Cruel Summer, Page 2

  And just as I thought—hey, maybe things are starting to look up, maybe this won’t be so bad after all, I glanced down at my hands and saw how they were all black, and inky, and streaked with mascara, which meant that my face was probably all black, and inky, and streaked with mascara too. Which was probably the only reason he was even looking at me to begin with. So I ran back inside to search for a bathroom so I could clean myself up, but then right when I found one, the horn blew, and from the way everyone stampeded for the exit, I figured it meant we were there.

  It’s weird how I recognized my aunt right away even though the last time I saw her I was just two, and it’s not like I can even remember that time. But still, I just took one look at her and I knew. Though it’s not because she looked like someone’s crazy aunt. It was more because she looks a lot like my mom. Well, if my mom was relaxed and happy, and had kept her original nose, and let her blond bob grow back out to its natural brown waviness, and then dressed in beachwear all the time and not just when she was actually at the beach or by the pool.

  Okay, so I just looked outside again and I’m guessing it’s A.M. since the sun is now rising. So I think I’ll stop writing and go outside, and try to figure out just where the heck I am.

  Twenty Minutes Later:

  Okay, all I know is this—I can totally see part of Mykonos from here. And let me just say that even at a distance I can tell it’s a helluva lot better than this place.

  I’m so screwed.

  I think Tally just woke up.

  Twelve Hours Later:

  How I Spent My First Day in Prison Greece

  1) I woke up (duh).

  2) I wrote in my journal.

  3) I went exploring on my own and discovered that I am surrounded by: dirt, white houses, geraniums, more dirt, rocks, and if I crane my neck a certain way I have a pretty good view of both the sea and Mykonos—which, I can tell just from looking, is a gazillion times better than here.

  4) I got through a very awkward breakfast with my aunt Tally that consisted of bread with butter and honey, along with a completely horrible cup of coffee that not only tasted like mud but actually TURNED INTO MUD when I let it sit too long. Seriously! And I did everything in my power not to vomit that first sip back up (because that would be both rude and gross). Though I think Tally could tell by my face how much I hated it, because she just started laughing and said I was under no obligation to finish it. And all I can say is if the rest of Greece is as bad as their coffee, then this summer is going to suck even more than I thought.

  5) During breakfast Tally tried to get me to open up about the divorce, but luckily, when I made it clear it wasn’t on my list of favorite things to talk about, she let it go. Then she just started talking about herself, and how she came here fourteen years ago and never looked back. And when I asked her why she didn’t go to Mykonos instead, she just shook her head and said that wasn’t her scene. Which I took to mean that she has a very high tolerance for boredom, because from what I’ve seen so far, that’s about all this place has to offer.

  6) After breakfast, I tried to be polite and help with the dishes, but Tally just shook her head and waved me away so I went back to my room where I took a shower and unpacked.

  7) After, we walked into town (um, if you can even call it a “town,” I mean, it’s really more like a tiny village, but whatever) so Tally could show me where her shop (where she sells her jewelry and stuff), the bank, the market, and a couple other places I might need are located—even though they’re pretty much all lined up on the same small street. And when I asked her where the big stores are, you know like the department stores and stuff, she just laughed and said, “In Athens.”

  8) After my tour of the town, we walked back home and got in her jeep and then she drove me all around the island so I could look at more dirt, more geraniums, more rocks, and more white houses.

  9) And after two hours of that, she asked me if I wanted to go to the beach, but I just shook my head and told her I was jet-lagged. And even though I’m not really sure what being jet-lagged actually feels like, I’m thinking if it resembles anything remotely like sadness, depression, and complete and overwhelming despondency, then I totally was not lying.

  10) In the evening, I emerged from my prison cell room just long enough to have a dinner of Greek salad (decent, no, good actually, though by no means great) and some Greek casserole dish that I won’t even try to pronounce, much less spell, but that tasted like some seriously messed-up lasagna. And then I said good night, and went back to bed.

