Summer's End Page 3

  I growl under my breath and get back to scrubbing along, in hopes of getting out of here as soon as possible. I could back Stacey off, but I try to keep my cool for Susanna and Abby's benefit. They don't need any more trouble from Stacy and her family. “Well, you're right, Stacey. Cameron is a boy and he is my friend.” I taunt her a little using a tone as if I were talking to a toddler.

  “I know you two were out at the cliffs yesterday. You were hanging all over each other. There's no use in denying it, Regan. The apple doesn't fall too far from the family tree, does it?” So, that's what she was huddled up with her cronies about all evening. Cameron and I are in her crosshairs. “Aw, is Lane jealous?” Her fake sympathy foams out of the corner of her mouth. Most of her accusations about me and a boy have involved Lane. It never bothered Lane, and I've gotten used to it.

  “Cameron is my friend. Lane is my friend. Just like Haylee and Tobi are my friends. That's it. Not that it's any of your business,” I fume at her.

  She shuts off the hose and sucks in a breath. “Is Cameron your dirty little secret?” That punches me in the gut. “Nobody knows, do they?” She follows me to the office. I try to ignore her. She lets out an evil chortle. “Lane doesn't know.” She basks in what she thinks is something super juicy.

  I actively try to keep my body from being tense and rigid, and dismiss her the best I can. “There's nothing to know, Stacey.”

  “You can say what you want, but seeing is believing.” Her imperialistic tone leaves nothing but the taste of bile in my mouth.

  I say goodnight to Jimmy and Ms. Willis and walk back through the girls’ locker room to leave. I can hear her filling Jimmy in on her new gossip.

  “Ms. Willis, I forgot to check when I'm scheduled to work again. Would you look for me please?” I thought Stacey would shut her mouth when I came back, but she continues to vomit her lies while I'm standing here.

  “Saturday, second shift again,” Ms. Willis reports.

  “Thanks.” All Jimmy can do is glance back and forth between the floor, me, and the clock, as he shifts his weight from one leg to the other. My death stare doesn't slow Stacey's forked tongue one bit.

  I walk away with a storm whirling and thundering inside me. Gossip in this town is the one thing you can always count on. I can't wait to rid myself of this godforsaken town.

  “Regan, Regan wait up,” Stacey calls to me, running to catch up.

  I don't stop, don't slow down, don't look at her, or acknowledge her.

  “I thought you might want to see this.” She shoves her phone in my face.

  I skid to a stop and stare at the screen. My stomach wrenches. There on her latest-and-greatest trendy cell phone is a clear scene of a tree-covered hillside with a glimpse of a distant road winding up it and the platform of the cliffs. In the forefront, a girl in a swimsuit with wet, slicked-back long brown hair looks upward at a boy's face, laughing. She's holding his left hand, while her other hand is on his bare chest. His tanned body arches over hers wrapping his other arm around her waist. They're suspended in time a few feet away from the cliffs edge.

  “Who took this?”

  Batting her eyes innocently and wearing her evil grin, she sings, “Oh, a little birdie sent it to me.” Her wicked witch finger reaches over and swipes the screen to the next photo.

  The same couple. He has her scooped up in his arms, holding her close. Her hair floats in the wind like ribbons of silk wrapped around his side, caressing his back. Only this time her arm stretches up and around his neck, with fingers splayed wide against his skin.

  I shove the phone back at her and storm off. Stacey got what she wanted. Her trumpeted voice announces, “There's more where that came from.” I don't respond to her. Instead, I feverishly start mumbling endearments to her under my breath. Near the Jeep, my mumblings turn to low rumbles directed at this town. “This flea-bitten, no good,”— louder—” gossip-ridden, small minded,”—and louder—” back-stabbing, life-sucking, deceptive-loving, son-of-a-mule ridin'—”

  A low, sharp voice shoots out of the night, “You better watch your tongue, young lady.”

  “Aaah!” A high- pitched startle escapes my throat. I look up, with my arms swung out wide searching for the voice.

  He steps out of the shadow where he was leaning on a tree near the car, enjoying himself at my expense.

  “Lane! You trying to give me a heart-attack?” I lean over my knees to catch my breath. I should’ve recognized his voice, but I was totally unaware of anything but Stacey and her stupid pictures.

