“I really don’t know.”
I realize I have no idea what to say to any of that. I don’t even know what I would do if it were me in her situation. The only thing I know without a doubt is it would’ve been Mick I ran to if things had been reversed. And I can only imagine how Mick is feeling right now, how lost she is with probably no one to talk to.
I have the sudden urge to call her, but before I even have a chance to go through with that stupid idea, Mia turns me to face her. Both of her hands are on my shoulders, and her forehead is pressed up against mine, her eyes going cross-eyed.
“You know what? Let’s forget about all that. We’re gonna have one helluva summer. And I know just how to start it off!”
She grabs two brown longneck bottles from an ice chest near the fire, and with a flick of her fingers, the caps are flying off both.
“Cheers, Sloane!”
She clinks her beer against mine, and I love her for calling me Sloane instead of Mack. Thinking back, she never called me that. I guess it was just something my friends in Seattle did, and in some small way, I’m glad it stayed there.
Mia holds her bottle to the air, and everyone around the fire raises their own.
“Welcome home. And welcome to the start of our kick-ass summer before senior year, bitches!”
We all cheer, bottles raised, then drink.
And I fight the urge to spit mine out.
It tastes like feet. Or pee. Or someone peed on their feet and I’m drinking it. Bleh. I force down another swallow and cringe. I’ve had beer before. Okay, maybe only once. But that’s only because it tastes so awful.
Mia and I stand near the bonfire and watch the boys as they toss the football around. “So when were you gonna tell me about you and Shep?”
She shrugs and takes a sip of her beer. “It’s really not that big a deal.”
I give her a look that clearly says I don’t believe what she’s saying. “Really?”
She shoves me lightly and tries not to laugh. “I swear! We kinda hooked up at a party a couple weeks ago, and now we’re just seeing where things go. Besides, when have you known me to get all caught up in a relationship?” She clinks her bottle again with mine, and it occurs to me that Mia has never really been serious with a guy, at least not one I’ve known about. Then again, it’s not like I’m ever here long enough to find out all the details.
I see a few girls that I recognize and make my way over to say hello. After hugs and a quick fib about why my arm is in a cast—I don’t feel like sharing those details with everyone just yet—I sink to the sand next to Mia. I’m sitting next to two girls I don’t remember from last summer. They both seem younger than us, I’d guess between twelve or thirteen, so maybe that’s why we haven’t met.
“Hey, I’m Sloane.” I smile and wave a cast at the both of them.
Mia points between the two girls, “Slo, this is Luce and Ashley. Luce and her family moved here from LA a few days after you left last summer, and Ash is one of her friends.”
Ashley doesn’t hide the fact she’s staring at my cast. “What’s up with your hand?” She’s this little wisp of a thing with shiny, long black hair and alabaster-pale skin. Not that much of her skin is showing, because she’s clothed from head to toe, as if afraid of the sun.
“Catfight,” I say nonchalantly, and Luce’s eyes go wide.
“Really? No way!”
She’s super cute, wearing a baseball hat on backward with dark brown hair winging out from under the edges. Her mouth is full of metal, and the afternoon sun glimmers off her braces as she smiles. But it’s her eyes that capture my attention. They’re this intense pale blue in the center that blooms out to a deeper navy.
“Luce, she’s just pulling your leg,” Ashley says, rolling her eyes. Oh, if she only knew.
Luce raises her eyebrows, clearly hoping for more, and I can’t just leave her hanging.
“Nah, I broke it swimming the other day. Guess I miscalculated my turn.”
Mia gives me a look. I’ve been swimming since the age of two. I don’t miscalculate my turns. But these two don’t know that.
“Wish I could swim better,” Luce mumbles low under her breath.
“Yeah, you’d think that was a prerequisite in order to move here.” It’s another snide comment from Ashley. “I’m surprised they let you in.”
I fight the urge to flick her. Really hard. “You know, Luce, I give swim lessons. If you want, I’d be more than happy to teach you.”
Her eyes go wide again. “Really?”
“Really. Just shoot me a text, and we can figure out a good time.” We exchange numbers, and honestly, just the thought of being back in the pool has me in a much better mood.
Turning back to Mia, I fall into conversation with her about the last school year. We cover easy topics like how she and the entire girls’ volleyball team—along with the entire boys’ varsity baseball team—were almost suspended for a little Saturday night party involving an out-of-town neighbor’s pool.
I’m somehow on to my second beer, having no idea how I managed to choke down the first, but notice this one’s taking much less effort. The boys have started a game of football as the girls who were out playing chicken in the water come over to the fire. I know all three of them and stand to give hugs.
It feels good to be here. Like I somehow managed to escape all that happened at home in Seattle, while Mick and Tyler are stuck in that hell. Although that could also be the alcohol talking. But I hope it’s not.
From the corner of my eye, I see someone jogging down the beach. The football is launched in his direction and easily finds its way into his hands. He twirls the ball between his fingers with the ease of someone who’s done it a thousand times before. Whoever he is, he seems to already know everyone here, as he smiles and confidently shakes his head at the boys rushing toward him. Without hesitation, he expertly plants his foot, then bullets the football back in a perfect Hail Mary spiral, just before the boys tackle him to the sand.
And then it’s a messy pile of limbs everywhere, as one by one, they peel off to get up. He stands and dusts the sand out from his hair as Shep pretend jabs him in the stomach, which he quickly blocks. Slapping a few of them with high fives, he tugs his shirt off over his head and shakes it out. I stare, then look away, then stare again at the ripples of muscles that ease their way down the front of his stomach and disappear somewhere below the waistband of his swim trunks. Then I look away. Then back again. Because while I may be heartbroken, I’m definitely not dead.
“Who’s the Arm?” I ask Mia. “He’s new.”
The ball is thrown his way again, and I watch him catch it one-handed, then launch another perfect spiral some forty yards down the beach with ease.
“Oh, that’s Finn, Luce’s older brother. And if he’d finally say yes, he’d also be Punahou’s starting QB.” She whispers this as she watches me watch him. “Like that, do ya?”
Well, what’s not to like? As he shakes hands with my brother, I see he’s several inches taller than Penn. His hair is the identical dark brown that peeks out from under the baseball cap Luce wears, and I wonder if he has the same mesmerizing ice-blue eyes. His skin is a golden brown from plenty of days like today out in the sun, and a wicked tattoo races up one well-muscled bicep and over his shoulder. Normally I’m not a huge fan of ink, but there’s something about this one, wild and reckless.