I finally cave and read Baker’s notes. And I hate to say it,

but they’re pretty good. If I’m being totally honest with myself, it looks like

he’s put more research into these ideas than I did mine. Which just makes me

angry. How is this guy suddenly doing everything so much better than me? I

didn’t even know he existed until last week, and now he’s just everywhere doing

everything better than me.

We decide on the theme of alienation, mostly because it’s the one we both did the most

research on. And for the history project, we’re doing the Japanese internment

caps from the 1940s. It’s a PowerPoint presentation, and I’ve already managed

to do most of my slides. Baker and I are going to get together on Sunday

afternoon to finish both projects at the library. And seeing how our last

meeting went, I’m not exactly thrilled to have another. Hopefully we can just

bang it out and get it over with quickly.

Although I will admit that this whole Baker nonsense has done a pretty decent job of

distracting me from the Ollie-phant in the room. I am so anxious about the

party on Saturday night that I’ve pressed the dress Beth loaned me three

different times in anticipation. I’d do it a fourth time, but Beth told me if

her dress comes back with burn marks on it, she’ll never forgive me. So right

now it’s hanging in my closet, and its lingering wrinkles are mocking me.

I keep telling myself that this whole thing with Ollie is just two old friends getting

together and hanging out. But Beth tells me that she heard from Laurie Smythe,

who was told by Cheri George, who heard it from Ollie himself, that he wants to

get back together. My heart fills with hope at this news, and I feel like it’s

going to burst like a balloon. Ollie is single for the first time in months.

And I’m single. We’re both single. And we’re both getting together to hang out

at a party on a Saturday night. I keep fantasizing about him confessing that

he’s been in love with me since before we broke up, and that he misses me and

wants to get back together. And I remember how his lips always tasted like apples.

Probably since he literally eats an apple a day with his lunch. Not that I’ve

been paying attention.

The night of the party, I’m a nervous wreck. I keep redoing my hair and makeup, because I

feel like nothing I do looks right. The outfit Beth chose for me, the one that

looked perfect just a couple days ago, now looks like trash and makes me look

like a hippopotamus. My left eye has more eyeliner than my right, and no matter

how hard I try, I just cannot get them to look even. I finally give up with my

makeup, conceding to the fact that it’s going to be dark, and he probably won’t

even notice unless he gets up close. And God, I hope he gets up close. Way

close. Kissing close. Ugh, snap out it, Summer. We’re just friends.

I walk downstairs from my room and run into my mom. Her hair is pulled back in a messy

bun, and her cheeks have blotches of what looks like pink and green paint on

them. Lately, my mom always looks like the rainbow spit up all over her. She’s

a therapist at the local community college, but over the last several months

she’s rekindled her love of art. She spends most of her time these days at the

college taking art classes. I don’t know if this is a mid-life crisis thing or

just a way to spend more time with my stepdad, Bert. She met Bert fifteen years

ago when he was still teaching Introduction to English Literature. He was a

professor, and she was a student, but she never took any of his classes. They

met in a library. And they just clicked.

Now Bert has his doctorate and teaches English Literature with a focus on Romanticism.

And despite the fact that my mom is a therapist and should have a very logical

mind, she sees the world for all its wonders. Meanwhile, Bert sees the word for

all its stories. They’re seriously a match made in heaven.

“Oh, sorry mom,” I say after running into her.

She smiles at me. She has the personality of blown bubbles. Spontaneous and always making

people smile. “My, my, don’t we look lovely this evening. Hot date tonight?” I

blush and look at my feet, which is a dead giveaway. “Who’s the boy?” she asks,

and I hear a hint of teasing in her voice.

I take a breath, knowing she’s not going to like the answer, and then say, “Ollie

Thompson.” Her eyes widen in surprise. After our last breakup, I swore up and

down that we were totally finished. “I know, mom. Please spare me the lecture. It’s

not what you think it is. We’re just hanging out as friends.” I pause for a

second, waiting for her to say something. But when she doesn’t, I just sigh and

ask, “Do I look okay?”

She furrows her brow, lifts her finger up, and does a little twirl. “Spin for me.” I spin

around like a ballerina. “Is that Beth’s dress?” I nod, my face growing hot

again. “Hmm….”

