Someone Else's Summer

by Rachel Bateman

  “I dunno. I think you were more her style, you pretty little thing.” He nudges me with his arm. I roll my eyes.

  I stroll around the room, which is pretty barren—just a desk with a computer and some brochures on it, and a single stool perched in front of it. A water cooler stands in one corner, little paper cones piled on the tiny table beside it. The walls are covered with pictures.

  I lean in to one of the corkboards. It holds dozens of pictures, all of people in the sky, life jackets and harnesses wrapped around them, a rope tethering them back to Earth. All those people who have been where we will be in mere minutes.

  I feel Cameron beside me, sense the heat of his body over my shoulder. “You ready?” he asks in a whisper, his mouth right at my ear.

  “They all look like they’re having fun.”

  “That’s because they are all having fun.” He leans a little closer, until his chest barely brushes my back. I lean, without thinking, into him. Just enough to let him know I feel him, but no more. His breath tickles the side of my neck. He opens his mouth to say something, and I turn my face toward his.

  “Y’all two ready?” Bobbi Rae’s perky drawl drops in from behind the office. I jump. Away from Cameron, from whatever was just happening. My toe smashes into the wall, and I curse under my breath.

  “You okay?” Cameron barely contains his laughter.

  “Shut up,” I say, trying to glare at him, but I can’t force myself to look him in the eyes. To Bobbi Rae, I say, “We’re as ready as we’ll ever be.”

  “All right. I always suggest fliers use the restroom first. You’ll be out there a while.”

  “Oh, I’m okay, thanks.”

  “She’s lying,” Cameron says. “Use the bathroom, Anna. You’ll regret not.”

  “Whatever, nerd.”

  Bobbi Rae gestures to a door I hadn’t noticed before. Just like the wall on either side of it, the door is completely covered by photos of parasailers. I push, and it creaks open.

  A few minutes later, Bobbi Rae herds me and Cameron through the back office and out onto a walkway. “Just follow this straight down to the marina, and Leroy will be waiting at the boat. You can’t miss it.”

  She’s right. There is no way we could possibly miss Leroy. He’s equally as brightly colored as Bobbi Rae—wearing an electric-blue tank top with PARASAIL AWAY! emblazoned on it in hot pink. His orange swim trunks clash violently with the rest of his outfit. He stands in front of a huge white boat with a chrome light bar arching over it. A bundle of rainbow material sits at his feet.

  “Leroy, I presume?” Cameron says as we approach him.

  “That’s me. Y’all must be Cameron and Anna. Bobbi Rae has been yapping about you two since the minute you called. It’s ’bout all she’ll talk about this morning.” His accent is just as strong as Bobbi Rae’s, but where her voice is nasally and high, his is rough and raspy.

  “What did you say when you called?” I whisper to Cameron.

  “Oh, nothing important.” He rubs a hand across the back of his neck then holds his other out to Leroy. They shake. “Thanks for doing this, man.”

  “No problem. Y’all ready to get fitted?”

  Leroy directs us to strip down to our swimsuits. Suddenly, I’m wondering if a bikini is at all appropriate for parasailing. Will the harness pull at things? I feel woefully underdressed. Goose bumps prickle my skin, despite the warmth of the morning sunshine.

  Leroy’s bent over the boat’s open back bench, rummaging around in it. After a minute, he stands back up, two neoprene life vests in hand. “These should fit,” he says, handing them to us.

  We zip and clip into our life vests. Mine fits like a second skin, and I twist side to side, making sure it doesn’t hike up. Perfect. As soon as I’m done with my checks, Leroy stands in front of me, a complicated-looking harness in hand. He helps me step into the leg holes then sets to work wrapping straps around my torso. He tugs so tight, I fall forward, bracing myself on his shoulders.

  “Careful, sweetheart,” he says.

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t sweat it. Everyone does it. Just gotta make sure you’re in here good and tight.”

  Once Leroy is satisfied I’m not going to fall out of my harness, he does the same to Cameron and ushers us into the boat. He offers a hand when I step in and, not wanting to hurt his feelings, I accept. His palm is rough and calloused and so hot it almost burns to touch. “There you go, dear,” he says.

