Marcie feels a tug on her shirt. Looking down she sees her younger brother, Drew. “Great race, Marce, you were speedy,” he says. Drew is seven and just finished first grade.
“Thanks, Drewster,” says Marcie as she ruffles his sandy brown hair. “Mom!” she says as her mom comes up and gives her a hug.
“First place again!” her mom says smiling, the corners of her eyes crinkling into familiar laugh lines. Her strawberry blond hair, green eyes, and freckles were passed on to Marcie, but otherwise they don’t really look alike. Marcie doesn’t really look like either of her parents. More like a blending of both of their features. “Did you see your dad?” She winks at Marcie.
“Of course—he’s by the monument waiting for his race.” She indicates the direction with a nod of her head. They reach the scorer’s table and Marcie turns to give her name to the woman seated in front of her. The woman exclaims to her mother, “Well hello, Jill. Is this first place winner your daughter?”
“Yes, this is Marcie.” Turning to Marcie she says, “This is Abby Swyndall. Her husband is the new President of the university.”
“Nice to meet you,” replies Marcie. She feels a trickle of sweat run down her back between her shoulder blades and wishes she had something to wipe the sweat off her face.
Mrs. Swyndall asks, “Aren’t you going into seventh grade in the fall?” Marcie nods. “My daughter Kaitlyn is in your grade. Do you know her?”
“Yes, she’s in a couple of my classes.” Marcie does know her, but after starting school last fall, Kaitlyn moved easily into the “popular” group, so they didn’t socialize much. She is momentarily distracted by Drew pulling on her shirt again to get her attention and tell her about the prizes he won that afternoon.
Over Drew’s excited chatter, she hears her mom and Mrs. Swyndall talking. “Oh, yes, we’ll be up at the lake this summer. Our summer house is finally finished, so we want to enjoy it,” Mrs. Swyndall is saying. As she talks, her hands flutter in the air with a swirl of bright coral nail polish and the jangle of charms on her bracelet. “What about you?”
“Marcie and the boys are going to stay at my parents’ cottage for a few weeks. I have a dig out west, and Paul will be working with his graduate students.” Marcie’s mom is an archaeologist and works part time at the university. Today she looks the part in khaki shorts, a light blue t-shirt, sandals, and a straw hat to shield the sun. Marcie thinks her mom looks casual and comfortable compared to Mrs. Swyndall in her flowered Capri pants and matching top. On the dig this summer Marcie’s mom is taking a group of students to work on a new discovery of Native American sites in Utah. “We’re going up there tomorrow to drop the kids off.” Marcie’s mom glances over at her. “This one isn’t too excited because none of her friends can go this year.”
“I have the perfect solution!” Mrs. Swyndall exclaims. “Kaitlyn is spending a few weeks at the lake with me and her older brother Kyle.” She turns to Marcie. “This will work out so nicely—the two of you can get together.” She taps her fingernails on the table. “We did a lot of sailing back east. We’ve joined the yacht club, but haven’t met the other families yet. Do you sail?”
“Yes, we have a sunfish and a sloop,” Marcie says. While thinking how unlikely it is that she and Kaitlyn will ‘get together,’ she sees Kaitlyn coming up behind Mrs. Swyndall. She is wearing super-short shorts and a top with spaghetti straps that would never have passed the school dress code. The school is always having to send home notes reminding everyone of the dress code, but it is really just the “popular” girls who push it to the limit.
“Mom,” says Kaitlyn, acknowledging Marcie with a small wave of her hand, “I need more tickets.”
“Sure, hon, there’s money in my purse. We were just talking about you. You know Marcie Horton?” She barely pauses for Kaitlyn to reply as she rummages in the purse. “Marcie and her brothers will be spending a few weeks at the lake this summer while we’re there. We thought you two could do some sailing together.”
“Well … sure,” says Kaitlyn cheerfully but a bit slowly. She looks at Marcie. “Have you ever sailed in the Regatta?”
The Regatta is a series of sailboat races over the Fourth of July weekend—a really big deal at the lake. The summer house crowd, or “Lakers,” usually spend July Fourth at the lake and enter the races. They mostly belong to the Yacht Club, and over the years a rivalry between the Yacht Club crowd and the local residents has grown.
