Something I'm Good At: A Sol del Mar High Novel

by Caroline Andrus

Abigail laughs and slings an arm around my shoulders. “Not even close, Marcia.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Marcia?”

  “You’re a regular Marcia Brady. A goody two-shoes.”

  I roll my eyes. I’m feeling better, so I push myself to standing. “Come on, let’s get that grub.”

  21

  Kane

  I still can’t believe Summer is mine. We haven’t put a label on us, I was too afraid of scaring her off before, but I think it’s time. I mean, she clearly likes spending time with me. She eats lunch at my table more often than not, and she agreed to be my Homecoming date. Plus, she seems to like kissing me. All signs point to her saying yes to officially being my girlfriend when I ask.

  Tonight.

  Some kids from school are throwing a party at the beach. She hesitated when I asked her to come, but she said yes. She picks me up from my house, and when we arrive, we walk hand in hand to the large fire burning in the sand.

  We stop by the flames to say hi to Abigail, Mark, and other people we know. The fire pops and cracks, and lavender flames spout forth as a guy from school tosses a driftwood log on the flame.

  A whooping cheer erupts from David Aster and a group of his friends. The small brunette with them glares at the guys.

  David catches her look, rolls his eyes, and says, “Lighten up, Hannah.”

  “Uh oh,” I mutter, pulling my gaze from the scene and looking around.

  “What?” Summer asks.

  But I don’t need to answer.

  Abigail strides across the sand—fuming—and grabs the kid who threw the log in the fire by the ear. “What the hell, Andrew?”

  I glance at Summer. Her eyes are wide with surprise, as Abigail drags the kid away from the fire, reading him the riot act the whole time.

  “Don’t you know that burning driftwood releases toxins into the air,” Abigail demands. “Not to mention the animals that rely on that wood for shelter.”

  “Whoa,” Summer whispers, as Abigail drags the kid out of earshot.

  “Abigail can be…” I search for the right word. “Intense.”

  “You don’t say?”

  I laugh. “Come on.” I gently tug her by the hand, leading her down to the water's edge.

  “What are we doing?” she asks. My fingers intertwine with hers as we walk along the shore.

  “Well, I’m a Sagittarius and enjoy long walks on the beach…”

  Laughing, Summer playfully rams her shoulder into my arm, but keeps pace.

  “Sorry.” I laugh. “I just wanted to be alone with you for a little while.”

  “Okay.” The wind blows a strand of hair into her face, and she tucks it behind her ear.

  “I really like spending time with you, Summer.”

  She ducks her head, her long locks falling forward and shielding her from my view. She does this a lot, especially when I say things like this to her. I wonder if she even realizes she’s doing it.

  “And,” I continue, “I wanted to ask you something.”

  She comes out of hiding and looks me in the eye now. “Yeah?”

  “You’re supposed to say that after I ask you.” It’s a dumb joke, but I can’t resist.

  She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling, so I consider it a win.

  “I’d like you to be my girlfriend,” I tell her.

  “That’s not a question,” she says softly, staring out at the waves.

  My turn to roll my eyes. I take a deep breath, then rephrase my statement as a question, “Will you be my girlfriend, Summer?”

  Summer stops walking and turns to face me, pulling her hand from my grasp. I curl my hands into fists, missing the feel of hers, then release them. She doesn’t say anything for a very long moment, and I brace myself for her rejection.

  She studies me, her eyes searching my face, then she reaches up and wraps her arms around my neck. I grin and tilt my head forward, allowing her to press her lips to mine.

  We’re interrupted by the sound of catcalls coming from somewhere behind us. I want to ignore them and lose myself in the feel of her soft lips, but she releases me. Her cheeks flush pink in the fading light, and she hides behind her hair again.

  Grinning like an idiot, I take her hand in mine. “So…is that a yes?”

  “Yes.”

  Releasing her hand, I wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her close to my side. As we walk, the sound of music, laughter, and the crackling fire grow fainter as we distance ourselves from the party.

  As dusk falls, and the pinks and purples in the sky gradually give way to black, Summer and I make our way across the sand and back toward the blazing fire. The breeze coming off the ocean is cold now that we’re no longer cooking under the fading rays of the sun.

