How to Survive a Summer Romance (or Two)

by Ann Herrick

  Was it the setting that got me so confused? The beautiful lake, the towering trees, the lazy summer days away from familiar surroundings? Did I get carried away just because I was on vacation‑‑from my brain?

  Maybe I had reached a point in my life where it all would have happened no matter what. Maybe I would have met a guy back home, who, out of the blue, would've gotten me all hot and bothered. Maybe it was all just a Hormone Attack.

  And what about Troy? Was it only sex he'd wanted all along? Had he liked me, even a little? Or was it just that I was the only girl within viewing distance?

  I pulled my pillow over my head. I wished I could burrow down in the mattress and disappear. Thank everything Celestial it was my last day at Lake Winnipesaukee. I could manage to avoid Troy, and then I'd never have to see him again.

  Suddenly I heard bells. I threw my pillow on the floor and jumped out of bed. "What's happening?"

  "It's my alarm clock," Gwen said. "I wanted to get up early so I could spend the whole day with Mikel. Sorry. Maybe you can go back to sleep."

  "That's okay," I said. "There's something I need to do and I might as well get it over with early."

  "Oh." Gwen paused, as if she was waiting for me to explain. When I didn't, she said, "Well, dibs on the bathroom."

  While Gwen was showering, I quickly got dressed. I didn't bother to comb my hair or anything. I opened the bottom drawer of my dresser and pulled out the book Troy had given me. I ran my fingers over the gold lettering one last time. It was a beautiful book and I really hated to part with it. But looking at it just brought back bad memories of last night.

  I tiptoed past Mom and Dad's room. I could hear Dad snoring, so I knew he was still asleep. I crept downstairs. Mom wasn't there. So I figured she was still upstairs asleep, too.

  I opened and closed the back door slowly, so it wouldn't squeak. Then I scurried down the path to Troy's house. I hid in the bushes and checked out the house. I didn't see any signs of life.

  Suddenly I heard a noise. I scrunched lower in the bush. I'd die if Troy saw me lurking around his cottage! But the sound turned out to be a scurrying squirrel. So I crept up the steps of the porch and left The Rubaiyat of Omar Khyyam by the door where no one could miss it. Then I hurried back home.

  "Kaysie! I didn't even know you were awake." Mom was in her robe, frying bacon.

  "Oh, um … yes. I just went for a walk by the lake."

  "I don't blame you." Mom sighed. "I can hardly believe how quickly time has flown up here. I want to cram as much as possible into our last day here, too."

  "Uh … yeah." I wasn't about to tell Mom I planned to spend the rest of the day hiding out in my room.

  Hiding out turned out to be more difficult than I'd thought. Oh, no one barged in on me or anything. It was my own thoughts that kept intruding.

  I'd thought I just wanted to completely forget Troy. But I kept reminiscing about our boat rides, our walks on the island, our lazy mornings reading on the porch. Our mutual love of books and reading was certainly real.

  And of course Troy's gorgeous looks were hard to blot out of my mind, too. His clear blue eyes, his hair the color of sand, his beautiful, athletic body. I still got embarrassed thinking how quickly, and how urgently, I'd developed a longing to be close to that great bod. What was the matter with me? I knew now I wasn't ready for sex. I had too many doubts and questions. But I still kept thinking about it!

  I even started wondering what it'd be like with Brian. Was I just curious, or was I obsessed?

  Even though I messed up on technique, I thought I made the right decision last night. But I wanted to continue to make the right decisions and handle them better too.

  I thought Mom had told me everything about sex over the years. But now I had questions that'd never occurred to me before.

  Suddenly there was knock at the door. I glanced at the clock. Five o'clock. Probably time to help start supper. "Come in."

  It was Mom. She had on her red bikini and a pink glow in her cheeks. I remembered she'd gone sailing‑‑one last time‑‑with Mr. Parker.

  "Fix yourself up and put on something nice," Mom said hurriedly. "The Tomiches are having a last‑minute cookout for everyone on the cove and it starts at six."

  "A cookout?" I whined. Everyone on the cove meant the Tomiches, us, and the Parkers. I didn't want to face Troy again. "I'm kind of, uh, tired. I think I'll pass."

