Summer of Us

Chapter 10

Monty doesn't reach out after what happens at his place. No phone calls or texts or showing up at my door unannounced. I hope it's because Ashley is keeping him away, and not because he wants to.

On July 3rd, I learn different. I text him an apology about how CJ acted, and how sorry I am if we embarrassed him in front of Ashley. A minute turns to two to ten to an hour to two to five to ten. No reply back. Guess it's because he wants to.

On the Fourth, Stace, Sandy and I head over to the Laurens' place, where the party is already in full swing. Mom had been over helping out Mrs. Laurens' all day with decoration and set up, along with several other women on the Homeowner's Association for the neighborhood, and gives each of us whisky scented kisses when we arrive.

It may be the best set up yet. Collapsible tables cluttered with tins of fixings, the standard coleslaw, mac and cheese, summer salad and fruits, potato salad, a variety of wings. The soda selection is glorious, and Stace immediately goes to town and downs two red cups of orange soda. Mr. Laurens is on the grill and holding court with a bunch of guys from his office, and when I ask him why he's working at his own party he winks at me and says, "There's never a time not to campaign, kid."

Kids ride their bikes up and down the streets, races, set off sparklers on the curb. There's so many I have a headache five minutes in. Everyone around my age hangs out in the empty lot nearby. It's where I find Trent and Star in a heated debate on some policy implemented at Georgia Tech, but they drop it when they see me.

"And she rises from the dead!" Trent announces, lifting his beer as if victorious. "Seriously, where have you been all week?"

I tell them I took over a lot of extra hours at the shop, because it's half true. We'd been super busy the week leading up to today, people doing last minute crafts for their Independence Day celebrations and what not. Plus, a lot of watching after Stace, and a lot of lingering on my phone, going back and forth on whether I should text Monty or not when it was silent on his end. The only person I told about the other day was Star, who hadn't said much on the matter but give me her big, worried eyes, which is what she's doing right now.

"Did you eat?" she asks, touching my arm. "CJ's dad made a bunch of charred dogs, just for you. I think his mom is hiding them in the kitchen."

"Tight," I say, my stomach rumbling. I'd avoided food all day, in preparation for this. "Speaking of, where is CJ?"

"Around here somewhere," Trent says, looking around the congregation of young adults. "He was holding court with some of the other lifeguards before, but I haven't seen him in a while."

I set off to make a plate for myself, and to find these alleged hot dogs. It happens to be true about Mrs. Laurens hiding some for me, and when I ask about it she smiles at me guiltily and says they're in the fridge inside. I load up two paper plates, one covered with just half mashed potatoes and two ears of country style corn (it's the Fourth, don't judge me). Inside, I set the plates down along with my Coke I'd grabbed last minute, then open the fridge in search of the hot dogs and some fresh ice.

I'm halfway through the first hot dog, decorated with copious amounts of ketchup and relish, when footsteps come hopping down the stairs, and CJ appears in the doorway. He's wearing his American flag printed swim trunks, which look ridiculous on anyone else but him, and a white shirt from some gift shop in Sanibel.

"Please don't tell me you're being weird about people watching you eat again," he says, opening the fridge and grabbing a Bud Light, which are only acceptable to drink on this holiday.

"No," I say after I swallow, annoyed that he remembers. "I just had too much food to carry back out." My eyes drop the length of his body, mirroring what he's doing to me. "Don't tell me you're going through an antisocial spell again."