  Our classmates are grouped around the flames in small clusters of friends. Summer sits beside me in the sand near the fire. Despite wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt, she’s shivering, her hands tucked into her sleeves. I wrap my arm around her, hoping my body heat and the fire are enough to warm her, and cursing myself for not bringing a hoodie for her.

  Summer relaxes against me and releases a long breath. Score one point for Kane, I’m on my way to becoming boyfriend of the year.

  Nearby, someone is telling ghost stories, but there’s more laughter than shrieks of fear. I’m too hyper focused on Summer’s close proximity to pay anyone else much attention. Her familiar coconut scent has me captive, it’s light and sweet and reminds me of the beach.

  I glance around and take a mental picture. Someday, I can tell my grandkids all about the night Summer said yes to being my girlfriend.

  David, the guy who was cheering over the driftwood flames earlier, is blasting music from a bluetooth speaker. His arm is slung around Hannah, but his attention is on a group of guys nearby. Behind them, some other guys and a few girls are playing frisbee. I wonder how that’s going, considering how dark it is now.

  Halfway around the fire, I spy Abigail seated beside Mark. She grins and gives me a thumbs up. Mark's focus is on something across the fire. He’s probably wishing he was riding the waves right now, even though that would be stupid dangerous with the lack of visibility and increased chance of shark attack.

  My attention returns to Summer, and I smile. She feels good snuggled against my side, under my arm. I could get used to this.

  After a little while, Abigail approaches, flopping into the sand beside Summer.

  “How’s it going, girlfriend?”

  I ignore her. I’m too content right now to be annoyed with her.

  Summer shrugs.

  “How’s your tattoo?” Abigail asks.

  “Wait, what?” I demand, swiveling my attention to the girl leaning against me. “You got a tattoo?”

  Summer shrugs. “Yeah.” She turns her attention to Abigail. “It’s still red and puffy.”

  “Mine too,” Abigail says. “I’m pretty sure that’s normal. It’s only been a few days.”

  “Where is this tattoo?” I demand. “Why haven’t I seen it yet?”

  Abigail glares at me. “She’ll show you when she’s ready. It’s in a fairly intimate place.”

  My eyes widen, and my brain starts spinning, imagining all the “intimate” places her tattoo could be. “How intimate a place?”

  “It’s on my hip, Kane,” Summer says. “Relax.”

  My gaze drops to her denim clad hips.

  “Stop trying to undress her with your eyes.” My gaze returns to Abigail, just in time to catch her rolling her eyes.

  “I’ll show you eventually,” Summer promises. “Once it’s healed.”

  “Will you at least tell me what design you got?”

  Summer smiles sweetly and flutters her eyelashes. “Nope.”

  Abigail laughs.

  Ugh. These girls will be the death of me.

  “Wanna ditch her—" I jerk my head toward Abigail "—and get out of here?”

  Summer shrugs. “Sure. I am getting tired.”

  We stand and say g
oodbye to Abigail. I call Mark’s name. He doesn’t hear me, so I yell louder. His head swivels, and his eyes narrow at me in question. I grin and wave. Mark raises a hand in farewell, and Summer and I walk to the parking lot. She’s still shivering, so I keep my arm around her shoulders. Next time, I’ll remember a jacket or a sweater for her.

  “I guess it’s a good thing you drove,” I tell her as we approach her mom’s SUV. “You’d probably freeze on the handlebars of my bike.”

  She shrugs. “I’m sure I’d survive.” She unlocks the doors with the keyfob, and we climb in. “But I’m glad I drove too.” She hesitates a moment. Her lower lip slips between her teeth and a crease forms in her brow. “You know, you could always stay with your friends.”

  I shake my head. “Don’t be ridiculous. I see our friends plenty. I don’t get nearly enough alone time with you.”

  Despite the dark, semi-lit parking lot, I can just make out the adorable blush on her cheeks.

