by Angel Lawson
I face the water again, inhaling and exhaling the early morning air and watching the sun creep toward the sky. I realize on my way back to my car that maybe that guy is right, it’s hard to be depressed out here.
* * *
The first week goes slow, filled with a mixture of getting used to camp life (the laundromat), sharing a small space with my mother, investigating a decades-old killer, getting used to the sun on my face and sleeping soundly for the first time in ages, and I’m simply worn out.
Monday rolls around again and I can’t believe I’ve been here a week, yet at the same time, fall seems so far away. I’m eating a bagel and trying to decide if I should just go back to bed or maybe tackle some laundry when I hear a knock on the door.
My mother is on a pre-writing, brain-charging walk. I open the door and find Anita, kid on her hip, standing at the bottom of the metal step. “Hi,” I say. “What’s up?”
“Pack your beach bag, we’re going to the island.”
I look over the water and to the big houses and island where the Atlantic sits on the other side. I’ve only been over there the one time, to walk on the beach and pier. “To the beach?”
“Yep. It’s Monday. The boys have the day off and we’re going to have a picnic and play day. Plus, I promised to save you from another cocktail hour.” She doesn’t give me time to respond before she walks away and says over her shoulder, “Meet me in thirty minutes at my house.”
By the boys I assume she means Bobby and his friends. Maybe that guy Pete with the ice? She’s mentioned this group a few times, each as a collective, a unit that orbits in her life. I can’t imagine what that’s like. For so long it was just me and Mason and even then, no one knew we existed.
I gather my bag and chair and leave a note for my mother and set off for Anita’s camper. I wind through the campground paths until I reach her place. Her trailer is less like a trailer and more a house. It’s located under a big, shady tree near the back of the grounds. A pre-fab is what I heard someone call it. I’d seen the kids playing outside once when I was looking for the main office. It’s not water-front but the cool air under the massive, old trees felt nice, and it’s separated just enough from the other homes to give it a sense of privacy.
Anita and Sibley wait out front, a pile of toys, coolers, and chairs at their feet. Bobby walks back and forth to the truck loading it all in the back. I approach them and poke Sibley in the belly which gains a laugh. “I would’ve thought locals would take less to the beach.”
She smiles. “Back before I had kids all I needed was a surfboard and a towel. Now I know if we want to stay for more than an hour we have to take some supplies.”
“You can surf?” I ask in awe.
“Of course. That’s how I met Bobby way back. Well, it’s how I met his brother, who in turn introduced me to him.”
“And who’s his brother?” I keep trying to get it all straight.
Bobby walks behind us, lifting a cooler over his head and says, “My knuckle-headed younger brother, Justin. Stay away from him. He’s nothing but trouble.”
“The fun kind of trouble,” Anita whispers with a wink. “He’s a sophomore at Clemson.”
“Clemson?” That was my back-up school. I’d really wanted to go there but it was so far away from home and well…Mason.
“Business major. He’s planning on taking over the marina one day. Pete’s also there for engineering, but Whit and Nick are both headed to the Citadel.”
“The Citadel?”
“Yeah, the military academy in Charleston. All the men in their families go there.”
“Huh. Well I guess you can move out of your little town after all?”
“You can,” Bobby says, tossing the last of the stuff in the back of the truck, including my chair. “If you want to leave all of this. Just watch, at the end of the season we’ll have to kick you out of here.”
I check to see if he’s joking, like I expect, but the expression on his face is completely genuine. It’s obvious Bobby loves living in this tiny spot of heavenly-hell. Me? I’ll stick to vacationing.
“Summer, you can sit in the back seat with Sibley,” Anita says, and I pick up my bag and climb in the truck. Bobby has one of those huge trucks with a full front and back seat. I ignore the gun rack in the window and the ever-present scent of fish that seeps into every crevice around here. All-in-all though, the truck is pretty clean.
The ride from the campground to the beach is quick. I thought we would park at the public access but Bobby passes the community entrance. A mile or so down the road, he pulls into an oceanfront beachhouse driveway and parks the truck under the house.
