Page 46 of The Summers of Us

A bag of orange wedge candies.

My thoughts flood with a memory from last summer: me and Everett sneaking store-bought candy into the movie theatre in our hoodies. I finished my orange wedges before the movie started. With my head against his shoulder, my tongue wrestled orange goo from my molars until the credits rolled.

I took too much happiness then, so the universe made its decision.

My tears flow freely now. Everett didn’t mean to leave me with a dagger, but there’s nothing quite as sharp as the rush of memory, especially when it’s a reminder of everything you lost.

I take a bite of an orange wedge to stab myself with the memory. It tastes like melted sun, the pier shop, and the feeling of my temple on Everett’s shoulder. I circle orange sugar between two fingers.

The sun rises ambitiously once the first red sliver appears on the horizon, scaring the deep indigo away. I bleed out in front of the waking sun, blinking a steady stream of warm tears down my cheeks.

I wish I could be like the sun, a phoenix rising from the ashes of the ocean. I wish I could be in the presence of the sun dripping in liquid gold but instead choose to look at Everett. What difference is there between the two anyway? I wish I could look at his jaw glowing in the sun, orange light stirred into his brown eyes and tell him,The sun is just like you, and so is the moon, and so is everything people need to survive but don’t appreciate enough.

But the thought feels like drowning.

I slip the rest of the orange wedges into my hoodie and saunter back into the pier shop. There’s no trace of Everett. No animated conversations with the woman behind the counter about the dark reality of human immortality. No strong arms spinning the postcard racks for new releases. No tall, dark-haired figure practicing pinball in the back of the shop.

The pinball machine sleeps alone in the corner. Older than the retro yellowing surfboards hanging from the ceiling—maybe even older than the pier itself—it croaks to life when I pop a quarter in.

I play a round, for old times’ sake.

Age 15, June 21

Haven was different this summer.It wasn’t just her long hair or her skin’s victory over acne or how big her teeth looked since she’d gotten her braces off. No, it wasn’t that. She was quieter. She walked carefully against the worn wooden slats of the public beach access, her head down past the sandy bathrooms and volleyball courts.

Where had her confidence gone?

This was the second time we’d hung out in the four days I’d been back. The first was just a quick drive-by before she had to go get ready for her date with her new boyfriend Chance. Not even enough time to catch up on herquinceañeraor how her and Chance came to be—just a quick hug, a comment about my short curtain bangs, and pinky promises to hang out soon. According to Holden, Chance was now out of town for the weekend, which was long enough to steal Haven away for a day at the beach.

We stumbled in the sand, stepping in Holden’s and Everett’s existing footprints for balance. We found a mostly clear spot between armies of colorful umbrellas. Holden and Everett stripped their shirts and shoes off before Haven and I finished throwing everything down.

I waited for Haven to say something about them not doing their share, but she just started setting up the chairs like it was all she was programmed to do.

The boys were long gone, already slathered in sunscreen and racing to the water. I spread a towel on each chair and worked on my own sunscreen. Haven and I got each other’s backs.

“What are you thinking about?” Haven asked. “You’re doing your quiet thing.”

I could have said the same about her.

“I’m just sad for Blair.” I sat down when she finished my shoulders. I really was upset for Blair. She had already bought three cartons of orange juice and two bags of deflated gas station cotton candy as some way to release her pent-up mom instinct on me.

“Hadley’s with her dad?” Haven sat in the chair next to me. She started braiding her hair against the wind’s pull.

I nodded. “For the whole summer this time.” I looked at Holden and Everett bouncing with the unusually calm waves. My bangs were losing the battle with the wind, but it was worth it since Everett complimented them back in the parking lot. “I’m excited to have fun today.”

“I am too.” Haven peeled the cap off a Diet Coke, tossed me one too.

“Diet Coke?” I took a sip. Haven hated diet soda. Dietanything.

She shrugged. “Chance loves them.”

Andtherewas the glimmering difference between this summer and last. Last summer, Haven didn’t have a boyfriend. While I didn’t know much about him besides his name and that they met at school, I could suspect some other things as well. I was good at that, assuming the worst of relationships. If there was anything I knew for sure, it was that sometimes relationships had this tricky way of turning people on their heads.

Haven seemed well on her way to upside down.

I swallowed, attempting to suck my thoughts through my fizzy teeth, only to say them anyway. “Does he know you hate diet soda?”

“It’s growing on me.” She took a huge swig, her nose folding into itself when she swallowed.

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