by Anna Michels
Jeffrey shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s boring here.”
I roll over, turning my back to him. “Give me a break, Jeffrey. You’re twelve and you’re on summer vacation. You’re supposed to be bored.”
He doesn’t move for a few seconds, and then he walks out of the room. “Shut the door!” I yell, but he doesn’t. I hear rustling in his room, the squeak of the drawers in his old dresser. Footsteps coming down the hallway, passing by my open door.
“I’m going to Seth’s to ask him to drive me,” Jeffrey calls, already pounding down the stairs.
“What? Jeffrey, don’t you dare!” The front door slams.
I leap out of bed and sprint down the hallway, using the handrails on either side of the stairs to swing down and jump the last four. Peering out the window, I see Jeffrey is already halfway across the street, his backpack slung over his shoulder, his skateboard tucked under his arm.
“God damn it.” I shove my feet into a pair of old flip-flops and go outside, standing on the cement front step.
“Jeffrey!” I call, beckoning for him to come back. “Get over here!”
He turns around and waves, a cocky grin spreading over his face. “Sorry, I can’t hear you!”
By the time I shuffle across the street, Jeffrey is standing at Seth’s door. “I already rang the doorbell,” he says calmly as I come up behind him and grab his elbow, squeezing as hard as I can.
“Get back inside,” I say between gritted teeth. I pull on Jeffrey’s arm, but he brushes me aside easily. When did he get to be so strong?
“Get off me!” Jeffrey says as I pull on his backpack, leaning all my weight onto it so he staggers backward. Just as I’m about to tip him off the step and onto the sidewalk, Seth opens the door.
“Hey,” he says, his eyes widening. I let go of Jeffrey and cross my arms over my chest.
“Hi, Seth,” Jeffrey says. “My sister wanted to ask you if you could drive me over to my dad’s house since our mom’s not home and we don’t have a car.”
Seth turns his green eyes on me, and I shake my head. “You don’t have to,” I say. I poke Jeffrey in his side. “He can wait until Mom brings the car back.”
Jeffrey gives me an evil look. “Actually, it’s kind of important that I go now.”
I sigh and push my hair out of my face, remembering only as I’m doing it that I need to keep my arms over my chest to hide the fact that I’m not wearing a bra. “Seriously, Seth, he’s being a total brat. Don’t drive him anywhere.”
Seth looks back and forth between the two of us and shrugs. “Sure, I guess I can take him.”
Jeffrey smiles and elbows me in the ribs. I swat his arm away. “Well, I’m coming too,” I say, putting as much authority into my voice as I can. “Just give me five minutes to get changed.”
I turn away and pull my shorts down over my thighs, feeling Seth’s eyes on me as I hurry back to our house.
“Thanks for making me look like an idiot, Jeffrey,” I mutter as I dig through my mostly empty drawers. With the majority of my clothes still in the laundry from my cleaning binge the other day, the best I can come up with is a too-small sports bra, a paint-spattered T-shirt I used to wear to do crafts with Mom, and long basketball shorts that might actually belong to my brother. I can already imagine the stink-eye I’m going to get from Dad for showing up at his palace looking like an artistically challenged middle-school boy.
you are in deep shit, I text to Jeffrey. He sends back a poop emoji.
When I get outside, Jeffrey is showing off for Seth on his skateboard, doing the only two tricks he knows over and over again in the street while Seth sits on the minivan’s bumper, elbows on his knees.
“That’s sweet, dude,” Seth says as I walk over. “Ready to go?”
“Shotgun!” Jeffrey yells. I flip him off and wrench open the passenger-side door, settling onto the faded fabric seat before he has a chance to start squawking about injustice.
Once Jeffrey’s settled in the back, Seth fires up the van and pushes a piano concerto CD into the CD player, turning the volume up loud enough that we don’t have to talk. Jeffrey sighs and pops his earbuds in. I kind of wish I could do the same, unexpectedly missing the energy and strong beat of Killian’s music. With the sole exception of the songs he and Mel write together, Seth is not a big fan of music with any lyrics at all. He says words get in the way of what music should actually be doing. But now, having seen Killian’s amazing dashboard and the way those words have tied him to the emotions of the songs he loves, I might disagree with Seth on that point.