  She turns the key in the ignition and pulls out of the lot and into traffic. I lean back to study her. Away from the lights in the parking lot, it’s no longer semi-dark. It's just dark. I can barely make out her profile. Her focus is on the road, as she navigates the turns toward my house.

  “Why are you staring at me?” She breaks the comfortable silence we’d been sitting in.

  “Can’t I look at you?”

  She pauses. “I guess.” One hand comes up and brushes her hair behind her ear, and the lip slips back between her teeth. I think I’m making her nervous.

  “Did you have fun tonight?” I ask.

  “Sure,” she says. “It’s been a while since I’ve been to a party.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at one of the beach bonfire parties.” I know I haven’t seen her at one, I’d have remembered.

  One shoulder goes up in a shrug. “My old friends had a lot of house parties. If we had bonfires they were on private beaches by their houses, not here.”

  That makes sense. I remember some of her friends from the volleyball team were pretty well off and had beachfront properties. I wonder which beach party Summer prefers, but I’m afraid to ask. It’s no secret that her past is a touchy subject.

  She arrives at my house and parks in my driveway.

  “Thanks for the lift, Girlfriend.” I unfasten my seatbelt and swivel in my seat to face her.

  “No problem…” She hesitates. “Boyfriend.”

  I grin. “I like the sound of that.”

  Before she can say anything, I lean forward and kiss her lips. The kiss lasts until the front lights turn on. Mom knows we're out here. I pull back and smile at her. "Goodnight."

  22

  Summer

  I slip into the house and shut the door behind me as softly as I can. Locking it, I tiptoe to the stairs. I need to shut myself in my bedroom and process what I’ve gotten myself into.

  Kane is officially my boyfriend now. It isn’t lost on me that he called Abigail and Mark our friends. Somehow, despite my determination to remain solitary, I’ve become a part of their world.

  A small smile creeps onto my lips, and I try to suppress it, lest someone sees and asks what I’m so happy about.

  “Come here, Summer,” Dad’s voice rings out from the den.

  I guess I wasn’t as quiet as I thought. So much for sequestering myself in solitude.

  Rounding the corner, I cut through the kitchen and poke my head into the den. Dad is sitting in his recliner with a newspaper in his hands. The TV is on and the screen displays a news anchor with the CNN news ticker running at the bottom, but the volume is muted. “What’s up, Dad?”

  “Sit down.”

  I really just want to go to my room and try to sleep, but it’s easier to go through the motions than to argue, so I enter the den and perch on the edge of the couch across from him.

  I raise my eyebrows and stare at him. I’m sure my body language tells him I’m not in the mood.

  “How was your evening?”

  “Um...good?”

  “That’s good. What were you up to?” Dad’s voice is pleasant and conversational, the opposite of his courtroom voice.

  I narrow my eyes, trying to get a read on the situation. Am I in trouble? Dad doesn’t usually ask what I’ve been up to. That’s always been Mom’s territory. “Uh, I went to a bonfire on the beach with some friends.”

  “Which friends?”

  “New ones. You haven’t met them.”

  Dad sighs. “Do these new friends have names, Summer?”

  I close my eyes for a moment to stop myself from rolling them. The only thing Dad hates more than eye rolling is back talk. “Abigail, Kane, Mark. Some other people.” I lead with Abigail, because before now, I’ve never hung out with guys I wasn’t dating. Except…now I am dating Kane. I bite my lower lip to hide my smile.

  “Kane,” Dad says thoughtfully. “Is that the one you were at the beach with not long ago?”

  “Yes, Dad. He’s my partner in foods class.”

  A small smile forms on Dad’s lips, and I’m afraid of what he’ll say next. I hate talking about boys with my dad, it’s so awkward. “Well,” he says. “I’m glad you had fun.”

  I wait a beat, anticipating the next line of questioning. Dad returns to his newspaper, and I realize that’s it. The interrogation is over. Slowly, I stand and head back toward the stairs. I pause before exiting the room, glancing back at Dad. He’s absorbed in his paper. This whole thing was weird, but I’m hoping that smile on his face is a sign that the therapy idea has been scrapped.

  Once locked in my room with my makeup removed and my PJ’s on, I lay back in bed. I flip my sketchpad open to Kane’s portrait and trace the edges of his face with my finger and smile.

