For the Summer Page 3

  For the most part, I thought my family was happy, but you knew just by looking at our parents, they had the weight of the world on their shoulders. What with raising five teenage daughters, trying to put one through college, and running their own electrical business.

  Sometimes I hated being the youngest of five girls. Sure, being the youngest had its perks, but it also had a lot of annoyances, too. Like hand-me-downs. When would I have a chance to get new clothes?

  Or curfews.

  Shanna was given a midnight curfew when she was sixteen. While Shanna is probably the purest, most educated of all us girls, that curfew stuck for her. Shanna was afraid to step out of the box, and most would say she had her head on straight. Dating the star football player at the University of Georgia, and well on her way to getting her degree, she had her life set, or so it seemed.

  Then came Sara, who was eighteen that first summer, and full of piss and vinegar. She and Dad were so much alike they clashed. Hardheaded and demanded to be the center of attention. She was given the same curfew at sixteen, but because she could never get home on time, our parents moved it to eleven.

  Stephanie, who was seventeen at the time, was also given eleven. She was more like Shanna so the curfew stayed.

  Then came Sadie, quite possibly the worst child ever. She was almost fifteen. Just last week our parents informed us curfew would be ten. Sadie was a rebel. She ran away when she was four and got so far that she had to take a bus just to get back. Awful child.

  By the time I was sixteen, I had a feeling it’d be seven at the rate Sadie was abusing it.

  Next year, I was finally going to be an eighth grader, and for the first time, not at the same school as any of my sisters. It almost felt like I was on my own for once.

  With four older sisters, it was about time. I was finally getting to the age where maybe my sisters and my parents might treat me like the adult I was becoming. Granted, I was only thirteen, but having that teen on the end of my age for the last few weeks said a lot to me.

  When school let out, we headed to Lake Lanier.

  My aunt Megs had recently divorced and bought a house on the lake as her parting gift from her husband of the last ten years. At only thirty-one, it was hard to believe she was already getting divorced. But in defense of her ex-husband, Trevor, Aunt Megs was certifiably crazy, if you asked me. Despite that, she had a nice house on the lake, and that served me well.

  But the idea of spending it cooped up in a house with our entire family wasn’t exactly my idea of a good time. When you were thirteen, it was just the idea of spending time with your family that was the worst. Struggling for a little privacy here and there, staying in a 1300 square foot cabin on the lake wasn’t exactly my idea of a good time. I mean, I was getting boobs; I had to have time to check their size every once in a while. They might’ve grown!

  After a nearly five-hour drive, we had arrived at Aunt Megs’s house. Pulling my underwear from my sweating ass, I eyed my annoying sisters. Sadie was crying about her leg being asleep, Shanna was arguing with her now fiancé on the phone, and Stephanie was reading a book and trying to walk—something she was not good at. And Sara, she was already scoping out the boys water skiing.

  When my parents started arguing about who would share what room, I grabbed a popsicle from the freezer, already stocked full of food, and headed for the lake. With a brief hug to Aunt Megs, I was out the door.

  As I took a bite from the tip of my strawberry popsicle, I took a few steps onto the dock. It squeaked, my attention drawn up to the sound of a boat slapping against the water.

  That was when I saw you for the first time. There you were, dressed in a pair of board shorts, standing at the end of the dock next door, staring at the water, your hands on your hips, watching. Without a second glance, you dove in, swimming toward a pair of jet skis floating in the water about ten feet away.

  The sun beat down on me, the day long and hot, sticky and heavy. There were noises all around me—summer noises—boats, creaking docks, laughing. When I looked around, another boy was flying toward me on a jet ski, his expression amused like he was trying to scare me a little. He swerved away just before he hit the dock, the wake created rocking me side to side. Spreading my legs apart, I balanced myself.

  My popsicle was almost gone, strawberry sugar melted down my fingers. My lips were cold, and my tongue was numb, but I couldn’t stop watching you guys.

