Beach Blondes: June Dreams / July's Promise / August Magic

by Katherine Applegate

  Diana turned down a side street and stopped the car in front of a small, neat house surrounded by a huge blaze of red flowers.

  Seth got out, more or less climbing over Summer in the process. He lifted his bags out of the back.

  “See you around,” Seth said to both girls. Then, to Summer, “I hope…I mean…” He sighed resignedly. “Anyway, welcome to Florida.”

  He still had a very nice smile, even if he was a toad.

  “Later,” Diana said, and took off.

  Summer turned to look back. Seth was carrying his bags toward the door of the house. “Why did you call him Mr. Moon?”

  Diana grinned, the first real smile Summer had seen from her. “We were all at a big party at the Merrick estate. Seth was down on their pier, looking off at the sunset. Some guys decided he was being antisocial or whatever and decided to pants him.”

  “What’s that?”

  “They yanked off his bathing suit and threw it into the water.”

  “Oh.” Summer wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the rest of the story, but it was too late now.

  “I used to be into photography back then, and I was already getting ready to shoot the sunset—and Seth standing there looking at it—because I thought it would make a cool shot. Anyway, they pants poor Seth, he dives off to get his bathing suit back, and I click at just the perfect moment.” Diana caught Summer’s eye and gave her a devious look. “It’s a really unique shot.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure.” Summer put a hand over her heart. She tugged open the neck of her sweatshirt. It was definitely hot here. She didn’t want to think about him. What had happened between them was just a mistake. She was going to forget about it, and Seth had better forget about it too. She was going to start this vacation over, beginning now.

  “I still have the picture around somewhere,” Diana said, obviously enjoying Summer’s embarrassment. “I call it ‘The Sun…and the Moon.’”

  The town was soon behind them, and they drove faster down a road that ran right along the edge of the bay. The water could be glimpsed only in flashes between the mismatched array of houses: some new pink stucco mansions, some older, gaily painted wood homes, some simple ranch-style houses that would have been at home in the older parts of Bloomington.

  Diana pulled the car into a driveway and under the shade of a portico. She turned off the engine. Summer smoothed her tangled hair back into place.

  “This is it,” Diana said, looking the house over critically. “All the tackiness you’d expect from a semi-rich romance writer.”

  “It’s huge,” Summer said. The house was painted yellow and turquoise and white, a complex jumble of arched windows and fantastic turrets and screened balconies.

  “Oh yeah, it’s definitely huge. Only…” Diana darted a quick look at Summer. And then she smiled. Her second smile, although it wasn’t exactly pleasant. “Only not as huge as you’d think. Actually, there are only five bedrooms in the whole place. Mallory and I each have one, of course. And there’s one we keep for important guests—you know, people Mallory wants to impress. So that only leaves two.”

  Summer smiled. “Well, I only need one.”

  “If only it were that easy,” Diana said regretfully. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

  Summer climbed out and began lifting her bags from the backseat. The feeling of nervousness was growing stronger. What did Diana mean, If only it were that easy? And wasn’t Diana even going to help her carry her bags?

  “Don’t worry about carrying all your bags at once,” Diana said breezily as Summer struggled. “You can always come back for the rest later. If you decide to stay.”

  If I decide to stay? It was almost as if Diana was trying to get rid of her. In fact, it was exactly as if Diana was trying to get rid of her.

  Diana was quite proud of herself. It had come to her in a flash of inspiration. Of course! It was so simple. If she moved Summer into one of the regular bedrooms, she’d never get rid of her cousin. Face it, it was a great house. Who wouldn’t want to stay in a designer-decorated bedroom overlooking the water, with a private bath and a private balcony and a housekeeper to make your bed?

  Mallory had already picked out the perfect room for Summer. Way too perfect. No, Diana had a much better idea for where Summer should stay. And with Mallory out of town, well, why not? With any luck at all, Summer would be on the next plane out of town.

