by SR Silcox
Contents
Title
Copyright
About the Girls of Summer Series
Dedication
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Epilogue
Get the next book in the Girls of Summer series
Thankyou!
Acknowledgements
CRUSH
SR Silcox
CRUSH
SR Silcox
Copyright SR Silcox 2015
Published by Juggernaut Books Pty Ltd
All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. No reference to an real person, living or dead, should be inferred. Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without consent is strictly prohibited.
Cover design by www.goonwrite.com
Click or visit:
www.srsilcox.com
A note about the Girls of Summer series
I remember the sweet teen romances of my teen years in the late 1980s/early 1990s (Silhouette First Love, Dolly Fiction), and hiding in the stacks in the school library reading them. When I hit 14 or 15 years old, I started becoming interested in the way relationships worked. My friends were starting to get boyfriends and I thought I should probably be doing the same, even though I didn’t really feel anything more than friendship with any of the boys I knew back then.
I quickly learned from reading those short romance books that it wasn’t the female main characters I identified with the most; it was the male characters that the girls lusted after. I wanted to be those boys the girls chased after, had fun adventures with and fell in love with by the end of the book.
I didn’t know what that meant at the time, but I knew it meant I was different.
I’m not sure whether reading a book where a girl fell in love with another girl would have made me realise I was a lesbian back then, but who knows?
And that’s why I started writing the Girls of Summer series. Beginning with Crush, the stories in the series are intended to be lighthearted and fun reads. Though they’ll be linked by taking place in summer (my favourite season of the year), they will be stand-alone books that can be read in any order.
And most importantly of all, the girl will get the girl in the end.
For my wife’s sixteen-year-old self.
ONE
People who’ve never experienced a cane fire wonder what all the fuss is about, and then they see one, and they know. A cane fire starts off slow, burning around the edges, the fire creeping into the lower part of the cane, and then it roars up into the tops of the stalks making the night glow orange. Suddenly, just as quickly as it roars to life, it's gone, and all that’s left is the black snow - the burned cane trash - falling silently back to the ground. It was the sweetest smell Tess Copeland had ever known, like Gran’s kitchen after she'd made toffee, and it was her favourite part of summer.
Tonight’s fire was the last one for the season, except for the small block she and Pop had grown for the Crush Festival, and Tess’s job was to keep an eye on any big embers coming down still alight, just in case they dropped into the festival block and set it off. With everyone concentrating on the block they were burning, if the festival block caught, there’d be no putting it out. Especially with the dry heat and westerlies they’d had that day.
Tess was sitting on the tail gate of Pop’s Ute, her spray pack full of water beside her, watching as Lonny and Pete and some of the other farmers from around Chesterfield lit up the block. In the initial stages, it was quiet as Lonny and Pete walked in opposite directions with their drip torches lighting up the bottom of the cane. A couple of other farmers would be doing the same thing from the other side.
Pop was standing on the eastern corner closest to where the Ute was parked, talking to Gary Evans from up the road. Probably about the lack of rain and most likely about the council elections coming up next year. Gary never missed an opportunity to put in a good word for his wife, who’d been a councillor in Chesterfield for close to fifteen years.
Lonny and Pete were about half way around the block when the fire crackled to life. Orange flames crept toward the centre of the cane and licked their way up the tall cane stalks singeing the loose leaves as it went. Gary Evans uncrossed his arms, picked up his fire rake and walked with Pop to the edge of the cane. Pop nodded at Tess as he passed and Pete’s brother rode past on his bike, Pete’s nephew riding up behind him, heading for the far side. They were always the last to arrive at a fire, and the last to leave after the beer and sandwiches that Gran put on were gone, but they worked hard so no-one seemed to care. Pete’s nephew saluted Tess as he hurtled past and then stood up on the footrests, whooping as he fish-tailed around the corner and out of sight.
Tess jumped off the Ute, heaved the spray pack onto her back and, adjusting her cap on her head, walked over to the track between the burning block and the festival block and turned her eyes to the sky.
The block was dry, so within minutes, the fire was roaring up into the centre, throwing flames high into the air and spewing black smoke. A few big pieces of trash pin wheeled down and Tess kept a careful eye on them as they fell, but they were out before they hit the ground.
Although it wasn’t quite dark yet, the fire was still pretty spectacular, and it had drawn a few people from around the place to come and have a look. There were a couple of cars parked on the side of the road, faces pushed against the windows, watching in awe. Tess smiled. She used to do the same thing when she was little, sitting in Pop's Ute watching from the comfort of the driver’s seat.
As she was looking at the parked cars, she caught a glimpse of the McGregor house just up the road. There were lights on in the house which made Tess a little curious. There hadn’t been anyone in the McGregor house for years, except for a few holidayers every now and then. No-one willingly holidayed in Chesterfield unless they were visiting family, and even then, they'd normally stay at one of the motels in town.