  “Hey, don’t stand there,” a girl said, glaring at me. “He’ll hit you next time. He’s an idiot.”

  “Okay,” I said, moving two steps back. I looked at my feet and then met her eyes once again. “Sorry.”

  She was on the dock next to Megs’s, only about thirty feet away. With her hand on her hip, she sighed before dropping it as if she was annoyed with me.

  The girl looked at me, a quick glance, before opening the cooler to retrieve a Pepsi. She looked at me again, kind of, but she was more looking at my clothes. “Want one?”

  When I nodded, she held one out to me, still regarding my clothes. I made my way from our dock over to hers, across the narrow dirt path where the water met the land, covered in thick red clay and overgrown grass.

  I took the Pepsi she handed to me, smiling at her, hoping maybe she would look away from my worn clothes and at me this time. My parents didn’t have money to spend on buying brand new clothes all the time, so I had what was handed down from my four sisters. Obviously nothing I owned was brand new. This year, for my birthday, my parents had gotten me a pair of Roxy sandals. This girl was looking at them.

  “I like your sandals. Is this your first summer here?” she asked, adjusting her towel so it was laid in the sun on the dock.

  Nodding, I moved closer to her and took a seat, letting my legs dip into the warm water, looking over at their house behind us. It was nicer than Aunt Megs’s, probably brand new. Nothing we owned was brand new.

  “I’m Ivey,” she said. Ivey was pretty, so pretty and fierce. Her eyes were blue and offset her hair in the sun. With a closer look, I saw her hair was actually brown, rich like the color of the dark mud with softer, almost blonde, highlights. She reminded me of a calico cat. And then I realized it was probably by design. I wasn’t allowed to dye my hair, but looking at her Ed Hardy bathing suit, I assumed her parents had no problems with her spending the money to get her hair dyed.

  Ivey went on to tell me they came here every summer since she was ten. She then asked, “What’s your name?”

  Ivey’s attention shifted to a group of boys fighting over the jet skis, you included.

  “Sophie.”

  “How old are you?” she asked next.

  “Thirteen.”

  “Hmm … me too. When’s your birthday?”

  “June seventeenth,” I said, watching you push another boy into the water, yelling something at him before all of you broke out in laughter.

  “Mine’s May seventeenth. I’m older than you.”

  “Only by a month.”

  Ivey shrugged. “I’m still older.”

  Ivey was laid back and acted as though she was too good for this place. She was cooler than me. Definitely not someone I would hang out with back home. She was the type of girl that wouldn’t be caught dead around someone like me at school.

  When I told her my name, Ivey sort of smiled but looked over her shoulder. Not wanting you boys to see me eating, I tossed my popsicle aside and into the water, but the stick floated, so it was fairly obvious I just threw it in there.

  “Ivey,” you yelled, coming closer to the dock. “Mom’s looking for you.”

  “How do you know, you’ve been out there all day?”

  You took your phone, which you had wrapped in a waterproof case, from your pocket, mocking her with a patronizing smirk. “She called, dumbass.”

  Looking up at you, I noticed your eyes first; they were the same as Ivey’s, bright blue framed by thick lashes. Throwing your leg over the side of the jet ski, you jumped off and made your way to the dock.
Your friends followed suit, all three of you barreling onto the dock, sending it rocking.

  Standing in front of me, you were taller than I thought. Your smile was lopsided now, and cute—really, really cute. The other two boys walked ahead, never looking back, roughhousing with one another, gray towels wrapped around their shoulders. One of them pushed the other, and a shoving match broke out between them, the taller one with hair like yours seemed to have the upper hand, easily taking the other to the ground.

  While your attention was on them, I looked over your body. You were what my sisters would say was sexy, I guess. At first glance, I could tell you worked out with the definition of muscles, but you could still see you were young and still growing.

  You looked over at me. “Who are you? Did you know your popsicle is in the water?”

  Ivey shoved you, but you caught yourself on the metal bars of the diving board before falling. “Leave her alone, Bensen. She’s my friend.”

