The Summer I Drowned

by Taylor Hale

  “That isn’t funny,” I say. “What’s wrong with you, Shawn? Keely’s traumatized, she could have used your support.”

  Blanching, he stuffs his hands in the pockets of his basketball shorts.

  Dean speaks up before Shawn has a chance to answer. “She might be your friend but, man, that chick is annoying. We walked through the forest hungover as fuck looking for her, total waste of time. What kind of idiot gets themselves lost trying to piss? You better be done with her for real, Shawn.”

  “Yeah, totally,” Shawn says. “Fuck Keely.”

  “How can you say that about her?” I say. “You guys realize she’s my best friend, right?”

  “Come on, Olivia,” Dean dials back. “We’re just joking.”

  Faye avoids my gaze as I quickly check her arm. A new red mark has bubbled up from her skin, but she slips her hand over it when she catches me staring.

  “You want a beer?” Dean offers.

  “No, I’m fine,” I say.

  “What, too good for us now?”

  I don’t care what Dean thinks, but negative confrontation of any kind freaks me out. “Aren’t your parents home? Won’t they get mad about you drinking?”

  “Where do you think I got the booze?” Dean laughs. “My dad’s passed out like an old drunk in the basement.”

  “What about your mom?”

  Dean’s features harden. He glares at me for a long moment before he says, “Whatever, Olivia, don’t drink with us. Hey Shawn, give me a bit, okay?” He grabs Faye’s hips and grinds into her ass. She wriggles under him but keeps quiet as he leads her into the house and slams the door behind him. If I wasn’t sure of it before, I am now: something isn’t right with Dean and Faye’s relationship.

  “What was that about?” I ask Shawn.

  “My Aunt Helga—I mean, Dean’s mom—died.”

  “Oh God, I’m . . .”

  Wow, I’m an idiot. I had no way of knowing what happened to her, but I feel awful for bringing it up. Dean isn’t great, but no one deserves to lose a parent so young. I’d be devastated without Mom and Dad. I love them both on their own, but it’s them together that completes me.

  “I didn’t know,” I say.

  “Yeah, it was a while ago now, but . . . anyway, can you maybe not tell Keely what I said about her? I didn’t mean it.”

  “Then why are you being such a dick?”

  “I like Keely, but her dad’s a cop. Dean’s right, dating her isn’t exactly fun. She brings the heat.” He laughs and rubs the back of his neck. “And she does stuff like gets too drunk and lost in the woods. It’s fucked up. So she should just stay away from me.”

  “Whatever. Goodbye, Shawn.”

  Just as I’m about to keep jogging, Miles appears at the end of the driveway with a plastic bag with a bottle of Coke in it. We stare at each other, both caught off guard.

  “Liv,” he says.

  “Miles . . . hey.”

  Even though Miles tried to help find Keely, I don’t like the way I feel when he looks at me, like I’m plunging into an underwater abyss and he’s the one dragging me deeper.

  “Can we talk?” he asks.

  “Maybe some other time. I have to go.”

  “But wait—”

  I put my headphones in and jog home.

  “Keely? You home yet?”

  “In here, Liv.”

  Peeling off my hoodie, I enter the kitchen, where Keely sits at the table and flips through a magazine over a bowl of cereal. The warm lights accentuate the auburn undertones in her hair. Shawn and Dean don’t deserve to have her in their stupid lives.

  “You feeling okay?” I sit across from her.

  Keely doesn’t look up. “A little. Shopping with my mom sort of helped, but I still feel horrible about what happened.”

  “That’s better, at least.” I pause. “I ran into Shawn and them while I was out.”

  She slams the magazine shut. “Did they say anything about me? I feel so shitty everyone was looking for me, it’s so embarrassing.”

  “Well . . .”

  Dark brown eyes blink at me expectantly. If I tell Keely what they said, she’ll probably cry. Even though she has a right to know, now isn’t the time—she’s still recovering from what happened. “Not really,” I say. “Honestly, I don’t know why you even care what they think. They’re assholes.”

