Fifteenth Summer (10 page)

“The bad news,” Abbie said grimly, “is he blew me off for someone else—
two
someone elses—before I even got here.”

“Wait a minute,” Hannah said as she poured soda into plastic cups for us. “You don’t know that. You heard what that girl said. These people have all known each other forever. Those girls are probably just friends of his.”

“Well, how do you explain the fact that he didn’t invite me to the main event?” Abbie said, jabbing her thumb in the direction of a passing lantern that was about six feet tall and made to look like a tree, complete with a robin’s nest and a squirrel scampering up the trunk.

“You’re all confident and stuff,” I said. I couldn’t help but get that dig in. “Go and ask him!”

I gave her a little shove in Jason’s direction. Abbie glared at me, but then she slapped her remaining chips into my palm with a crunch and headed over.

Hannah and I grinned at each other.

“Okay,” she said. “One boy found. One to . . .”

Her voice trailed off as she spotted something—or rather, someone—at the other end of the refreshment table.

I followed her gaze to a boy pouring himself a big cup of sparkling water. He was dressed in khakis and a golf shirt, both of which were neat enough to give him a cute, preppy look but not so crisp as to make him look uptight.

His hair was blond and tidy. His face was sun-burnished and all-American, and he had earnest-looking blue eyes.

In other words he was
exactly
Hannah’s type.

“Is that—” I started to say. “Is he—”

Hannah didn’t answer me. She just pressed her cup into my hand and floated over to the boy.

“Liam?” she asked. Her tone of voice was perfect—mildly surprised and casually pleased to see him. You’d
never
guess that she’d been hoping for this moment for the past three weeks.

I tensed up as I watched the boy make eye contact with my
sister. I squinted as his face went from blank confusion to recognition to . . . delight.

Delight!

“Hannah, right?” he said. He gave her a quick hug, then stepped back to look at her admiringly. “You’re back!”

Hannah shrugged. I couldn’t see her face, but I didn’t have to. I knew what was flashing in her eyes: triumphant relief, hopeful swooning, and just a hint of fear.

After the Elias breakup, Hannah had been single all year. She’d said it was because she was cramming for all her AP courses and applying to colleges, but Abbie and I knew that had been a convenient excuse. The truth was, she’d been truly heartbroken and afraid of being hurt again.

But now Hannah was in the lovely limbo that was Bluepointe. She’d left LA—the scene of her romance with Elias—and she hadn’t yet arrived at U of C, where she’d be with the same people for the next four years.

This was her moment to have a romance that was lighthearted and fun.

I knew that if I’d come to this conclusion, Hannah would have arrived at it also. For all I knew, she’d made a whole PowerPoint presentation about it. My sister really
was
that analytical, even when it came to love.
Especially
when it came to love.

As I looked at Liam’s sweet, open face, I felt hopeful for Hannah too. He looked like the perfect summer fling—cute and uncomplicated. What’s more, after hugging her, Liam had let his hand linger on Hannah’s arm. It looked like he was definitely interested.

I wonder what that’s like?
I thought a little wistfully.
To have a
boy just grab you and hug you, instead of being all shy and proposing cryptic things like an anti–book club?

I popped one of Abbie’s chips into my mouth, took a swig of Hannah’s drink, and turned to face the party. Nobody seemed to take much notice of me. Clearly being lanternless at a lantern party immediately consigned you to the lowest social order.

I shoved the rest of the chips into my mouth, wondering how many minutes of this party I’d have to endure before I could drag Abbie and Hannah away.

I cast a sidelong glance at Hannah and Liam. His hand was no longer on her arm, but he was standing close to her—quite close—as they chatted. He poured her some sparkling water. He let his fingers linger on hers when he handed it to her.

I grimaced and grabbed another handful of chips. It was going to be a long night.

I
f I was a good and loyal sister, I wouldn’t have felt elated when I saw Abbie stalking toward me a few minutes later. She was so angry, you could practically see a cartoon scribble of smoke over her head.

Apparently Jason had turned out to be as jerky as he looked.

And I felt bad about that. I really did. But not as bad as I’d
been
feeling a moment earlier, when I’d been alone on the party’s sidelines, glaring at all the local kids with their ridiculously clever lanterns and annoying lifelong friendships.

