Under the Summer Stars

Jack

Dear Dad, I began the letter, but ended up crossing it out. That sounds stupid, he was always too tough for a dear.

Dad, I smiled. That's better.

I started to write.

I'm not really sure what to write about to you, so I think I'm just going to start out with why I'm doing this.

Mom said writing to you would be a good way to keep in touch. If only she would tell me where you were I could actually send these to you. She says she's going to drop them off for me, but I personally think it would be better if I gave them to you. But, I mean, as long as you're getting them, I guess.

So, what she wanted me to do was write about my summer, and since this is the first night of it, I guess I'll start tomorrow.

Until then, Dad.

Jack

That seems good, right? I hope so.

I put the pen I was writing with in the cabinet of my desk and stood up to stretch. I glanced at the clock and was surprised that it was already two in the morning.

The letter wasn't keeping me up. The fact that I had to write it was.

This is so weird, where is he? Why would he just leave, and out of nowhere? Is he okay?

I decided to try asking Amy; she's good with this kind of stuff and, well, she's got the same problem as I do.

"Ame?" I knocked on her door. "Can I come in?"

She put down her book she was reading and sat up in her bed, moving her legs over for me to sit down. "What's up, Jack?"

"Just out of curiosity," I said. "Would you by any chance know where Dad is? Or if he's okay?"

"Mom tells me he's better off now," she shrugged. "Whatever that means."

"She knows where he is," I said as I absentmindedly leaned back so I was laying in her bed next to her. "And for some reason she won't tell us. I just really wanna find him, is all."

"Maybe he doesn't want to be found," she said as she laid next to me. "Maybe that's why he left without reason."

"But Dad's a good guy," I said. "He wouldn't do this."

"We must not've known him that well, then."

"I guess not," I said as I slurred sleepily, rolling over on my side, and drifting off on the other side of Amy's king-sized bed.

•
•
•

Dad,

I woke up this morning and checked the clock. Somehow Amy and I managed to sleep in until 2:00 in the afternoon. Mom was at work, so we probably would've slept in longer if it weren't for Chris shaking me awake.

I didn't exactly know what we had in store for today, but it wasn't until Chris smacked me in the back of the leg with a wet towel did I realize he wanted to go to the beach.

Remember when you used to take us to the beach as kids? Amy and I would bury each other in the sand, and you and Mom would take pictures before forcing us into the water to clean ourselves.

I remember that one time when Amy got stung by that huge jellyfish, and it was so strong that even when she ran to you at the top of the beach, it was still stuck to her stomach. I had been laughing, but then I saw the welt it made and just about threw up. Remember that, Dad?

Chris and Drew came over after we sat at the beach and did nothing. And by nothing, I mean nothing. The only exciting part of the day was when Drew got Lacey McFeller to play chicken with him and Chris, and Chris' partner was some out-of-towner who probably should've known better.

Today was the first day of summer, Dad, and if I'm being completely honest, it sucked.

Please come home,

Jack

•
•
•

I think the best part about today, really, was the Oasis special on VH1.

Oasis, I thought with a smile, Dad's favorite band.

"Jack!" my mom called from the kitchen. "Honey, come here! Lindsey is at the front door, and she wants you!"

I followed my voice until I saw, unfortunately, Lindsey Borden at my front door, shining her pearly-white, flashy smile at my mom. Surprisingly, she wasn't dressed all slutty like she normally is. Right now she was wearing a knee-length white skirt, flats, and a sweater buttoned up to the top, and her long, blonde hair was tied back in a neat ponytail.

Whoever this is, she's not exactly the Lindsey I know.

"Oh, hey, Jack," she said to me in a sweet, polite voice. Definitely not the Lindsey I know. "I was just asking your mom if you were able to attend my bonfire tonight," she faced my mom. "Don't worry, Mrs. Gordon, my parents are home."

"Well, that's fantastic, honey," she said to Lindsey before facing me. "Jack, do you want to go?"

"Uh," I looked at Lindsey who was giving me a warning look. "Sure. Let me get a coat."

I ran upstairs, grabbed a random hoodie before I was out of the door with Lindsey. Immediately when we had passed my house and walked the three houses down to Lindsey's, she tore off her sweater to reveal a crop-top, pulled her skirt up so the waist was just at her ribcage, switched her heels for wedges, and pulled her hair out of the ponytail so it was down at her waist, as it should be.

"You should do Theater," I told her. "You're a good actress."

"Yeah, well," she shrugged, grabbing the red solo cup Mark Atkinson handed her as we walked past him. She smelled it before handing it to me. "It's beer. Drink it, I hate beer."

"What do you drink, then?" I asked her as we weaves our way through the crowd of random kids. Some of them were from school, but most of them were neighborhood kids. Surprisingly, we have a lot of kids our age in our neighborhood.

"Hard lemonade," she answered simply. "Wine coolers, those Bud Lite Lime-a-Rita's or whatever."

"So anything flavored?" I asked with a chuckle. "Because I always pegged you for a straight-vodka kind of girl."

"Gross," she answered, crinkling her nose. "I can barely drink alcohol as it is."

"That's right," I nodded with a smirk. "You're a lightweight."

"No it's not entirely that," she shook her head with a slight smile. "It's just I've seen what alcohol does to a person, and it's not pretty."

Our eyes simultaneously found Perry Morgan throwing up his guts near one of her bushes. "Yeah," I laughed. "Not pretty at all. Hey, Per!" I waved to him, Lindsey and I laughing.

He turned around, nodded politely - well as politely as you can when you're throwing up - as vomit dripped from his chin, and went back to puking.

"Hey, is Drew here yet?" I asked Lindsey, and she frowned.

"I don't think so, not yet. But Chris is. Last time I saw him he was kissing Kristin in the pool."

"God dammit," I sighed disappointedly before taking a sip of Mark's beer he handed Lindsey. "Once Drew finds out he'll kick Chris' ass."

"True," she nodded. "But I think Marty might do it first. You know, 'cause he's, like, in love with her."

"Who told you that?" I asked her immediately.

"Word gets around," she shrugged.

"Shit," I muttered. "Does Kristin know that?"

"Everyone knows, Jack."

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