Amy
It was only the third week of summer and nothing was going right.
It had been five days since I tried apologizing to my mom for accusing her of guilt-tripping me, but she still wouldn’t talk to me. I wasn’t sure if she was still mad about my not telling her about the Art Institute, or if it was about my outburst at the store. Any time I said something, she ignored me. She would just sit at the kitchen table smoking one cigarette after another. The last time she had acted like this was when my dad left. Apparently I was getting the same treatment, since I was leaving too. Only, lucky for me, I got the treatment two months early. It didn’t change the fact that the pit in my stomach was steadily increasing. The more time passed, the less angry I became but the more helpless I felt. When my dad left, she went into a state of major depression, even though she’d said she wanted him gone. Now I felt like I was sending her into another spiral.
“Ames, she’ll come around,” my dad assured me on the phone. I squinted up at the sun, feeling it burn my face. Today I wasn’t in the mood to lifeguard. I wanted to swim. I wanted to get lost in the water, let it control me and not care about anything else.
“Do you want me to talk to her?” he suggested.
“No,” I said quickly, “that would make it worse.”
“She’ll get over it,” my dad said again. “She’s always been dramatic.”
A flicker of annoyance ran through me. My dad didn’t know how their divorce had affected her. She might have been dramatic, but the sudden lack of sympathy he had for her bothered me. I brushed it off and hung up after assuring him that I’d keep him posted on the situation.
John stayed out of it. For the first two nights he tried making conversation at the dinner table, but then he gave up when it didn’t work. After that, I just stopped coming home for dinner. I spent my evenings at Sarah’s house; her mom wasn’t around much, so we had the house to ourselves most of the time. Kelly would join when her house was too unbearable. We would sit there, trying to think of something to do. None of us realized that the summer before college would be so transitional and boring. We didn’t feel like hanging out with the old high school crowd, and we weren’t really old enough to sneak into places and find college boys to hang out with. That was more for Kelly and Sarah, but they bugged me about my anti-socialness so much that I went along with it.
I sighed, looking at all the families enjoying the beach. I felt a pang in my chest, feeling left out and thinking about my mom again. I couldn’t remember when was the last time we went to the beach together or if we even had.
“Hey,” a voice said, interrupting my thoughts. I looked down, startled to see Seth squinting up at me, and even more startled at his shirtless body.
“Hey.”
“Pretty day, huh?” he said looking around.
“Yeah, not bad.” I shrugged.
“Perfect for a swim.”
“I know,” I sighed. “Don’t rub it in.”
He laughed. “I wasn’t trying to.”
“Sure.”
He cleared his throat. “So, what time do you get off?”
His question took me off guard. “Around four, depending on when Paul shows up.”
Seth didn’t say anything right away, and I looked down, wondering if he was still there. I saw him look up, and he used his hand to shield his eyes.
“Okay, cool,” he said, walking away before I could ask why.
I stared after him, wondering what that was about. The whole stalker scenario crept back into my mind. He fit the part.
I shook my head. Stop it.
After my shift ended, I scanned the beach for Seth. I didn’t see him.
“Who are we looking for?” I heard Paul say behind me.
“No—” I started to say, but then saw Seth behind Paul walking toward us. “—body,” I finished.
Paul looked over his shoulder and kept his eyes on Seth as he passed us. Seth locked eyes with me and smiled before running toward the water. I looked after him. Paul cleared his throat, and I turned back around and looked at his raised eyebrows.
“What?” I asked accusingly.
“Nothing,” Paul said, grinning.
I rolled my eyes and shoved him.
I looked back at the water and could barely see Seth, who was trying to swim to my rock. Hah, not a chance. A small smile crept on my face, and I broke into a run. I ran toward the waves and, once in the water, I pushed myself, swimming as if I were in a race. The rush was overwhelming, the cold water piercing every vein in my body. I came up for air and saw Seth a few yards away. He hadn’t reached the rock yet. I went back to swimming, my body adjusting and gradually feeling warmth. I looked back up and my fingertips felt the rock. Home sweet home.