  "Oh, Gladys would be so hurt if you didn't come! And Gwen would be disappointed too. It's our last night here. I want you to go." The expression on Mom's face was a cross between exasperation and insistence.

  "Oh … all right." At the last cookout the Tomiches had Mr. Parker hadn't stayed long. Maybe Troy wouldn't even show up. He wouldn't want to see me any more than I wanted to see him.

  Since I'd be seeing Brian the next day, I decided to go all out and "fix myself up," as Mom had put it. First I showered and shampooed my hair. I dried it, twisted it up, and brushed my bangs forward. Then I polished my fingernails and toenails.

  When my nails dried I put on the chiffon top I'd worn to the Food Fair in Lakeview. But instead of slacks, I teamed it with a white, swingy skirt. Then I spritzed on some cologne and slicked on a shimmering lipstick.

  I checked myself out in the mirror. Not bad. If only I didn't have to wait until the next day to see Brian. It would be nice to see his appreciative smile.

  But it was only one more day, I reminded myself. Funny how the time had slipped by. I'd been so sure I would spend the entire time counting every second until I went back to Connecticut.

  But, hey! I shook my finger at my reflection in the mirror. It wasn't my fault I couldn't predict exactly how I'd react. I wasn't clairvoyant. Tomorrow I'd go back home, see Brian, and everything would return to normal.

  At least I hoped it would …

  Chapter Seventeen

  When we got to the Tomiches' cottage, Mr. Parker was already there. But Troy wasn't.

  Well, good. I didn't want to see him anyway. I checked the path a couple of times. Just to make sure he wasn't coming.

  "How about some lemonade, Kaysie?" Mrs. Tomich asked. Her huge gold hoop earrings swayed through her red hair.

  "Oh. Sure. Thanks." I wrapped my hands around the cold, moist glass and took a few sips. I glanced up the path to the Parker's cottage again. Still no sign of Troy.

  "Hi."

  I almost dropped my glass of lemonade at the sound of Troy's voice behind me. I turned around. He'd come from the direction of my cottage. I blushed and unexpectedly found myself saying, playfully, "Sneaking up on me, huh?"

  "I figured you wouldn't have a chance to run if you didn't see me coming," Troy said, not smiling.

  Standing there, trying to read Troy's mood, I realized I'd just been kidding myself when I told myself I'd gotten all fixed up for when I'd see Brian tomorrow. Deep down I guess I'd hoped all along I'd see Troy at the cookout.

  "Cheese puff?" It was Gwen. She and Mikel carried trays of hors d'oeuvres. Trailing behind them was Mikel's sister with a dish of olives and some small plates. I picked out a couple of appetizers. Troy piled a plate high with them.

  For the next few minutes we were too busy nibbling to talk. Then suddenly the hot dogs and hamburgers were ready and we were seated at a huge picnic table with absolutely no privacy. As I munched a hot dog, I wondered if Troy even wanted to talk to me. Maybe he'd shown up just to be polite.

  My gaze wandered down the table. Mom was seated between Dad and Mr. Parker. Mom was her usual talkative self, but didn't seem to be paying any more attention to Mr. Parker than to anyone else. Mr. Parker, however, stared at Mom with a sad, longing look on his face.

  After the burgers and hot dogs were polished off, Mr. Tomich started dishing out home‑made strawberry ice cream. Mr. Parker plunked a CD player on the table and asked, "How 'bout some music?"

  "Sure," Mr. Tomich said. "Some music would be nice."

  I snapped to attention. Would Mr. Parker play "Almost Paradise" in
some desperate last‑ditch effort to win back Mom's heart? I held my breath and listened carefully. The song was a semi‑familiar oldie, kind of bouncy, not at all romantic. I breathed a sigh of relief and sampled a spoonful of the strawberry ice cream.

  "Mmmm. Good, isn't it?" Troy said as he tasted some, too.

  I didn't think he was speaking to anyone in particular, but it was the first thing he'd said since we'd sat down at the table. So I answered, "It's delicious."

  It wasn't the most brilliant piece of dialogue, but it was a start. I wanted to talk to Troy. I didn't want my vacation to end with things the way they were between us last night. But I couldn't get up the nerve to suggest that we go somewhere to talk. I kept hoping that somehow the opportunity would come up naturally.