I watch the shabbiness of our neighborhood fade into the cute charm of downtown Butterfield, then open up to grassy fields and miles of clear sky before we turn onto Dad’s tree-lined waterfront road.
When we pull into the driveway, I spot Lila in the yard, an enormous straw hat perched on top of her head and tied underneath her chin with a wide ribbon. She seems to be doing some kind of gardening in the elaborate flower bed underneath the giant picture window, but there’s not a speck of dirt on her polka-dot gardening gloves or her white linen pants.
“Vee!” Kaylee appears from behind a bush and makes a beeline for me as we climb out of the van. “Hi!”
“Hey, you.” I catch her under the armpits and swing her up into a big hug. She has mud on her shoes and her knees, and I squeeze her tight against me, so happy to be reminded that, despite the fact she is growing up in a mansion with two housekeepers, she is still just a normal little kid.
“What’s going on?” Lila hurries over, her face pinched underneath the hat. “Is everything okay?”
I look at Jeffrey, who drops his gaze to the ground and scuffs his shoe against the grass. “I, uh, thought I’d come early this weekend,” he says, his voice cracking painfully. “To hang out with Kaylee.”
“Well!” Lila has the grace to turn her surprise into delight. “Isn’t that nice?” She leans over and squeezes Kaylee’s arm. “Your brother came over early to see you, baby!” Kaylee looks at Jeffrey and hides her face in my shoulder.
Lila pulls off her gardening gloves and sticks them in her back pocket. “But your room isn’t ready,” she says, turning toward the house and beckoning for us to follow. “Claudette was supposed to put fresh sheets on the bed this afternoon, but I’m sure we can get it taken care of now.”
Kaylee squirms in my arms, and I put her down so she can race after Lila.
“We actually have to get going,” I call, raising my hand in a wave. “Just dropping Jeffrey off.”
Lila waves back and disappears into the house, and Jeffrey sighs and starts after her.
“Hey.” I grab his arm. “You want to tell me why you were so excited to get over here?”
“Nope.” He slips away. “Thanks for the ride, Seth.”
“No problem.”
We watch Jeffrey trudge across the lawn and up the steps to the front door, dragging his feet like he’s on his way to the electric chair. I shake my head. Something is up with him, but I have no idea what it could be.
“Maybe he has a thing for your stepmom.” Instead of heading back into downtown, Seth drives us toward the beach.
My jaw literally drops. “Are you serious?” I say. “Is that possible?”
He shrugs. “Maybe. She’s all right, I guess.”
I shudder. “You obviously don’t know Lila. She’s like the human equivalent of”—I think for a second—“a box of chalk. Dry, plain, boring. Also, where are we going?”
“I haven’t been to the beach once yet this summer,” Seth says.
“No kidding.” I glance down at his freckled arm, the skin so pale, it’s nearly translucent.
The parking lot is already half full, even though it’s not even lunchtime on a Friday. Lots of families are out and about, staggering up the dunes with cameras in hand or running out onto the beach with towels, shovels, and buckets. Seth always looks a little ridiculous at the beach, especially once the iconic shoes come off. His bare feet are long, thin,
and blindingly white, and when he rolls up the bottoms of his dark jeans, he looks like a punk rocker trying to escape a flood. He picks his way across the sand, wincing at every little rock and twig he steps on.
“Let’s go walk by the water,” I say, pointing to the overgrown shortcut that bypasses the dune climb and takes you directly to the beach. My feet are still tough and calloused from running, but the miles I did yesterday have me limping along nearly as badly as Seth.
Seth walks on his tiptoes, practically leaping from step to step. “I remembered why it’s better to just stay inside,” he says, sighing with relief as we hurry to the cool, wet sand at the edge of the lake. “You’re going to have to carry me back to the parking lot.”
I fall into step beside him. “Your nose is already turning pink,” I say, handing him the mini bottle of sunscreen I keep in my purse during the summer.