  We troll out of the marina, drifting our way past dozens of boats docked in neat rows. We glide by a buoy marking the end of the no wake zone, and Leroy pushes the throttle flat. The boat rockets off, zooming parallel to the shore, dancing over the waves.

  The wind rushes through my hair. I close my eyes and feel the salty air caress my skin. Cameron sits next to me; I can feel him there, an ever-steady presence next to my frantic being. I relax my legs until my knee rests against his.

  The boat slows, and I open my eyes. We are in open water, bobbing gently. A tiny hamlet is cozied into the coast to our left, and the vast, wide ocean lies to our right, stretching out forever.

  “Y’all ready for the ride of your lives?” Leroy asks. I nod, unable to find my voice.

  He leads Cameron and me to the back of the boat, where he asks us to stand side by side. He clips our harnesses together, tethering us to each other. It seems oddly appropriate, the two of us stuck together now by more than memories of my sister.

  Leroy checks the parachute, deems it safe for use, and hooks it up to us. No going back now. I glance at Cameron. He’s staring down at me, smiling.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” he says, but he doesn’t look away.

  Leroy sits back in the captain’s chair. “Last chance,” he calls back. “Y’all ready?”

  “Ready, Leroy,” Cameron says. “Let’s do this.”

  Leroy pushes on the throttle and the engine grumbles. The wind picks up with the boat’s movement, rushing past us. We start slowly, barely moving at all, then pick up speed steadily. I focus on the back of Leroy’s shirt, the rainbow parachute with a phone number beneath it. My heart thumps in my ears, equal parts excited and terrified.

  The parachute billows behind us, catching the air, and my feet slip backward. My stomach drops, and I choke on a scream. I’m still on the boat, standing on the platform, but my feet continue to slide, slowly edging toward the drop off. Automatically, I reach for Cameron’s hand.

  The back of my knuckles brush against his. I’m frantic, panicked. He wraps his hand around mine, holding me tight, and readjusts to intertwine our fingers. I squeeze, risking a glance at him. He’s watching me. His eyes are bright, alive with excitement. A wide smile explodes on his face. Our feet leave the boat.

  I forget to breathe, just squeeze his hand tighter. For a moment, we hover, just off the back deck of Leroy’s boat, and soon we drift upward. Slowly at first, then faster and faster still. We rise, soaring into the sky, the boat below us growing smaller as we float toward the clouds. My heart is beating double time, tap dancing across my rib cage, and still I’m not breathing.

  The rope finally grows taught, and I gasp air into my burning lungs. When I exhale, I laugh. “This is incredible!”

  Cameron pulls my hand to his chest. “Feel,” he says. “My heart is racing.”

  “Mine too.”

  “I know.” His smile is dazzling in the clear air.

  “How high do you think we are?”

  “About a thousand feet.”

  “Seriously?” I look down at the boat, and I’m barely able to make out Leroy in his fluorescent outfit.

  Cameron nods. “It’s the highest they go,” he says. “I asked.”

  My heart speeds up again. But it’s a different feeling now. There’s no fear—just exhilaration. I relax into my harness until I’m sitting in the sky. Just me and the boy next door, up here in a world of our own.

  “Thanks for this,” I whisper.

  I’m not sure he hears
me, but after a minute, he brushes my knuckles across his lips and says, “You’re welcome.”

  We float above the ocean for nearly an hour, the towns and islands of the Outer Banks drifting by below us. The water is so blue from this angle that it looks like a cartoon. Blurry white lines mark where the waves roll to shore.

  A gull flies beside us, the sunlight glinting off its feathers, creating a subtle rainbow in the sea of white. It keeps pace with us, cooing gargling coos, just loud enough for me hear it singing.

  “I think you found a friend,” Cameron says, and I nod, not taking my eyes off the bird. My hand is still in his, warm and safe.

  “I think I shall call him George,” I say.

  “I don’t know,” Cameron answers. “Looks more like a Spock to me.”

  “You’re a geek.” I pull his hand closer to me, until I can wrap my arm around his. I lean my head to his shoulder.