“Tess!” She jerked her head around and saw Lonny waving madly at her. “Spot over,” he yelled. Tess followed where he was pointing. An ember had fallen into the grass beside the festival block not far from where she was standing and had caught alight. She ran as fast as she could, pumping the handle on the spray pack as she went to build up pressure in the tank.
When she reached the spot over, she sprayed around the fire instead of directly onto it so she didn’t flick up any more embers. Gary Evans had heard Lonny as well and had run over with his fire rake to pull away the grass to make a dirt break around it so it didn’t spread. They managed to put it out without too much effort.
“Nearly,” Gary said. He smiled and leaned on his fire rake.
“Yeah,” Tess replied. She looked back over to Lonny, who shook his head, but she thought she saw a smile on his face.
“Bet you’re excited to be done with school,” Gary said. He scratched at the orange stubble on his chin and sniffed.
“I guess,” Tess said.
Gary nodded. “Jay cou
ldn’t wait to get to that big party down on the Gold Coast. Left the day after the formal. You kids heading down there?”
“I’m staying back to help out with the festival. Lizzie and Will are away in Brisbane until the middle of the week but they’re coming back for the festival too. Dad said if I didn’t go to Schoolies he’d buy me a car next year, so you know, it was an easy decision.”
Gary smiled and nodded. “How are your folks anyway? Enjoying Europe?”
“Dad’s not happy about the cold but Mum’s loving it. She saw snow for the first time on Tuesday after they flew in to London."
“Have you heard from them since they got there?”
“They rang when they got in, but it’s been emails since then. The time zones are hard to work out,” Tess said.
“I hear ya,” Gary said. “It’s hard enough to work out when to ring Matty when he’s on shift in WA. And that’s only two hours difference. I think.” He scratched his cheek. “Any plans for next year?”
“Uni, if I get in,” Tess replied.
“When do you find out?”
“A couple more weeks.”
“Nervous?”
“A bit. I think I’ll get into the business course I want to, but I’ve picked arts for my second choice just in case.”
“Back in my day, we finished school and went off to work the next morning. None of this partying stuff until we were twenty-one,” Gary said. “Unless you knew the barman at the local. Then you might get a few drinks before then. You kids don’t know how lucky you’ve got it nowadays,” he said. “Only waiting ‘til eighteen to drink.” He shook his head. “Of course, you only went to uni when you wanted to be a doctor or lawyer or something fancy like that. You need a bloody degree to turn on a TV these days.”
“Spot over!” Lonny called again, saving Tess from the rest of Gary’s lecture.
“That’s us again,” Gary said as he raced over with Tess to the end of the track and put out another small fire.
∞
Because the block was a small one, it wasn’t long before the fire had burned itself out. Though the flames were gone, black cane trash still floated down from the sky as Gary and Tess headed back over to the Ute. As she took off her spray pack, she glanced up at the McGregor house. The lights were still on but she couldn’t see any movement.
Pop tossed a fire rake into the back of the Ute and opened the driver’s side door. “You coming down the sheds with me?” he asked.
“I’ll go up and help Gran out,” Tess said. “Who's up at the McGregor’s?”
Pop glanced across the cane paddock and shrugged. “Renters I suppose,” he said and closed the door. Tess lifted the tailgate and clicked it shut. She banged on the side to let Pop know he could get going and headed back to the house. She'd have to ask Gran about the McGregor place to find out more.
TWO
Running in the country was different from the city. In the city, depending on what time she got outside on a Sunday, Maddie Lambert would be negotiating other runners, bike riders, walkers, mothers with three-wheel all-terrain prams and kids wobbling along on their little bikes. Out here, the only thing she had to worry about was not getting an insect in her mouth. It had only happened once, and that was apparently because she’d been running at dusk. Or so Jo said. So Maddie had decided to run in the middle of the day instead. Mornings had never been her strong point and she needed to run off the calories she’d eaten at the bakery earlier.
Indulging was something she hadn’t been allowed to do for a long time, but as soon as she’d seen the size of those overfilled cream buns, she couldn’t stop herself. Especially when she discovered it was real cream, and not the fake stuff most of the bakeries back home used. Her mouth watered at the thought of them. She’d definitely have to go back tomorrow to get another one. Of course, that would mean doing another run tomorrow afternoon. Or maybe she could just do an extra lap of the farm today.
The song changed on her iPod, and since she’d heard it a million times already, she switched it to the next one. It flipped over to Bon Jovi and Maddie smiled. Perfect. She was so over the manufactured pop that everyone seemed to be into now. What happened to good, old-fashioned rock? Thumping guitars and strong vocals, now that was something she liked.
For a brief moment, Maddie wondered how everyone else was coping since she’d walked out. Was she sorry to leave like she did? Sure, but no-one could say they hadn’t seen it coming. At least Freya understood why she’d done it, and Andy couldn’t resist the opportunity to take some time off and go surfing on the coast. Her father on the other hand, wasn’t so understanding.
