Summer of Us

Chapter 11

A little background on Star—she is a mom, through and through.

Not an actual mom, because she doesn't have her own kids (yet), but she might as well have. She's got a crazy amount of younger siblings at home and takes care of them in ways her works-three-jobs-at-once mother cannot. Obviously, the responsibility and skills learned at home has shaped her personality, and taking care of her siblings had fluidly made her take care of us.

Her nickname among our friend group back at school had always been "mama." She gave away her lunch to the guys if they were still hungry, she'd stay behind and tutor me after school when I was working on the yearbook if I was falling behind in math again. She had constantly adjusted our outfits for dress code and groomed our hair and had every possible thing needed in her bag, there for everyone that she loved.

But being the mama has also made Star believe that she is privy to absolutely every aspect of her friends, how we're feeling and what we're doing and trying to understand, even though she doesn't need to.

Star doesn't get the concept of self-destruction. She's never had room for it in her life. She's taken the opportunity to let loose or for one moment just think of only herself, because if she did, it would mean consequences for her enormous family. But she recognizes it when she sees it, as she did on the Fourth, and has since been up my butt trying to comprehend why I'm doing what I'm doing.

The thing is, sleeping with CJ doesn't feel harmful. Not at first. It's sexy and sneaky and feels fucking good. But each time we do it, I feel emptier inside. Once, coming back from his place where we did it in the back of his truck because his family was home, I straight up cried myself to sleep.

It's not even CJ that I'm really upset about. It's Monty. I miss him desperately, like an amputee misses their fucking body part. I'm devastated that he hasn't once tried to talk to me, not a single call or text or even Snapchat. I'm depressed that he's no doubt read my message and didn't think it was worth it to say anything back. All I can think about is how summer is almost over, and we've only seen each other three times. I replay each one in my head like madwoman, dissecting every word, every look, and every blink. My dreams are always of him, but they're never good. He's always trying to get away from me. I think of him so much that I make myself sick.

Everyone around me notices, but they all think it's for the same reason—that I miss school, that I want to go back to Savannah. Everyone but Star, who knows the truth.

In many ways, CJ is my only salvation. He makes me laugh and feel wanted, always throwing himself all over me. He privately rolls his eyes at me when we're at parties together, flirts when I bring Stace to the pool, stands outside my window and blasts music on his portable JBL speaker like he's in a John Hughes movie. The only difference that instead of 80's music it's always some kind of rap with lots of cussing, which drives Sandy up the wall and makes us laugh uncontrollably. While Star and Trent do their best to include me, they are a couple, so a lot of times I wind up being stuck with CJ, but it's always a blast.

Best of all, CJ makes me forget.

"Why do I have to go?" I ask, sleepy and annoyed. Not three minutes before, Stace had come bounding in to my room, flipping on all my lights, flinging the covers off me and demanding that I take her to the 7Eleven for ice-cream. I had about killed her before she started screaming for Sandy. I released her from my chokehold, pulled on a sweatshirt, and followed her downstairs, where we were now, arguing amongst us who has to bring the brat to the gas station.

"You're the only one that hasn't been drinking," mom says, bundled up beneath her microfiber blanket with her head in Sandy's lap.

"Isn't it a little late for ice-cream, anyways?" I say, glancing to the clock atop the oven. It's blurred green, but I can still make out that it's a quarter after ten. "Don't you have camp tomorrow?"