  Diana conducted Summer through the house at a virtual run. Here’s the kitchen, oh, yes, it is huge. Here’s the family room. Oh, yes, it’s huge, too. Here’s the game room, no, I don’t play pool, the pool table’s only there because you need a pool table to make it a game room. Here’s my room, and here’s Mallory’s room….

  “Why do you call your mother Mallory?” Summer asked.

  “Because that’s her name. She calls me Diana because that’s my name. That’s the way it works.” Diana winced. Now she was getting too mean. That wasn’t right. It wasn’t Summer’s fault she wasn’t wanted here. Besides, if Diana was too cruel, Summer might get upset and start crying or something, and then what?

  But Summer didn’t burst into tears.

  “I call my mother Mom,” Summer said matter-of-factly. “So, where am I staying?”

  “You know I told you there were two bedrooms left? Well, see, the problem is that one is being redecorated, so it’s a mess.” Technically true, Diana told herself. Her mother was waiting on a new dresser for that room. “And the problem with the other room is…” Diana paused. Was Summer going to buy this at all? Only one way to find out. “The problem with the other room is that Mallory…Mom…has to have it available for when she gets hysterical.”

  Summer looked wary but not completely disbelieving. “Hysterical?”

  Diana nodded sagely. “Hysterical. It happens sometimes when Mallory…Mom…starts remembering Dad—you know, the divorce and all, and the good times they had and so on. Then she gets hysterical, see, because, well, her bedroom used to be their bedroom, and then it’s like all these memories come back and she…she, uh, has to sleep in the other bedroom,” Diana finished lamely. “That’s why there’s like no room. In the house.”

  Right, Summer thought. Does she think I’m a complete idiot? Diana was definitely not making her feel welcome. Fine. So Diana hated her for some reason. Fine. So Diana wanted to get rid of her. That was fine too. Only it wasn’t going to be that easy.

  “So where am I supposed to stay?” Summer asked. “Am I supposed to sleep on the couch?”

  “No, that wouldn’t work. But there is a place for you.” Diana showed her brief, fake smile. “There’s a definite place for you. Follow me.”

  Summer followed Diana downstairs, down one of the twin, curving staircases that looked like something out of a movie, through the gigantic living room and out onto the porch, where the heat was waiting to pounce on her again.

  They walked down across a sloping, green lawn toward the water, toward the spot where a cabin cruiser was tied up to the pier. They turned left, aiming at a stand of trees. The shade of the trees was welcome. And then Summer saw it.

  It was a bungalow, squat and homely, white paint chipped and faded, looking forlorn and abandoned. It would have looked like any way-below-average house in any way-below-average neighborhood except that it was raised on wooden stilts and stood directly over the water. A shaded stairway seemed to run from the interior of the house straight down to a small platform on the water. Two Jet Skis were tied up there, knocking together haphazardly on the gentle swell.

  A rickety-looking wooden walkway ran a hundred feet from the grassy, shaded shore to the house. The walkway wrapped around the house, forming a narrow deck lined with a not-exactly-reassuring railing. A pelican sat on one corner of the railing, its huge beak nestled in its brown feathers. As Summer watched, the pelican added to the crusty pile of droppings.

  “It has a bedroom, a kitchen, and a bathroom,” Diana announced proudly.

  “And a pelican who thinks the whole thing is
a bathroom,” Summer said.

  “You’d have a lot of privacy here,” Diana said, trying unsuccessfully to keep from gloating. “Sure, there’s a little mildew, some pelican droppings, and you know, the furniture isn’t exactly the very best….”

  “This is where Aunt Mallory wants me to stay?” Summer asked dubiously.

  “Oh, she’s not much for details of who stays where,” Diana said, waving a hand breezily. “You’ll be thrilled to know that this is a historical house; that’s why Mallory doesn’t tear it down. It was used by rum smugglers back during Prohibition in the 1920s. And we were renting it out until a couple of years ago.”

  “Uh-huh,” Summer said. So this was Diana’s plan to get her to leave. She was going to stick her here in mildew manor. Diana probably thought she’d just start boohooing and run home to her mother. Well, maybe she should, if no one wanted her here.