  “You don’t really get it, Liv. You were gone for a long time. A lot changed. I didn’t want to say anything, because I don’t want you to like, feel bad. But being real, after you moved away, I had pretty much no one. Miles was always more your friend than mine, and I wasn’t close with anyone else. Then when we started high school, everyone was drinking, and no one wanted to hang out with me because my dad’s the chief of police. I had to try extra hard just to get invited to parties, to get in with Faye. I’ve been trying to prove I’m cool for years, and in the end I still get ditched. I’m such a loser.”

  “No, you’re not. I’m sorry I moved away. And I had no idea you felt that way.”

  “You had to go. I get that.” She shrugs halfheartedly. “But yeah, things have been pretty lonely over here. I guess finally being accepted into Dean’s group made me feel cool. Even though I know they can be dicks.”

  “Trust me, you’re way cooler than them. You want to do something? Watch a movie?”

  “Nah, sorry. I’m pretty bummed out, kind of just want to be alone. That cool?”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  Keely drags herself from the table and disappears down the hall. Without her in the room with me, the sounds of the house reverberate: the fridge rumbling, the air conditioner flowing. Crickets trill outside the windows. I wring my thumb around my elastic band. My life wasn’t the only one that changed the night I fell. Keely’s Instagram posts made me think she was happy without me, but I’d forgotten how easy it is to fabricate a life on social media.

  Something has been bothering me since I left Dean’s earlier. I open the Instagram app and hover over the search bar before typing Faye’s username. She has three thousand followers. Almost all of her posts are selfies, and I’m a little jealous of her ability to look so effortlessly pretty with no makeup and no filters. I don’t wear much, either, but I also don’t take many pictures. Scrolling down Faye’s page, there are a few photos of her and Dean, but they only started three months ago. They obviously haven’t been dating for long.

  Whether it’s with clothing, the angle, or her hand, the burns on her arm are always hidden. If Faye thinks they’re so normal, why is she hiding them on Instagram?

  The sick feeling gnaws at me. I can’t trust Miles with anything—he hangs out with Dean all the time. If something is going on, Miles must not see it. Or maybe he doesn’t care.

  West. Even though he and Faye aren’t close, there’s no way he’d be okay with this.

  I have to tell him.

  Everyone is in bed by eleven, so I sneak out the side door. The waxing moon bleeds through the overcast sky and leaves a cold feeling on my skin.

  My lungs are tight from anxiety. As my feet clap the sidewalk, I try to ignore the feelings of paranoia that materialize behind me, making me tempted to glance over my shoulder into what I know is a dark and empty street. After only a minute of walking, I spot West’s Corvette idling at the end of the street, and the engine grumbles through the otherwise dead night. I get into his car, and System of a Down plays through the speakers. He turns it down as I buckle my seatbelt.

  “Hey,” he says. “How’s Keely?”

  “She’s good. You should come see her sometime.”

  “Yeah, I’m glad she’s all right.” West wipes his palms on his jeans. “You said you wanted to talk to me about something. What is it?”

  Silence, the calm rumble of the car idling. The song switches to a quieter one, more melodic.

&
nbsp; “It’s about Faye.”

  “What about her?”

  “Don’t you think her relationship with Dean is a bit weird?”

  “I don’t like the guy, but Faye and I aren’t close. Her boyfriend is her business.”

  “But . . .” I suck in a breath. “What if he was hurting her?”

  “Hurting her how?”

  “It’s just, she has these burns all over her forearms, and she said they’re called ‘smileys.’ She said she wanted him to do it to her, but . . . it’s really weird. I’m worried about her.”

  West pauses, his face expressionless for a moment as he digests the information. Then, his nostril twitches. “You’re sure?”

  I nod. West starts driving.

  “Wait, where are we going?”

  “Dean’s house. Being an asshole boyfriend to my sister is one thing. Hurting her is another.”

  “West, hold on. I just think you should talk to Faye in private, make sure she’s okay.”

