Page 71 of The Summers of Us

“No, she doesn’t,” I said, but I’d made the connection myself last night. She had more freckles than me, but our hair was the same sandy shade. Our eyes both tried to be green in the sunlight. But it wasn’t just physical features that made two people similar. Kelsie was her own person, and an arguably better one than me.

“I’ll talk to him,” I declared before the thought died. Just in case. Just for closure.

“Can one of you please kill me?” Holden murmured from the couch, then he doubled over and vomited the night into morning. Well,afternoon.

Venturing into the sunlightwas the last thing on my list of things to do today. First on the list was throwing up Haven’s pancakes. After that, I took some medicine, stomached two slices of bread, then lay on the shower floor until the water washed my headache away. I napped on the couch with my hair still in the towel, then ate almost a whole bag of tortilla chips when my stomach hurt, this time from loneliness. My stomach was over the company now. It was a vicious cycle, I supposed.

Now that the evil sun had set, I made my way over to Everett’s. It was cold out tonight, cruel winter in summertime. There was no way that didn’t mean something.

When I arrived, the smell of the ocean on my nose, I knocked on the door. The sound echoed to my toes. I shoved my hands in my hoodie pockets, trying to recite in my head the words I’d thought up on the way here. Words I shouldn’t say took the spotlight instead:

Just making sure you’re not dating a girl who probably makes you happy.

Are you a dumb drunk like me?

You’re never allowed to stop liking me!

The door opened before I was ready. Behind it was his dad, Hank—graying hair, but the same wind-spun curls.

He offered me a meek nod before yelling, “Ev! Quinn’s here!”

Everett was not far behind. He traded places with Hank and closed the door behind us. He was wearing a blue Chicago crewneck. I thought I might die. He positioned himself in the doorframe like he was scared to come any closer. The moths nearly ate him alive so close to the light. It made a more defined line of his jaw, brought out the secret gold tones in his black hair.

“Hey.” Everett cocked his head, furrowed his brows. “What’s up?”

The script wiped from my mind.

“Hi. I’m sorry I’ve been such a bitch,” I finally managed to say.

“You’re not a bitch,” he replied, but it sounded like he agreed a little.

“I’ve treated you really badly all these years. I’m sorry for that. You deserve to be happy with Kelsie.” The words left my mouth laced in syrup—sweet to the taste, difficult to swallow.

His face flipped through a book of emotions. Sadness, guilt, confusion…happiness? I couldn’t read it. He looked at the houses across the street, his porch swing creaking in the breeze. He stared at my sandals when the words finally came. “I haven’t told anyone yet, but we started dating a few months ago.”

It came out like the slow, quiet release of air from a balloon. One word rang in my ears, popped the balloon.Dating. I felt hungover all over again. I used all my strength not to cry or indicate just how fiercely my heart pounded in my chest.

We were quiet enough to hear the katydids running amok in the trees. I knew the cicada from the katydid from the locust. The katydid’s call was fitting for right now. Messy, loud, curious. Lonely, save for two people on a porch who took turns chirping. I knew that now, thanks to the boy in front of me who I could no longer call mine.

I nevercouldcall mine.

“Oh. That’s good.” I packed the words together like building a sandcastle in the rush of a wave. I pretended I wasn’t crushed. I was ready at the exact moment Everett wasn’t.

“You. Uh—you didn’t like me,” he said to the dying welcome mat.

I wanted to dig a hole in the sand so big I could get lost in it. That was where seashells hid anyway. I had to leave. Everett had agirlfriend. I couldn’t be the girl on his porch under the summer stars. I couldn’t tell him how much I’d always liked him. Not anymore. “Well, that’s all I wanted to say. Have a good night.”

His cheeks turned red in the porch glow. “You too.”

“Bye.” I waved at him and managed a smile. It felt a lot like goodbye for the summer.

I walked away from him, heard the door close behind me. I fought the urge to look back at it. I belonged on this side of the door. I belonged to the sand. My heart caught in my chest for every moment I’d had with Everett, now shattered. Caught at the unraveling of happiness and me.

When I made it onto the cold sand on the beach, my knees buckled. I cried into the crook of my arm, biting my lip so hard it bled. Every silent sob was an oxymoron to the sweet summer song of the cicadas and katydids and locusts.

If a girl cried on the beach and nobody heard her, did she even cry at all? A bloody lip, tears streaming, the coastal air—everything was salty at the beach.

Age 16, June 18

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