Girls of Brackenhill(15)
“Why, though?” Hannah felt the weirdness, too, but it never scared her exactly. Nothing truly bad had ever happened. She just knew she never felt alone, even in her room at night. “It’s not new. It’s just . . . Brackenhill.”
“Everything feels different this year. Something’s happened.” Julia sighed and shook her head. She started to speak and thought better of it. “I just . . . it doesn’t give you the creeps? We could be murdered, and no one would ever know. We’re so isolated.”
“Who would murder us?” Hannah threw her hands in the air. The whole conversation was infuriating! Honestly. They lived in a fairy tale three months a year, and Julia wanted to throw it all away for what? Drama. They both had that at home in spades.
“Please, Han? Please?” Julia placed her hands on Hannah’s shoulders. “Look, I just want something different, okay? We’ll come back and do all the things I know you want to. Just you and me. It’ll be like old times. But wouldn’t it be fun to find other people our age? We could have friends. A summer crew. Who knows? Maybe there’s a cute guy hiding down in Rockwell.”
Julia had gone boy crazy sometime in the last year. Josh Fink was always hanging around, and Hannah watched her sister flirt with everyone from lifeguards at the Y to the grocery baggers. Frankly, it was gross.
“Aunt Fae will kill us, you know.” It was a last-ditch effort, but Julia just shot her a look and shrugged.
“Then we won’t tell her.”
Fine. They’d go.
At the pool, Julia shucked her jean shorts and T-shirt to reveal a black ruffled bikini Hannah had never seen before, showing off a new deep well of cleavage that Julia was always adjusting, scrutinizing. Hannah wore her two-year-old racer-back Speedo and spent half the day pulling it out of her bottom.
Julia spread the towel on the grass and adjusted her sunglasses. She leaned back on her elbows and crossed her ankles. Her oily skin glistened in the sunlight.
“Don’t you want SPF?” Hannah asked her, but Julia didn’t bother to answer. “Is this what we’re going to do? Lie here? Like . . . old ladies?”
Julia dug into the bag, produced a ten-dollar bill, and handed it to Hannah.
“Where’d you get this?” Hannah took it, eyeing her sister suspiciously.
Julia shrugged. “Aunt Fae’s purse. She won’t miss it. Now go get a soda or something, okay? You’re driving me crazy.”
Hannah ambled across the grass toward the snack pavilion and took her place in line. She surveyed the crowd: teenagers and small children being chased by harried parents. Girls lounging like Julia, skin plump and sparkling in the midday sun. Huddled groups of girls being eyed by a line of four boys. One of them laughed and tossed a blue playground ball in their direction. The girl squealed and batted the ball back, but it rolled and came to rest at Hannah’s feet. Gingerly, she kicked it with her toe until it rolled back down the hill.
“Hiya, can I help you?”
She was next. She surveyed the board above her head. “Um, can I get a Coke and an order of fries?”
“Sure. Pepsi okay?” The boy behind the counter had reddish-brown curly hair and an impish smile.
“Yeah, that’s fine.” Hannah didn’t smile back. She moved to the side and let the boy take other orders. After a few moments, the wooden screen door on the side swung open, and the boy emerged holding a paper boat filled with fries and a fountain soda.
“Here ya go!” He was cheerier than he should have been. He was working at the hottest place at the pool, for God’s sake. He held the boat out to her, and as she brought her hand up to retrieve it, her fingertips brushed his hand. A weird little jolt zinged up her arm, and the boy suddenly let go. Fries scattered at her feet. She managed to hold on to the soda but jumped back, the liquid sloshing out all over the front of her old red bathing suit.
“Oh, what the hell, I’m so sorry.” The boy bent down to pick up the paper bowl and runaway fries. Hannah knelt beside him. “You know, it’s not the first time I’ve done that. Not even the first time this week.” He gave her a funny smile, half-raised on his left side, and she realized suddenly that he was older. Sixteen or seventeen, maybe? But still.
“You’d think they’d fire you,” Hannah grumbled but grinned back, teasing. She could flirt too. Take that, Julia.
“Nah, not too many people want to work the fryers on the hottest days of the year with a pool only feet away. Besides, then they’d have to give me a job as a lifeguard.” He pointed to his arm, pale and freckled. “Everyone would go blind. The place would go out of business.”
“Oooor else they could just, I don’t know, fire you for good?” They were both still kneeling, teasing.
“Nah, my dad’s the owner,” the boy said, standing up. He dusted off his shorts and raised the boat of dirty fries in her direction. “Take a seat. I’ll be right back, okay?” Hannah sat at one of ten wooden picnic tables under the pavilion.
He returned five minutes later with a new, hot order of fries and a Popsicle for her trouble. He parked next to her, straddling the bench.
“Can someone really own the public pool?” Hannah asked, unwrapping the ice cream first and taking a bite. Creamsicle was her favorite. How did he know?
“Sure. I think a lot of them are owned. It’s a business like anything else.” He paused and plucked a fry from her plate. “I’m Wyatt, by the way.”