  What was I afraid of? It’s been weeks and, aside from my normal aches and pains, I’ve been flare up free. Maybe I can do this. Maybe I won’t be a burden on Kane or Abigail.

  I have an urge to do something nice for Kane, so I flip to a clean page in my sketch pad. I unlock my phone lock screen and pull up a recent selfie I snapped of Kane and me. He looks adorable, flashing the camera his trademark grin, and I actually look happy. I realize now that I was happy then, and I’ve actually been mostly happy for a while now.

  Inhaling deeply, I get to work. My gaze flicks between the phone and the paper, as I sketch the outline of first Kane, then me. After a while I lean back, resting my eyes for a short break.

  When I open them again, the sun is filtering through my bedroom window. Blinking, I realize I slept through the entire night. The sketchpad is still open beside me, the pencil dangerously close to my face.

  Groaning, I sit up and stretch. My joints are stiff and achy. I place the pencil next to the sketchpad and find my phone half buried under the paper, the notification light blinking at me.

  Once I clear the low battery warning, I glance at the clock—9:43 a.m.—and see an unread text from Kane. Before I can open it, the battery reaches critical, and the phone shuts down. I groan and connect my phone to the charger, then I take a bundle of fresh clothes into the bathroom and step into the shower. The water works wonders on my joints.

  I towel off and dress, then apply a fresh bandage over my tattoo. It could be just from the warmth of the shower, but it looks more red and puffy this morning.

  Brush in hand, I return to my room and see that my phone has enough juice to read the text. You + Me = Picnic?

  I smile, setting down the hairbrush, and send back a quick reply. Yes. When?

  His reply is almost instantaneous. 11?

  Sitting on the front steps, skin coated in a fresh layer of extra strong sunscreen, I wave goodbye as Mom pulls out of the driveway. She's taking Mandy to piano lessons, and Dad is at the office prepping for court on Monday. This leaves me alone to wait for Kane. Thank god. I’m still not ready for my parents to meet him.

  He rolls up on his bike, and I meet him at the end of the driveway. He’s wearing khaki shorts and carrying a black backpack on his should
ers. I smile at his t-shirt. It says, “Exercise? I Thought You Said Extra Fries!”

  “Your chariot awaits,” he says, gesturing grandly to his bicycle's handlebars. “And for the record, I have a 99 percent passenger satisfaction rating.”

  “Only 99 percent?” I raise my eyebrows and climb on, then swivel my head to face him.

  He shrugs. “I gave Mark a ride on the handlebars once when we were ten. We hit a pothole, he fell off. He’s refused to ever ride with me again.”

  I laugh, and the grin on his face only fuels my mirth. When my laughter settles down, I face forward, bracing myself for the ride. After a few seconds, when we still haven’t moved, I turn to face him. “What are we waiting for?”

  “I don’t work for free.” His face is dead serious.

  My jaw drops, and a sharp laugh escapes me. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.” The grin creeps back onto his face, and he points at his left cheek. Rolling my eyes, I close the space between us and plant a quick kiss on his skin.

  “Can we go now?”

  “As you wish.” His take off is a bit wobbly, but soon it’s smooth riding until we reach the beach boardwalk. He chains up his bike, and we walk hand in hand toward our rocky cliff. He helps me up the slope, and down the other side to the secret beach. I’m happy to see it’s as deserted now as it was the first time he brought me here.

  I stand for a moment in the middle of the beach, taking in our surroundings with a smile on my face. In my peripheral, I see Kane dump the backpack onto the sand and pull out a huge beach towel. He tries to lay it out, but the breeze coming off the ocean refuses to comply.

  “Need a hand?” I grab the opposite end of the towel, and we manage to spread it flat.

  “Thanks,” Kane says. He gestures to the towel. “Ladies first.”

  Grinning, I sit cross legged and Kane follows suit. He pulls the backpack closer and pulls out assorted plastic containers.

  “Uh…” He stares into the bag, then looks up at me with wide eyes.

  “What?” I ask, my voice cautious.