  He leans his palm against the hood, sporting a big fat grin on his face. “I’m saving you from yourself. What’re you ranting about? Stacey?”

  He surely saw her shoving that stupid phone in my face. “Of course. She's like that slimy algae that sucks all the oxygen out of the water in a pond, causing everything in it to die. She still spreads crap about my family. It's been two years since Susanna got pregnant with Abby. Stacey’s the epitome of what I hate about this town.” I breathe out a rumble of a sigh. “I can't wait to get away from here.” His eyes become dull, and he looks down to his feet at my last comment. “What are you doing here? Where's your truck?”

  “You wanted to talk after work, remember?” He looks up through his lashes to catch my eyes.

  What? “No, I said I didn't want to go to the diner after work.”

  “I asked you why, and you didn't answer me. Why are you dissin' your friends?” Lane knows when I'm lying. It must be my eyes or my body language—he's watching both.

  “Where's your truck?” I ask, trying to change the subject.

  “Oh, uh, I dropped it off at the garage earlier. There’s a crack in a rear spring.” He shifts, crossing his arms, leaning against the jeep. “They're going to replace it first thing tomorrow.”

  “How are you getting home tonight?”

  Sheepishly he admits, “I thought you might give me a ride.”

  I raise my eyebrows in surprise.

  “I can find another ride if you don't want to.” He shrugs, with his hands now in his pockets, kicking at the rocks in the parking lot.

  My brows drop, and I squint my eyes. “Geesh, what's with you? Of course, I will.” I shake my head and sigh. “I need to use your phone to call home and tell my mom, though. She's expecting me to come home after work tonight.” Eyes sparkling again, he hands me his phone, takes my keys, and gets in behind the steering wheel. With his phone to my ear, waiting for my mom to answer, I glower at his sparkly mood.

  “Get in. I'll drive while you talk. We'll be at the diner by the time you get off the phone.” I'm about to argue against going to the diner. Yesterday's hurtful comments are still fresh and raw, but Stacey's nastiness has trumped everything.

  We walk in the diner, and the gang is sitting at a table waiting for us.

  “I told you I'd drag her here kicking and screaming if I had to,” Lane croons, taking off his cap. They greet me as if nothing happened yesterday.

  After a while, Lane pops the question. “What was going on with Stacey tonight?”

  “You had to work with Stacey?” Tobi asks in an apologetic tone. Haylee gives me a sympathetic look, too.

  “What did the witch say this time?” Cameron asks between bites of his cheeseburger and slugs of chocolate milkshake.

  I take a deep breath. “It seems that someone took photographs of our outing at the cliffs yesterday.”

  Tobi cuts in. “What do you mean took pictures? There wasn't anyone there but us.” She looks confused, not sure where I'm going with this.

  Lane shrugs his shoulders. “Big deal. It's not like we were doing anything wrong.”

  “It may seem like a no big deal, but the two pictures Stacey showed me—it looks like Cameron and I are together. They're kind of compromising, you know.” The blood drains from my face leaving it soured and scrunched up like I just barfed.

  “It can't be that bad.” Lane's laid-back personality comes through. “You're overreacting because you disl
ike her so much.”

  “What did they show?” Cameron puts his burger down and sits up straight.

  I stare back at Cameron. “The first one shows us holding hands, with your arm around me and my hand on your chest.”

  Cameron shouts, “What!”—choking on his shake.

  “It looks like you’re pulling me close to you, leaning over me, like mashing bodies—like we're going to kiss or something.”

  “And the other picture?” Lane asks evenly.

  “It's just as bad.” I look down at my lap. “Cameron had me cradled in his arms. My arm was around his neck and his face close to mine, with my hair flying around.” Heat burns my cheeks and ears.

  “What was going on up there?” Lane's voice startles me. I turn to see he's glaring at Cameron.

  “We were all there together, Lane, remember?” Haylee speaks up.

  “Dude.” Cameron sputters, his hands up, palms toward Lane. “I don't know how they got those pictures, but that is not what was going on. I did pick her up. I tried to talk her into jumping in like that, but she started throwing a fit. So, I acted like I was going to throw her in. We finally just grabbed hands. You saw us when we jumped in.” Cameron looks to Haylee and then me. “I'd like to see those photos. How the hell did they come up with something like that?”

