“Ellery Prep sells boxers. I got these for Christmas from Mom. They don’t confiscate them when you’re kicked out.”
Jase is still looking at me quizzically. I scrounge in the back of the Bug.
“We’ll meet you at the shore after you change,” Jase says. “C’mon Tim.”
Rustling through the available suits in the trunk, buried under lacrosse sticks and soccer balls, Gatorade bottles and sports bar wrappers, I get what Jase means. The only matching pieces are these two tiny bits of black fake leather. Other than that, there’s nothing but a few pairs of Jase’s Stony Bay soccer team shorts and what looks like a one-piece bathing suit for Patsy. That’s probably Alice’s too.
So I put on the black leatherish stuff, grab a towel, and try to march nonchalantly onto the beach.
Not exactly possible.
Jase looks at me, blushes, looks again, and backs into deeper water. Tim looks at me and says, “Holy fuckin’ Catgirl!”
“It’s Alice’s suit,” I say. “Let’s swim.”
The rest of the day is just lazy. Jase, Tim, and I lie on the beach, get hot dogs at the Clam Shack, and lie around some more. Finally, we go back to the Garretts’ and hang out by the pool.
George snuggles up next to me. “I like your bathing suit, Samantha. But you kind of look like a vampire. Have you ever seen a vampire bat? Did you know that they don’t really get tangled in your hair? That’s just a myth. They’re really very nice. They only drink from cows and stuff. But blood, not milk.”
“Nope, I’ve never seen one,” I answer. “I’m in no hurry to, actually, however nice they may be.”
The back door slams and Andy drifts out onto the pool deck, beaming. She collapses against the fence, closing her eyes dramatically. “It finally happened.”
“Kyle Comstock?” I ask.
“Yes! He finally kissed me. And it was”—she pauses—“actually kind of painful? He’s got braces too. But it was still wonderful. He did it right in front of everyone too. After the parade? I’m going to remember it for all eternity. It’ll be my last thought as my eyes close for the final time. Then he kissed me again after we got ice cream and then when—”
“We get the picture,” Jase interrupts. “I’m happy for you, Andy.”
“Now what, though?” she asks, looking anxious. “Do you think he’ll use his tongue next time?”
“He didn’t this time?” Tim’s incredulous. “Christ.”
“Well, no. Was he supposed to? Did we do it wrong?”
“Ands, there aren’t any rules about this sort of thing.” Jase stretches out on his back on the towel next to me and George.
“There really should be,” Andy argues. “’Cause how on earth are you supposed to figure it all out? That was nothing like kissing my bedpost. Or the bathroom mirror.”
Both Jase and Tim burst out laughing.
“No tongue there,” Jase mutters.
“Or only your own. And solo’s never as good,” laughs Tim.
“Why would you kiss your bedpost, Andy? That’s kinda yuck.” George wrinkles his nose. Andy gives all three boys an annoyed look and floats back into the house.
Tim reaches for his jacket, taking his cigarettes out of the inside pocket and tapping one into his palm. George’s eyes get round.
“Is that a cigarette? Are those cigarettes?”
Tim looks a bit nonplussed. “Sure. D’you mind?”
“You’ll die if you smoke those. Your lungs get black and shrivel up. Then you die.” George is suddenly near tears. “Don’t die. I don’t wanna see you die. I saw Jase’s hamster die and it got all stiff and its eyes stayed open but they weren’t shiny anymore.”
Tim’s face goes blank. He glances over at Jase as if for instruction. Jase just gazes back at him.
“Hell,” Tim says, and shoves the cigarette back in. He stands up, stalks to the pool, and dives in deep.
George turns to me. “What’s that mean? Does that mean no or yes?”
Mrs. Garrett sticks her head out the back door. “Jase—the garbage disposal broke again. Can you help me out?”
The Garretts have fireworks, thanks, Mrs. Garrett tells me, to her brother Hank, who lives down south and ships them up illegally every year. So we’re all on the Garretts’ lawn as the summer sky darkens.
“Jack!” Mrs. Garrett calls. “Please don’t burn off your hand! Why do I need to say this? I tell you this every year.”
“If I do,” Mr. Garrett says, placing some fireworks in a circle of stones, “I’m suing your brother. He never sends instructions. Light up, Jase!”