Every Summer After(12)

By midsummer, a smattering of freckles dotted my nose, cheeks, and chest. As if they had somehow escaped my notice, Sam leaned in close to my face one day when we were lying on the raft, and said, “I guess SPF 45 wasn’t strong enough.”

“I guess not,” I growled. “And thanks for reminding me.”

“I don’t understand why you hate your freckles so much,” he said. “I like them.” I stared at him, unblinking.

“Seriously?” I asked.

Who in their right mind likes freckles?

“Yeaaaah.” He drew the word out and gave me a Why are you being so weird? look, which I chose to ignore.

“Swear on it?”

“Swear on what?” he asked, and I hesitated. “You said swear on it,” he explained. “What do you want me to swear on?”

“Umm . . .” I hadn’t meant it literally. I looked around, my eyes landing on his wrist. “Swear on our friendship bracelet.” His brows furrowed, but then he reached over and hooked his index finger under my bracelet, giving it a gentle tug.

“I swear,” he vowed. “Now you swear that you’ll drop this weird freckle obsession.” A small smile played on his lips, and I let out a little laugh before reaching over and curling my finger around his bracelet, tugging on it like he had.

“I swear.” I rolled my eyes, but secretly I was pleased. And I didn’t worry too much about my freckles after that.



* * *





HALLOWEEN IN AUGUST was the official name Sam and I gave to the week we devoted to bingeing the entire Halloween franchise. We had just put on the fourth movie when Charlie loped down the basement stairs in his boxers and launched himself over the couch between us. Charlie, I had learned, was always wearing a smile and rarely a shirt.

“Could you get any further away from her, Samuel?” he chuckled.

“Could you get any more naked, Charles?” Sam deadpanned.

Charlie’s face split into a toothy smile. “Sure!” he cried, jumping up and hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers.

I yelped and covered my eyes.

“Jesus, Charlie. Cut it out,” Sam yelled, his voice cracking.

Both the Florek boys liked to tease; whereas I was the object of Sam’s gentle ribbing, Sam was subjected to Charlie’s relentless digs about his scrawniness and sexual inexperience. Sam rarely talked back, and the only sign of his irritation was the red stain on his cheeks. At the lake, Charlie pushed Sam into the water at every possible chance, to the point that even I found it annoying. “He does it more when you’re around,” Sam told me one day.

Charlie laughed and plunked back down on the couch. He elbowed my side and said, “Your neck’s all blotchy, Pers.” He pulled my arms away from my face and put his hand over my knee and squeezed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” I glanced at Sam, but he was staring at Charlie’s hand on my leg.

We were interrupted by Sue calling us up for lunch. A platter of cheese and potato pierogies waited for us on the round table in the kitchen. It was a sunny space with cream cabinets, windows overlooking the lake, and a sliding glass door onto the deck. Sue stood at the sink in her denim cutoffs and a white T-shirt, her hair pulled back into her usual ponytail, washing up a large pot.

“Hi, Mrs. Florek,” I said, sitting down and helping myself to three massive dumplings. “Thanks for making lunch.”

She turned around from the sink. “Charlie, go put on some clothes. And you’re welcome, Percy—I know how much you like my pierogies.”

“I love them,” I said, and she gave me one of her toothy, dimpled smiles. Sam told me pierogies had been his dad’s favorite and Sue had stopped making them at home before I came around.

After I finished my serving, I piled more onto my plate along with a large dollop of sour cream.

“Sam, your girlfriend eats like a horse,” Charlie laughed. I winced at the g-word.

“Cut it out, Charlie,” Sue snapped. “Never comment on how much a woman eats, and don’t tease them. They’re too young for any of that, anyway.”

“Well, I’m not too young,” Charlie said, wiggling his eyebrows in my direction. “Want to trade up, Percy?”

“Charlie!” Sue barked.

“I’m just messing around,” he said and stood up to clear his plate, knocking his brother across the back of the head.

I tried to catch Sam’s eye, but he was scowling at Charlie, his face the color of a field tomato.



* * *





AS THE LAST week of summer vacation came to an end, I began dreading heading back to the city. I had dreams about going to school naked and finding Sam’s bracelet cut up into orange and pink pieces in my desk.

We were lying on the raft the afternoon before I was leaving. I had tried my best all day not to be a downer, but apparently I wasn’t doing a very good job because Sam kept asking if I was okay. Suddenly, he sat up and said, “You know what you need? One last boat ride.” The Floreks had a small 9.9 motor on the back of their rowboat that Sam had taught me how to drive.

I grabbed my book, and Sam gathered his rod and tackle box. We folded our towels across the benches and set off in our damp bathing suits and bare feet. I drove to a reedy bay, which Sam claimed was a good spot for fishing, and cut the engine. I’d been watching him cast off the front of the boat when he started talking.