The Summer of Lost Things

by Chantele Sedgwick

  “Because I’m awkward?”

  “Because you’re real. And I’m the one who’s drooled on you and knocked you into the mud and fallen on my face in front of you, among other things, so I’m pretty sure I win the awkward award.”

  He laughs, louder than usual.

  I take his hand. “And I’d be okay with the whole girlfriend thing.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I do worry what people will think, though. Specifically Summer.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Summer? Why?”

  Is he so clueless about girls?

  “She totally likes you.”

  He stares at me in disbelief. “No, she doesn’t.”

  “She does. She told me. When we went cliff jumping, actually.”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter. I don’t think that would work.”

  “She’s super nice, though. Like, way nice. She was totally fine with me . . . uh . . . liking you. Which is weird. She’s too nice, I think.”

  “You want me to date her instead? Because it sounds like you’re trying to talk me into it.”

  My eyes widen. “Oh! No, I only meant—”

  He silences me with a kiss. Longer this time, turning my insides into jelly and nearly making me melt to the floor. I slide my arms around his neck, pulling me a bit closer. When he moves away a few seconds later, he grins. “Believe me. I know what’s right for me.”

  “Okay,” I say, eyes wide and feeling a bit breathless. “That’s fine with me. Whatever you want.”

  He chuckles and hugs me once more before stepping away. “I’ve gotta get going.”

  I’m still trying to find my words, but my brain’s not working.

  What are words anyway?

  “Thanks for coming with me today,” he says.

  I snap out of it. “Thanks for bringing me. Having me. Or . . . taking me.” I roll my eyes, frustrated with my inability to use the English language correctly. “Just . . . thanks.” My face heats and he laughs.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “Definitely.”

  I watch him go before I walk inside.

  I still don’t see Mom anywhere. I do hear her in the kitchen, though.

  “I’m home,” I yell.

  She doesn’t answer. She’s probably furious that I left the house today without her knowing. I don’t feel too bad, since I left her a note. And I texted her, too. She probably needs space from me anyway. It’s not like she’s ready to talk to me. She’s proved she doesn’t trust me and doesn’t want me to know anything about her life.

  I’m not ready to talk to her either, to be honest.

  I go upstairs, wrap myself in a blanket, pick up my next book to read, and block out the world for the rest of the night.

  CHAPTER 27

  “There is nothing in the world so irresistibly contagious as laughter and good humor.”

  —Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol

  I see Jack and Mira at church. Even though I sit by Mom during our first meeting, she doesn’t say a word to me.

  Talk about awkward.

  I don’t know what to say to her. I already apologized for going cliff jumping without her knowing. And I haven’t asked her about Susan again. What else can I do?

  She looks ragged lately. I notice dark circles are under her eyes today, and it looks like she didn’t even try to get ready. Her hair’s in a messy bun, but not a cute messy. Just messy.

  Mom leaves right after the prayer, and even though she asks me to come home with her, I decide to stay with my friends.

  Jack doesn’t hold my hand or anything today. I do catch him staring at me several times during the next hour before I go with Mira to our young women’s class.

  “So? How was your date yesterday?” she asks as our teacher reads over some announcements.

  “It was . . . nice.”

  “Just nice?”

  I wonder if Jack told about . . . things. “Yeah, I had fun.”

  “No details?”

  “What details do you want?”

  She shrugs. “I don’t know. I just know you two are cute together and want to live my love life vicariously through you.”

  “Ew, that’s your cousin.”

  “It’s not like I’m attracted to him. That’s gross.”

  “My grandparents were cousins.”

  Her mouth drops open. “Are you serious?”

  I laugh. “No, I’m just joking.”

  She puts a hand to her chest. “That seriously could have been the best and weirdest story ever.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll dig up something else on you.”

  I laugh, but it’s more nervous than anything. I really hope she doesn’t look anything up about me. Not that she’d find anything about me, but she could definitely find out something about my dad if she looked hard enough. My name wasn’t in the papers with his because I was—and still am—a minor.

  Once church is over, Jack gives me a ride home. No kissing, since Mom’s probably staring out the window waiting for me, but he does hold my hand and tells me he’ll call me later.

  Sundays are his family’s time to be together.

  We used to spend Sundays together, too.

  When I walk inside, Mom’s not in the living room. I wander to the kitchen. She sits there with a cup of hot chocolate of all things, the whipped cream piled high.

  “Hi,” I say, testing the waters.

  She turns. “Made it home?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay.”

  I slowly walk toward her, bracing myself for another confrontation, but nothing comes. “Mom, are you okay?” I sit down next to her.

  “Fine.”

  I stare at my hands. “I’m sorry about the other night.”

  She closes her eyes. “It was my fault.”

  “I’m the one who made you mad.” I think of the things I said. The reason she was so angry. The article I found. Susan went cliff jumping and drowned. Of course she was upset and concerned.

  She doesn’t answer, just takes a sip of her drink, whipped cream getting on her face more than in her mouth. “I’m gonna take a nap. Why don’t you go read or something?”

  “Okay,” I say slowly.

