The Season of You & Me

by Robin Constantine

  “That means us,” Tori said.

  We walked up to Mr. Beckett, along with a few other counselors, including Nick.

  “We’re a little understaffed this summer, and since you guys don’t have a set age group, there’s a few odd jobs that need to be delegated. If you end up working extra hours, you’ll be compensated,” he said, giving us another handout with our names and a job description next to each.

  “What’s towel duty?” Tori asked.

  “Just stocking the towels in the pool in the morning. I thought you and Cass could alternate.”

  “I do a lot of prep in the morning,” Tori said.

  “I can do it. I don’t mind,” I said to her.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, sounds good.”

  “Great, Cass,” Mr. Beckett said. “You should come in about a half hour earlier, starting Monday.”

  Tori pulled me aside.

  “Are you sure you’re okay doing all that work? I mean, I can do it once in a while; I don’t want to sound like a diva. I just don’t know how I’m going to make time in the morning.”

  “How hard could towel duty possibly be? I’ve watched you all week, all the prep work you do for the class. I don’t mind pitching in like this.” I didn’t add that I would have helped her with her stuff too, but she seemed to want things the way she wanted them, so I backed off.

  She looked a little skeptical, but smiled. “Okay then, have a good weekend.”

  “You too,” I said. I passed Bryan on the way out. “Have fun at Sip N’ Freeze. Don’t talk about me too much, partner.”

  He smiled. “Can’t make any promises unless you’re there.”

  “Next time,” I said, surprised at the warm rush his smile induced.

  Maybe being around him wouldn’t be as safe as I thought.

  SIX

  BRYAN

  FROM APRIL TO OCTOBER, SIP N’ FREEZE WAS A Crest Haven institution. It had been that way for as long as I could remember. My parents had even hung out there when they were in high school—there was a picnic table near the back where they’d etched their initials in their sophomore year. A few years ago, when they updated the rotting picnic tables with an eco-friendly recycled-wood substitute, my father had gotten the board with their initials and had a new mantel for our fireplace made. It was a reminder of how deep our roots were in Crest Haven. It was a staple. A constant. And it was ground zero for scoping out summer girls.

  I got there before Wade and Tori and found a spot. Parking was a definite #wheelchairperk. It was early enough in the night, so there were no hordes of tourists or lines that stretched out to the street. I pushed myself up to the window to order. No menu necessary. Every summer, every time, Coke float and a soft pretzel. My only issue these days was that the counter made me feel like a five-year-old because I had to strain to look over it. I learned to stay back a bit; it was easier to make eye contact that way. Besides, I knew most of the people who worked there and everyone was cool about it.

  When my turn came I wheeled up, my order practically out of my mouth before I saw her. Shay Foster. Wearing the tight little uniform shirt that had also given the place its nickname of Nips N’ Tease. Her dark hair was back in the ponytail she preferred for field hockey season, but I used to love it when it was down, windblown and crazy from a day at the beach. The sight of her made my brain go wonky, my regular order forgotten.

  “You work here?” I asked finally.

  She leaned on the counter, putting her face partially through the open order window, red-lipped glossy smile greeting me.

  “Yeah, started last week.”

  “Cool. You like it?”

  “It’s fun, but it can get so crazy with benny season. How about you? I hear you’re working at the rec center again.”

  I laughed. Benny was slang we used for tourists, especially when they were acting like, um, tourists. “Yeah, I’m a counselor. So far, so good.”

  We sat in a second of now what do we talk about silence. It wasn’t like it was the first time I’d seen Shay since we broke up, but every time was hard, even though it had gotten a little easier too. She was the biggest what if I still tortured myself about. What if I hadn’t taken that dare and damaged myself forever? Would we still be together? Have our initials carved somewhere? Last I heard she was dating some college-guy douche canoe who’d been two years ahead of us in school.

  “So let me guess, Coke float and a soft pretzel?” Yep, that’s how long that had been my regular order. Even she remembered. She leaned in, fingers poised to punch in the price at the register.

  “You know what, make it a root beer float,” I said. Her eyebrows went up.