Seth takes it gratefully and slathers it over every bit of exposed skin. He doesn’t rub it into his ears all the way, and little white blobs cling to the ends of his hair. The beach is crowded today: towels, umbrellas, and kids’ toys litter the bleached sand. The lake reflects the deep blue of the sky, and tiny waves lap at our feet as we follow the curved path of the shoreline.
My phone vibrates with a new text. It’s from Killian. i liked yesterday. you?
I flush and shove the phone back into my pocket. Seth glances over at me, raising his eyebrows. “I feel like I’ve barely seen you lately,” I say quickly, reaching over to give his hand a quick squeeze.
Seth squeezes back and then releases his grip, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You’ve been busy. And heartbroken.”
“Yeah,” I say, ducking as a squawking seagull swoops over our heads to investigate an abandoned bag of chips. “That does take up a surprising amount of time.”
Seth grins. “I can imagine. You have to listen to sad songs and cry along with them, write letters to your ex that you’ll never send . . .”
“Eat lots of ice cream,” I supply. “Read trashy magazines.”
“Get a drastic haircut.”
“Dang! I knew I forgot something.” I tug on the ends of my hair, which is exactly the same as it’s always been. I wish I had taken advantage of the breakup to do some of those things. They sound a lot more interesting than what I actually did—lie in bed and cry my way through two boxes of Kleenex and an entire season of The Bachelor illegally streamed online.
A familiar-looking guy trudges toward us, shoes dangling from one hand. I shade my eyes. “Hey, Zane?”
He looks around, not able to place my voice. I wave, finally catching his attention, and he jogs over the sand to us. Two years younger than I am and as jumpy as they come, Zane is also the most talented kid on our debate team. The dude is some kind of rhetoric genius, albeit slightly awkward.
“Hi, Vee.” Zane’s dressed in a long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans. He looks nearly as out of place here on the beach as Seth does.
“Hey. What’s going on?”
Zane shrugs and steps aside as a couple of kids with floating noodles race by, splashing into the water. “I was going to meet Tracy here, but I think I must have gotten the wrong time or something, and I lost my phone, so I can’t call her.”
I pull my phone out of my pocket and scroll through, not sure whether I have Tracy’s number, squashing the temptation to read Killian’s text again. “You’re in luck.” I hold out my phone. “Go ahead.”
Zane hesitates. “Really?”
“Absolutely.”
He takes my phone, a shy smile on his face, and turns away. Seth gives me a questioning look, and I mouth, Freshman, at him, only belatedly realizing Zane isn’t technically a freshman anymore. The thought makes me unreasonably sad—everything is changing, even the things that shouldn’t really matter, yet somehow do.
Zane’s on the phone for only a minute. “I got the wrong day,” he says, shrugging and handing the phone back to me. “I guess I really can’t function without my planner.”
I laugh. We always gave Zane crap about his dedication to his stupid school-issued schedule planner, filling in his homework assignments and debate practices like his life depended on it.
“By the way,” he says, holding out his hand to Seth, “I should introduce myself. I’m Zane Haywood.”
Seth hesitates for a moment but recovers quickly and gamely takes Zane’s hand. “Seth.”
There’s a beat of awkward silence as Zane grins at Seth and pumps his hand up and down, basking in the glory of getting to meet the elusive musical genius Seth Moore, who everybody at Butterfield High knows but few know much about. “Sorry,” I say, shaking my head. “I wasn’t sure if you guys knew each other.”
Zane waves away my apology. “Thanks for letting me use your phone,” he says.
“No problem. See you around.”
He takes a few steps but then spins back toward us. “Hey, Vee? Some of us from the team were thinking about hanging out. You in?”
I glance at Seth, whose face twitches as he suppresses a smile.
“Uh, sure,” I say, looking up at Zane. “Who’s coming?”
He shrugs. “Oh, you know. Pretty much everyone. Jason, Callie, Jenn, Tracy.”
So by everyone, he means the underclassmen, not the juniors and seniors I hung out with during the school year.
“And, uh, you can come too, if you want.” Zane glances at Seth.