Marcie wonders if Kaitlyn thinks it was her idea to suggest getting together. “I’ve raced in the sunfish category, but our sloop isn’t the right size for the big race. Eric started to crew for the Boat Company team last year.” Marcie would love to be on the Boat Company Team, but it is just “the boys,” as Eric likes to say. Eric and Marcie aren’t technically Townies, because they don’t live at the lake year round, but since their grandparents do and they aren’t part of the yacht club crowd, they qualify. She wonders if the Swyndalls are aware of the rivalry.
“Really? We’re going to enter our new E scow in the big race. Maybe you and Eric can crew with us.” She pauses and seems to notice for the first time where she is. “Did you run in the races? You look all sweaty.” She wrinkles her nose distastefully.
That’s what happens when you exercise, thinks Marcie, but she says, “Yes, we just finished.”
Mrs. Horton says, “She won first place!”
“Oh, right—aren’t you on the track team? Uh, congratulations. The only time I get sweaty is when I lay out!” Kaitlyn says with a laugh. “Well, gotta go. The girls are waiting!”
“Always in a social whirl,” Mrs. Swyndall says fondly to her daughter’s retreating back. “Why don’t you bring your family over for a cookout on Sunday afternoon, Jill? It’ll be our first party at the cottage.”
Two
AFTER MARCIE CATCHES up with Sara, they decide to cool off under the shade of a nearby maple tree. As they are lounging in the grass in the dappled shade, Marcie wonders about Kaitlyn and her family. Kaitlyn is nice enough most of the time, unlike some of the other “popular” girls, but she can be stuck-up, too. Marcie has always wanted to compete in the big race, but for a Laker team and with Kaitlyn Swyndall? Still … to be in the race, it could be worth it. Maybe Kaitlyn is okay when she’s on her own, and Marcie’s parents do know Kaitlyn’s parents from the university where Mr. Swyndall took over as president a little over a year ago. The families don’t socialize much outside of university functions—although that could change now that the Swyndalls have a house on the lake. They bought the old James place on Lake Pappakeechee after Mrs. James passed away. The property includes acres of woods and marsh where all the kids play explorers and capture the flag. The Swyndalls immediately tore down the little bungalow on the property and built a giant—and beautiful—new vacation house. When her family drove by it the last time she was at the lake, Marcie’s Mamaw smiled ruefully and called it a “McMansion.” It does look a little strange and out of place next to the older, smaller cottage on the property next door.
Her thoughts are interrupted when Annie Crawford plops down on the grass with her and Sara.
“What’re you doing laying around here?” says Annie. “Eat too much cotton candy?” She laughs a little too loud and smacks Marcie on the leg hard enough that it stings.
“Annie, that hurt!” says Marcie, “and no, we didn’t eat too much cotton candy. We just ran in the races.”
“Marcie won first place—again,” says Sara pretending to pout.
“Well la-dee-da,” says Annie. She grabs Sara’s arm and tries to pull her up. “Come with me to the Moon Walk!” she wheedles.
Annie’s trouble, thinks Marcie, is that she tries so hard to make friends that she is annoying. Sara and Marcie aren’t really good friends with her, but they might be the only friends Annie has at school, so they try to be nice to her. A shadow falls over them and they look up to see Ashley, Meghan, and Bailey, three of Marcie’s least favorite popular girls, standing in front
of them. Ashley, with straight brown hair and wide-set brown eyes, is the ringleader. She says, “Annie, when are you going to get those bracelets you promised us?” She has her hands on her hips and her eyebrows raised mockingly. The other two girls say “Yeah,” in unison. Marcie thinks they look like clones of each other, or the three mean musketeers.
“Well, I, uh, don’t have them,” Annie stammers.
“That’s what I thought,” says Ashley. She looks knowingly at the others. “You never did have them. You’re just a little liar.”
It’s obvious that Ashley is about to say more, but Sara stands up, glares directly at Ashley and says, “Why don’t you leave her alone, Ashley Barnes. Go and buy your own bracelets.”