“Whose house is this?” I ask. It’s not one of the big modern houses but it has a wide screened-in porch and I can hear the waves the second the door opens.
“Our friend’s parents own the house. They don’t rent so we’re welcome to use the outdoor showers and boardwalk when they aren’t here.”
“That’s awesome,” I say, hopping out of the truck. The warm breeze hits my face and I’m engulfed by the roar of the ocean. I’m not exactly knocking my water-front home but this…this is heaven.
I volunteer to take Sibley out to the beach while Anita and Bobby unpack the truck. I hold her chubby fingers and I laugh at her running down the boardwalk on wobbly legs toward the ocean. She’s faster than I predict and dashes out of reach before I realize it. Afraid I won’t catch her before she reaches the steps at the end, I yell, “Sibley!”
She turns and smiles a goofy baby smile but takes one step back toppling off the step.
“No, no no,” I say, thinking about how the first time Anita lets me loose with her baby, I’ve damaged her. I race to the edge and stop.
“Thank god,” I breathe with a sigh of relief. Sibley sits one step below, laughing and clapping her hands at a man who cradles her in his lap. He looks up and flashes me a grin before holding her under the arms and tossing her into the air.
“It’s you,” I say, because it’s him. The guy who shut my water off.
“It’s me.”
“What are you doing here?” I ask. He’s shaved his beard, which makes him even more handsome.
“Playing with Sibley. Making sure she doesn’t fall to her death,” he gives me an accusatory look.
“She ran off!” I argue. “And she’s really fast!”
“It’s all good,” he says, rubbing his nose against Sibley’s. “Uncle Justin caught you.”
“Wait,” I say, eyeing his light brown hair, blowing out of its quasi-faux–hawk. “You’re Bobby’s brother?”
“Yep,” he nods. “And you’re the girl from the shower with all the shampoo and the robe and all that.” He winks, gesturing to my hair and staring at my chest with those crazy blue eyes, making me squirm. He sticks out his hand. “Nice to meet you—formally.”
“I haven’t told you my name.”
“Summer, right? It’s about time you realize there are few secrets in Ocean Beach.”
I ignore his hand and grab the baby. She squeals in protest, but when she sees we’re walking toward the shore, she stops. “Come on, Sibley, let’s go see the water.”
I don’t look back until I’ve reached the edge of the beach and the cool June water rushes over my toes. Still on the steps, Justin pulls Anita in a bear hug and then grabs the cooler out of Bobby’s hands. They head to an already-forming group down from where I’m standing all alone.
“Can you believe I came down here with all these people that I don’t know?” I ask Sibley. “People that have known one another all their lives. That have kids and families and careers all mapped out.”
She stands up and water drips down her legs and she laughs.
“I mean I don’t even know these people. Your mom is cool. And your dad, but your uncle? He’s kind of a jerk.” I bend down to pick up a shell to show her. “He totally turned off my water on purpose.”
“Wa-ter,” Sibley says.
“I know,” I say,
still basically talking to myself. “He did offer me and Mom a ride that day. And he’s your uncle and he goes to Clemson, so he can’t be an idiot.”
The little girl claps her hands and moves to the ocean.
“You know who’s an idiot?” I put my hands on my hips and she mimics me. “I am. Sitting down here while there’s a whole group of people up there waiting to hang out with me. I’m being stupid. Don’t you think?” She doesn’t reply, thankfully, but I take her hand and lead her back down the beach to the others. It’s time to move on.
Chapter 7
The sun burns hot on my already tender skin and my hair feels like straw from the wind and sea air. Once I got over my weirdness with Justin, I relaxed enough to enjoy the day, watching everyone surf and swim. I stay out of the water though, only going up to my knees to cool off.
“You ever going to get in?” a girl named Ivy asks. She has a huge surfboard under her arm. Her parents own the house we’ve occupied for the afternoon. Even though the house itself is off limits we have access to an outside shower and bathroom. There’s also the porch so there isn’t much else necessary. I kind of like the townie way of doing the beach.