  “And can you put it in a larger cup with a lid on it? Makes it easier to carry.”

  “Sure thing.”

  It took a few minutes for my order to be ready. I wished I had more to say to her; small talk seemed so—small, especially after what we’d shared together. That was before, though. So much had changed. Shay appeared at the window again.

  “I can walk this over to your table if you want?”

  “No thanks. I got it,” I said, grabbing the float. The Styrofoam cup had little give and fit neatly into the large mesh side pocket of the backpack I had slung over my push handles. That was the only thing I liked using the handles for these days. When I got my next chair, I’d get one without them. At least they folded in when I didn’t need them for my backpack. She gave me my pretzel and change with a smile.

  “It was great seeing ya, Bry.”

  “Yeah, you too.”

  I was already half finished with my float by the time Wade and Tori arrived. They went up to the counter to order before sitting down. Wade came back juggling a drink, a hot dog, and two pretzels, while Tori had her usual small lime slush. I was at the head of the picnic table, like a king. #wheelchairperk. They each took a place on either side of me.

  “It’s about time you got here,” I said.

  “Are you okay?” Tori asked.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “We saw Shay. Didn’t know she worked here now.”

  “It’s fine. I’m fine. It doesn’t bother me to see her,” I said.

  “Good, because I don’t think I could give up Sip N’ Freeze,” Wade said. “But for you, buddy, I would.”

  “No need to do that.”

  “You are never going to freaking believe who Monty is,” Tori said.

  “Do we care?” I asked.

  “It is pretty funny,” Wade said before chowing down on half a hot dog in one bite.

  “Nick.”

  “Wait, no way, as in—”

  “Yes, my slacker twin. Leave it to him to find the one job on the island that is a grand total of one hour a week.”

  “Is it even that much?” I asked.

  “It’s too much if you ask me. Why do we need a mascot anyway? Knowing Mr. Beckett and his love of rounding up losers and rallying them to do something meaningful, he probably created the job for Nick. When he’s not in costume he’ll be doing janitorial duties. He gets a pointy stick and everything. He loves it, the weirdo. A no-brainer job with more time to slum and surf.”

  “Hey, if he’s happy doing it . . . ,” Wade said.

  “Who says your job is supposed to make you happy? Are either of you happy at Camp Manatee? I mean, like, really happy?”

  Wade shrugged. “It’s a decent gig. What’s not to like?”

  “Same,” I said. “Why? Aren’t you happy? You practically begged Owen for the cooking workshop.”

  “I know, and it’s cool, but it would be way cooler if I didn’t have Benny Barbie as my second-in-command. I miss Liv.”

  “Benny Barbie? Harsh, no?” I said.

  “I thought her name was Cassidy,” Wade said, which earned him a balled-up napkin to the face courtesy of Tori.

  “I guess she’s okay, she’s just not Liv, and it would have been nice if I had some say in the matter. I could have offered it to Miki or Danielle, someone I k
new. She pretty much got the job because Mr. E. and Mr. Beckett are buds at school. She just pops in out of nowhere, no interview process or orientation. Don’t you think it’s weird we didn’t know she existed before now? I mean, Mr. E. is our chemistry teacher, wouldn’t he have casually mentioned he had a daughter our age at some point?”

  “You must have been out sick on our Cassidy unit—I think it was between pH levels and the greenhouse effect,” I said. Wade snorted. Tori scowled at him.

  “Well, she must have some common sense, since she turned down your invite for the scavenger hunt,” she said.

  “Dude, I knew that was bothering you. She called herself catastrophic, she seemed kind of nervous. I was being nice.”

  “Sure you were,” she said.

  “Tori, please, would you be my partner for the scavenger hunt?”

  “Why, so I can do all the work like last year?”

  “We made a great team,” he said.

  “Heeeey, looooooooosers!” someone yelled from the parking lot.

  Tori looked over my shoulder and rolled her eyes. “Speak of the manatee.”