  My stomach drops out from under me, like I’m on a hyperspeed elevator. Cameron and I dip forward then rock back into our seated positions. The boat is slipping slowly through the water, and Leroy stands at the back, cranking the rope back in, lowering us. It seems like we’ve been up here forever and no time at all, and I don’t want it to be over.

  The descent is slower that the ascent, and I take the last few moments we have to soak in the excitement of being up here, where the birds live. Cameron sighs softly beside me. And then we’re touching down. At some point, Leroy throttled down so the boat is idling in the water. He unclips the parachute, and I pitch forward.

  “I got ya,” he says, reaching a hand out, steadying me. Cameron wobbles beside me, and Leroy reaches toward him. “Careful, buddy. Your legs’ll be a bit shaky.”

  As if to prove the point, Cameron stumbles and reaches out to catch himself. But there’s nothing there, so he pinwheels his free arm around, trying to regain his balance. It all happens in slow motion. One second he’s there beside me, trying to stay upright on the back of the boat, and the next he’s falling. The harness, where I’m clipped to him, tugs at me first, followed closely by his hand, still gripping mine. I reach for Leroy’s hand, but can’t find it, so I grab the parachute instead.

  Cam and I hit the water together, all legs and arms and parachute fabric, dancing a close tango under the salty waves. I manage to find the carabiner that clips us together and release it, so we’re connected now only by the vast expanse of the chute. When we break the water’s surface, everything is rainbow, just me and Cameron in our own world under the parachute. His face is blue, with a purple streak crossing his forehead.

  The pull is magnetic as I bob there, staring at him, seeing him—really seeing him—possibly for the first time. We drift together, the space between us seeming suddenly huge after the last hour glued to each other’s sides.

  The color shifts, light changing, the parachute being pulled off our heads. Bright sunlight hits my eyes, and I close them against it, wishing to stay hidden by our rainbow world. Leroy’s voice is loud. “Careful there, cowboy! Y’all all right?”

  Suddenly, I’m laughing. Giddy, hysterical laughter, all the excitement and exhilaration and ridiculousness of this morning catching up to me. “We’re good, Leroy,” I manage between giggles.

  He lowers the ladder, and we make our way back into the boat, where Leroy guides us into seats. The ride back to the marina is quick and silent.

  “Thanks so much, Leroy,” I tell him. “That was amazing.”

  “Don’t thank me, darlin’. Thank this fella of yours.” He winks at Cameron.

  As we head back up the walkway toward the office, I ask Cameron again, “What did you tell them when you called?”

  “Nothing. I just set up an appointment.”

  “You know you’re a terrible liar, right?”

  “I know no such thing.”

  “Well, you are. Now, what did you tell them?”

  He grins and bumps into me. I almost fall off the path. “That’s for me to know and for you to try to find out,” he says.

  “What are we? Twelve?”

  Bobbi Rae comes rushing out of the office, her face all smiles. She bounces over to us and pulls me into a bone-crushing hug. Her tank top is wet when she lets go, but she doesn’t seem to notice. “How was it, sugar?”

  “It was amazing,” I gush. “I never wanted to come back down.”

  “Oh good. Why don’t you go get dressed? Leroy will be back up with your pictures in just a minute.”

  “Pictures?”

  “Oh yeah,” she says as we walk back into the building. She arcs her arm around the room, at the picture-covered walls. “We take them for all our riders, dear.”

  “Thank you, Bobbi Rae,” Cameron says. He digs through his pile of clothes and pulls the Polaroid out, holding it to her. “Would you mind taking one of us with this?”

  “Anything you want, baby boy.” She takes the camera, turns it around in her hands. “Whoa, I ain’t seen one of these in years. Where’d you get it?”

  My voice grows quiet when I say, “It was my sister’s.”

  Bobbi Rae nods knowingly, and I toss Cameron a curious glance. He stares straight ahead.

  “Where do you want to be?” Bobbi Rae asks. “Outside?”

  “No,” Cameron says, “let’s take it in here. Against the wall so all the other pictures can be our backdrop.” We walk to the far wall, careful not to let our wet life vests touch the pictures, and stand there awkwardly.

  Dropping the camera back to waist level, Bobbi Rae says, “All right, you two. Take off the vests and look like you like each other.” She winks, huge and comical.

