Endless Summer

“Let me go!” I hollered, not looking at him, still leaning toward the water and trying to struggle free. e flashlight clattered to the dock. “I saw it. I can still get it. Let me go!”

“You’re not supposed to get your stitches wet,” he said.

I wanted to point out that he would not know this, since he didn’t stick around the emergency room long enough to hear what the doctor had to say. en I remembered Adam had a lot more experience with stitches than I did.

And then, out the corner of my eye, I saw a blur, and Adam was gone. An enormous splash backed everyone away from the water. Adam and Sean flailed in the lake.

“Get their parents,” I said over my shoulder. If Cameron or McGillicuddy had been there, they would have stepped forward before now. And Sean’s friends and Adam’s friends never intervened, like fights between brothers were somehow sacred. I watched Adam and Sean in the water to make sure neither of them went down for too long—

though there wasn’t much I could have done if they had. Nothing seemed to be happening behind me. e crowd watched the show as attentively as I did. I turned around and screamed, “Go get their parents!” Three people ran up the dock and through the yard.

I jumped out of the way as one of the boys hauled himself up the ladder. He snapped his legs up before the other boy could drag him back into the lake. But then the second boy grabbed the top of the ladder, swung himself onto the dock, and tackled the first.

ere didn’t seem much point in explaining to Adam that Sean had only attacked him because Sean and I were pretending to be a couple and trying to make Adam jealous. After one of them had hit the other, it didn’t really matter why anymore, at least not to them. I bent as close to them as I dared and hollered, “I’ve already told your parents.”

“Sean, stop,” came Rachel’s voice from the crowd, ever-helpful.

I expected them to roll toward me. I’d have to jump out of the way as they wrestled on the dock and caught each other in various choke holds. Instead, the boy on top punched the one on bottom, a pop to the nose. The fight came to an abrupt stop.

The crowd gasped. They murmured, “No, that’s Adam on top. Adam kicked Sean’s ass.”

Adam sat on Sean’s chest, his right fist clenching and unclenching. I couldn’t see his face or Sean’s in the dim light, but I could tell from the way they held themselves that they were giving each other the evil eye. And I knew I shouldn’t be worried anymore about pulling Sean off Adam, protecting Adam from Sean.

Adam said so quietly I could hardly hear him over the waves lapping against the dock, “Don’t you ever hit me again.” The murmur up the hill increased, and the crowd in the yard began to part. Mr. Vader was coming. But it was Mrs. Vader who came ru

“Sean!” she called when she hadn’t even hit the dock yet. “Sean, get off him!” As the crowd slowed her down, she said, “You two have got to stop doing this. You’re going to kill each other.” She made it through the wall of people and stopped short.

“I’m through,” Adam said. He eased off Sean and stood up.

Sean sat up, looking down. His nose streamed blood.

Mr. Vader said behind us, “Hey. Is that my beer?”

I’d seen enough. I pushed my way through the crowd, up the pier, into the grass. Knots of people followed me with their eyes, turning as I passed. Cameron, McGillicuddy, and Tammy jogged down from the house. Tammy called to me. I shook my head and kept going. ey didn’t come toward me. ey must have seen the expression on my face.

When I reached the darkest shadows of the trees between our houses, I looked back. Mrs. Vader stood in front of Adam in their yard, with her hands on her hips. He shivered in his soaked clothes. She put out her arms for him. He walked into her embrace and put his head down on her shoulder. She rubbed his back to warm him.

Furious as I was with him, I hoped he didn’t get in too much trouble—about the beer, and especially about the fight with Sean. I hoped his parents understood this fight was inevitable, with or without Rachel and me and MTV reality shows. And that tonight was the first night of the rest of his life.

It was not, however, the first night of the rest of my life. It was night 5,843, and felt like it.

I stepped into the kitchen and closed the door. I dripped all over the floor. Dad freaked out about stuff like this. Someone might slip! I’d have to find a towel in the laundry room and drag it behind me all the way to the den—unless, of course, he heard me come in and called to me to ask me how my night went. en I’d have an excuse to skip the towel. I could sit in his lap, even though I was soaked. I could break down, and he could tell me what to do about Adam.

He didn’t call to me. Maybe he hadn’t heard me in my bare feet. I opened and closed some kitchen drawers gratuitously. Still he didn’t call to me.

I gave up, got a towel out of the laundry room, and scooted it across the floor with my feet, catching the water that dripped from me. As I headed through the den to the stairs up to my room, I saw Dad. He’d fallen asleep on the sofa in front of the TV, cell phone gripped on his chest. I was on my own.

I walked up the stairs, which took more energy than usual. There were a lot of stairs. Thirteen, to be exact: 1. Made

2. You

3. Change

4. From

5. What

6. You

7. Were

8. In

9. To

10. A

11. First

12. Class

13. Bitch

By the time I got to the top, I was pooped, and not furious anymore. Confused and hurt about Tammy. Hurt and sad about Adam.

A long time passed before I realized I was standing in my dark room, listening to the laughter and music from the party outside.

Closing my door behind me, I slid my wet clothes off. Oh God, dead wet cell phone in my skirt pocket. ere went my birthday money from my grandparents. I didn’t need to turn on the light to find my mother’s sweet sixteen disco dress in my closet, because it practically glowed in the dark. I slipped it on and walked to the window.

Sean and Adam lay on that strip of grass between our yards where they liked to fight each other because their mom couldn’t see them from their house. Adam and Sean had finally killed each other! No—Adam’s arms were behind his head. Sean’s legs were bent, with one foot propped casually on the opposite knee. ey watched the stars, talking.

Talking!

Adam sat up. He wore his sweatshirt with his football number on the back, the one I’d borrowed last weekend. He shook a little like he was shivering again. He stuck his hands in his pockets. He pulled out one hand and looked at it, then looked over his shoulder at my house. He’d found my eyelash comb.

Maybe he saw my dress glowing in the moonlight, because he turned all the way around to stare. Now Sean sat up and turned around, too. Or maybe it was Sean and then Adam. I couldn’t tell them apart in the dark. It didn’t matter now, anyway. Bwa-ha-ha, I hope I creeped them out like Miss Havisham ( Great Expectations, eighth grade English).

But one of them was Adam. Tingles crept up my arms and across my chest at the thought of him watching me. is would have to stop. Pining after Sean had been bad enough. At least I’d always thought pining after Sean would have a happy ending. I knew no good would come from pining after Adam. Plus it was a lot more real to me now, not a cartoon relationship lost but a real boyfriend, a real friend. I choked back a sob as my throat closed up.

I watched him for a little longer. Yes, I could tell him from Sean, even at a distance, even in the dark. e way he moved his head, the way he tapped his fingers on the ground in that fidget I’d fallen in love with. That could have been me instead of Sean, sitting with Adam in the dark. But there wasn’t a way to fix this.