Home > Summer of Sloane(8)

Summer of Sloane(8)
Author: Erin L. Schneider

Taking a deep breath, and heeding my mom’s advice, I promise myself tonight is going to be the start of what is sure to be one wild and crazy summer. Which means there will be no wallowing. There will be no letting others control how I feel. And there will definitely be no drama. None of that.

Because this time, it’s all about me. It’s all about the summer of Sloane.

 

 

Mom has supplied us with kalbi ribs and chicken teriyaki skewers, mac salad, and all the makings for s’mores. There’s even a half rack of beer that came with the cursory “please call me if you need me to come pick you up” speech.

We don’t have far to go. In fact, it’s only a little over a mile to the beach where we’re headed. I text my dad on the drive there to let him know we made it okay and all is well, then send him a quick shot of Penn and me driving in our swank new ride. He responds immediately:

Nice haircut. The car isn’t too bad either! Although you’re missing a great M’s/Yankees game! Bottom of the eighth, NYY up by two.

 

Then a moment later:

And, Sloane, regardless of everything else, please try to enjoy your summer. Love you.

 

I text back that I can’t believe he went to the baseball game without me. It’s always our thing. Even though we’re both fans of the Mariners, my dad grew up watching the Yankees, and for years, we’ve been going to their games whenever we can.

I don’t miss his comment about what’s happening back at home, and I know he’s worried—but I also think he’s trying to give me the space I need, which I’m grateful for.

When I close out from his text, I see there’s a new one from Mick:

Was craving those awesome cheesy chicken burritos from the Pollo Loco food truck we found near the mall! I decided to go down and get one, and can’t tell you how bummed I was when it tasted bleh. Ugh, I think I might become a vegetarian. God, we used to eat those things by the truckload…of course we’d always pay for it later, huh? :)

 

I don’t want to, but I laugh, remembering all those late nights we hit that food truck thinking it was the best idea ever, only to find ourselves moments later practically splitting an entire bottle of Tums. If she’s trying to make me miss her, it’s working.

Penn pulls the car into an open space, and I’m immediately hit with wafting curls of salty sea air infused with the rich scent of burning wood, and I inhale deeply. So many great memories come flooding back from all the bonfires we’ve had on this very beach—memories that have absolutely nothing to do with what’s going on back at home. And without even thinking, I delete Mick’s text…because I don’t want it to somehow taint what I know is waiting for me, just a few sandy steps away.

I see Mia’s cute red convertible VW Bug. Not one of the new ones, but an old-school Bug from the ’70s, the white top folded down and resting behind the rear seat. I smile, remembering the two of us losing both of our hats when we got on the H-1 highway last summer. First hers—I laughed as she swerved slightly when the wind tore her floppy sun hat from her head, and then mine only seconds later, as Mia gave me a mischievous grin and tossed it to the wind herself. God, I love spending the summer here.

“You ready?” Penn is already out of the car with the bags of food in hand.

“You have no idea.”

We walk along the beach access path until it opens up onto pristine golden sand and nothing but thousands of miles of turquoise unfolds in front of us. It’s hard to tell where the blue of the ocean stops and the same brilliant hue of the sky begins. My flip-flops are off in seconds, and my toes flex into the warmth as tiny granules of sand slide over my feet. But the best part is the heat of the Hawaiian sun that drenches every square inch of exposed skin. I can already feel my cheeks welcome it. Heaven.

I hear laughter down the beach and turn to see a bunch of kids, many I know and a few I don’t. Some are out in the water playing chicken, the boys carrying the girls high on their shoulders as they try to make the others crash to their watery demise. A few toss a football along the beach, while something grilled and delicious-smelling sizzles on one of the many hibachi barbecues that have been set up around the bonfire. Music blasts from speakers I can’t see. And it all feels like exactly what I need.

“SLO!”

I hear the high-pitched squeal before I see Mia. She’s running down the length of beach with Shep alongside her, elbowing her playfully out of the way. We call him Shep because his last name is Shepherd, and for the life of me, I can’t seem to remember his first name. Kyle? Ken? Kai? Something with a K, I think, but no one ever uses it. They continue to jostle each other along as they run our way, and I realize something seems different between the two of them. Then Mia flings her arms around my neck, and Shep and Penn give each other one of those weird back-slapping man hugs.

Mia’s taller than I am, of course, because most people over the age of ten usually are. Her skin has a beautiful dark bronze glow to it, which isn’t only because of her access to the sun on a daily basis; it’s just the way she is. Her golden-brown hair cascades in spiral curls down past her shoulders, and everything about her reminds me of sunshine and summers past.

“Holy cow, you cut off your hair! I LOVE IT!” She tugs on the ends as her eyes travel down to my cast. “And what the hell did you do to your arm?”

“Hey, you gonna hog her or can I say hello?” Shep says, nudging Mia out of the way. He picks me up and spins me around. “Hey, sucka, how you been? Sweet cast.”

Shep is native Hawaiian—well, mostly, and more than the quarter I am. His skin tone is similar to Mia’s, but his hair is a dark brown, almost black, and his eyes are a close match. He’s all limbs and outlandishly tall, with a surfer’s body full of muscles. He towers even higher above me than he did the summer before.

Shep sets me down on the sand with one last squeeze and turns to pick up Mia’s hand. And that’s when I realize what’s different. They’re together. As in together together!

“Whoa, what’s that all about?” Penn points at their joined hands as a flush heats up Mia’s cheeks.

Her gaze drifts away for the briefest of seconds, but she recovers quickly and smiles, bumping her hip against Shep’s. “Yeah, we’re trying something different.”

“So how’s the boyfriend?” Shep says. We trudge along the beach, making our way to the bonfire. “You two about ready to tie the knot?”

Penn gives me a look.

“So, um…this kind of happened,” I manage. Not knowing what else to say, I simply hold up my cast. “Evidently you’re not supposed to tuck your thumb in when you throw a punch. Who knew?”

“No shit,” both Mia and Shep say in unison. They look from the cast to me, then to Penn, then back to me.

“Yeah, Rocky Balboa here broke his nose in three places with a solid right hook,” Penn adds. And if I’m not mistaken, he actually sounds proud. “Assclown has to have surgery next week.”

I fill Mia in on everything as Shep and Penn jog ahead. She hangs on to my elbow and taps her head to mine.

“I can’t believe it. I can’t believe they’d both do that to you, after all this time. And is she gonna keep it? I mean, what’s she going to do with a baby?”

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