“Sweet. Cool.” Seth clearly has no idea what to say.
“Awesome. Well, I’ll see you guys.” Zane basically runs away.
As soon as he’s out of earshot, Seth sighs and shakes out his limbs, as if that conversation literally set into his muscles and caused him pain. “So awkward.”
“Awkward but nice.” I glare at Seth, reminding him not to judge everyone around him.
He nods. “Yeah, I guess.” He stretches his arms over his head, his shirt lifting to reveal a sliver of skin at his stomach that is even paler than the rest of him. “Want to go back? I think I’ve had enough of the beach for the summer.”
“Let’s at least wade in a little bit.” With the sun beating down on my head and the waves so cool against my toes, I can’t walk away from the lake without getting a little wet.
Seth wrinkles his nose at the thought of actually stepping into the water, and I snatch his shoes out of his hand, dropping them near the line where the wet, packed sand starts to dry out. “Can’t I just wait here for you?” he says.
“Roll your pants up higher,” I say. “This will be good for you.”
He sighs and bends over, struggling to force the stiff denim of his jeans up over his knees. “I’m only going in for a minute. I hate it when my feet get all pruney.”
“Okay, Grandpa.”
The water is heaven. Clear, cool, soft. I take giant steps, pushing myself in deeper and deeper, ignoring the occasional piece of seaweed brushing against my skin. When I’m knee deep, I turn back to find Seth hesitating near the shore, the tiny waves lapping somewhere around his ankles.
“Come on!” I call.
His shoulders slump, but he inches forward, his face tipped down as he searches for anything that might be lurking under a couple inches of crystal-clear lake water. I look back out over the horizon and hold my hands up to my face to block the view of the beach and the people swimming. All I can see is the water and the sun and the sky, the light reflecting a million different ways as the lake moves with the wind and whatever deep, unfathomable forces that lie beneath it. I close my eyes and, just for a second, everything is perfect.
“Okay, this is as far as I go,” Seth announces from behind me. “My pants are already wet.”
I drop my hands to my sides. I could do it, if I thought I could handle the truth. I could ask him about Mel right now and get the whole issue cleared up.
“Vee?” Seth says. “I said I’m not going any farther.” The grumpy tone I haven’t heard for a while starts to edge back into his voice. He rarely talks like that when Mel is around, I realiz
e.
I take a deep breath. “Seth, I have to ask you something.”
“Yeah?” He sounds distracted, ready to get off the beach and move on with his day.
My mouth is dry, and I’m afraid I won’t be able to force the question out loud enough to rise over the sound of waves lapping against the shore. “Are you in love with Mel?” I ask, still looking out over the never-ending stretch of water, unable to tell where the lake stops and the sky begins.
The beat of silence that hangs in the air before Seth answers tells me everything I need to know.
“I’m not in love with anybody,” he says finally.
“It’s okay,” I say, reaching down to cup some water into my hand and splash it over my face, shivering as cold droplets slide down my neck and inside my shirt. “It won’t bother me if you two get together.” This is the first time I’ve ever lied to Seth, and my skin grows colder. Even with everything that happened between us before Mel moved to Butterfield, I always told him the truth. He knew I didn’t like him the same way he liked me, and although I’m sure that didn’t make it any easier for him, at least I was honest.
“That’s not going to happen,” he says with such finality, I turn around to stare at him. Seth looks out of place in the water, the same way he looks out of place in the hallways at school or sitting at a desk in a classroom. The only time I ever see him blend in seamlessly with his environment is when he’s sitting behind the piano—or when he’s with me and Mel.
“Why not?” My heart lifts for a moment because I’m selfish. Maybe Seth is going to suppress his feelings for Mel so that the balance of our three-way friendship won’t be thrown off. Maybe he would do that for me.
But the look he gives me is dark and complicated, the half smile on his mouth not reaching his eyes. “I don’t want to ruin it,” he says. And I know he’s not talking about ruining what the three of us have—he’s talking about ruining whatever’s going on between him and Mel right now. He’s afraid to tell her how he feels because she might shut him down, the same way I did five years ago.