  “Stacey’s saying Cameron's my boyfriend.”

  “Snake.” Tobi's face is scrunched as if she's sick to her stomach, too.

  “Yeah. She asked me if Cam was my dirty little secret.” My stomach sours even more at that thought.

  “Hmm. I might be able to use this against you.” Cameron's usual orneriness is showing. He's already over it.

  “Ha, ha,” I reply dryly.

  It's quiet for a few minutes until Tobi slaps the table. “So, what’re we going to do about it?”

  “It's Stacey; everyone knows her family went postal when her brother knocked-up your cousin.”

  My blood pressure skyrockets. “Knocked-up? You sound just like them. Susanna loved him. And he loved her. You make it sound like she's ... like she's ....” I'd like to crawl over the table and slap him.

  “Whoa! Whoa!” Cam leans away from me, eyes wide. “I'm not saying that at all. He's a total jerk for letting his family smear her like that. I'm trying to say the only opinion that matters are those of us at this table. Ignore her.”

  “I'm not saying revenge, but find out who took the pictures and sent them to the biggest gossip in town.” Tobi's still all riled up.

  “Cameron's right. Ignore her.” Haylee says, looking at each of us before resting her lingering eyes on Cameron. She looks up at him batting her lashes.

  “Thank you!” Cameron bellows. He puts his arm around Haylee and hugs her to his chest and doesn't let go. “Someone agrees!” I hope they don't plan on breaking rule number three, but now isn't the time to discuss that.

  Tobi whispers, “Regan, you want to sleep over tonight?” She doesn't want me to be alone.

  “I'm giving Lane a ride home. But you can stay over at my place if you want.”

  “Let me text my mom to make sure it's okay with her,” she says, texting as she speaks.

  Cameron and Haylee have moved on from the subject of Stacey and the pictures. Lane's quiet. I'm quiet. Everyone else is chatty. Tobi's phone rings.

  Leaning toward Lane, I ask, “You ready to leave?” He nods, glancing at me once and then looks back toward Cameron and Haylee.

  Tobi's off the phone. “Ready to go?” I ask in a tone that implies it's more of a command.

  She nods. “We're leaving guys. See you later.”

  Lane stares at his phone while he winds through the tables and out the door.

  3

  In less than five minutes, we’re passing the city limits’ sign. The sign provides a bit of relief, allowing me to take a much-needed deep breath. Tobi is fiddling with the radio, trying to find a new song. She likes cranking it up, singing along with it. She always knows how to make me laugh. I look in the rear-view mirror at Lane. The light from the dash shows he's fighting a smile. He's been staring out the window or looking at his phone since we left the diner. He usually breaks my seriousness, too, but he's reserved tonight. He's not the fun-loving boy I grew up with. I think this town is starting to get to him.

  “Isn't that a great song?” Tobi pipes up. She bounces in her seat. “It makes me want to sing and dance—so fun and not all that I'm nothing without you crap lyrics.”

  “It has a catchy tune,” I agree. I'm feeling more upbeat than earlier. Even though I know it's all mental, there's something about wide open spaces that makes me feel like I can breathe deep when there's an elephant called gossip on my chest.

  “What do you think, Lane?” She turns around in her seat to look at him. “It was good, right? Kind of quirky, but good.”

  “Uh, it's not bad.” It's a generic statement, but lighthearted in its deliverance.

  “Not bad? Pssh.” She reaches back and slaps his shoulder. She leans her back against the dash so she can look at both of us. “It’s different, and it has this innocence to it that makes it so fun. A perfect mix between rock and pop.” She carries on, doing her best to sell us on the song, for miles. I'm making a real effort to crawl out of my funk. The light from Lane's phone catches my eye in the rear-view mirror. Pain flashes through his features and my heart plummets again. If Tobi wasn't in here, I'd stop and make him tell me what's wrong.

  Turning off the main road toward Lane's house, I give in to Tobi's taste in music. “You're right. I like it.” My ear-to-ear, on-the-verge-of-laughing, toothy smile, lets her know I'm sincere. Matching my smile, she looks back at Lane. I look in the mirror again, and though he does have a slight smile that touches his beautiful blue eyes, reflecting light from the dash, he has yet to make a full transition into having a good time. Tobi taunts him just enough to keep his mood transitioning.