  I turned my head just as a silver pickup swept into the parking lot and took the first speed bump pretty hard. Its occupants howled. Matt and Nick were in the flatbed with their surfboards. I recognized Jake Matson’s truck. Tom was most likely riding shotgun. My guess was they were on their way to the cove and stopping in for a slush. At least that’s how it was two summers ago, when I was carefree enough to travel in the flatbed and it had been Jake’s older brother who’d been driving.

  The truck came to a stop and they all got out. Laughing, shirtless, as loud as gulls swooping down to steal some food. They greeted us as they walked past, only Matt stopped and eyed the remaining half of my pretzel.

  “May I?” he asked, and before I could answer, he scooped up the pretzel and shoved it in his mouth.

  “Geez, Matt, it’s like you haven’t eaten in days,” Tori said. Her eyes lingered on his bare chest a moment longer than necessary. Working with my father had given Matt the kind of muscles you couldn’t get from playing video games or skateboarding. Even Wade noticed.

  “Matty, look at you, all ripped and shit,” he said.

  Matt swallowed the pretzel and flexed his bicep.

  “I know, right? The physical-labor workout. Hey, Bry, can I bum a five off you?”

  “Doesn’t Dad pay you?”

  “Every two weeks. Come on, I need to try Nick’s slush flavor.”

  “What did you say?”

  “Sip N’ Freeze is naming a slush after him, didn’t you know?” Matt said as I reached into my backpack and grabbed a five for him.

  “Is it hash flavored?” Tori asked.

  “Ha, wicked. Nah, pineapple and cinnamon or something like that. We’re heading to the cove; you guys should, you know, come hang out,” Matt said.

  “Working tonight,” Wade said. “Picking up a shift at my aunt’s restaurant.”

  “How industrious,” Tori said.

  “No, more like how the folks want me to pay for my own car insurance and I’m poor. Would much rather be shredding,” he said.

  “Matty, whatcha want?” Jake called. Matt jogged over to them.

  The three of us sat in the wake of his enthusiasm, just looking back and forth at each other. I could feel what was brewing.

  “What?”

  “You should go to the cove, Bry,” Wade said.

  “To do what? Sit in the sand? This chair really isn’t built for that,” I said.

  “Okay, we know, but I don’t think it would hurt to consider it—you’ve been swimming, you’re strong. That surf program is in July; we could go with you,” Tori said.

  They had this idea for me to get back in the water. There was an organization that helped people with disabilities surf, and they were going to be visiting a nearby town to run a program for a weekend. I’d checked out the website, and had to admit it looked cool and all, just not for me.

  Surfing had always been my time to chill, let my thoughts wander. I couldn’t see myself doing it assisted. Couldn’t imagine that it felt the same way. Having Wade carry me out to the water. People watching my every move. I wasn’t ready. Maybe someday, or maybe never, but I wanted it to be my choice. My terms. My board. Not because it was an inspirational thing to do.

  I wanted to do it for me, not them.

  I didn’t feel it yet.

  “Maybe when you get rid of that thing on the top of your head,” I joked. Tori raised her hand. I slapped it.

  “Do not dis the top knot. I think the benny chicks are gonna dig it.”

  “Not the ones with taste,” Tori said. “That has surpassed man bun into rat’s nest. Do you wash it?”

  “I will have you know, I take extremely good care of it. My sisters turned me on to coconut oil. Twice a week,” he said, taking out the elastic and running a hand through his hair. He leaned over the table and held the ends out for Tori to inspect. I covered my drink with my hand. Tori shook her head, but leaned toward him and touched it.

  “Take a whiff,” he said. She laughed and brought the lock of hair up to her nose and sniffed. Wade looked at me.

  “Ah, no, dude, I’ll take your word for it.”

  Wade turned back to Tori, who still had his hair up to her face, like a bizarre fake mustache. They both laughed. Their eyes and mouths were inches apart, and there was this moment: a flash sort of exchanged between them that made me feel like I’d walked in on something I shouldn’t have. It was only a second. Tori let go, and Wade sat back, gathering his hair in a top knot again.