  Only, Summer didn’t like to get pushed around. She was here to have an excellent summer vacation, even if it meant living with the pooping pelican.

  “Do I get to use the Jet Skis?” Summer asked tersely.

  Diana looked surprised. “Um, sure. I mean, if you’re staying, I guess…” Her voice drifted away.

  “Of course I’m staying,” Summer said. “This place looks beautiful and perfect, and you and I are going to become best friends, just like Aunt Mallory said.” Take that, witch, Summer added silently.

  Diana swallowed. For the first time she looked unsure of herself. “We are?”

  5

  Video Blog

  Live, from fabulous Crab Claw Key, it’s…Summer Smith!

  Okay, okay. Hello, Jennifer. I said I would keep this video blog for you, and here’s the first one. I barely know how to run this stupid video camera, so if the picture’s all jerky don’t blame me.

  What you are looking at right now is my incredibly luxurious bedroom. You will notice the way the bed sort of sags and droops in the middle—very fashionable. And now you can see the kitchen. You say it looks like it’s practically in the bedroom? Funny you should mention that; it sort of is. That’s my stove. I think someone may have cleaned it once, about ten years ago. Refrigerator. Hang on, let me open it. See? Someone stocked it with exactly three cans of Pepsi and a half-eaten bag of Nacho Doritos.

  Here’s the bathroom. Cool tub, huh? I mean, it’s got some rust stains, but it’s huge, and see, it’s one of those old-timey claw-foot tubs.

  But the tub isn’t the most excellent part of this place. No, the really neat thing is where the house is. See this square door in the floor? Hang on, let me pull it open. Urrgh. That’s heavy, but can you see? Water. Right downstairs, that’s actual seawater because this place is right over the water.

  Is that great or what?

  Okay, outside. Follow me. Like you have any choice. The front door…and look! This little deck goes all the way around the house. And see? There’s the walkway. See? It’s like fifty feet or whatever to the shore.

  Okay, now, there’s the main house. You have to kind of look through those trees to see all of it. I know what you’re thinking, Jen. You’re thinking, whoa, that looks like a mansion and Summer’s living in a shack. Okay, that may be true. However, this shack is all mine. Besides, there are Jet Skis and I’m going to learn how to—oh, jeez, oh, oh, yuck. Gross. I brushed against some pelican stuff on the railing. Great. This pelican kind of lives here. There. There he is, diving for food. Isn’t that excellent the way he does that?

  Okay, back inside. Here, I’m going to put this down on the table and then I’ll sit right in front of it.

  Okay. Now can you see me? Hi. As you can see, it’s not like I have a tan yet. I just got here like an hour ago.

  So far everything’s fine. Except that my cousin—Diana, the one who lives here?—I think she hates me. I think it was her big idea to stick me out here in the stilt house because her mom, who is my aunt, is out of town for a week. So I’m stuck with cousin Diana, who doesn’t want to be stuck with me, I guess.

  Okay, I’m not getting bummed. Just because Diana thinks I’m like some hopeless case, that’s just what she thinks.

  Although she is totally cool; I mean, she’s one of those girls you and I can’t stand, you know? She looks like that model they always have in Teen Vogue, you know the one I mean?

  Anyway. I guess it will be better when my aunt Mallory gets back. I hope so, since Mom and Dad are off on vacation themselves and my plane ticket is for three months from now. So I’m stuck, no matter how much Diana doesn’t like it. I’m stuck here in mildew world.

  I’m not crying.

  Okay, I am crying, but just a little. It’s been a stressful day. There was this one guy I met. Okay, more than met, but it’s a whole long story, so let me just give you the short version: he’s a using little creep.

  You see, there was this…this thing that happened with him. In the airport. I’ll tell you later when I’m done feeling weirded out by it.