They hadn’t argued like that since Maddie was twelve and had wanted to go to the same public high school as the rest of her friends. He’d won that argument, but Maddie hadn’t let him win this one. She hadn’t spoken to him since she’d left, but Jo had called him to tell him they were safe. As far as she knew, Jo hadn’t let on where they were, which is what Maddie had wanted. If he found out, he’d be up in a flash trying to drag her back. She just couldn’t deal with the way he was trying to micromanage every little part of her life anymore. Her mother had started to get into the act as well, telling her what she should be wearing or how she should be getting her hair done. God, the look on her mother’s face a few weeks ago when Maddie had appeared in cargo shorts and a t-shirt to go shoe shopping was priceless. Not having any make-up on was what had sent her over the edge. “You never know who might see you," her mother had said. “You have to go out in public as if you’re going to be photographed. Do you have any idea what people would say if they saw you dressed like that?”
“How about ‘there’s a nice, down-to-earth-looking girl’?" Maddie had replied. Her mother turned up her nose and said, “You’re not going looking like that.” So Maddie had stayed home, which annoyed her mother even more.
Without realising it, she’d increased her pace to almost a sprint. She slowed back to a jog and then stopped at the corner of the track, gulping in deep breaths of hot, fresh air. She pulled the ear buds from her ears, leaned on the fence post and stretched. No car fumes out here. Just wide open spaces and a lot of red dirt.
When Jo had suggested they come up here, Maddie was dubious because really, who had ever heard of Chesterfield? Certainly not her, and she was glad she hadn’t made any jokes about the place since Jo had revealed it was where she was born. She hadn’t mentioned how she felt about it now, but Maddie figured that you always feel a bit nostalgic for the town you were born, even if you left when you were little.
And the house was nice enough. Quaint her mother would call it, but not in a good way. Nothing like their white concrete fortress in Mosman. The farm house felt comfortable and lived in. Jo said she thought it was built in the 1920s, and the sag in the front veranda seemed to agree with that.
The walls had knocks and scrapes and dents in them and it seemed to absorb sound. Unlike Maddie’s place where you could hear someone coming down the stairs from the other end of the house. It used to freak her out when they’d first moved in a few years ago, the way it echoed every little sound when people were moving around in it. Then it would be deathly quiet at night.
The creaks in the farm house had kept her awake that first night too, but they felt different somehow. Jo had said the next morning that it was just the house settling as it cooled. It had creaked as they’d been talking about it that morning and Jo said it was expanding as it heated up. Almost like the house was a living, breathing thing. Maddie couldn't believe she didn’t know that stuff. Basic science, Jo had said, which kind of explained it. Science had never been Maddie’s strong point. She was more into the creative arts.
She finished stretching and looked back down the road she’d run on. It was a long way back and she thought she’d seen a side road somewhere, so she decided to take it to see if it was a shortcut back to the farm house. She pushed the ear buds back into her ears and took off at a steady pace. ‘Eye of the Tiger’ came on, making her heart
race. The side track appeared just ahead, and the heavy guitar riff pumping through her ears and into her chest spurred her on, making her feel invincible. She sprinted ahead, Survivor urging her on. She turned the corner onto the unknown track, not caring if it was a shortcut and just happy to be away from the pressures of the last few months.
THREE
One minute Tess was riding along the boundary line on the farm bike, heading out to where Pop, Lonny and Pete were finishing the harvesting, the next a streak of white shot out from the long grass in front of her. She clamped down on the brakes, locking up the wheels and sliding into the grass on Fitzy’s side of the boundary. She dropped the bike and ran back to where the girl was lying, dazed, on the track.
“Bloody hell. I didn’t see you. You alright?” Tess asked, crouching down to help the girl up. She was caked in red dirt and no amount of her trying to dust it off was going to change the fact that her white tracksuit was ruined. She was definitely not from around here dressed like that.
“I think so,” the girl said. She tried to stand, but stumbled sideways. Tess threw out her arms to catch her before she fell back down. The girl winced. “I think I hurt my ankle."
Tess helped her over to the side of the track and lowered her down so she was sitting on the grass. A pool of red was slowly forming on her right knee. “Looks like you’ve got a graze as well,” Tess said.
The girl pulled up the leg of her pants and prodded at her knee, sucking in a breath as little red droplets of blood oozed from the patch of raw skin. “Great. That’s just fantastic,” she said, pushing a strand of white-blond hair behind her ears.
“It doesn’t look too bad,” Tess offered. “It's just a couple of layers of skin. Paw paw ointment will clear that up in no time.”
The girl looked up, shaded her face and said, “A paw paw will fix my graze.”
Tess smiled. “No. It’s an ointment. I have no idea if it’s made from actual paw paws, but that’s what it’s called. And yes, it will fix your graze. Slather it on, cover it up and in a day or so, no more scab.”