  Meanwhile, I half‑listened to the music. Suddenly it changed from bouncy to slow and romantic sounding. Mr. Parker didn't miss a beat.

  "Margo, how about a dance?" he asked. His voice was ever‑so‑casual, but he looked at Mom with intense longing.

  Mom glanced at Dad, who seemed to nod his approval. So Mom danced with Mr. Parker. He held her close, but not too close. I mean, a few pages of a telephone book could have been slipped between them. I was so busy watching them dance that it took me a few seconds to pick out the words of the song.

  I heard something about "our last song together." It was obvious the song was Mr. Daly's way of saying goodbye. He had given up the chase.

  Suddenly I recognized my opportunity. I turned to Troy. "W‑would you like to dance?"

  Troy's eyes widened. For a moment he didn't say anything. But finally he whispered, "Sure, Kaysie."

  The next thing I knew, I was in his arms. It would've been only too easy to get caught up in the same old feelings. The touch of Troy's hand, his warm breath on my face, my body so close to his that my heart raced. But I had to get past that initial reaction. I had things I wanted to say.

  I started to edge away from the others toward the shadows in order to get some privacy.

  "Same old Kaysie." Troy shook his head and sighed.

  I wasn't sure what he meant.

  "Still trying to lead when we dance." Troy actually smiled, which gave me the nerve to start talking.

  "Look, I'm sorry about last night," I said quickly, before I chickened out. "I hadn't meant … that is, I didn't intend to‑‑"

  "Hold it," Troy said. "You don't have to apologize to me. You had every right to call a halt to things. Even if it was practically the last second. I guess I over‑reacted." He arched his eyebrows mischievously. "But I was pretty worked up at the time."

  "Oh, uh, I‑I‑I …" I blushed and stammered, half flustered, half pleased by what Troy said. I took a deep breath to calm myself. "I could have been more straightforward. I could've just plain said 'No.'"

  "Well, yeah …" Troy shrugged. "I still think we passed up a great experience." He paused, then whispered, "It's not too late, you know. We still have tonight. We could meet later, in the woods. It'd be great, under the stars."

  A rush of warmth flashed through me. I guess now that my once‑dormant hormones had been awakened, there would be times that I would get excited whether I wanted to or not. I still had a mind, however. I didn't have to give in to every temptation! "Sorry, Troy." I shook my head. "It sounds tempting, but no."

  "Well, you can't say I didn't try." He grinned.

  We stopped talking then, and swayed gently in each other's arms as we listened to the music.

  As the last notes of the song faded away, Troy and I kissed, softly, slowly in the shadows. Then I took one last look into his clear blue eyes and turned and headed up the path to my cottage. That was how I said goodbye.

  Chapter Eighteen

  When I climbed the porch steps, I saw something propped up against the screen door. It was a book. Troy must have returned the copy of Dad's book that I'd given him. He must've placed it there just before he showed up at the picnic.

  But I smiled with pleased surprise when I picked up the book and discovered it was the copy of The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam that Troy had given me. A folded piece of paper stuck out of the pages.

  I went inside, sat down at the kitchen table, and opened the book to the page marked by the piece of paper. I wasn't surprised at the familiar stanzas I found on that page. Slowly I unfolded the piece of paper.

  Dear Kaysie,

  I gave you this book because I wanted you to have it. I still do. I hope that, despite everything, you'll always have good memories when you read "A Book of Verses underneath the Bough."

  I'm glad I met you. I won't forget you. I hope you have a great life.

  Troy

  I swallowed hard and blinked back tears. I thought the note was very sweet and very final. Of course, he'd written it before we "made up." But still, I was pretty sure it would be the last time I'd ever hear from Troy.

  Just then Mom, Dad, and Gwen all spilled into the kitchen. Mom said, "How's your headache, Kaysie?"

  I slipped Troy's note back into the book. "My … my headache?"

  "Troy made your excuses to the Tomiches," Dad said. "That's how we know."

  "Oh." I rubbed my forehead. "I feel a little better now. I'm sorry I didn't say goodnight to the Tomiches."

  "They understood," Mom said. "Besides, Troy left right after telling them you weren't feeling well, and his father had already gone home. So we figured it was time for the party to break up anyway."

  "I see." So Mr. Parker had taken off right after he'd danced with Mom. That didn't surprise me.