It was also maddening watching Hannah and Liam as they visibly swooned over each other. Hannah was doing everything
right—chatting easily, laughing adorably, blushing at all the right moments. And she was clearly melting every time Liam touched her arm. Or her waist. Or her hand. (Come to think of it, Liam was a pretty handsy guy.)

It had all been very, very depressing.

So when Abbie flopped into a folding chair next to the one that I had miserably occupied for the past fifteen lonely minutes, I admit that I responded a little inappropriately.

“What happened?” I asked eagerly. “Was it really bad?”

Abbie glared at me.

“Of course it was bad!” she said. “Do I look like it was good? And why are
you
so happy?”

“I’m not,” I protested. I tried—hard—to wipe the relieved grin off my face. “So what happened?”

“I don’t know!” Abbie said through gritted teeth. “He seemed so interested at that bookstore. But just now he acted like he didn’t even know me. It was
humiliating
.”

It was better than I’d thought! Not only was she not going to ditch me again; she was probably going to insist that we leave the party.

“Ouch,” I said. “Tell me
everything
.”

“Wait,” Abbie said. “Are there any chips left?”

She got up and stomped over to the refreshment table. But before she could load up on junk food and return to me, one of the local girls dragged a folding chair to the center of the dock. She stood on it and waved her lantern—a Chinese-style globe decorated with tissue paper dragonflies.

“Everybody,” she screeched. “It’s time to light ’em up!”

Whoops and hollers rose up from every corner of the dock. Giggling, everyone scrambled for matchbooks and lighters. I perked up too. With all my sisters’ drama, I’d almost forgotten about the lanterns. I’d also failed to notice that the sky had gone black and the streetlights hanging over the dock had come on.

“Alex?” the girl shouted with one hand cupped around her mouth.

All heads swiveled toward a tall boy with an impish grin. He was fiddling with what looked like a fuse box, which was mounted on a pole at the dock entrance.

A moment later the lights went out.

“Whooo!” everyone shouted, except, of course, for me and probably Abbie. She’d disappeared in the darkness. Suddenly blind, I felt a little dizzy and gripped the seat of my chair.

“One!” the girl shouted.

There was a collective clicking noise as lighters sprang to life all over the dock. People laughed and shouted some more, waving their flames over their heads like they were at a stadium concert.

“Two!” This time the whole group chanted the number along with the leader. I gripped my chair a little harder and grinned. It was so exciting, I couldn’t help but join in on the final chant, even though I had no lantern to light and nobody to enjoy this with. The other kids’ fun was infectious.

“THREE!” we all shouted.

Lantern after lantern came to life!

There was a collective, quiet intake of breath as we absorbed the beauty of the lights.

The leader’s buggy globe went bright orange, wobbling high
above the crowd. Fred and Wilma seemed to dance with each other. The giant tree was dazzling, emanating light from every leaf. Even Jason’s stupid Darth Vader head looked amazing, with creepy yellow eyes glaring at the crowd.

At once everybody erupted into cheers.

“Whoo!” I joined in. I felt a little goofy and self-conscious jumping and clapping with everybody else, but then I brushed it off. Nobody here knew me. I was invisible to them. And for the moment, rather than being a bummer, that was a gift. I could geek out all I wanted to the perfect summery beauty of this moment without feeling embarrassed.

With my hands clasped I watched the lanterns float over my head. I gasped as I spotted the one shaped like an orange phoenix with wings outstretched, and smiled at the giant mason jar with little “fireflies” twinkling inside.

Somebody started the music back up. A ballad came on, sung by a woman with a sweet high voice, so breathy and wispy that you almost had to strain to hear her. A few couples started dancing, swaying lazily to the music. Everyone looked so pretty, almost ethereal, in the golden glow of the lanterns.

The moment was just . . . lovely. It made me swell up with happiness and feel a yearning pang all at once. It had been that way, ever since Granly had died. Every moment of joy had an ache around its edges. But when I looked at the dancing girls—this one gazing into her guy’s eyes, that one whispering into her partner’s ear, another laying her head on a boy’s shoulder—I realized that the ache might be for something different this time.