  The End.

  P.S. The good news is I have about seventy-five more days ahead of me that promise to be exactly like this one. Yippee!

  Colby’s Journal for Desperate Times When There’s No Logical Explanation for What Is Happening to Her

  June 19

  Okay, so apparently my mom was not joking. And I didn’t mention this before because I was really hoping that she and Tally were in cahoots, playing some kind of messed-up mind game. But evidently, I’m completely cut off from the outside world. Because not only does my aunt Tally not have a computer or Internet access, but she also does not have a TV. Which is so completely weird, not to mention practically impossible to get used to. I mean, even though the shows are probably all in Greek, which I wouldn’t be able to understand anyway, not having access to a television just doesn’t seem right.

  Though it does explain why my parents refer to her as Crazy. But unfortunately, that’s not even the half of it, because believe me, there’s more. For example:

  1) She talks to her plants. Seriously, she thanks them for blossoming, growing, and basically doing all of the things they’re supposed to be doing anyway. And when she caught me gaping at her with my jaw hanging down to my knees, watching in complete and total disbelief as she whispered sweet nothings to her geraniums, she just turned and explained (with a totally straight face) that they’re alive and aware. And even though I’m clearly not doubting the alive part, since all the leaves are green and not brown, it’s the aware part that worries me. I mean, aware of what exactly? So when I asked her which language they respond in—Greek or English, she just smiled in that weird peaceful way and kept at it.

  2) She only keeps what she can use. Which sounds completely reasonable until she goes on to explain that collecting and acquiring things you don’t truly need only results in “clogged energy.” Which also means that the moment she finishes a book (and she reads like, one a day) she thanks it for the knowledge it provided (believe me, I wish I was joking but I’m not) and then she passes it on to someone else. Same with CDs, clothes, you name it, nothing gets saved, it all gets thanked, blessed, and passed on to the next recipient. Which basically means this house is so spare and empty it feels like we’re living in a monastery—only without the vow of silence, since we do get to talk (especially to plants and other inanimate objects). Though the truth is, I really wouldn’t mind a vow of silence since I don’t have much to say anyway. Mostly because I’m too busy worrying about how I’ll possibly survive the next seventy-four days (and counting!), to focus on something as trivial as small talk.

  3) She’s totally in cahoots with my mom’s shrink and thinks it’s just wonderful that I’m escaping my parents’ “negative energy” as well as taking a break from my “computer addiction and obsessive focus on accumulation and mass consumerism.” whatever the heck that means.

  I mean, she’s nice and all, don’t get me wrong, and she means well, I can tell. But the freaky thing is that she actually believes all of this stuff. And while that may be all fine and good for her, the fact remains that she’s the one who CHOSE to live this austere, serene island life, while I myself did NOT. And even though I just got here, I don’t think it’s too big of a stretch to say that it’s really not working for me.

  Because what my aunt obviously does not understand is how imperative it is for me to stay in touch with Amanda. How it’s seriously and completely crucial that Amanda does NOT forget me while I�
��m gone. There’s just too much riding on our friendship, too much at stake. I mean, if I’m going to have any fun at all during my last year of high school, if I want to go to prom, and parties, and basically partake in anything worth partaking in, then I HAVE TO STAY TIGHT WITH AMANDA!

  I CANNOT allow her to replace me with some undeserving wannabe. I just can’t afford to let that happen.

  And the reason I’m so worried about it in the first place, is because I happen to know for a fact that Amanda has the attention span of a housefly. Seriously, she’s always flitting from one object to another, unable to stay focused on any one thing. Like she has social ADD or something. And now that I’m gone I’m afraid she’ll just land on someone else, and come September, all of my hard work will be wasted.

  Like on Friday, my last night in town, when we were sitting in her room, flipping through magazines and listening to music (which is pretty much all she could be bothered to arrange for my big going-away party), and right after I read our horoscopes out loud, she looked at me and squinted and went, “Wait—so where are you going again?”