  "How about topping off the evening with some hot chocolate?" Dad pulled a pot out of the cupboard.

  "No, thanks," I said. "I'm, um, pretty tired. I think I'll go up to bed."

  "Me, too," Gwen said.

  I saw that she was blinking back tears. I figured she was missing Mikel already.

  "Well, Margo," Dad said, "I guess it's just the two of us."

  "That doesn't sound so bad." Mom kissed Dad's cheek and got out two mugs from the cabinet.

  Gwen and I said goodnight and went upstairs. Gwen barely made it to our room before the tears she'd been holding back slid down her cheeks.

  She slumped down on her bed. I placed my book on my dresser, then sat next to her and draped my arm around her shoulders. "Is it Mikel?"

  Gwen nodded.

  "You're going to miss him?"

  "Oh, yes!" She sniffled.

  There wasn't much I could do except offer her some sympathy. "I'm sorry."

  "Th‑thanks." Gwen wiped away her tears. "We promised to write to each other. Do you think he'll ever write to me?"

  For a second the question flashed me back to last night. But that was a whole different story. "What do you think?"

  "I hope he will," Gwen said. "But look at Mom and Mr. Parker. He never wrote to her."

  "Well, he did." I filled her in on everything Troy and Mom had told me.

  "Oh, great!" Gwen exclaimed, tearful once more. "So Mr. Daly wrote Mom months later … just to tell her he'd gotten married."

  "True," I said. "But Mikel is too young to run off and get married." That was kind of lame, but it was all I had to offer.

  "But he could fall for someone else! What if he does? How will I survive?" Gwen could get very dramatic at times, but I didn't blame her in this instance.

  "You know what I think? I think you and Mikel will write to each other. When you're older, you'll both date other people, but you'll keep writing. Then some day I'll bet you meet up again and discover that you still like each other as much as you do today."

  "You really think so?" Gwen asked hopefully. "Oh, do you really think so?"

  "Sure, why not?" Well, it could turn out that way. And if it doesn't, I did not add, you'll survive. I'll survive. Mom survived.

  "I hope that's what happens." Gwen started to smile. "What a great story to tell our grandchildren!"

  I gave her an eyeballs‑popping‑out‑of‑my‑head look.

  "Oh, I'm just joking. Sort of." Sudd
enly Gwen looked at me with interest. "Hey, what about you and Troy? You were dancing."

  "Troy? That's all over. But I think we parted friends."

  "That's good. That you're still friends, I mean," Gwen said solemnly. Then she brightened. "You still have Brian!"

  "Yes, I still have Brian." Sweet, caring Brian. It seemed like years since I'd seen him, and yet it also seemed like only yesterday. In less than twenty‑four hours we'd be together.

  If only I knew exactly how I was going to feel once I saw him again.

  Chapter Nineteen

  When I woke up it was just starting to get light out. I slithered out of bed and slinked over to the window to look out at the lake. A soft burst of morning sunlight slid across the water. Funny, I hadn't wanted to come up here, but now I was going to miss the lake.

  I looked over at Troy's cottage. There was a light on in his room. He was probably getting up early to play tennis with his father. He said he wouldn't forget me. I wondered if that would turn out to be true.

  Suddenly the alarm clock went off. Gwen moaned.

  "Good morning, sleepyhead," I said.

  "What's good about it?" Gwen muttered as she threw back the covers. "It's too early to be getting up."

  I didn't say anything. I figured it wasn't the time that was making Gwen grouchy. It was having to leave Mikel.

  Neither of us said much as we washed up, dressed, and packed. It was obvious Gwen was not happy about going home. I wasn't as thrilled to be going home as I'd thought I'd be. Not that there was anyone making me want to stay.

  But what would happen when I saw Brian? I knew I cared for him. But I wasn't quite as dense about love as I was before.

  "Come on, girls. Hurry up!" Dad called through the door. "I want to get going before the traffic builds up."

  "Be right there." I grabbed my book from Troy, tossed it on top of my clothes, and shut my suitcase.

  As soon as we finished breakfast we loaded the car. I tried not to groan as Gwen and I lifted my boxes of paperback books into the back. My goal had been to read all of them, but I'd read less than half. Of course, if I hadn't spent so much time with Troy …