I wrinkle my face. “Bad?”

“No, not bad. Just not… Summer. But I might have just the thing. Follow me.”

She walks down the hall to her bedroom and starts going through her closet. Some girls my

age might find it odd that my mother and I share clothes, but we’re both so

petite and have similar tastes in fashion. My mom, while being very artistic,

tends to go more towards the casual professional look. After searching through

her closet for a few seconds, she pulls out a navy blue Peter Pan collared

dress and hands it to me. I give it a quick once over and am somewhat surprised

to see that it’s stain-free.

“I just bought it,” she says, seeing the surprise on my face. “And I think this would look so

cute with a pair of black tights and your Mary Jane shoes.” We walk over to her

full-length mirror, and she holds the dress up against me like we’re in the

middle of a shopping spree. She’s definitely right. This is totally more me.

“You sure you don’t mind if I borrow it?” I ask her, surprised. I know she doesn’t like

Ollie after everything that happened between us. “You said you just bought it.

And, well… it’s for him.”

“Summer, I’m not going to attempt to control your love life,” she says, and I have to

fight a blush. “If you want to go out with Ollie Thompson, then it’s okay. Just

be careful. And be yourself.” My reflection grins at us in the mirror, and she

plants a quick kiss on my forehead. It’s hard to believe that, just a few days

ago, I was angry with her for forcing me to miss school last year. I hate that

she did it, and it definitely set me back a bit. But, in a way, I can

understand why.

“Thanks, momma,” I say as she pets my head. “I’m going to run and get changed. Be back out in a

sec.” She releases me, and I run into my room, throwing the outfit that Beth

loaned me in the laundry basket and sliding on the cute new dress of my mom’s.

Then I slide on a pair of black tights and my Mary Janes like she said, and

when I look at myself in the mirror, I see that she was right. I look way more

normal now than I did before. I run back into my mom’s room and do another

twirl for her. This time, she gives me a thumbs up. “Okay, I have to get

going,” I mutter quickly. “I’m already running late.”

“Okay, sweetie,” she says, sitting down on her bed and grinning from ear-to-ear.

“Knock ‘em dead.” I return her thumbs up with a friendly wave and run back down

the stairs. Ollie said the party was at Noel’s place, and that’s about half an

hour away. It’s already pretty late, so I really do need to hustle. I’m not

known for being late, and I’m not about to set a precedent for it right now.

Thankfully, traffic is light tonight, and I make it to the party right on time.

But even though I pull up just when Ollie said to, I’m surprised to see that

the party is already in full swing.

This is not my scene. Not even a little bit. I’ve only been to a handful of parties my

whole life, and they were all with Beth. She usually just walks into the house,

but she also is the one who usually has the invitation. I’m almost always the

plus one. So I’m not sure what to do in this situation. Do I ring the bell? Do

I just walk in? I’m so nervous as I walk up to Noel’s front door that I

actually consider getting back in the car and driving to Dairy Queen instead.

But before I get the chance, the door flies open, and Ollie is standing there waiting to greet me. He’s wearing

a tight blue t-shirt that matches his eyes and make the muscles in his arms look

really defined, as well as a pair of tan cargo shorts with sneakers and no

socks. Gross. His shoes must smell disgusting. But I’m pretty sure it’s a good

sign that he’s waiting for me at the door. I’ll have to ask Beth her opinion

later.

“Well, if isn’t my favorite season,” he says flirtatiously, and I bite my lip, fighting a

blush. Come on, Summer. Keep it together. He reaches out to me and grabs hold

of my hand. His palms are sweaty, and I’m already kind of uncomfortable with the

stickiness. I’ll have to remember to wash my hands before I eat anything. “Come

on in. The party’s just getting started. You haven’t missed anything yet.”

“Oh good,” I say, chuckling nervously. “For a minute there I thought I was actually going

to be late.”

He laughs. “Summer Lumen, late? Nah, no way. I don’t think it’s possible. You’re too

perfect.” It’s mid-October in North Idaho, but my face feels like the Fourth of

July. He looks me up and down for a second, and I feel like he’s checking me

out. And then his blue eyes light up like a firework, and he says, “Well come

on in. Let’s get this party started.”