  And honestly, I could hardly believe it. I mean, it’s not like I hadn’t told her like a million times already, but it’s not like I could actually say that either. So I just mentally rolled my eyes, tucked my long, brown hair behind my ears, and then gazed at her perfect face, which was perfectly framed by the perfect smoke ring she just blew, and said, “Greece.” Then I watched as she shrugged, grabbed a chunk of her bleached blond hair, and bent it toward her nose, brushing the ends against its dainty, slightly upturned tip.

  “I don’t get it. Why Greece? Why not somewhere good? You know, like Cabo or Cancun or something?” she said, dropping her hair and switching her attention to her French-manicured nails.

  But I just shrugged. I mean, it really wasn’t worth explaining how I only had one crazy aunt, and she just happened to live on a Greek island nobody’s ever heard of. But when I saw Amanda staring at me like that, you know, with her lips all pursed and her eyebrows raised, I knew I had to at least try to explain. “It’s an island, and it’s supposed to be really pretty,” I said, amazed to hear myself actually defending it. But then that’s how I always feel around Amanda, like I need to prove my right to exist.

  But she just reached for her phone and flipped it open. And just as I thought she was looking for a way to evict me, she scrolled through her contacts and said, “Levi’s going to Greece. Let’s call him.”

  LEVI BONHAM! The uber-hot guy I’ve been lusting after since he moved to our town back when I was just a nerdy little sixth-grader and he was already a smoking hot twelve-year-old, who also happens to be the other major reason for why I desperately need to stay connected.

  Seriously, Levi is the most gorgeous guy I’ve ever seen (okay, maybe not including magazines, TV, and/or movies), but still, he’s so amazingly hot it’s surreal. He’s like the male equivalent of Amanda. And luckily for me, Amanda doesn’t like him like THAT, because if she did I wouldn’t have stood a chance. But for whatever reason she lusts after his less hot but still cute friend, Casey Sayers. And all she had to do was place the call, and five minutes later, just like magic, they appeared.

  And it’s not like I haven’t hung out with Levi before, because ever since I started hanging with Amanda I’ve had access to a whole host of things I used to only dream about. But still, it’s not like we ever really exchanged more than a few words, or in his case—mumbles.

  That’s right, as perfect as I think Levi Bonham is, even I have to admit, he has one minor flaw—he’s not much of a talker, he’s way more of a mumbler. But then again, when you’re that gorgeous, conversational skills aren’t really required.

  But since I’m not at all gorgeous, since I’m pretty much an average girl (okay, maybe I’m just slightly better than average since I’m more or less thin, and my skin is more or less clear, and my hair is pretty much just brown and normal, and nothing on my face really stands out in either a super positive or super negative way—which makes me pretty much the opposite of the blond, tan, and blue-eyed Amanda), I’m kind of forced to keep my small-talk abilities honed and sharpened.

  I mean, in my case, showing up and standing around just isn’t enough. Which means the last few times we hung out, I was forced to work overtime just trying to get him to laugh, which was completely impossible until I inadvertently tripped and fell smack onto the coffee table, which resulted in him doubling over in laughter and gasping for air, for a full five minutes. But for the rest of the time after that, I mostly just tried to ask a lot of questions about his favorite sports, favorite cars, and all kinds of other stuff that he’s obviously into, but that I really don’t care about.

  But even so, the most I ever got for my attempts were a couple of mumbles and a grunt or two.

  Until last Friday night when:

  I HOOKED UP WITH LEVI BONHAM!!!!!

  It’s like, one minute we were sitting awkwardly on the couch, side by side, pretending to watch TV while Amanda and Casey were doing who knows what upstairs in her room, and the next thing I know LEVI BONHAM WAS PRETTY MUCH ON TOP OF ME!

  Though it’s not like he just pounced or anything crude like that. It was way more romantic and actually kind of cute the way he acted like he was reaching for his glass, but then somehow ended up smack on my lips.