  Oh, and there are supposed to be two other guys too, if you believe in that kind of stuff. But okay, later on all that. Anyway, I’m going to turn this thing off. I have to unpack and try to clean this dump up a little, and it’s starting to get dark out. Let’s hope this summer gets better fast.

  6

  First Night. Strange Dreams and Stranger Realities.

  Summer lay in her bed. It definitely sagged in the middle.

  Earlier she’d gone up to the main house, called her mother to let her know she’d made it to Florida alive, and gotten some sheets and a blanket from Diana, feeling like Oliver Twist begging for more gruel. Diana had seemed friendly in about the same way that a cat seems friendly to a mouse.

  Maybe I should just give up and go home, Summer thought miserably. “Too bad that’s impossible,” she muttered into the darkness.

  It was a little creepy inside the stilt house with the lights out. A silvery shaft of moonlight had appeared in her window, illuminating her desk and the video camera resting there. It made her think of her best friend, Jennifer, and that made her think of home. Home, with her familiar bedroom, and all her posters and photos on the wall, with her CDs neatly in their rack.

  Summer kicked off the single blanket and pulled the sheet over her. It was hot in the house, even with all the windows open. Even the boxers and baby-tee she wore to bed felt like too much.

  “Hot and depressed and lonely,” she told the stifling air. “So far it’s a great vacation.” If she were home, she’d go get some ice cream from the freezer.

  From the windows she heard the sound of the water lapping gently at the pilings that supported the house. When the Jet Skis rocked there was a hollow sound, like coconuts being knocked together softly. And the house itself creaked and groaned, but in an almost musical way.

  It was sometime later that the video camera seemed to turn on and begin projecting a flickering image on the wall, like an old-fashioned home movie. Summer saw a backyard scene, the yard of her house in Bloomington. The swing set her parents had bought for her third birthday. The little play pool, filled with plastic toys. Her Oscar the Grouch! She hadn’t seen Oscar in years. Whatever had happened to good old Oscar?

  Summer rose from her bed and moved toward the images. Her mother was in the picture now, gazing at her with that familiar look of concern. The look that said Sometimes, Summer, I swear you worry me.

  “Come on out of there,” her mother said, holding out her hand. Summer looked down and realized she was covered in mud. What a mess. The pelican, who was now swimming in her pool, was trying to look innocent, but obviously he was responsible.

  Suddenly Summer was in her room back home, looking down at her bed, only the bed kept shrinking till it was the size of a doll bed. It made Summer angry, though she wasn’t sure why. Something caught her eye. Three cards lay in a row on the covers. Two were facedown. One was turned up, and when Summer looked closer she saw it was a photograph—a photograph of a red sun and a pale, white moon. The moon made her feel very uncomfortable.

/>   Then, all at once, Summer was back in the stilt house, hearing some new noise to add to the creaks and groans and lapping water. The flickering images of home faded out and disappeared.

  Her eyes opened. A creaking sound, very clear, very clear and real and not a part of the dream. A creaking sound and now a tuneless, almost random humming.

  Summer lay perfectly still. The sound had come from very close. But she was turned away from it and not willing to roll over to see what it might be.

  It was the hatch in the floor! That’s what it had to be. The hatch that led down to the water, down to where the Jet Skis were. Down to where some monster, some ax murderer, some creature had been lying, waiting for her to fall asleep so he could creep up the stairs and come in through the hatchway and kill her, hacking her up with a machete.

  Summer rolled ever so slightly. Now the room didn’t seem so hot. No, it had definitely gotten chillier. She wished she had her blanket back. She could pull it over her head and hope the monster/ax murderer went away.

  A light!

  Summer slitted her eyes and stared, barely able to breathe. A blue-white light emanated from the kitchen.

  The humming stopped and was replaced by a mixture of whistling and humming.

  The light in the kitchen disappeared. From the darkness came the distinctive sound of a pop-top. The whistling stopped. A satisfied sigh.

  A lighter flickered, and then a candle, a brilliant yellow pinpoint of light in the dark, illuminating a startling sight.

  “Aaargh!” the figure yelled.