I shook my hair out of my face and saw Seth, looking surprised, staring at me.
“Hi,” I said, out of breath.
“Hey.” We stared at each other for a minute before a sly smile appeared on his face and a bad feeling sank in my stomach. He let go of the rock and started swimming toward me. I slowly crept away from him.
“Wha—” I started to say but didn’t get to finish because Seth pounced on me, sending me underwater. I fumbled back up for air, choking and spitting.
“I’m going to kill you!” I screamed over the waves. He laughed and disappeared underwater. I chased after him, grabbing his foot, which he kicked into my chest, sending me back gasping for air. I didn’t give up, though, and we chased each other back to the shore until we both lay exhausted, laughing and groaning from pain. I wasn’t going to be able to walk tomorrow. Or ever.
I attempted to sit up but fell back. I groaned and turned my head toward Seth. He lay there massaging his arm where I had kicked him. I noticed his toned shoulders as he sat up and caught a glimpse of a small tattoo on his right calf. It was too little for me to see exactly what it was, though. He caught me staring at him and shook his head.
“I hate you,” he said, laughing.
“You owe me a smoothie,” I told him, turning away. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him shift and then lean over me, blocking the sun.
“What?” I groaned.
“Let’s go.” He got up and continued looking down at me. I groaned again. He stayed where he was, and I could tell he was holding back a laugh. I took a deep breath and sat up.
The world was moving, and my head felt heavy.
“Did you kick me in the head?” I accused.
Seth laughed.
“This isn’t funny,” I mumbled.
“Oh, believe me,” he said, “it is.” He held out his hand and I glared at him. Though I’d only known this guy a week, I sensed he was the most obnoxious one I would ever meet.
I took his hand and he pulled me up. He grinned and I continued to glare at him. This, for some reason, was hilarious to him. Or maybe it was the way I was walking.
“Shut up,” I moaned, walking ahead of him.
I passed Paul and he laughed. What is up with these guys?
“What happened to you?”
“Paul,” I warned.
“She kicked me in the shin last week, and I almost drowned,” said a voice behind me.
“Ah,” Paul said, as if that made perfect sense.
Seth giggled like a ten-year-old and jogged toward the boardwalk. I glared after him.
Paul cleared his throat. “Karma’s a—”
“Paul,” I warned again, this time raising my voice over his.
“Okay, okay,” he said, quietly snickering. I dug through my bag and put on my cover-up dress. I winced in pain.
When I finally made it to the boardwalk, Seth appeared in front of me with a huge smoothie and an ice pack. I attempted to laugh, but it came out more like a huff.
“Thanks,” I said, sitting on a bench nearby. He sat next to me and took the ice pack out of my hand and put it on his own arm. After taking a couple of sips of my smoothie, I snatched the ice pack back, giving him another dirty look.
“You have to admit,” he said, “that was fun.”
“No.”
“Oh, come on,” he said, trying to steal my ice pack again.
“Nope.”
He smiled. “Just a little?”
“Maybe a very, very little,” I said, putting the ice pack on my head.
“I’ll walk you home.” He took my smoothie out of my hand.
I looked at him. “Okay.”
As we walked, he began to tell me more about himself, and I was surprised that the wall I expected him to have wasn’t there. He told me about his music and how much it meant to him. I stayed silent, just listening as he explained that he wanted to focus on songwriting and singing, but that he didn’t have much faith in getting a record deal. I reminded him about letting me hear his songs.
He hesitated. “I’ll think about it.”
“You owe me,” I told him.
We reached my house, and I stopped on the sidewalk.
“I do not.” He laughed. “We’re even now.”
I snorted. “This is not even.”
He grinned. “Whatever you say.”
I walked up the driveway and turned back when I reached the door. He stood staring at my house with an odd expression on his face. He saw me watching and waved before walking away.