  “Yes, smells nice,” Tori said. Her cheeks flushed pink and she took a slow sip of her slush. I was thankful when the guys came back over on their way out to the parking lot, balancing out the weird vibes with their loudness.

  Nick straddled the bench next to Tori and held out his slush.

  “This is the Nick Bardot, want a taste?”

  “You’re going to have to name it something else,” Tori said, wrinkling her nose.

  “C’mon, Tor, it’s pretty cool,” he said.

  “Sure, it’s cool. You win,” she said.

  “Tell Mom I’ll be in late,” he said, getting up. He acknowledged Wade and me with a nod. Matt slammed my change down in front of me as he passed.

  “See ya,” he said.

  As they walked by, heading to the truck, so much envy bubbled up inside that I could feel it collecting in the back of my throat. I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the way they moved: able-bodied, tall, sauntering along like they had all the time in the world—the way I used to, the way I’d taken for granted. Watching them had made me restless, itchy, wanting something to start. Whatever that meant. The summer felt thick with possibilities.

  I just wasn’t sure what ones were for me.

  SEVEN

  CASSIDY

  “ARE YOU SURE EVERYTHING’S OKAY? YOU STILL sound so sad.”

  The moment I heard Mom’s voice during my weekly check-in call, I got teary. I don’t know why. I wasn’t sure what my mother expected; it had only been a week. When I was in camp, busy, I barely had any time to think of home or Gavin, but the weekend brought with it long hours of staring-at-my-ceiling time, which made me miss home, Ems, the way things used to be.

  “No, I’m fine. Promise. I just . . . you know, I miss you guys, my stuff, that’s all.”

  “Cass, you’re at the beach—or maybe I should ask, why aren’t you at the beach?”

  “I know I’m at the beach, Mom, but it’s different than being on the beach. We don’t really go there with camp. It’s crowded on the weekends. Dad and Les keep saying we’ll go, but it’s been busy; that magazine article has really helped business.” I don’t have anyone to go with.

  “Haven’t you met any kids your own age at work? Anyone to hang around with?”

  Kids my age with a history together.

  “I’m trying, Mom.”

  “So, you’re staying, then?”


  It would be so easy for me to tell her to come get me. She would, I knew it, but then what? There was this tiny, insistent voice inside that told me, Hold on. Give it a chance.

  “Yes, I want to stay.”

  “I’m glad. Not that we don’t miss you around here.”

  “I know.”

  Let me talk to her, I heard Nana say in the background.

  “Nan’s taking the phone now. If there’s anything else you know you can—”

  “Call you, I know, Mom. Love you.”

  “Love you back.”

  Nan got on.

  “Cassidy, please tell me you haven’t been hiding out in your room like you did here. You know ‘change of scenery’ meant more than a different house, right?”

  I laughed. “Yes, Nan, I know.”

  “Stop feeling sorry for yourself, kid. Put on some lipstick and hit the boardwalk.”

  “They don’t really have a boardwalk here. It’s called a promenade.”

  “Then hit the beach, the pavement, something. Just get yourself out there.”

  “I will.”

  After I hung up, I sat in my wicker chair and stared out at the triangle of beach that I could see between the rooftops. Crest Haven had amazing sunsets. The sky was lavender. For the briefest of moments I contemplated taking the bike out, but remembered I had to get up earlier than usual for camp. I watched as the sky turned an even deeper shade of purple, then dark blue.

  “I’m going to see a sunset and be happy before I leave here,” I declared to no one. It was empowering, though. Why was I just sitting there? I looked around the room. My room. The empty bulletin board. I went over to my backpack and pulled out handouts that Mr. Beckett had given us. There was a camp calendar there, and I took one of the seashell-shaped pushpins and stuck it onto the board. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. I did have a life here, if I wanted it. The scavenger hunt sounded sort of fun.

  My phone buzzed. I checked my messages.

  How I wonder where you are.

  I tossed the phone onto my bed as if it had given me an electric shock. Maybe I’d read it wrong? I picked it up again. Nope. Same thing. Gavin. Gavin. Why hadn’t I blocked him? Because you didn’t want to, remember? The phone buzzed again.