A Summer To Remember

Chapter Two

I walk to the old basement door and open it slowly, then creep down the stairs and almost die. Where my art studio once was is now where band posters and guitars and a bed is.
"Dad!" I scream. I find him out on the front porch, talking with a lady from who-knows-where. "Where is my art studio!"
"Anna-"
"Where is all my art I painted and took pictures and made for you!" I yell.
"Anna!" Dad says over me. "The room next to yours. Its got a great ocean view and it's beautiful."
"Who's sleeping downstairs?" I ask.
"Does it matter?" He asks.
"It does if I'm going to see them all summer!" I yell. "Who is it!"
"Him," Dad says. Just then a guy on a black motorcycle pulls into the driveway. He kills it, then takes off the helmet to show his short black hair all messed up. He runs his fingers through it, then sets the helmet on the seat and walks onto the porch, barely giving me a second glance. I play with my bracelets and walk inside.
"What's wrong now?" Teddy asks me. I collapse onto the couch and huff.
"I'm so bored here!" I groan. The Biker Boy walks in. "Help me."
"What am I supposed to do? Go make friends."
"I don't want to make friends." I say. He eyes me for a second, before going back outside for a second, then him and my dad go into the kitchen. "Come steal me."
"Call Jason, or Haley." She groans. Instead I add them to the call.
"Heyy!" Heley yells.
"Holy fuck... what time is it?" Jason groans.
"Too early to talk for you to talk, apparently." I say.
"Anna!" He says happily. "So you made it alright?"
"Yeah, but hey I gotta go, dads calling me. Love you all." I hang up and walk into the kitchen.
"What." I demand and cross my arms. He and Biker Dude look at me. B.D just grabs a bottle of Gin and takes a large drink.
"Kayden, no under age drinking while it's daylight." Dad says. "You know the rules.
"Fine," he says and sets it down. His voice is rough and deep and makes me squirm.
"This is my daughter, Anna." Dad says. "Anna, this is Kayden."
He glances at me, his eyes travel down, where I hope he's only reading my shirt and not something else. He smirks slightly, then goes out back.
"Weirdo." I mumble and pull out a Coke. "Anyway, dad I'm gonna grab my camera and go walking along the beach."
"Be back by dinner." He says. I run upstairs and retrieve my beauty, then jog out back. Kayden is sitting on the couch on the back porch on his phone, the Gin in his hand. He glances up at me, and then toys with his snake bites. I walk down the steps and head for the beach.

"That's pointless," a voice calls out. I turn and see a girl, same hair style but shorter and purple. She has on a loose black dress.
"What is?" I ask.
"Using a camera instead of a phone." She says.
"No it isn't," I retort. "Who are you, anyway?"
"My names Leslie. I live next door to you." She holds her hand out.
"Anna." I say and shake it. We walk together, and end up at my house.
"You here to stay?" She asks me. We sit on the front porch swing, and I notice the motorcycle is gone.
"Only the summer," I say. "I live in New York."
"Yeah, you've got the accent." She teases with a smile.
"You guys have the accent!" I retort. "With the "y'all" and the way you guys pronounce words is weird!"
"Guess we'll both have to get used to it, " she says. I nod slightly. Kayden pulls in, and walks up the proch steps and before he goes in, he faces me.
"Your dad left for the night," he goes in silently after that. I glance at Leslie, then we laugh.
"Guess I'll see ya tomorrow?" She asks.
"Definitely." I say. "I need a new swimsuit."

"Wake up." I hear and feel a shoe nudging my side. Converse, I mean. I look up and see Kayden, and the sun is threatening to rise in the distance.
"How long was I out here?" I ask. He shrugs, but helps me stand up.
"Just go in and sleep," he says over his shoulder as he walks ahead of me. I narrow my eyes and snarl.
What an asshole. I take the hood off my head and fix my shorts, then follow him inside.
"You'd think people that cut would cover their scars.." he mumbles and goes through dads liquor.
"They're old scars," I correct. "And I don't hide them because I've been a year clean."
"You don't say 'clean' you'd say clean if you were a druggie." He says to me. I lay my head down on the kitchen island and groan.
"You sound like my moms boyfriend!" I complain. "Do you ever think happy thoughts? Or at least have a friend?"
"I don't need friends," he says as he walks to the basement door. "As soon as I can I'm getting the hell outta here."

"Way to be so positive!" Leslie says with a smile. "He tried telling you theses things because he used to be way worse. What's that?"
"Oh, this?" I point to the scar that drags down my shin. "When I was twelve my mom and I got into a huge car wreck. I went into a coma for a few months, then woke up and didn't remember a thing. They had to do surgery on my shin and head because on my shin a metal piece went through it completely, then on my head a piece of glass almost shattered my skull."
"So you're pretty lucky to be alive today, huh." Leslie says as I lead her into the house.
"Yep," I nod. "But then after that I fell into a deep depression and went mute for a whole year. I'm still not used to my voice.." We walk into the kitchen where I grab us a few drinks.
"What the hell is he doing?" Leslie whispers. I follow her gaze and see a shirtless Kayden sitting out on the beach, barely getting wet.
"He's probably drunk," I say. "He stayed up all night, blasting music."
"I better go," she says, glancing at her phone. "Moms cooking Chinese and I gotta help. See ya!"
"Bye," I say wearily. Kayden stands up and walks inside, and pulls on his shirt.
"Come on," he says and walks to the door.
"Where are we going?" I ask, following him.
"Going out for pizza. I'm not cooking and uh..." he throws a glance at me. "You're not dirtying up the kitchen." I start to protest, then remember I can't cook.
I sit behind him and reach for something to grab on behind me, but only feel metal and the seat.
"Don't make it awkward," he tells me. He grabs my hands and puts them around his waist. I hide my face as he takes off down the road. "You don't talk much, do you?" I ask. He leans back in the chair and crosses his arms. "Talking is good for the soul."
"You sound like my mom," he mutters.
"Well, my moms a therapist." I try to make conversation.
"My moms a whore." He replys. "Are you done?"
"I was waiting for you," I snap. "No need to get grumpy." He grabs his jacket and walks out the door. I follow him.
"You two make a great couple," a lady says. "Dark clothing and punk gettup." I furrow my brow and walk past him.
"What the fuck are you doing?" He demands. He sits on the bike, but walks it along.
"Walking!" I yell. "Or is that too 'mom like' for you? Need me to your hand? Teach you how to ride a bike? Or how to spell??"
"I'm not leaving," he says. "Your dad will kick my ass if I do." I cross my arms and walk in silence, the salty air is the only company I want.