Every Summer After(45)
“Says the guy who practically runs a marathon every morning,” I panted.
“Exactly.” Sam grinned. “I should know.” He passed me a cold bottle of water, and I chugged half, handing the rest to him to finish off. The wind was starting to pick up and the air smelled thick.
“Looks like it could finally rain,” I said, watching the breeze dance through the leaves of a poplar.
“That’s the rumor. Mom says a big storm is supposed to hit,” Sam said, wrapping his arms around his knees. “Too bad she needs me to work an extra shift, otherwise we could do a scary movie night.”
“Blair Witch!” I suggested.
“Totally. How have we not done that one yet?”
“Well, I have, many times,” I said.
“Obviously.”
“But never with you,” I added.
“A huge oversight,” Sam replied.
“The hugest.” We grinned.
I was almost catatonic by the time I got back to the cottage, my belly bloated from one of Sue’s epic breakfasts and my body completely drained. I passed out on the couch and didn’t wake up until well after five, which meant Sam would already be at the Tavern, whereas I had the night off. My parents left me home alone all the time in the city, but they were always around when we were at the lake. I had fallen asleep so quickly the night before that it had barely registered that they were gone. Now I wasn’t quite sure what to do with myself.
Groggy, I shuffled into the bathroom and splashed water on my face, then slurped the cold liquid from my hands. I headed down to the lake with a notebook and sat on one of the Muskoka chairs at the foot of the dock. The wind had picked up since morning and was throwing whitecaps over the gray water. I jotted down a few ideas for my next story, but soon raindrops began to fall on the pages, and I was chased inside.
I boiled a hot dog for dinner and ate it with some of the rice and bean salad Mom had left. Bored, I riffled through our DVD collection until I found The Blair Witch Project.
It was a terrible choice. It scared me every single time I’d seen it, and I had never watched it alone. In a cabin. In the woods. On a dark and stormy night. Halfway through, I paused the movie, locked the doors, and did a sweep of the cottage, checking the closets, beneath the beds, and behind the shower curtain. Just as I pressed play again, a loud crack of thunder shook the cottage, and lightning quickly followed. With every flash, I expected to see a gruesome face pressed up against the back door window. By the time the movie ended, the storm had passed, but it was dark and rainy, and I was totally freaking out.
I made myself popcorn and put on Uncle Buck, hoping for a comedic distraction, but not even John Candy and Macaulay Culkin could calm me down. The wind wasn’t helping things, sending bits of bark and small branches flying onto the roof in a symphony of scratches and thunks. And, wow, I had never noticed how much the cottage creaked. It was just after eleven when I broke down and called the Floreks’ number.
The phone had barely rung when Sam picked up.
“Hey, sorry to call so late, but I’m kind of losing it here—the wind is making weird noises, and I just watched Blair Witch, which I guess was pretty stupid. There’s like no way I can sleep here by myself tonight. Can I stay over there?”
“You can stay over me. You can stay under me,” the voice on the other end drawled. “Any way you want, Pers.”
“Charlie?” I asked.
“The one and only,” he replied. “Disappointed?”
“Not at all. I’ve never been more turned on,” I deadpanned.
“You’re a cruel woman, Percy Fraser. Let me hang up on the other line, and I’ll get Sam for you.”
Sam was at the door in less than five minutes, standing under an umbrella. I thanked him for walking over and apologized for being so childish.
“I don’t mind, Percy,” he said, then took the tote I’d thrown my toothbrush and pj’s into.
He rolled his eyes when I asked if he’d brought a flashlight, because when had he ever needed a flashlight, and as we set out, I linked my arm through his, staying as close to him as possible. I almost screamed when I heard rustling in the bush and then the snap of a twig, and I wrapped my free arm around Sam’s waist, gluing myself to his side.
“It’s probably a raccoon or a porcupine,” he said, laughing, but I kept a tight grip on him until we stepped onto the porch.
“We’ll have to be quiet,” he whispered as we crept inside. “Mom’s already asleep. Busy night.”
“You’re not going to lock that?” I pointed to the door behind us as Sam moved toward the kitchen.
“We never lock it. Not even when we go out,” he said, then seeing the sheer terror in my eyes, walked back over and turned the dead bolt.
The main floor was in darkness, and the faint sound of Charlie watching TV in the basement drifted up the stairs. Sam poured two glasses of water, and I studied the shadows that filled the hollows beneath his cheekbones. I couldn’t remember when they had gotten so prominent.
“I’ll take the couch down here, and you can sleep in my bed,” he said, handing me a glass.
“I really don’t want to sleep alone,” I whispered. “Can’t we both just sleep in your room?”
Sam ran his hand through his hair, thinking. “Yeah. We have an air mattress somewhere in the basement. Takes a while to inflate, but I’ll go get it.” It was late, and I didn’t want to put Sam out more than I already had, but when I suggested we share his bed, he sputtered.