  In another mile, I make a right onto a township road when Tobi yells, “Stop the car!”

  I brake hard nearly giving us whiplash—that is, if you can get whiplash at five miles per hour.

  “What is it?” I ask, heartbeat in my throat.

  Tobi looks back at Lane and says in a very serious tone, “I heard the waves.” Oh, she's good. My chest swells and my mood quickly turns. The curve of my lips is an involuntary action at the thought of what's to come.

  Lane's brows pull together. “What?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Tobi's tone is still serious. “They're calling your name, Lane.” She is so going to pull this off.

  “Lane, they're calling your name.” I play along with her brilliant scheme. Realization flutters over his face, smiling at the thought of what's to come.

  “Take off your shoes, Lane,” she commands in an authoritative voice. Already barefoot, she gets out and makes her way to the front of the Jeep—summoning him to join her, as she stares through the windshield.

  I hear a faint chuckle from the backseat and then Lane slips off his shoes and steps outside. He turns his cap backward and climbs on the hood where Tobi waits for him. They each place one bare foot against the lower portion of the windshield and the other on the hood, readying themselves to ride the road waves. My best friends—I love them—I need them, to survive the Stacey Fanigers of our small town.

  They yell the customary, “Go!” I begin to accelerate until they signal to stay the speed. I'm going nearly forty miles per hour when Lane yells. Tobi's a daredevil, a risk-taker, and I admire her for that. She doesn't do stupid—not too often, anyway—mostly gutsy. Tobi gives the kill sign, pulling her hand straight across her throat. I slow to a stop and they jump off on either side of the Jeep, laughing and carrying on. There are no houses along this road, so we don't need to worry about getting caught or disturbing folks.

  It's time to switch. My turn with Tobi. She wants to keep the left side. We stand, counting in unison, “One, two, three, go!” My eyes must be as wide as saucers, a rush of adrenaline flowing through my veins as Lane accelerates
. Tobi's laughing at me, and it’s so contagious I start giggling at her laughing at me. We try howling, but she can't even do that she's so out of breath. We don't get too far when Tobi gives the cut sign. She crumbles against the window, trying to catch her breath.

  “Regan, girl. You need a little help with your surfing skills. Especially your bad-ass surfer-girl look. You're killing me!” Tobi’s trying to catch her breath. “I'll drive. I can't take it anymore.” We hop off the hood.

  “What's wrong with my surfer-girl look?” I question her.

  She looks at Lane; they both burst out laughing. Lane struggles to spit out, “You've got the ‘I'm scared to death look,’ but you need a little work on the ‘bad-ass surfer-girl’ part.”

  Tobi orders, “All right, climb up, you two.” We both climb up. I move over to the left side, knowing Lane prefers the right.

  He takes my hand and clasps his fingers through mine, melding our hands together. Tobi revs the engine beneath us. Raising our entangled hands high in the air, he arches back and lets out a raw, animalistic howl. Tobi and I join him. Exhilarated, I look up at him, my mouth wide, heartbeat increasing, eyes anticipating movement of the vehicle. Lane's glowing face resembles what I'm feeling. Adrenalin bubbles, waiting to shoot through my veins.

  Air moves quickly back and forth across my lips, drying them out. I swipe my tongue across my lips and press them together. Gently, he pulls me toward him. I follow his motion and another jolt of adrenaline bolts through my body. He releases my fingers and places both of his hands on my hips—I freeze. His fingers press against my jean shorts, but the heat radiates to my skin underneath. A fog infiltrates my brain and my body grows weak, as if I climbed into a warm bath. He turns me facing away from him. I blink profusely to shake this fog.

  Still holding me, he steps forward—settling so close—placing us both on the middle of the Jeep. My breath catches and my spine stiffens at the same time. I look back over my shoulder at him frantically searching for an explanation for his actions. His eyes, once again crystalline, are eager and brilliant as he returns my inquiry. My intuition tells me this is a fight or flight moment. I turn back to steady my stance again and a nervous chuckle escapes.