Not Our Summer

by Casie Bazay

  “I’m so sorry,” Lexi says.

  “Me too,” Maddie says.

  Just one look at my friends reassures me that they truly are. But the damage is done. The heat has spread to my entire face now, and I’m guessing I’m somewhere around the color of a beet. There’s no hiding what happened now.

  CHAPTER 16

  K. J.

  “HOW MANY MORE BOXES?” I ASK, TAKING ONE LAST drag of my cigarette and putting it out with the toe of my flip-flop.

  “Just a few.” Carter stands on his front porch with two pillows tucked beneath one arm and a rolled up navy blue bedspread beneath the other. He hurries down the steps and crams the bedding into the cab of his truck. I follow him back inside the trailer to help get the last of his stuff. His mom is at work, and he wants to finish moving everything before she gets home. Otherwise, it won’t be pretty. He’s already two days past his deadline.

  “God, what’s in here?” I ask as I heave a box from the floor of what used to be his bedroom.

  Carter peers in the crack at the top. “That’s all my games. And the PS4. Want me to get it?”

  “Nah, I got it,” I shift the box in my arms and carry it to the front door. “Guess I didn’t realize you had so many.”

  “I’m a man of many talents.”

  “Pshh, whatever.”

  We make our way outside, and I push the box into an empty spot in the rusted bed of the truck and head back in for another. The next one is much lighter—full of his band T-shirts and socks by the looks of it. “It’s gonna be really weird not having you living here anymore.”

  “Yeah, I know, but you can drop by our place any time you want.”

  I lean back against the side of his truck. “Who am I gonna bum smokes from when I’m out?”

  He sets his box on the tailgate and turns to sit down. “I’ll just be a few miles away, so you can still bum smokes. And besides, it’s usually me bumming smokes from you.”

  “True.” I gaze up into the oak tree that grows on the dividing line between our lots. A half-rotted piece of plywood still sits cradled between the three main branches. Carter and I built a fort the summer after he first moved here, and we spent plenty of time up there in the years that followed. I can’t remember when we got too cool for our hangout, but looking at it now makes my chest ache a little.

  Carter follows my gaze but says nothing. I’m not sure he has a sentimental bone in his body, but maybe that’s just guys for you. He makes one last trip inside, returning with a couple CDs and a half-empty bottle of Dr Pepper. “Wanna come with? I could drop you back by later.”

  I stare at my feet. “Nah, I’ve got some stuff to do, and I need to go down to the library to fill out my college application.”

  “To NorthWest Arkansas?”

  I meet his eyes. “Yep. Looks like community college might be my only hope for now.”

  Carter gives me a thumbs-up. “I believe in you, Katherine James.”

  I roll my eyes, but I can’t stop my smile. “Don’t call me that.”

  “Why not?” he says, teasing. “It’s your real name. You should be proud of it.”

  I shake my head, my smile growing bigger now. “Shut up, Carter Gilbert.”

  “Okay, okay, I have a sucky middle name, too.” He hops into the cab of the truck and gives me a wave. “I’ll see ya around.”

  “Yeah, see ya,” I mumble.

  The truck door slams shut and the engine groans to life. I pull another cigarette from my pocket and light up as he backs out of the drive. The nicotine doesn’t calm me like it usually does; instead, a hollow feeling carves its way into my chest. I sit down on the top porch step with a sigh. “Fuck.”

  Mom always says you don’t know how much you miss something until it goes away. Carter hasn’t even been gone for a minute and I miss him already.

  “Miss Walker?” The voice on the phone is familiar, but I can’t seem to place it.

  I decide to play it nice in case it’s someone from the community college inquiring about the online application I submitted yesterday. “Yes? Um, speaking.”

  Mom peers at me over the top of her romance novel, probably wondering why I’m being so polite.

  “This is Jeffrey Sisco, your grandfather’s lawyer.”

  “Oh, yeah. Hey, Mr. Sisco.” I settle back onto the couch a little.

  “I trust that your trips have been going well?”

  “Sure, sure. They’ve been great. I’m ready for the next one.”

