Summer of Us

Chapter 7

I take one from Monty's book and decide to extend an olive branch to CJ in the form of baked goods. One because I feel bad about the other night, like the whole ordeal could have been handled better. Two because there's still a month and a half of summer left, and between Star and Trent's schedules I'll be spending a lot of time on my own without him. Three because Stace is fiending for some peanut butter cookies when she gets back home, claiming that Lindsey or Lexi or WHATEVER her friend's name is has a family that never eats sweets. And we accidentally make the amount of batter for about twelve trillion cookies.

Because CJ's house is directly behind ours, it's been customary since my childhood that we go in through the back. It's why I approach the sliding glass door on the back porch and knock gently. A few moments later, Violet appears, long blonde hair trailing down her back and held away from her face by a blue bandana tied around her head. She regards me curiously, then smiles and unlocks the door.

"Hey Vi, what's up?"

"Nothing," she says in that shy way about her. She's always been the quieter twin, the less likely to cry or throw a tantrum if she doesn't get her way. Secretly, she's my favorite, but only because she reminds me of myself.

"Nothing?" I say, lifting up one of her hands, which is covered in red and navy paint. "What's this?"

"We're making signs for the block party," she says, smiling. "Mom says the turnout this year will be huge."

I can't believe I had almost forgotten. Fourth of July is right around the corner, and every year, the Laurens have a cookout for all the neighbors. They've got prime space because they're at the end of the road on their street, right next to an empty lot that's never been built on. They supply the meat and fireworks, and everyone else brings side dishes and booze. Actually, the Fourth of July is where I had first met CJ, the summer he moved here in fifth grade. His parents had the first one so they could scope out the people in the neighborhood and find friends for the kids.

"I bet," I say, stepping into the heavily air conditioned home and sliding the door shut behind me.

"What's that?" she says, pointing at the tub of cookies in my hand.

"Oh, these? They're peanut butter cookies. I made them for CJ, but you can have some if you want."

"Really?" she says, her whole face lighting up.

"Wash your hands first, though. Speaking of which, is your brother around?"

"He's in the garage," she says, whipping into the kitchen and flinging the faucet on. "Mom and Scar are outside, too, so we don't get paint everywhere."

A few minutes later we file out to the garage. It sits wide open, cluttered with tools and broken furniture, plus a bench with free weights. CJ is on the wall, doing pull ups on a bar that's been screwed into the wall. Rap music is blasting from the stereo. Violet walks down the driveway, to where Linda and Scarlette are stretched out on the lawn under the shade of a tree. Several signs done in red and blue paint have been pushed aside to dry, and they're working on two other ones. From here, I can see a few tiny stars painted onto Scarlette's cheek. Violet runs up to her mother and says something, and she looks up. I wave, they all wave back.

"Looking good, Laurens."

CJ lowers himself from the bar then turns to give me full view of everything he's working with. He doesn't even seem surprised to see me, as his expression remains bored. He shuts off the stereo and reaches for a towel that had been thrown over the back of a chair behind me.

I lift the tub in my hand. "I have post work out."

At this at least he gives me a half smile, rubbing the towel along his hairline, where sweat has formed in tiny little beads. "What's that for?"