Page 2 of The Summers of Us

“Those kids are going to be so burnt!” Mom said as we turned onto a calmer street.

We pulled up to a small blue house. It could have fit inside a snow globe. The fresh navy paint contrasted with the blinding white railing. I’d never been to a beach town before, but this was exactly what I expected to see planted on that sandy soil.

Blair flailed her arms at us from the porch, Hadley perched on her hip.

Before Mom even stopped the car, I jumped out and ran up to the porch. It wasn’t a long trip, since Blair lived inland enough that her house didn’t have stilts.

“Blair! Hadley!” I wrapped my arms around my aunt’s waist and tickled the bottom of Hadley’sfeet. I breathed in the smell of laundry detergent and beach all around us. It was salty and sweet and sour at the same time.

Blair pulled me in. “We’re going to have so much fun this summer! I made a list of cool things for us to do. You can add more if I missed anything. It’s on the counter inside.”

“As long as Mom lets me.”

Blair leaned in closer, holding Hadley tighter, and whispered with a wink, “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

I smiled in return, but I wasn’t sure it was genuine. Mom would be upset if I did things without her permission. She saw the world with thorn-colored glasses and it was my job to keep from getting pricked. My friends at school told me to ask for forgiveness instead of permission, but forgiveness was never my strong suit. Lying gave my soul a slimy feeling.

“Hi, Jen!” Blair shouted to Mom.

Mom lugged my suitcase up the stairs. “Quinn, you need to start pulling your weight if you expect me to let you stay here. And don’t you ever get out of a moving vehicle. I could have run you over.”

“I’m sorry.” I looked at my toes, which I’d painted purple last night.

“Can’t you ever just let her be excited?” Blair grabbed the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. “Sorry. I’m very glad you’re letting her stay.”

Suddenly the air felt muggy from more than the June beach weather. I looked between them and the thick air. They looked at each other all weird but said nothing more about it.Sisters.

“I promise I’ll take very good care of her.” Blair stroked my hair and goosebumps whispered down my spine. She kept calm to show Mom she was capable of taking care of me. Being only twenty-four, twelve years younger than my mom, Blair always had to prove herself. She was never smart enough, never responsible enough, never good enough.Older sisters.

I looked over at Hadley’s smile and chubby legs, which were evidence to me that she got enough food and sleep to be okay. That was all parenting was, anyway—keeping your kid alive—so both my mom and Blair had done a good job. I would never tell her that, though. Or about how excited I was to spend the summer with Blair.

Mom handed Blair a typed list of rules I wasn’t sure I wanted to follow. I didn’t want to be in bed by eight, or eat the whole food pyramid with every meal, or ride a bike with knee pads on. This was asummer vacation. It was meant for sleepless nights and ice cream for dinner. That’s what I’d always read about summer.

When they finished talking, I hugged Mom goodbye. I promised I’d be safe. I promised to call her as much as I could. I promised not to walk around in just my bathing suit like thosesilly kids. I promised to look both ways, reapply my sunscreen, and wear a helmet when I rode a bike. That, at least, I could agree with.

I waved until Mom’s car was out of sight. Blair held the screen door open with her hip, smiling. The cool air welcomed me inside. Finally summer could begin.

The house smelled of brand-new paint, Blair, bleach, and some fresh beach candle glowing atop the kitchen table. The furniture stood tall, despite being plucked from different time periods and planets altogether. In case I ever forgot I was at the beach, glossy seashells in a dish, coral bookends, and crisscrossed oars above the TV reminded me of my new home.

My room at the end of the hall shone a golden shade from the sunny side of the house. My bed took up most of the room, dressed in a white comforter with teal seahorses. My white wicker dresser matched the headboard. I couldn’t believe this was forme.

Blair showed me the kitchen stocked with Fruity Pebbles, mandarin oranges, yogurt, Kraft macaroni boxes, orange juice, and all the supplies for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I could certainly work with this.

She took me over to the kitchen island where a pink pen and a single piece of paper—which she called an “itinerary”—waited for us. Blair had already written on it, using hearts as bullet points.

Ice cream at Sunset Scoop.

Watch the sunset.

Go to the candy store.

Read beach books.

Mini golf.

Stargaze.

Watch the sunrise.

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