Summer of Us

Chapter 1

I'm not surprised that the neighborhood pool is still run amuck with kids. Pool toys line the deck, colorful towels with superheroes and cartoon characters are draped over sun-dyed lounge chairs, and the constant screams of some child playing with friends. The overflow of kids hanging out around here is what made me stop coming all those years ago, at that tween age where liking stuff was uncool and younger kids was even lamer.

"Stace, stay where I can see you!" I call after my younger step sister, who's all too eager to join the other younglings splashing around in the water. Her towel wings out behind her, a blur of pink and Hello Kitty print. She expertly weaves between moms lying out in the sun. Together they're a mass of sunburned skin, oil, and cellulite.

Up ahead, Stacy flings her towel and sherbet colored bag down, quickly stepping out of her flip flops. I grab her by the arm just before she escapes, and she squeals in retaliation.

"Not so fast, kid," I say. "Sunscreen, now."

"But I already put some on at home!" she whines, eyes darting to a group of children her age. They're loud and have just started up a game of Marco Polo in the deep end.

"I don't believe you for a second." I scoop up the aerosol bottle that has rolled right out of her overturned bag, then whip it like a dagger in her direction. "Stay still."

She makes a face, but wordlessly turns around so I can spray her back, arms, her legs. When she's doused and coughing, I reach for her bag to retrieve her arm floaties, and she shrieks, shoving my hands back into the bag.

"NO!" she shouts, and when she draws the attention of two women under an umbrella near the bathrooms, she lowers her voice. "I do not need floaties."

"Your mom says you do. She says you can't swim."

"I can swim just fine," she insists, pushing my hands down even harder, surprisingly strong for a kid. "I'm eight now, Ava. I don't need any damn floaties."

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise at her cussing. Maybe she thinks using bad words makes her sound big and bad, but in actuality it sounds ridiculous in her cotton candy-like timber.

"Whatever," I say, dropping the bag and her swimming assistance paraphernalia. "If you die, I'm telling your mom it's your fault."

"I won't," she says defiantly, looking relieved. She raises a hand to point at the lifeguard tower. "Besides, he'll watch me."

I don't see her stumble away from me and get into the pool, because my eyes are still stuck on the lifeguard. We had walked right past when we came in, and yet I hadn't noticed the guard on duty staring at me over the tops of his Ray Bans. He lifts his hand in a wave once he's caught, hair poking out the sides of the bright red hat placed atop his head.

"Hmm," I say, mentally debating whether I should say hi or not to my former friend. CJ Laurens and I had stopped being so many moons ago, when he got cool and I stayed a loser, and the last time I'd seen him he'd awkwardly given me a goodbye hug at graduation, like he felt bad for me. Or for what he did all those years ago, selling out and dumping all of his middle school friends for high school jocks and cheerleaders.

A reunion is inevitable, I guess, especially since they still lived in the house behind ours, next street over. Might as well get it over with. I set my stuff down on an oily striped chair and waltz over, holding up a hand when he tries to come down the ladder of the tower.

"Stay," I say boredly, using my free hand not carrying my water bottle to climb up onto one ledge of the chair. "No need to ignore your Lifeguard duties just for me."

"Heard you were coming back," he says, voice much deeper than the last time I'd heard it. In fact, everything about him is different. Like he's a dream version of himself, I know what he's supposed to look like, but all his features are a little off. He's leaner, his face is thinner, hair is lighter, the way it only gets when it's real sunny outside. "It's good to see you, Aves."