  “Oh good. That’s what I was calling about.” He pauses as if he expects me to say something else.

  “Okay,” I prompt.

  “So your last letter mentioned that you and Rebecka would be driving, and that’s what I needed to speak with you about.”

  “Yeah, about that, I don’t have a car, and my mom needs hers for work and stuff.”

  “I understand. Listen, this wasn’t spelled out in the will, but your grandfather set aside some extra money for the purchase of a vehicle for this trip.”

  “Okay…”

  “So I took the liberty to go ahead and purchase one. It’s a Honda Accord, about ten years old, but it’s tagged and ready to go. I had it temporarily insured and added both you and Rebecka as drivers.”

  “You did?” I glance at Mom, who’s watching me with full interest now.

  “I need to get the vehicle to you somehow. Would you and your mother be able to come pick it up?”

  I pull the phone away from my ear for a moment, looking at Mom. “Can we go pick up a car?”

  Her eyes widen. “Sure.”

  “Alrighty,” I tell Mr. Sisco. “We can do that.”

  “Seven-thirty, okay? At my office?”

  “That works. See you then.”

  After hanging up, I look back at Mom. This is unbelievable. “Grandpa and his never-ending flow of cash… I don’t get it.”

  Her eyes crinkle around the edges and she gives a little laugh. “Me either.” Dog-earing her book, she places it on the coffee table beside her. “So who gets to keep this car?”

  “He didn’t say, but it’s probably just for the trip.”

  Mom’s lips pinch up, but I can see the wheels spinning in her head, and I’d bet all of Grandpa’s money that she’s already trying to work out a way to keep the car for herself. She stands and then disappears down the hallway. “How about we grab something at Dee Dee’s Drive-In on the way?” she calls.

  This must be cause for celebration in her mind, and I’ll take it. “Sounds good to me.”

  Roughly a half hour and two orders of perfectly greasy fries and breaded chicken tenders later, we pull in to Mr. Sisco’s office, a few minutes before seven-thirty.

  “That must be it,” I say, pointing to a silver Honda parked a few spaces down.

  Mom’s eyes have gone wide again, like she’s spotted a hundred-dollar bill on the ground and no one’s around to claim it. “Ooh, it’s really nice.”

  We both hop out to inspect the car. The outside is in near-perfect condition. The doors are locked, but we peek inside the windows. The interior is super clean, and a strawberry-shaped air freshener hangs from the rearview mirror.

  “This looks great,” Mom says. “Plus, Hondas are so reliable. It’s a good choice for your trip and it probably won’t break down on you like my car does all the time.”

  “I hope not.” I move around to the other side of the car, still taking it all in. “I wonder why he called us and not Becka and RaeLynn to come get it?”

  A devilish gleam shines in Mom’s eyes. “I’m sure there’s a good reason.”

  We both look up as the low rumble of another car approaches. Mr. Sisco waves from behind the wheel of a black BMW. No surprise that he’d have a car worth more than everything we own put together.

  He steps out and comes to shake our hands. “So here she is, ladies. I hope you approve.”

  Mom grins. “Definitely, thank you for calling us.”

  Mr. Sisco looks slightly baffled for a momen
t, but then fishes a set of keys out of his pocket. “Well, it’s what Mr. Walker wanted. He left instructions for the two of you to pick it up.”

  Mom gives me a knowing glance.

  Then he hands the keys to me. “Have a look inside. The insurance papers are in the glove box, and there’s a manual if you have questions about how anything works. The guy at the dealership said this car only had one owner, and it’s been well taken care of as you can see.”

  Mom laughs. “It looks practically new!”

  Mr. Sisco pushes his hands into the pockets of his tan slacks. “I hope it works well for your trip, but let me know if you have any issues with it.”

  Mom slides into the driver’s seat, folding her hands over the steering wheel. “Thank you so much, Mr. Sisco.”

  I walk around to the passenger side and climb in, the scent of fake strawberries filling my nostrils. A million times better than rotten bologna. “Wow—it really is in perfect condition.”