“No, I’m not really into swimming in the ocean,” I reply.
She cocks her head. “Scared?”
“I just don’t really like swimming where I can’t see the bottom.” I think back to vacations on the gulf and the crystal-clear water. The gulf is nothing like the Atlantic, which has dark sand and crunchy, broken shells littering the ocean floor.
“You’ll get used to it,” she promises.
“Leave her alone,” Justin says, from behind us, skimming his board across the water. He attempts to grab Ivy by her waist, but she lunges out of the way, trying to hold on to her bathing suit top at the same time. All the girls here wear bikinis. Except me. It’s hard not to notice I’m surrounded by permanently brown people that take to the water like fish. With my pale skin, discomfort in the ocean and full-coverage tankini, I’m clearly the odd man out.
I watch Justin and Ivy paddle past the breakers, gliding over the waves with ease and confidence. They seem happy together. I suspect he’s just flirty, which makes me a little jealous and relieved all at once. Who am I to be jealous of a girl I just met? I walk up to the house and sit next to Anita and a couple of other people on the gazebo area midway down the boardwalk.
“Summer, did you meet Pete?” Anita asks, gesturing to the guy I’d met a week ago carrying bags of ice across the campground. Obviously, she knew we’d met and I shoot her a glare before smiling at the boy wearing a white T-shirt over his blue trunks and a cap that says “Ocean Beach Marina.”
“We’ve run into each other but, no, we haven’t officially met.” I offer my hand. He takes it and I notice callouses on his fingertips.
“Nice to meet you, Summer.” His warm eyes and hand hold mine a beat longer than necessary. When it reaches the awkward point, I slowly withdraw and avert my eyes down to the water. Ivy and Justin are floating together on their surfboards in the water. A guy named Whit, who I recognize from Justin’s Jeep the day we arrived, paddles out to meet them.
“I thought you worked at the campground,” I say, nodding at the hat.
He adjusts the brim. “I do, but we all pull shifts at the marina occasionally.”
“Summer just graduated from high school in Tennessee,” Anita offers.
“Near Nashville.”
Pete nods in recognition. “Do you like it there?”
“I do. I mean, I’m looking forward to moving on to college. I’m going to Vanderbilt.” I hope no one can hear the waver in my voice. For some reason when people ask me about my life, about back home, I feel like such a liar for leaving out Mason. It’s dumb, but that’s how deep into him I was. Am? Don’t think about him. Don’t think about him. Don’t think about him.
He holds up his bottle of water and smiles. “I applied to Vandy. Too expensive though.”
“And you’re a sophomore?”
“Yeah, me and Justin. Whit and Nick finally graduated this year.”
Anita goes around the rest of the group, pointing out a few other people. Maggie, who’s a friend of Ivy’s. A lone figure wanders up the beach carrying something in his hand.
“That’s Nick,” she says. “He’s our resident enigma. He got a football scholarship to the Citadel but desperately wants to major in art and photography.”
I squint, trying to get a better look at the guy on the beach. Something tells me that Nick and I may have encountered one another already.
Ivy, Justin, and Whit continue playing out of the water while the others clean and set up for dinner. I feel a little out of place with nothing to do, but Anita assures me it’s fine. I’m a guest. Pete and Bobby pull a heavy, metal fire pit from the porch near the house and load it with coals.
“Ride it in,” Bobby shouts and I look toward the water again. Ivy and Justin have caught a wave on their surfboards. Whit lingers a little further out, waiting on his board.
“Ouch,” Pete says, when Ivy crashes into the waves but Justin rides the swooping wave all the way to the shore, hopping off before it hits the sand. He runs back out to help Ivy.
“Impressive,” I say, keeping my eyes on Whit. A wave rolls toward him and he flattens out, using his well-defined arms to paddle toward the shore. He’s up in a smooth, clean motion and I can’t take my eyes off of him. I’d never watched surfers closely before. It looks so easy but it can’t be. Whit’s formidable stomach muscles tense as he rides the wave in.