  “That’s not how I do things. Sorry, Olive.”

  Before I can protest more, we’re rocketing toward Dean’s street. We get there in less than five minutes. West parks outside of the house with the American flag in the window, gets out, and storms up the driveway. I nearly trip over myself as I chase after him.

  “What are you going to do, West?”

  “Just going to have a word with my sister. And Dean, if I have to.”

  “Wait! I don’t want violence, that isn’t why I told you.”

  “I’m not going to get violent. But if she’s in trouble, I’m getting her out of here.”

  West bangs his fist on the front door until Shawn whips it open. He frowns, then finds me over West’s shoulder. “What are you guys doing here?”

  “Faye, you in there?” West shouts.

  After some muttering, Faye skitters to the front door in one of Dean’s T-shirts, legs pale and twiggy beneath it. The smell of tobacco and weed sizzles from inside the house. In the living room, Dean is sprawled over the plaid couch with his feet on a coffee table cluttered with ashtrays and beer bottles, NASCAR on the TV. Faye’s eyes bulge, and she shoves Shawn out of the way as she hisses, “Weston, what the hell are you doing here?”

  “The fuck’s going on?” Dean says, but doesn’t leave the couch.

  West leans closer to Faye. “We need to talk.”

  “Seriously? If this is about Dad, this is not the time. You can’t just randomly show up at my boyfriend’s house, Weston.” She glares at me. “And what is she doing here?”

  Before I can squeak out a reply, Miles takes Shawn’s place beside Faye. His gaze turns sour on us.

  “Let me see your arm,” West says to Faye, and the rouge on her cheeks deepens.

  “What? No! Get out of here!”

  “You guys need to go,” Miles says, but West ignores him. He grabs Faye’s wrist and holds her for long enough to catch a glimpse of her scarred forearm. In a quick blur, he’s inside Dean’s house.

  Faye shouts in protest. I stumble in after West, just as he and Dean get in each other’s faces. Dean’s a few inches shorter than West and way skinnier, but his posture doesn’t waver as West backs him into the wall.

  “What did you do to my sister?”

  “What, you going to kick my ass in my own house?” Dean laughs. “I didn’t do anything to Faye. If she wants to leave, she can go.”

  “Dean, no,” Faye sputters. “I didn’t know he was coming, I swear. I don’t want to go anywhere.”

  Part of me knew something like this could happen, but I guess I didn’t think too far ahead, blinded by what I thought was the right thing to do. West and Dean keep spitting in each other’s faces while Faye starts crying, and Shawn watches. When Miles lightly pushes my shoulder, I snap out of it.

  “What is this, Olivia? Why did you bring him here?”

  “I just—I told him about Faye, and—”

  “What about Faye?”

  When I look back over at West and Dean, West has backed off and is now observing Faye’s arm. His tense shoulders relax and his features soften. “Faye, let me get you out of here. Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

  “No!” Tears fall down her cheeks. “You’re embarrassing me! Please, just get out of here. I’m fine, West. Nothing is happening.”

  Dean saunters away from them and swipes a beer off the table. “The fuck is this, Olivia? What’d you tell this psycho?”

  “You burned her, Dean.”

  “She mostly did those to herself, idiot—”

  “It’s none of your business,” Miles cuts in. There’s something in his eyes I’ve never seen directed at me, not from him. Anger embers through the blue-green like a forest fire. He leans close to me, so close that the sickening smell of his cologne fills my nostrils. “Don’t you get it, Liv? You make everything worse. If we wanted West in our lives, we would talk to him. But we don’t. Why? Because he’s a controlling dick, and I’m handling things. Now he’s stressing my sister out when she has her performance in a couple of days. What’s the point of bringing all this up now? Oh, right, you love the drama, don’t you, Olivia?”

  “No! I didn’t want this, I—”

  West and Faye come over. West says, “Come on, Olive, let’s go.”

  “I only wanted to help,” I say, crying.