  Mom pokes her head out the still-open door and looks at Mr. Sisco. “So what are the girls supposed to do with it after the trip?”

  “Your father left instructions for that in another letter. It’s in the glove box, too.”

  Mom rubs her hands together, looking positively giddy. “I knew it!”

  “Have a nice evening,” he says with a wave. “And call me if you need anything.” Then he climbs into his car and drives away.

  “Get the letter out,” Mom says.

  I pull open the glove box, finding the envelope right away. “It’s addressed to me.”

  “Read it aloud, then.”

  “All right.” I pull the two pieces of folded, mint-colored paper from the envelope and clear my throat.

  CHAPTER 17

  ELI

  Katherine,

  It most likely hasn’t been long since you read my last letter, but this one I’m writing specifically to you. Yes, it’s fine if your mom reads it, too. It wouldn’t surprise me if she were reading over your shoulder right now, in fact.

  I know your life hasn’t been easy. You and your mother have struggled financially, and there were many times when I was overcome with guilt, knowing this, especially when I had the means to help and didn’t. Well, that’s not entirely true. I have helped your mother out on several occasions (just ask her), but I was trying to save my money with the hope of taking both my daughters and granddaughters on all the trips I’d dreamed about over the years. We were going to be one big, happy family again.

  In time, unfortunately, I realized this was all a fantasy. Not only were my irrational fears getting worse instead of better, but I doubted I’d ever convince RaeLynn and Jackie to join me on this grand vacation. Still, I held out hope for many years. Then, when I realized it wasn’t only my mind that was unwell, but also my body, a new idea hatched. I wanted this all to be a nice surprise for the four of you.

  This car is intended for your trip to the Bull Sluice and Key West, but it’s also for you, Katherine. You’ll need a reliable vehicle to get back and forth from college.

  I’m afraid the inheritances will be a little lopsided since you’re receiving this car on top of the money for college, but I know you need it. Of course, I expect you and Rebecka to complete the rest of the tasks to earn your inheritance, but this car is yours to keep. I don’t think RaeLynn or Rebecka will mind. So please enjoy and consider this my special gift to you.

  With love,

  Grandpa

  CHAPTER 18

  BECKA

  I’M SITTING ON THE BENCH ON MY FRONT PORCH, chewing on a hangnail, when K. J. pulls into the drive. Wow, I’m surprised she actually showed up at the time Mr. Sisco suggested we leave, but just the sight of her sends a rush of anger speeding through my veins. I still can’t believe she embarrassed me in front of my friends at the coffee shop like that. She honks twice even though I know she sees me sitting here. I roll my eyes, push up to my feet, and trudge toward her car, lugging my suitcase behind me. After depositing my luggage into the trunk, I plop down in the passenger seat with a sigh.

  “What’s up, buttercup?” she says in a fake, cheery voice.

  She wears cutoff jean shorts and a baby blue tank top, which is probably the nicest thing I’ve seen her wear yet. I don’t bother answering her question. It’s not like she really meant it or cares what’s up with me anyway. Instead, I text my mom to let her know we’re off and that I’ll check in with her later today. Time to face the thirteen hellish hours to our destination. God knows, I’m dreading every second of it.

  K. J. cranes her neck forward, gawking out the windshield as she backs out of the drive. “Huh, your house is nicer than I expected.”

  I glance up from my phone, trying to see our place through her eyes. It’s just a house to me: red brick exterior with gray wood shutters and your run-of-the-mill flower garden out front. It’s the third house I’ve lived in, but I suppose it is nice compared with what she’s used to. Mom told me they live in a trailer house. “Thanks,” I mutter.

  My phone dings with a reply from Mom. She wants to know what kind of car Grandpa bought K. J.

  I text back, telling her it’s a Honda. Nice, but an older model.

  Mom was pissed when Mr. Sisco told us about the car, but for some reason, it didn’t really phase me. I told Mom that Grandpa could have left all his money to them and I wouldn’t have cared. Okay, maybe that was a lie. I would have cared, but they obviously need it more than we do.