  We shed our life vests and drop them into a bin Bobbi Rae points out behind the counter. Then we cross back to the wall and stand, bare skin and wild hair and excited faces. I wrap my arms around Cameron’s waist, and he rests a hand lightly on my hip.

  The camera is ejecting the film just as Leroy walks in and plants a loud kiss on Bobbi Rae’s cheek. “Good ride,” he says. Then he pats her on the butt and walks into the back room.

  Cameron and I slip into our clothes. I layer a sundress over my wet bikini, and he disappears into the bathroom, returning with his swim trunks in hand and jeans slung low on his hips. I notice how his gray T-shirt hugs his frame and wonder when I started noticing things like that.

  Five minutes later, Leroy’s pictures in hand, we leave him and Bobbi Rae. I practically skip back to the car. Spinning a circle in the parking lot, I say, “That was the most incredible thing I’ve ever done!”

  “How’s the picture?”

  I take the Polaroid from his outstretched hand. “What happened to not seeing them till we’re in the car?”

  “Whatever.” He laughs then leans into me, reaching his long arm up over my head, easily plucking the picture from my grip. He disappears into the car and emerges with the Sharpie from the glove box then braces the photo on the roof of the Monte Carlo. I watch as he writes a caption over our bodies.

  Together, we flew.

  “It’s perfect,” I whisper. I nudge him aside then dig the journal out from under the seat and slide the picture between the pages.

  My muscles are still taut with anticipation, craving the excitement of just moments ago. I stand up and rub my hands across the front of my dress. Bouncing on the balls of my feet, I say, “I am so jazzed! I feel like I can do anything!”

  “You sure about that?”

  I nod.

  “Good,” he says with a grin, reaching a hand toward me.

  Chapter 21

  Cameron grasps my hand and tugs me along the sidewalk, ignoring my questions of where we’re going. We walk for two blocks before he stops suddenly in front of an unassuming blue door.

  “Where—”

  “Shhhh. Just… come on.”

  A soft bell tinkles as we enter the building, which is dark, smelling strongly of incense. The walls are painted the same color blue as the door, and they are covered with black-and-white sketches. It takes me only a moment to r
ealize they are sketches for tattoos.

  “Cameron,” I start to say, but another voice speaks over mine, high-pitched and chipper. “Welcome!” a girl says.

  She’s short, maybe five foot two, with purple hair cut into and a fierce pixie cut. Her eyes are crystal blue, and a tiny red gem sparkles on one side of her nose.

  “Um, hi,” I say.

  “Do you guys have an appointment?”

  Cameron leaves me at the door and crosses to meet her. “No,” he says, “but here’s the thing…” His voice fades until I can’t hear what he says.

  The two of them talk for a few minutes then the girl waves me over. “First tattoo? Don’t worry. Jim is super good. The best.”

  Cameron is watching me, and I’m watching the girl, shocked. She stares back at me in anticipation, so I nod and say, “It’s silly, though. I don’t even know what I want. That’s stupid, right?”

  She shakes her head, glances at Cameron for half a second then back at me. “Not stupid at all. But make sure you pick something you want, okay? You gotta live with it for a long time.” I stare, dumbfounded, so she says, “We have some books you can look through.”

  “That’d be good.”

  “Awesome.” She comes out from behind the counter and leads us to a couch in the lobby. Three huge binders are sitting on a coffee table. “Take as much time as you need. Jim doesn’t have any appointments until tonight, so he’ll wait for you. This book has large color work, this one has small color work, and that far one has the black-and-whites, simple stuff.”

  I immediately reach for the third book and pull it into my lap. I flip through the pages, Cameron watching over my shoulder as I breeze past flying birds and blowing dandelions and stylistic arrows. Some of them are great, stuff I can imagine getting done, but nothing really speaks to me. I get to the end and immediately turn back to the beginning.

  “Nothing?” Cameron asks.

  I shrug. “I don’t know. I liked some of them. I’m just not sure…”

  He’s turning the pages now, taking more time than I did, really scrutinizing each image. He stops at one page, flips to the next, then turns back again. “What do you think about these ones?”