And then my gaze shifted to the dock entrance.

I don’t know what made me look, except that somehow I knew he was there.

Josh.

He was standing in the little gateway that led from the parking lot to the dock, holding on to the railing with one hand. He was wearing a short-sleeved button-down shirt in a retro checked print. His hair was glossy and neat, and his face had a recently scrubbed shine to it. In the glow of the lanterns, he looked . . . beautiful.

Or maybe he just looked that way because of the sweet, shy smile on his face. The one that seemed to be directed right at me.

I resisted the urge to turn around and make sure there wasn’t some other girl behind me, one with straighter hair and a fancy lantern.

I took a halting step forward.

So did Josh.

Several steps and what felt like way too many seconds later, we faced each other.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” I said. My voice sounded thin and fragile. I felt off balance, like the flickering of all those lantern candles was making my eyes go funny. I cleared my throat and gestured at his hands, which were empty.

“No lantern?” I asked.

“Um, no,” Josh said. “It was kind of a last-minute decision. To come here, I mean.”

“Oh,” I said. It seemed nosy to ask why, so I just said, “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

Josh’s eyes widened and he looked confused.

I gestured out to the party.

“The lanterns?” I asked. “Aren’t they amazing?”

“Oh, the
lanterns
,” Josh said. “Oh, yeah.”

He gazed out into the party as if he were noticing the spectacle for the first time. Which was weird. They were kind of hard to miss!

He returned his gaze to me.

“Yeah,” he agreed finally. “They’re pretty amazing.”

I smiled.

And he smiled.

And I started to wonder, even though it seemed crazy, if he had come here . . . just to see me.

A little voice in my head scoffed:
That’s impossible. He couldn’t have heard Abbie talking about it at Dog Ear, so he didn’t know you’d be here. In fact he was probably sure you wouldn’t be here, since this is just a local party.

And yet I had this feeling that if I gave Josh a lantern pop quiz—
Are there any
Star Wars
characters in the crowd? There’s one very tall lantern here. Is it a tree or a skyscraper?
—that he would fail miserably.

That’s when my smile grew bigger. And, yes, more confident.

I decided I should just come out and ask him. Enough with all the mystery. I would channel Abbie and just put it out there:
You like me, don’t you? And you don’t know how to say it any more than I do.

I opened my mouth.

“Josh?”

A petite, sporty-looking girl pressed out of the throng of
partiers. She had chic, close-cropped hair and white short-shorts that made her muscular, dark-skinned legs look amazing. A lantern that looked like a big, pink purse dangled from her bent arm.

“Ohmigod, the workaholic has come out of his cave,” the girl squealed.

She placed the hand that wasn’t holding a live flame on Josh’s arm and squeezed.

“Hi, Tori,” Josh said. Now he was back to looking sheepish, and I thought I saw a flush of color creep up his neck.

Wait, he’s blushing? What does
that
mean?

Tori turned to me and lowered her voice, like we were besties sharing a secret.

“He’s always like”—she dropped her voice an octave to imitate Josh—“ ‘Can’t make it. I have to
work
. A
gain!
’ Oh, it’s so boring!”

“Yeah, well.” Josh shrugged lamely.

Tori shot me a sidelong look and let out another one of those conspiratorial laughs. The only thing was, I didn’t know what we were conspiring about.

“So, how do you know Josh?” Tori asked bluntly.

“Dog Ear,” Josh and I said at the same time, which made for more blushing.

“Oh, of course,” Tori said. “Well, I’m the coxswain on his team.”

“Coxswain?” I said. I was completely baffled.

“You know, his crew team?” Tori raised her eyebrows.

I nodded slowly. “Oh, right . . . crew.”

“Crew is rowing,” Josh explained.

“Oh!” I said with a nervous laugh. “Yeah, of course. When in lake country, right?”

Oh my God, could I be more of a dork?

“We row on the river, actually,” Josh said. “The coxswain is the person who sits in the front and calls the rhythm.”

“Don’t forget, I steer, too!” Tori noted proudly. Then she turned to me. “I admit it. I like being able to shout orders at eight guys. They have no choice but to do my bidding.”