  But everyone is looking at me like they blame me. West takes my hand and drags me toward the front door.

  “Touch my sister and you’re dead,” West says to Dean before we both leave.

  A tense silence surrounds West and me as we drive toward the beach. Though my tears have stopped, everything replays over and over again, and I wish I had never opened my stupid mouth. West is too quiet. I wonder if he blames me for saying something, or if he’s just worried about his sister. I would understand either way.

  There’s a dirt parking lot near the beach for visitors, positioned at the bottom of the cliff and the lighthouse. West parks there. Not far beside us, waves foam against the shore. On the other side, the cliff extends over the ocean, and the lighthouse cuts through the night.

  “You feel safe here?” West asks. “I’ve got to pop up to the lighthouse and check on something and I might as well do it while I’m out.”

  “It’s fine,” I mumble. “I can handle being near the beach now. You found me here at the beginning of summer, remember?”

  “Yeah. I guess a lot has happened since then.”

  More silence, thick and palpable. West’s features are darkened by the night, but moonlight leaks through the car window like molten silver.

  “I shouldn’t have overreacted,” West says and runs his hands over the steering wheel. “Fuck, I’m too hotheaded.”

  “It was my fault for even bringing it up,” I say. “I should have talked to Faye myself first.”

  “No, she’s my sister. I’m glad you told me. Just wish I’d handled it better. The thought of that greaseball hurting her made me so furious, I couldn’t see anything but red.” He shakes his head. “Now she hates me even more than she already did.”

  “I don’t understand why your family is so against you.” My voice comes out quiet. “You’re good, West. You don’t deserve it.”

  “Thanks, but it doesn’t matter what I deserve. They don’t have to like me just because we’re blood.”

  His words have a weight to them. It’s strange, the things we notice as kids, but don’t fully understand at all, like the time Beatrice grabbed West and dragged him away. I knew West’s parents were mean to him, but I never understood what that really meant. That he was being neglected. Maybe even abused.

  “I remember the way your dad treated you when we were kids,” I say. “He was mean. Beatrice too.”

  “Family’s complicated. I want to be there for my kid so she never has to feel like she can’t trust me. But I can’t go
around acting the way I did with Dean just now. That kind of shit is exactly why Sophie has sole custody of Amelia. I gave it up willingly when we were younger because it was best for Amelia, but still.”

  “Is Sophie your ex?”

  “Yeah. We were young and stupid when we got together, not right for each other at all. But we’re on a better path now. We both want what’s right for Amelia.”

  “I know.” My throat tightens. “That’s what I like about you, West. You try to do the right thing.” I go to touch his hand, but he pulls away. “What’s wrong?”

  Hesitance, and a sad smile touches his lips. “I like the way you look at me, Olive. Like I’ve never done anything wrong in my life.”

  With the radio off, we can hear the ocean crashing outside the car, like we’re under water. And it’s warm, too warm.

  “But you’re going to leave,” West says.

  I can’t explain why his words hurt, but they sting so bad, like being zapped by a jellyfish.

  “I don’t want to think about leaving,” I say. “I’m here now with you.”

  “My life used to always be about living in the now. But with Amelia in the picture, I have to think about the future.”

  “Of course you do, but what are you saying? Do you not want to hang out with me anymore?” I haven’t even kissed him yet—if he bails now, it will kill me.

  “That’s not what I mean. You’re all I think about.”

  “Then what’s this all about?”

  “I don’t know. Sorry, I’m in a messed-up place right now. I need air.”

  West gets out of the car, and I follow after. Fog rolls over the coastline. The ocean air is cool on my skin; nights in Maine are never too hot. I always liked that about this place.

  “I’ve got to check on the lighthouse,” West says. “Stay here, okay?”

  West wanders off into the dark. Leaning against the still-warm hood of the car, I worry he’s having second thoughts. We still have an entire month before I leave, but if it already hurts this much, maybe West would rather avoid being with me at all.

  He needs to think about the future. Maybe his future can’t involve a girl who can’t stay.