The party smells like I expect it too. A mixture of stale beer, cologne, and a tiny hint

of sweat blasts me in the face as I walk in and see a large group of guys all

holding red solo cups filled with amber colored liquid. There are a few girls

standing off to the side of the room gabbing with each other, and I’m

disappointed to see that I don’t recognize any of them. Most of them are

cheerleaders or athletes from the girls’ teams. And I’m suddenly reminded how

few friends I actually have. I’m taking a mental note to help Beth more in her

classes so that she doesn’t get grounded again. I need her to help me maneuver

these sorts of situations.

Ollie is still holding my hand, which should be enough to push my anxiety ridden

thoughts out of my head. But I just feel so awkward, especially when Ollie

leaves me alone to go into the kitchen to grab me a drink. I start searching

the room, looking for someone who seems as awkward as I feel. And then I spot

him, standing off in the corner by himself, eyes cast downward to the floor,

sporting a fresh bruise on his right eye.

I debate with myself for a few seconds on whether or not I should walk over and say hi. Maybe

try to make up for my behavior in the school library the other day. I’m still

tossing the idea around when Ollie returns. He hands me a red solo cup with a

foamy amber colored liquid that I know is beer. I try not to wrinkle my nose,

but I despise the smell of beer, and the taste is just abhorrent. He stares at

me expectantly, and I know he’s waiting for me to take a drink. I press my lips

to the cup, staining it a light shade of pink, and take the tiniest of sips. It

tastes like a mixture of rotten apple juice and cat pee. Not that I know what

cat pee tastes like, but still… it’s what I imagine it would taste like. How do

people drink this stuff? I swallow quickly so that I don’t have to taste it for

too long, but the aftertaste is almost as bad as the initial taste. I close my

eyes, feeling the beer already trying to come back up. But I take a few

breaths, and it stays down.

Ollie doesn’t seem to notice my displeasure, and I don’t have a chance to let him

know that I don’t care for the drink before he’s called over by one of his

friends outside. He reaches for my hand, but this time I make sure to hold on

to my drink with two hands so he can’t take it. I don’t like the feeling of his

sweat on my skin. “Come on, let’s go outside,” he says, and he pulls me by the

arm with him to the backyard, where a couple guys are out rough housing by an

old kiddie playset that looks so rusted and dirty it’s like it’s a breeding

ground for Tetanus. Ollie starts laughing as he takes a huge gulp of his drink,

and I think that I should take another sip of my own, but I can’t handle it.

Just the smell of it makes me want to puke.

I’m searching around for a place to dump out my drink while Ollie is distracted

when a hand reaches out and pulls the drink away from me. I blink in confusion

and look up to find Baker standing beside me. He looks me in the eyes, and then

presses the side of the cup that still has my lipstick stain on it to his own

lips. In just a few gulps, he downs my drink, and then hands it back to me so

quickly that it’s like I never let it go to begin with.

“Thank you,” I mouth, gripping the cup in my hand. He doesn’t say anything. He just

winks at me and walks away, and before I can follow him, Ollie’s attention is

back on me. He pulls me into a quiet corner, and we talk softly, catching up

and telling each other stories about our summers. I try to come up with

interesting stories, but I’m too distracted by the act of kindness Baker just

did. I know most people would see it as rude to snatch someone’s drink out of

their hands like that, but I know that he saw the disgust on my face, and I

appreciate that he came to my rescue. Even if he is, technically, the enemy.

I spend the next hour watching Baker out of the corner of my eye while Ollie talks to me

about his school year so far. And I hate to say that I’m barely listening

anymore. I’m just so caught up in what Baker did. He must’ve been watching me

to notice how disgusted I was by the drink. Which means he was watching me.

I’m not really sure how I feel about this. Baker Scott is my number one rival.

He’s the guy who is singlehandedly ruining everything I’ve worked so hard for.

I hate him. I need to bring him down. But it’s going to be really hard to knock

him down a few pegs if he keeps being so goddamn nice to me.

Chapter Five

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