Every Summer After(23)

When we got back to the Floreks’, Sam and I swam out to the raft while Charlie went to get ready for his shift at the restaurant. As soon as we climbed on, Sam lay down with his hands behind his head and face to the sun, closing his eyes without a word.

What the hell?

He’d barely spoken to me since he caught me leering at his brother, and suddenly I was irrationally annoyed. I backed up to give myself a running start and cannonballed into the water next to where he was lying. His legs were covered in droplets when I emerged, but he hadn’t moved an inch.

“You’re quieter than usual,” I said, once I’d climbed back onto the raft, standing over him so water dripped onto his arm.

“Oh yeah?” His voice was dispassionate.

“Are you mad at me?” I glared at his eyelids.

“I’m not mad at you, Percy,” he said, slinging one arm over his face. Okaaaaay.

“Well, you seem kinda mad,” I barked. “Did I do something wrong?” No response. “I’m sorry for whatever it was,” I added with an edge of sarcasm. Because—reminder!—he was the one who rejected me.

Still nothing. Frustrated, I sat down and pulled the arm from his face. He squinted at me.

“Percy, I’m not. Seriously,” he said. And I could tell he meant it. I could also tell that something wasn’t right.

“Then what’s going on with you?”

He pulled his arm out of my hand and hoisted himself up, so that we were both sitting cross-legged across from each other, knees touching. He tilted his head just slightly.

“Was that your first kiss?” he asked.

I stammered at the sudden change of topic. Kissing was not something we had discussed before.

“The other day. Charlie?” he prodded.

I looked over my shoulder for an escape route out of this conversation. “Technically,” I murmured, still looking at the water behind me.

“Technically?”

I sighed and faced him again, cringing. “Do we have to talk about this? I know fourteen is old for a first kiss, but . . .”

“Charlie is such a dick,” he interrupted with unusual sharpness.

“It’s not a big deal,” I said quickly. “It’s just a kiss. It’s not like it matters or anything,” I lied.

“Your first kiss is a big deal, Percy.”

“Oh my god,” I groaned, looking down to where our knees were touching. “You sound like my mom.” I studied the light hair that sprinkled his shins and thighs.

“Do you have your period?”

My eyes popped up to his. “You can’t ask me that!” I screeched. He’d said it so casually, as if he’d asked Do you like butternut squash?

“Why not? Most girls menstruate around twelve. You’re fourteen,” he said matter-of-factly. I wanted to jump off the raft and never come up for air.

“I can’t believe you just said ‘menstruate,’?” I muttered, my neck burning.

My period had arrived smack-dab in the middle of a school day. I stared at the red stain on my floral underwear for a full minute before pulling Delilah into the bathroom stall. For as much as I had obsessed about getting my period, I had no idea what to do. She ran to her locker and brought back a zippered pouch with pads and long tubes wrapped in yellow paper. Tampons. I couldn’t believe she used them. She showed me how to put on the pad, then said, “You’re going to have to do something about these granny panties. You’re a woman now.”

“So, do you?” Sam asked again.

“Do you have wet dreams?” I snapped.

“I’m not telling you that,” he said, his cheeks turning a deep magenta.

I dug in. “Why not? You asked me about periods. I can’t ask you about wet dreams?”

“It’s not the same,” he said, and his eyes flashed to my chest. We stared at each other.

“I’ll answer your question if you’ll answer mine,” I hedged after several long seconds passed.

He studied me, his lips pressed together. “Swear on it?” he asked.

“I swear,” I promised and tugged on his bracelet.

“Yeah, I have wet dreams,” he said quickly. He didn’t even break eye contact.

“What do they feel like? Does it hurt?” The questions sprang from my lips without my say-so.

He smirked. “No, Percy, it doesn’t hurt.”

“I can’t imagine not having control of my body like that.”

Sam shrugged. “Girls don’t have control of their periods, either.”

“That’s true. I’d never thought about that.”

“But you have thought about wet dreams.” He eyed me closely.

“Well, they sound pretty gross,” I lied. “Though not as gross as periods.”

“Periods aren’t gross. They’re part of human biology, and they’re actually pretty cool if you think about it,” he said, his eyes wide with sincerity. “They’re basically the foundation of human life.” I gaped at him. I knew Sam was smart—I’d peeked at the report card that was tacked to the Floreks’ fridge—but sometimes he said things like Periods are the foundation of human life that made me feel years behind.

“You are such a nerd,” I scoffed. “Only you would say periods are cool, but believe me, they’re gross.”