  And even though it was a little awkward at first, I mean trying to figure out where our lips and tongues should go, it wasn’t long before I was totally into the zone of how he kisses, and the next thing I knew, I’d glanced at my watch and it was two hours past my curfew!

  Only that’s not entirely true.

  Because the truth is, I was kind of worried about my curfew pretty much the entire time. I mean, even though kissing Levi was a completely amazing, dream-come-true kind of moment, the fact is, I couldn’t stop worrying about my parents—wondering if they were still fighting, wondering if they’d managed to kill each other yet (joking, but not entirely).

  But now, looking back, I wish I hadn’t even bothered. I mean, it’s not like they even noticed I was gone, and here I’d wasted a good part of my Levi Bonham Experience worrying about two people who obviously don’t care all that much about me.

  But after he tried to take off my dress for like the tenth time in a row, I pointed at my watch and told him I had to leave. And when I saw the way he just rolled his amazing blue eyes as he rolled right off of me, I thought:

  What the heck are you doing, Colby? I mean, hello, now’s your big chance, the moment you’ve been waiting for! So what if you don’t love him? Love never lasts anyway—just look at your parents! Not to mention how you’re totally gonna regret it if you let him slip away!

  So then I reached for his hand and said, “Okay, maybe just a few more minutes.”

  And in the end, that’s pretty much all it took.

  Because the second it was over, he was already opening another beer before I’d even had a chance to adjust my dress, and when I finally stood and grabbed my purse and my keys, part of me couldn’t help but wonder if it really did happen.

  I guess I always thought The Big Moment would be, well, bigger.

  And better.

  And way more special than it actually was.

  And I guess that’s why I’ve put off writing about it until now. I mean, at the beginning of the night, when we first started kissing, I would occasionally open my left eye to peek at him, just so I could confirm that, yes, hard as it was to believe, I, Colby Catherine Cavendish, was totally locking lips, swapping spit, and playing big-time tonsil hockey with the hottest guy in school. And when I saw the way his eyes were closed so tight, and felt the way his lips were pressed so hard against mine, well, I couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

  Despite the nagging voice in my head going—why YOU Colby?

  You’re not hideous but you’re not exactly hot. You test smart but it’s not like he cares. Just because you’re friends with Amanda doesn’t mean you’re cool.
So out of all the girls he knows, out of all the superhot girls he could be making out with at this exact moment, WHY YOU?

  And honestly, I just didn’t have an answer.

  I still don’t. Though I am firmly committed to no longer thinking about it.

  Because even if it’s just that he was bored on a Friday night and looking for something to do, it still doesn’t explain why just seconds before I left he reached into the bowl of Doritos, grabbed a handful, looked me right in the eye, and said, “Hey, maybe I’ll catch you in Greece. I might be going on a cruise or something.”

  Though it does explain why I plan to spend my entire summer in the Internet café, waiting for some kind of contact or news of his arrival.

  Waiting for proof that I didn’t waste my virginity on someone who’s bound to forget me.

  June 20

  Dear Aunt Tally,

  If you come home for lunch siesta and I’m not here it’s because I’m at the Internet café. (Yup, I found it! Even though I know you were hoping I wouldn’t!) Which means I probably won’t be back in time to go to the beach with you today, and I hope you’re not too upset about that.

  Anyway, I just didn’t want you to worry about me, because I think you’ll find that I’m pretty self-sufficient, very independent, and really don’t require all that much guidance. Which means you can just go about your business and act like I’m not even here, because I probably won’t be around the house all that much anyway now that I know about the café.

  Okay, well, have a good day—

  Love,

  Colby

  June 20

  Dear Mom and Dad,

  Sorry I haven’t written until now, I guess time flies when you’re not having any fun.

  Don’t be fooled by the picture on the front of this postcard, because the truth is it’s really not that pretty here and I’ve yet to see this beach.