  Usually we play games or do something together on Sundays.

  She takes her drink with her and goes to her room, leaving me alone.

  I want to talk to her about Jack. About Mira. About a lot of things. Even maybe bring up Susan again. Talk about Dad.

  But she doesn’t seem to want anything to do with me.

  I don’t know what more I’ve done, but it’s obviously bad. I never told her to stay out of my life or anything. I was mad, yes, but now I understand her a bit better. Not that she knows I know, but still.

  Instead of sulking, I go upstairs and scroll through my phone. No messages from Ashley. I stare at my phone as I scroll through her social media accounts. She’s definitely not too busy to post on those.

  I sigh.

  I see a picture of an ocean sunset on Oakely’s account. Posted yesterday. Before I can stop myself, I call her. I haven’t really talked with her for ages.

  She answers on the second ring.

  “Lucy,” she says, her voice excited. “It’s been forever!”

  “I know. How are you?”

  “I’m good. Just walking on the beach right now, taking some time for myself. Mom’s freaking out about the wedding, so I had to get out of the house for a bit. You know how moms can be.”

  Oh, boy. Do I ever. “Sounds exciting?”

  She laughs. “It is. Everything okay? Are you adjusting well?”

  “I’m doing well enough. Things are . . . interesting without my dad here. And my mom’s in a weird place.”

  “I’m sorry. I do know how that is, though. Why is she being weird?”

  “She’s just so protective. And when I do something out of her control, she gets all quiet and won’t talk to me. I don’t
really know what to do about it. I don’t know how to talk to her. I really want to tell her I’m almost eighteen and I’m not going to die every time I leave the house.”

  She laughs. “I’m sorry. You haven’t tried talking to her about it then?”

  I sigh. “No, not really.”

  “Maybe you should.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Made any friends?”

  “Yeah, I have. They’re great.”

  “Good. . . . Boys?”

  “One.”

  “Will I like?”

  “Of course.”

  “Can’t wait to meet him.”

  It’s quiet for a moment. “I wish you lived closer. I miss seeing you.”

  “I miss seeing you, too. You’d better be coming to the wedding still.”

  “I am. Of course.”

  “Good.”

  “I’ll let you go. I just wanted to chat for a minute. See how you’re doing.”

  “Thanks for calling, Luce. I promise things will get better with your mom. I’ve been there. It’s not fun. But talking through things might help. At least, it helps me. Most of the time anyway. You just have to wait for the right mood to hit her and then attack her with your niceness.”

  I laugh. “Okay. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Soon,” she says. “Bye, Luce.”

  “Bye.”

  I sigh and glance over at my desk. After a moment, I walk over and pick up my sketch book and a pencil. I open the book, put the pencil against the paper to draw something. Anything.

  Nothing.

  I can’t do it.

  I set them both on my bed and stare out the window instead.

  CHAPTER 28

  “What loneliness is more lonely than distrust?”

  —George Eliot, Middlemarch

  Mira comes over the next day to get the details on my date with Jack. If that’s what it actually was. He never said it was a date. There was just some . . . kissing. That’s all.

  My eyes widen as I remember my list. I’ll have to cross off summer romance. Even though I’d rather have it be more than just a summer romance.

  And I’m not going to tell Mira about it being on the list.

  I hope he doesn’t get sick of me before school starts or realize he’s in love with some other girl he hasn’t seen all summer, leaving me devastated with no one to love.

  I’m not in love with him. Yet.

  And obviously, once again, I read too many books.

  Speaking of books, Mira’s looking through my bookshelves again as I change out of my pajamas behind her.

  “So, since you wouldn’t tell me yesterday about your date with Jack, you can start today by telling me how it went.”

  “It wasn’t a date.”

  She makes a raspberry sound. “Right. I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.”

  She is not going to make my denial easy.

  “We had a good time. On our outing between two friends,” I say.

  “Nice try.”

  “Mira.”

  “Did you have fun or not?”

  I stare at her, her mouth curved into a twisted smile. “Fine. It was . . . nice.”

  “Nice?”

  “Yes.”

  She sighs, and I hope she’s done asking questions. She doesn’t seem satisfied with my answer though. “We need to go cliff jumping again.”

  “Yeah we do. That was so much fun. I was so scared.”

  “You did great! We go a few times each summer, so pick a day.”

  “We both know I’m free any time until I get a job.” I don’t tell her about Mom’s freak-out about cliff jumping. Or the fact that she won’t ever let me go again. I’ll find a way around it. I have to. I understand she’s scared that what happened to Susan could happen to me, but that’s not the way we should be living our lives.

  “So . . . did anything happen on your hike that I should know about?”

  I don’t answer, just focus on putting on my socks. I knew she wasn’t done.

  “You like him,” she says, as a matter of fact.

  I still don’t say anything. Especially about the kiss. Or kisses. She turns then, grinning as she sees my flaming face. “Really. Do you like him?”

  “Mira . . .” I don’t want to discuss my love life with Jack’s cousin. She tells him everything!

  “Your silence speaks volumes,” she says.

