One Hot Summer
I nearly choked on the last words, knowing I wouldn’t hear them back.
Try to put yourself in her position, my dad was always telling me. Give her time. She’s angry with God and with me. She’ll stop taking it out on you eventually.
Yeah right. Easy for him to say. He ran for the Hollywood hills, literally. My mom wasn’t warm and fuzzy before he left for Los Angeles with his assistant turned fiancée. Now she was downright toxic.
Once I was clear of her room, I closed her door just in time to hear the plate slam against it. I’d have to deal with that mess later because I also heard a horn honk outside.
“Let’s go, E,” I said, knocking on my brother’s bedroom door. “Camille’s here.”
Had to be Camille. Drew knew better than to honk and risk waking or upsetting my mother.
My brother opened his door, looking handsome in khaki cargo shorts and a royal blue collared shirt he only wore to church. I blinked, making sure I wasn’t losing my eyesight at seventeen. Typically, his wardrobe consisted of stained T-shirts and basketball shorts and I had to beg him to bathe.
“I’m ready.”
“Is that gel in your hair?” I’d never seen him so put together. “Is there more to wanting to go to this carnival than you’re telling me? Like a certain girl named Hailee Michaels?”
Ethan’s twelve-year-old face turned red. “No. It’s just a little mousse.”
Apparently, mousse was lower on the effort hierarchy.
“Ah, must not be for a girl then.”
I kept up with him the best I could. Eavesdropping when I had the opportunity because he hardly told me anything anymore. I knew it wouldn’t be long before his friends started experimenting with girls and drugs and alcohol. I prayed my dad was still going to handle those talks—even if they were FaceTimed from long distance.
“You look handsome, anyway. Eat your heart out, Hailee Michaels.” I ruffled his stiff moussed hair and locked up before we made our way to my friend’s maroon 4Runner.
As we approached, Camille glanced up from her phone and waved excitedly.
She squealed when we climbed in. “Hey, hey! Look at you in your cute shorts!”
“Thanks,” I mumbled, closing my door then checking to make sure Ethan buckled his seat belt. I definitely didn’t feel cute. Mom’s anger had seeped into my skin like sewage.
“Hey, hot stuff,” Camille greeted my brother before turning back me. “Seriously. You always look adorable at work, but those legs of yours are making me sexually confused.”
“Oh yeah, I’m a regular runway model.” Rolling my eyes, I leaned in for a hug.
Camille was older than me, having graduated from our small high school the previous year. Working toward her nursing degree, she took part-time classes at a community college and worked full-time at the coffee shop. She was really Drew’s friend, but we’d worked together all summer, so I had inherited her by association.
She gave me a brief but tight squeeze. “I missed you! I’m so glad you’re coming out tonight!”
It felt like overkill, but I appreciated her attempt. “You just saw me at work a few hours ago.”
I glanced at the black long-sleeved off-the-shoulder crop top and white skirt she’d paired with black lace up ankle boots. Then at my faded plum oversized V-neck shirt, ratty dark wash cut offs, and converse. Camille had a raven pixie cut that was highlighted with whatever suited her mood typically. Blonde and maroon today. She was gorgeous—petite and curvy and knew how to contour with the best of them. Beside her, without Drew as a buffer between us, I felt frumpy.
“I missed hanging out with you. Being at work is not the same thing,” she clarified.
“I missed hanging out, too.” I pointed to her vape-thingy in the center console. She said she’d quit, but the inside of her SUV smelled like a little too much of the Victoria’s Secret perfume she used to cover it up. “I thought you were going to quit vaping, because, and I quote, ‘popcorn lung is not cute.’”
She waved her hand while backing out of my driveway. “I did. Then me and Derek broke up again and I was so stressed, I was eating a ton, so I started vaping to lose the weight I put on.”
She was a size four at most. I wore an eight on a skinny day. If she needed to lose weight, then I was doomed. But since she’d been dating Derek, she was constantly criticizing herself. Derek the Douche, Drew and I called him. He used Camille for everything from a piece of ass to gas money.
“You know, there are plenty of ways to lose weight without getting cancer, right?”
“Noted, Mom,” she said half-heartedly. She glanced in the back to make sure Ethan had his headphones plugged into his iPod as usual. Confirming that he did, she leaned over a little. “So speaking of sexual confusion, tell me about this vow to lose your virginity. Drew says he’s screening candidates. Any idea who’s going to be the lucky fellow to finally get some?”
“I could kill Drew. I swear.”