Ashley catches her breath and takes a step back. She isn’t used to being confronted. “Yeah, well, maybe I will, since we’re obviously not getting any from her.” She recovers herself and glances in Marcie’s direction. “Nice necklace,” she says, sarcastically referring to the silvery dolphin necklace encircling her neck. “I saw they were giving those away at the baby games.” Marcie covers the necklace with her hand and opens her mouth to say something in reply, but no sound comes out. At that moment, Kaitlyn approaches the group, saying, “Well, I think it’s a nice necklace. I’ve always liked dolphins.”
“Huh!” says Ashley. To Meghan and Bailey she says, “Let’s get out of here. This is totally boring.” They turn and saunter off.
“Just ignore her,” Kaitlyn says to Marcie. “See you at the lake!” and she walks off after the other three girls.
“Thanks, Sara,” says Annie, letting out a big sigh. “I told them I would bring back bracelets from our spring break trip to Florida, but my mom wouldn’t let me.” Her lower lip quivers a little. “She said I was buying friends. They’ve been bugging me ever since.”
“Who needs friends like that?” Sara scoffs as she sits back down on the grass.
“That was so great Sara!” says Marcie, a bit too enthusiastically. “You really told her off!” She hopes they don’t realize how flustered Ashley made her feel.
“What’s up with Kaitlyn?” asks Sara. “I didn’t know you two were friends.”
“We aren’t, really. Her family will be at the lake when I’m there this summer, and our moms suggested we go sailing together. Not that we will or anything!” Marcie wonders again about the race and what it would be like go to the Pappakeechee Yacht Club. She also wonders why Kaitlyn stood up for her.
“How can you be so brave?” Annie asks Sara.
“It’s no big deal. She deserved it. I was just making good Karma.”
“Good Karma? What’s that?”
“It kind of means, ‘what goes around comes around.’ Like if you do a good thing, good things will happen to you and if you do a bad or mean thing, bad things will happen to you. My mom told me about it.” Sara’s mom is Indian—from India. That’s where Sara gets her smooth dark hair and eyes like pools of ink.
“Well, those three should have a lot of bad things happen to them!” laughs Marcie.
Marcie, Sara, and Annie decide to go to the Moon Walk before Marcie has to go home for dinner.
On the way over, Marcie wishes she could be as brave as Sara. Why can’t she stand up to Ashley like that? She is afraid of becoming a target herself, that’s why. Sara seems to be immune to it. Perhaps having exotic good looks helps her to be so confident, thinks Marcie. Her own snub nose and freckles certainly don’t give her a feeling of confidence. It doesn’t hurt that Sara’s dad’s side of the family is one of the oldest and most respected families in Winnetka. Not to mention the wealthiest. You’d never know it, though, from how they act. They’re not stuck-up at all. In fact, Mr. Clements is an attorney for one of those environmental watch-dog groups. But Marcie thinks it’s more than that. Sara would be comfortable with who she is no matter what. Why aren’t I comfortable with myself like that? Marcie wonders.
Three
THE SCREEN DOOR bangs closed behind Marcie as she comes in through the back door to the kitchen. It startles their Cairn terrier, Speck, who is sleeping in his favorite armchair in the family room. He comes tearing over to Marcie yapping wildly. His nails can’t get purchase on the wood floor so he skitters past her in his rush. She stoops to pick him up. “It’s only me, Speck.” He stops barking and begins licking her face with his little pink tongue.
“Oh, good. You’re just in time.” Her mom is washing her hands at the sink. “Are you on table-setting or cleanup this month?”
“Setting. What’re we having?” Marcie puts Speck down in his chair, and he rests his head on the arm to watch them. She washes her hands in the sink and then gathers up silverware and napkins and starts to set the table in the dining room where they usually have dinner. Her mom says it makes the evening meal more special than always eating in the kitchen.
“I thought we’d have spaghetti and meatballs since it’s our last family meal together at home for a while.” A little louder she says, “Dinner’s ready!”