  I sigh. “Fine. Yes, I like him.”

  A squeal erupts from her lips and before I know it, she’s tackled me to the floor.

  “Stop,” I say with a groan.

  She laughs. “I can’t! I’m just so happy! You two are so cute together and I totally knew you liked him forever ago.”

  “I haven’t even known him that long.”

  “I know, but the chemistry is totally there. It’s been there since you first met. I was there, remember?”

  I roll my eyes. “What do you know about chemistry?”

  She places a hand to her heart. “I know more about romance than you think.” She sighs. “I’ve never seen him so lovestruck before.”

  “Lovestruck?” I laugh. “He’s not in love with me. We’re just getting to know each other. We just like each other right now.”

  “You’re in-like.”

  I shrug. “Sure.”

  “Girlfriend and boyfriend?”

  “Maybe.” I slap my hand across my mouth. I didn’t mean to say it.

  “Ha! I knew it!”

  I close my eyes and let out an annoyed groan.

  “Did you know he’s never had a girlfriend before?”

  I open my eyes. I knew he didn’t date much, but he’s never had a girlfriend? “Really?”

  “Really. Never kissed anyone either. I take it you know how, so you’ll have to teach him.” She wiggles her eyebrows.

  “Why would you say that?”

  “You’ve said you’ve dated guys before.”

  I let out a defeated breath. “Yeah. Losers.”

  “Same.”

  “Why don’t we have a conversation about you and Ashton now? Get the focus off of me and your cousin. Because that’s weird.”

  She stands, helping me up, then steps away and folds her arms. “Nope. That subject is off limits.”

  I laugh. “Come on, Mira. Everyone knows. You’re always together. You always hang out, and the way you look at each other . . .”

  “He’s my friend,” she says, insistent. “That’s it. There’s nothing going on between us and there never will be anything.”

  I sit down on my bed as she wanders around my room, distracted.

  “Why are you so against the idea?” I ask. “You two are perfect for each other.”

  If chemistry between two potential love interests is a real thing, they have it in spades.

  “It’s not that I’m against the idea, I just . . .” She trails off, staring out the window.

  “Have you two dated before?” I ask, curious about their history.

  “No.” She sighs. “I don’t want to ruin things with him.”

  “Why are you so afraid?”

  She hesitates. “I’m just scared I’ll do something wrong. Or I’ll make him mad. You know those stupid love story misunderstandings in books and movies?”

  Oh, boy. Yes.

  “I’m the queen of those.” She sits down on my bed and wraps her arms around her knees. “I’m just scared if we break up or something, we won’t be friends anymore. And he’s one of my best friends. I’d have a hard time with that.” She laughs, but it’s not with humor.

  “I get it. I do. I think you two would make a great couple, though.”

  “You sure know how to make a girl feel good about herself.”

  I shrug. “If you like each other and you’ve been friends for a while, you already have that foundation to build on. Things can only get better. In my opinion. You just have to take a chance sometimes.”

  She raises an eyebrow. “You sound like a therapist or something.”


  “I’ve seen one before. After . . .” I swallow. “My dad. You know?”

  “Yeah.” She takes a breath. “I know.” She looks like she wants to say something else but then changes her mind.

  “Anyway. Back to Ashton.”

  She shakes her head. “Not gonna happen.”

  “Oh, come on! What did we just talk about?”

  She stands and wanders around the room again. “It’s just, the timing’s off. It’s not the right . . .” she trails off, staring at something on my desk. Probably Oakley’s engagement picture on her invitation.

  “That’s my cousin, Oakley. She’s getting married next month.”

  She shakes her head and picks up a white envelope sitting next to the wedding announcement.

  My whole body grows cold as she reads Dad’s neat handwriting on the front.

  “What’s this?” she asks, holding it out to me.

  I stare at my name and address, then just like the other letters, the word Dad in the left-hand corner with his prison return address underneath.

  “It’s nothing.” I stand and reach for it, but she pulls it away from me.

  “Dad?” she asks, her voice sharper than I expected.

  I don’t say anything, just try to get the letter again, but she’s too quick. She moves around my bed and close to the door. “This is dated this week.”

  “I can explain, just give it—”

  “Lucy,” she says, quiet. “Is this from your dad? Did you lie to me?”

  I stare at her as her eyes shine with tears, yet she doesn’t blink, doesn’t let any of them fall. “Mira . . .” I start, but she shakes her head.

  “All this time you’ve been telling us how much you miss your dad. How we are so much alike because we’ve both lost parents. And he’s really alive?”

  I let out the breath I’m holding and sit down on the edge of my bed.

  “Well?” she snaps.

  Her anger makes me angry. My hands clench into fists as I stare her down. “Yes, okay?” I say, my voice raising. “Yes, my dad’s alive and sitting in a prison cell in Wyoming. Are you happy now?”

  She frowns. “No. I’m not, actually. You lied to me. And not just a little lie. Lucy, this is huge. This is a huge part of your life that you totally made up! I thought we trusted each other. I thought we could talk and help each other through things. I thought we were friends!”