focused on my mouth. But, wow, hurry up and get it over with already. He runs his fingers down over my hair, then brings his thumb back to my mouth, sweeping it across my bottom lip. I clutch his hand and close my eyes.

  “Did you hear that?” he whispers.

  “No.” I do not hear or sense anything outside of this bubble right now. I cling to his thick hand, breathing quietly. Then I open my eyes and glance at the only other thing I can truly see, the stars pulsing way up over the silhouette of big pine trees reaching up toward the velvet sky.

  Jason switches back to high-alert, protective mode. He scans the thicket of trees that surround us. “That. The hissing.”

  I strain to listen, and yeah, I mean, I hear the sounds of mechanical things swishing through the night, but we are at a resort in the middle of a packed summer. It could be any car, bus, golf cart, boat, or monorail within a few miles. “Are they still following us, you think?” I ask.

  “Probably. Jake would love to catch me doing anything wrong just to take the focus off of him.”

  Hmm, I’m something wrong? I pull my hand away from him.

  He looks at me, confused. “Haley, that’s not what I meant. What I mean is . . . remember that I work here. We’re supposed to respect the employee-guest relationship. That’s all.”

  “You sure?” It sounded like he’d be embarrassed to be seen with me.

  He takes my hand and, looking down at it, laces his fingers through mine. “Yes. I’m sure. I just don’t like my brother in my business, that’s all. Okay?”

  “Okay.” I don’t really have any reason to doubt him, but I wish he knew how I’m making a big sacrifice by being with him when I could be trying to find my way back home instead. Even though I might be stalling on purpose. To spend more time with him. Maybe.

  “You hear it? Listen.” He points to the cricket-chirpy area behind us.

  It does sound like the flattening of grass somewhere near, along with maybe some girl giggling. “They’re creeping up on us,” I whisper. I sit up straight. I don’t want my father to remember a girl who looked like me getting cozy with a guy in the woods.

  “Yes. And we have to get out soon. The battery on this cart won’t last long, especially with the extra strain we just put it under.”

  I’m not sure how far off the road we are, but getting even more stranded than I already am would so be the opposite of fun. “How about heading back the way we came?”

  “That’s what I’m thinking too.” Slowly, he maneuvers his way out of our spot and drives in the direction of the road again.

  I keep looking behind us. “Should we speed up?”

  “I don’t want to waste the battery, or we’ll be walking back. Then my old man’ll be pissed and won’t let me use the cart anymore.”

  I face the front again. Any moment we’ll pop through the trees and be back on the main road. Suddenly I feel Jason’s hand back on my face, real soft, and I see him looking at me intently. “What?”

  “I wanted to kiss you back there,” he says.

  My stomach does a big flip, one of those that makes you stop and savor the moment just before something awesome happens. I hold on to his hand. We’re quiet for a minute. The air between us is thick with all sorts of unsaid things that are probably better that way.

  All of a sudd
en, the glare of headlights switches on behind us, lights that were there all along, poised in the dark. “Suckers!” a guy yells, and I recognize the voice from River Country. The lights come charging toward us.

  “Shit, Jake.”

  Shit, my dad.

  “Let’s go.” Jason switches back on our lights and plows into the brush, annoyed as hell.

  The right tire bounces over a rock. “Ahh!” I yell way out loud. “I’m so going to need a new bra after this,” I mumble to myself.

  Jason side-glances me with a sly smile, then he starts swerving right, left, and I get the feeling that our cart is getting weak from traversing over this rough terrain with two full bodies in it for so long. Jake, Marsha, and Oscar—Oscar!—have fallen behind, but they’re still back there, ’cause I can see their high beams bouncing all around and hear a girl yelping.

  “He’s losing battery,” Jason says. “That cart was last charged this morning. I know because I unplugged it right after lunch to plug mine in at River Country.”

  Finally, we bump over something that makes us both jump in our seats so hard, we almost hit our heads on the roof. “What was that?” I ask.

  “I don’t know.” He slows down and backs up.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I wanna see.” He backs up over the hard object on the ground. Behind us about fifty feet, Jake’s cart lights falter. The cart lunges forward then stops, lunges again, then stops. Jason looks at his chunky, black plastic watch.

  “What? Why are you looking at your watch?” Who cares what time it is!

  On the ground, something long and dark metallic stretches into the darkness, but it’s hard to tell what it is. I reach down to feel it. Smooth, cold metal . . .

  HISSSSS. A loud steamy noise sends my heart racing.

  “Is this what I think it is?” I say, only to be interrupted by a growing light in the distance coming around some tall trees.

  “Right on time.” Jason smiles. “Watch this.”

  “A train? There’s no train in Fort Wilderness!” I yell, watching the light grow brighter, listening to the sound of metal on metal, screeching and chugging toward us.