Her dad calls out, “Coming!” from his office off the family room. Eric’s footsteps can be heard pounding down the stairs. The Hortons’ house is in town, where many of the faculty live. The neighborhood was built in the 1920s, so the houses are older and a bit creaky, but they have high ceilings, crown molding, and wood floors; as Mom says, they have character. No two houses are alike. Back when the house was originally built, they didn’t have family rooms or big kitchens, so somewhere along the line an addition was built on to the back, enlarging the kitchen and adding a family room and an office. The neighborhood also has mature trees. Not like out in the subdivisions built on what used to be cornfields where none of the trees are over 15 feet tall. Marcie can’t imagine not having the trees. They make her feel safe somehow. Like giant sentinels sheltering and watching over them. She always thinks it is sad when she rides her bike past one of the original farm houses in the area and reads the sign posted on the picket fence that says INDIANA FAMILY FARM HOMESTEAD. OWNED BY THE SAME FAMILY FOR OVER 100 YEARS. Now it is in the middle of a sprawling subdivision surrounded by cookie-cutter houses.
At dinner they talk about going to the lake in the morning. Marcie says, “I don’t know why we can’t just stay here. Dad will be here, and we’re old enough to be on our own.”
“Drew is not old enough to be left unsupervised, and I don’t want you and Eric to be at loose ends,” Mrs. Horton says, dabbing her mouth with her napkin. “Your dad will be busy with his graduate students and won’t be able to keep an eye on Drew. We’ve been through all this before. We’re lucky to have a place like Lake Pappakeechee to go to and grandparents who want you to stay with them.”
“I want to go,” says Drew. “Poppy is going to take me fishing.”
“So do I,” says Eric. “Why are you whining about going? It’ll be great!”
“Great for you, maybe. You can do stuff with your friends at the Boat Company, but the only person I know will be Kaitlyn Swyndall!” says Marcie shrilly. “And I am not whining, you dork!”
“That’s enough, Marcie. You too, Eric,” says their dad. “I’m sorry that none of your friends can go this year, Marce, but this is the best solution for our family. You’ve always enjoyed going before.”
“It’s just not fair!” She slams the palms of her hands down on the table, making the dishes clatter and water slosh over the glasses. She isn’t sure why she is feeling so upset. Perhaps it’s the encounter with the girls at the fair, or maybe she’s worrying about seeing Kaitlyn at the lake. It feels like her insides are boiling and they are going to rise up and choke her. “If Mom weren’t going to Utah, we wouldn’t have to go. Why do you have to work anyway? Why can’t you stay home like some of the other moms?” She knows she is going overboard, but she can’t seem to stop herself. “It’s all your fault!”
There is a stunned silence at the table. Her mom looks at Marcie thoughtfully. Her Dad finally says, “Why don’t you go upstairs until you can cool down. You can finish yo
ur dinner later.”
“I’m finished now!” she says, flinging her napkin down on the table and rushing upstairs to her room.
She throws herself down on her bed and buries her head in the pillows. Why did she act that way? She hadn’t intended to, but something just came over her and now she has spoiled their family dinner. What’s the matter with her? Going to stay at her grandparents’ cottage had always been something to look forward to. Lately she can’t seem to sort anything out. She feels something cold and wet in her ear. Reaching up, she touches Speck’s silky hair, and turns her head toward him. You love me, don’t you? she thinks. He starts licking away her salty tears. After a few minutes she starts to feel better. There is a knock on her door and her mom says, “Can I come in?”
“Okay,” says Marcie quietly. Her mother comes in and sits on the edge of the bed. She reaches over and smoothes Marcie’s hair. “Do you want to talk?” she asks.
Marcie sits up and turns toward her mom. “I’m sorry, Mom. I don’t know what’s wrong with me! Sometimes I feel like I’m on a roller coaster ride. Part of me really wants to go to the lake and part of me doesn’t.”
“I’m sorry too, honey. I wish I could go with you to the lake, but I also like my job. It’s part of who I am.” She wipes away the remaining tears on Marcie’s face. “Being confused is part of growing up and dealing with new emotions and changing responsibilities. You’ll work it out. It just takes time.”
“Speck came up to comfort me. He always seems to know when I’m upset.”
“Yes,” says her mom, scratching the little dog’s head. “Speck does have a kind of intuition, doesn’t he?” Speck rolls over onto his back to get his belly rubbed. “Makes me think of that tsunami wave that hit India and Sumatra a while back. Remember no animals were found dead? It’s like the animals could sense the wave coming and got out of the way. Isn’t it strange—and sad, really—that with all of our technology, we humans were caught by surprise.”
Indian Summer Page 2