  “Just so you know,” K. J. says as we turn onto the main street, “I haven’t driven a whole lot. Mostly because I’ve never had my own car before, not because I’m bad or anything like that.”

  Great. My hand automatically slides down to double-check my buckle.“But I figured you could drive some,” K. J. continues.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  She turns up the radio, set to some alternative station. I recognize the song by Muse even though this isn’t the kind of music I usually listen to. The first two hours of our drive are completely uneventful. We listen to the radio, avoid talking, and watch the passing scenery. I’m struck by how pretty Arkansas is outside of the city limits. If I’m being honest, it’s been a while since I actually paid attention.

  When my mom was between husbands, we used to drive down to Pine Bluff in the summer to see one of her high school friends. We’d usually spend a week or two there, going to yard sales, playing putt-putt golf, and swimming in their backyard pool. Then later, after husband number two, Ricky came along, too. He would chatter for most of the drive down. That was before he was old enough to argue with everything I said, which was nice. I smile to myself, recalling the way he’d count on his fingers and shout “Moo!” every time he spotted a cow along the side of the road. What I wouldn’t give to have him here beside me instead of K. J.

  When we stop for a bathroom break and snacks, she asks if I’m ready to drive. “I brought The Scorch Trials,” she says, holding the book up.

  I shrug. Whatever. I’m more comfortable behind the wheel than riding shotgun. Once we’re back on the highway, I sip from my Coke and pop mini peanut butter crackers into my mouth while listening to the quiet hum of the tires. My weird mood lingers; I didn’t expect this trip to trigger so many memories. And then there’s the fact that I’m sitting next to this girl that I’m just starting to get to know, but still don’t understand at all.

  A billboard featuring A & B Glass Company in bold letters appears, and I’m reminded of a game Ricky and I used to play on long drives when he got older. We’d find words starting with each letter of the alphabet on passing signs. Maybe I should play the game by myself, for old time’s sake.

  I get stuck on K for the longest time, until we pass a Krispy Kreme sign in Little Rock, and then I’m on the dreaded letter X. For the last three letters, Ricky and I always bent the rules a little so that the word could just contain the letter, instead of begin with it. I scan every approaching sign, desperate to finish the game, like somehow I’d be dishonoring my brother’s memor
y if I didn’t.

  “Oh my god,” K. J. says, breaking the long stretch of silence as well as my concentration. She dog-ears her book and snaps it shut. “I cannot believe that just happened.”

  I don’t take the bait but instead keep searching the landscape for signs.

  She takes a sip of her Dr Pepper and cracks her window even though the AC is on. “Mind if I have a smoke?”

  Incredulous, I glance her way. “Actually, yeah, I do.”

  “It’s my car you know.”

  “Yeah, and these are my lungs.”

  “Fine,” she huffs, buzzing the window back up. “Guess I’ll wait till we stop again.”

  “You’ll survive.”

  Before long, Little Rock fades away and we’re back in the countryside again. The highway narrows to two lanes as we begin to wind our way through the hills. I still need words for Y and Z but remind myself there will be more opportunities coming up. K. J. and I are still quiet even though she’s no longer reading and the radio is off. Strangely, I don’t find it weird or uncomfortable anymore. This is just how things are with us now.

  “So… were you and your brother close?” she asks after a while.

  Goosebumps prickle on my arms. It’s almost like she knows I’ve been thinking about him. “Not especially,” I say because, sadly, it’s the truth.

  “Oh…”

  It’s obviously not the answer she was expecting. “But if you mean, do I miss him, then answer is yes, I do. He annoyed the crap out of me sometimes, but I loved him.”

  “I always wished I had a brother,” K. J. says. “I think we’d be close. You know, if I had one.”

  “Yeah, well, hindsight is twenty-twenty. If I’d known my brother was going to die, I would have made more of an effort to get to know him.” My stomach seems to fold in on itself as the words leave my mouth, and I wonder, Was I ever a good sister at all?

  “True.” K. J. nods thoughtfully. After another beat of silence, she asks, “Do you ever talk to your dad?”