  Laughing loudly, you pulled on the ends of Ivey’s hair. She swatted your hand away, but you pulled a piece in the back. “Nice sunburn, Ivey,” you teased, poking at her red shoulders, making her squirm, until she nearly lost her footing on the deck.

  You knew how to make her mad, and for a girl who appeared so relaxed, she seemed affected by your presence as much as I was. We were thirteen, it happened often. Even if you were her brother, she was still affected by you.

  Ivey dropped her hand from your bare chest and made a fist to punch you. You guys laughed together, and it was clear you were messing around. I watched curiously. I’d never seen the interaction between a sister and a brother. I’d only seen the interactions between sisters, and that was just a lot of whining and screaming and drama.

  When you guys were done messing around, you came back to me where I was at the end of the dock putting my sandals on. “This is my brother, Bensen,” Ivey said, pointing to you with a flip of her wrist. “He swears he’s cool because he’s a sophomore next year, but he’s not that cool.”

  You pushed Ivey, puffing out your chest. “I’m cool.” More laughing. “And awesome.”

  Ivey rolled her eyes, walking toward the boys you were just with, who were now laying on the well-maintained grass that surrounded the deck, leaving me alone with you.

  “Did you just get here today?” you asked, shaking out your towel and then bundling it up to carry with one hand. “I’ve never seen you before.”

  I looked at your board shorts and the Hurley logo written on the side of them to keep from looking at your face. Ivey was wrong; you were cool. You spoke softly, slowly, never rushed, but with a rasp to your voice I hadn’t heard before in a boy.

  “Yeah, just got here with my parents and sisters,” I said, trying not to appear shy. I dared myself to actually look at you, and when I did, we both smiled. “I have four older sisters.”

  You nodded, as though that wasn’t that interesting to you. “What’s your name?”

  “Sophie Kaden.”

  You looked at me for a second before one of those boys yelled your name. “Well, umm, I have to go.”

  “Bye,” I said, trying to hide my face in my hair I had pulled free from my ponytail.

  You hesitated before walking away. Pushing your fingers through your wet hair, you said, “I like the color.”

  I smiled and looked up at you, clueless. “Of what?”

  You offered a crooked smile, eyes lighting up. “Your eyes. I like the color of your eyes. It’s different.”

  “Oh,” I said, feeling a burn to my cheeks that wasn’t from the sun. “I think they’re gray, or blue, or something like that.” I didn’t know why I told you that, and judging by the grin on your face, I assumed you were wondering why as well.

  I thought my eye color was odd. My parents and sisters all had brown eyes. I had gray-blue eyes. It made me think I was adopted or something, but they told me my mom’s dad had blue eyes. I must have gotten them from Red. That was what we called him, Red, short for Redding.

  You laughed easy. “It seems that way.” You were walking backward, slowly, watching me.

  I didn’t say anything else, stuck in place, confused by our interaction.

  “Well, see ya.”

  “Bye.” I waved.

  You turned around and began to run toward your friends, but then stopped and faced me again. “I really do like them.” You smiled. “The color, I mean.”

  I made a face. Why did you say that? What should I say back? I liked your eyes, too? Were you making fun of me?

  You were laughing, but it didn’t seem like you were doing it to make me feel bad. “Bye … Sophie.”

  I nodded, not knowing what else to do, and you nodded, too, running off, taking all of my embarrassment with you.

  Boys were weird. I waved goodbye before you were gone completely, just as Ivey returned with a strawberry popsicle. One for her, and one for me. “Try not to throw this one in the lake.”

  Ivey stayed close to me that afternoon, and I liked her. She watched your friend, Austin, who eventually introduced himself to me. He was cute and tall, even more so than you.

  Hanging by the dock, a few girls came over and chased after the boys. Ivey glared at one of them. I learned quickly her name was Hadley. She hung on you, arms wrapped around your neck. You kissed her cheek a couple of times, and I looked away, my own cheeks burning again. The thought of being kissed was never far from my mind. I was thirteen, and it hadn’t happened yet. Unless of course you counted the little boy, Ty, who I babysat. He was seven and always kissed my cheek.