Anita nods. “Yeah, they’re the best out of all of us. When Justin and the others set their sights on something, they’re pretty determined. Surfing was a big passion for both of them for a long time.”
“And now?” I ask, curious about his passions.
Anita gave me a quick glance. “School. Work. The military. They all have goals outside this little strip of beach.”
“Hungry?” Pete asks, handing me a metal skewer with a hot dog on the end.
“Thanks.” I hold it over the fire. Justin, Whit, and Ivy finally come out of the water and I listen as they take turns in the shower under the porch. When they reappear, Justin’s wearing dry shorts and an orange hoodie. The zipper stops midway up his bare chest and I struggle to pull my eyes away. Whit trudges up the steps a few minutes later, drying off with a red-striped towel. Lord he’s ripped. They grab bottles of soda out of the cooler and lean against the railing, reliving their time in the water. Next to one another they’re like two Greek gods. Golden brown skin, muscles like carved marble. Justin’s hair is dark, shaggy on top but short in the back. His eyes match the late afternoon sky.
Whit is his opposite with blond hair that hangs past his sharp jaw down to his shoulders. His eyes are deep green, intense. A striped towel hangs around his waist and my eyes sweep over the deep-set V of his hipbones and the scattering of blond hair under his belly button. I glance up and find him watching me watch him.
Jesus.
I look away, hoping the red on my cheeks can be blamed on the fire and focus on the blaze. Luckily Anita breaks the awkward moment by shouting, “If you think I’m cooking your dinner, Justin Hawkins, you’re crazy.”
He walks up to Anita and pushes her out of the way, grabbing a rod and skewering three hotdogs down the metal. “I can fend for myself,” he says, swatting her as she walks over to the table to fix a plate for Sibley.
He eases in next to me, so comfortable in his skin and with this group, roasting his dinner over the fire. After a minute he raises an eyebrow and says, “You have a good time today?”
I take a deep breath. “I did. It was nice to be around some other people—you know other than my mom and the Florence County records keeper.”
“Yeah, that’s not a big camper; you two must get along well.”
“Kind of. My trip was kind of spur of the moment. I may be crashing her adventure a little.”
“The grounds are buzzing with news of her celebrity. I’m su
re she’ll keep busy. Don’t forget, there’s always bingo on Thursdays,” he laughs.
“Who are you talking about?” Nick asks, stealing a hot dog from the end of Justin’s skewer and giving it to JT. The little boy runs over to the tables and squeezes a giant glob of ketchup on top. I get the feeling the whole group watches out for that boy.
“Summer’s mother.”
“Oh, right,” Nick nods. “Well, that and she’s a legend around here.”
This piques my interest. “She is? How so?”
Justin points at my hot dog and says, “You may want to take that off now.”
I look down and see a charred, blackened hot dog. “Shoot.”
“Eh, give it to Bobby, he’ll eat anything.” On cue, Bobby walks over and plucks the blackened dog off my stick and walks away. “Here,” Justin says, giving me one of his remaining hot dogs.
“Thank you.”
I take it and move over to the table, filling the rest of my plate with chips, fruit, and other picnic foods.
Anita waves me over and I take the seat next to her under the gazebo. Justin sits across from me, next to Ivy. Before I lose the courage, I ask, “So how, exactly, is my mother legendary?”
“She was notorious for being pretty wild back in the day. All of our families were tight. Julia would come for the summer and stir things up just enough to cause trouble, break hearts and then leave. One summer she left for good and no one saw her again until you two showed up a week ago,” Anita explains.
“Wait,” I say, looking around the fire, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. “Am I related to any of you?”
“You’re cousins with Anita and maybe the same to Ivy,” Pete says, licking mustard off his thumb. “But other than that, I think you’re in the clear.”
“Okay, good to know, I guess.”
Anita grins. “My mother talks about how she convinced Julia to sneak out of the house and take the car down to Myrtle Beach to the Pavilion. Back then it was a forty-minute drive. All on deserted back roads. Completely crazy. If my grandparents had found out they would have been whipped within an inch of their lives.”