  But that didn’t really count.

  Ivey and I stayed on the dock, and eventually Sadie and Aunt Megs came over to check on me. With my thirteen-year-old attitude, they left quickly.

  With my attention on the water, I saw you again, wading around up to your neck. Ivey was carving her name into the dock with a pocketknife, telling me about what you guys did for fun around here. Though she held my interest, I found myself watching you. There were a handful of other kids with you, friends maybe. You seemed popular.

  To the left of the dock was a smaller sand cove where the grass and trees were pushed back, and you could walk into the water. Two girls sat there, feet in the sand, watching you and your friends, Hadley included. They smiled and giggled and whispered to one another, pointing at everything you guys did. It reminded me of going to the boys’ baseball games at the high school. It never failed; any time one of the boys would hit a homerun, or even get a piece of the ball, there was always that one group of girls that would go crazy, cheering and screaming. I used to go with my friend, Katie, until she started dating a freshman football player. Then she had no time for me.

  “Is that his girlfriend?” I asked Ivey, nodding to Hadley. A fleeting glance at her told me she was probably the most popular girl at her school and probably already had sex.

  Ivey gagged. “No … at least he’ll never admit it. But once,” her voice dropped as if she was about to tell me a secret, “I caught them dry humping each other in the movie room.”

  Back then I had no idea what dry humping was, but I acted like I knew by smiling.

  Most of the boys were huddled around a boat, white with a black stripe down the side. “That’s our uncle Jesser,” Ivey told me, opening her second Pepsi of the afternoon. “He’s forty. Mom says he’s goin’ through a mid-life crisis and acts sixteen.”

  I watched the boys, each of you climbing onto the boat one-by-one as Jesser assisted with two other older guys. They handed you boys beer and took off on the lake. When they came back, Austin was on a wakeboard catching Ivey’s attention.

  “How old is Austin?” I asked.

  “Fifteen. He’ll be sixteen this winter. He’s a sophomore this year.” Her voice brightened with each word. “And he’s the pitcher for the baseball team at school. I go to every game. That other kid is our cousin, Grayden. Uncle Jesser’s his dad.” She rolled her eyes. “There’s no hope for him to turn out normal.”

  I laughed;
Ivey was pretty funny. “What school do you go to?” I asked. Every few minutes we’d ask another question, alternating each time it seemed. We were getting to know each other, and through her, I was learning a lot about you in a roundabout way.

  Music flowed from the boat, bass thumping to a song I knew well. “Get Low.” It played on a continuous loop on every radio station back then.

  The boat stopped, and you guys jumped in the water again, as Austin swam back with the board.

  As they barreled back onto the dock, they smiled at the girls sitting down near the water, my sisters, Stephanie and Sadie, included. Seeming in your own world as you jumped in the water, you swam to the other side of the boat, talking to Jesser as you waded around.

  “Do you really have four sisters?” Ivey asked, watching Stephanie with a puzzled expression.

  “Yeah, that’s Stephanie. She’s seventeen. I’m the youngest.”

  “I have two older brothers and one younger.”

  “How old are they?”

  “Well, there’s Bensen, he’s fifteen like I said. He’ll be sixteen in October. Bryan, he’s eighteen and left this winter for the military. Then there’s Brady, he’s nine, almost ten.”

  Stephanie stood up and walked waist deep into the water, more than likely attempting to gain some attention in her bikini. That was just who she was. Smart as ever, but an attention whore nonetheless. Her body was rail thin and tan, a product of her never eating and sunless tanner. She thought if she never ate, she’d stay skinny. Our mom was overweight and said it was in our genes to gain weight. Stephanie, having been slightly heavier when she was younger, feared ever being overweight again and stopped eating. It wasn’t healthy, but no one could tell her that. I personally thought a woman with a little more weight on her looked good—healthy and happy.