Summer's Desire (26 page)

I'm angry with myself that I feel this
way. I've been purposely wearing this kind of clothes for more than two years, they've
always made me look barely one step removed from a street bum, and still I've
never felt embarrassed. But now I suddenly do. So what's changed?

The answer is easy, for the difference
lies here: before, I
didn't care what people thought of me. Their
disdain, their mockery, even the rare overtures of friendship—I remained untouched
by it all, wrapped in my cocoon of emotional isolation. I erected this shell around
me after my parents' death, and Seth was the only one who ever penetrated it
completely. After his seeming betrayal, I retreated back to my cocoon, even reinforcing
it with a few extra layers.

But now Seth is back and there is no
cocoon anymore. There are no walls, or any emotional distance. When it comes to
him, I'm all in. So even though, left alone, I still don't really care about anyone
else's opinion about me... I do care about Seth's, and deeply. And it seems
that, if I'm with him, it's unavoidable that I also care about how I reflect on
him in the eyes of
other
people.

And dear heavens, but I don't want to be
a bad reflection for him!

Maybe it's time to consider giving up my
"uniform". Not for Seth; he really doesn't care how I look on the outside,
for he's always seen straight to my soul. But for me, because now I find that
I
do care how I look. Besides, I know that I've been a coward far too long,
hiding behind ugly clothes in order to avoid people. Taking the easy way out.

I bring the world around me back into
focus and gaze into Seth's eyes. "I'm sorry for being such a wet-blanket.
I guess I'm just not used to getting this amount of attention." He nods, and
I know I'm forgiven for my earlier outburst.

Playfully, I start to scowl at him. "It's
all your fault, you know, that so many people are eyeballing us! It's frankly
outrageous how notorious you seem to be!"

Now he raises a sardonic eyebrow, seeming
amused at my sulking. "Notorious?"

My glower dissipates into reluctant acceptance.
"I guess I'll get used to it, eventually. But you'll have to be patient
with me for a little while, okay? Until I adapt." A tentative grin plays
at the corners of my lips.

He smiles back, relieved. "It'll
all be fine if you just give it some time. I'm sorry about all the scrutiny, but
that's just how people are, especially in small towns. All we can do is ride it
out. Sunny, I don't care about any of these folks—only about you. And I'm with
you, okay? So you don't have to be afraid of anything."

Overcome with a rush of affection for
this beautiful, thoughtful boy, I impulsively reach for his hand on the table
and lace my fingers with his.

"Who's afraid?" I ask teasingly.
"I'm just annoyed by all these gossipy busybodies! They should mind their
own business."

I frown a bit. "By the way, Seth...
Umm, when we showed up here together, holding hands... I think maybe your
friends and the other nosy parkers got the wrong idea. You know, about us..."
I trail off suggestively and peek at him, but find his expression has become unreadable.

"About us...?" he queries
calmly.

"You know, about us being together-
together
."
I'm all flustered now.

His expression opens up a bit, betraying
wariness. "And if they thought that, why is it a problem?"

"Well, it's not true." I'm
confused by his attitude. "We're best friends only."

I think he's about to say something
else, but the waitress arrives with our order, and Seth contents himself with
giving me a mysterious look.

"We'll continue this conversation
later."

I gulp nervously.

Then we dig in, and the food really is delicious.

* * *

It's late evening, around 9 P.M., and
Seth has driven me, at my insistent request, back to the Andersons' residence. He's
parked on the street in front of the house, and we're sitting in the car, arguing
softly with each other.

"I don't want you to spend the
night away from me," he's telling me in a fierce tone.

"Believe me, Seth, neither do I,
but what choice do I have? I've already been gone all day, and last night too,
for that matter—only I hope they don't know about that. What's more, Jessica
saw us together earlier and she's surely awaiting my return. If I don't go back
tonight, I'm positive she'll make some serious trouble for me with Louise and
Greg."

"Then let me go inside with you. Just
for a few minutes, to make sure you'll be okay."

"Uh, Seth? Really? You want to
throw gas on an already explosive situation?"

He grits his teeth, seeming utterly frustrated.
At last, he gives in. "Okay, Sunny, have it your way. But I'll wait
outside for fifteen minutes, so if you need me for anything at all, I'm here.
Also, we have to exchange phone numbers, and I want you to call me the minute
you're alone and tell me how everything went."

I grin at him affectionately. "Okay,
worrywart!"

He gives me his Smartphone, and I key in
and call my number, then return his phone. Taking my own brick mobile out, I
save his number. When I gaze up again, I find him staring fixedly at the screen
of his Smartphone. Then he raises his head and gives me a strange look.

"Is anything wrong?" I ask,
baffled.

He shakes his head slowly, still staring
at me intently. "No. Nothing's wrong. It's just... You still have the same
number that you wrote in that letter to me from four years ago."

I look at him sadly. "It's the same
number I've always had since I bought my first cell phone with the money you
gave me." I hold up my trusty brick mobile. "This phone, actually.
Regardless of whatever else I had to do without, I never gave up my cell phone,
and I always made sure to top up the credit for my prepaid card regularly so
that the number wouldn't expire. Just in case—"

"—that I might call," he
finishes painfully.

He raises his hand to my face oh-so-slowly
and traces my features with infinite tenderness, and I nuzzle into his warm touch,
loving it infinitely. But I let myself enjoy it just for a few seconds out of
time.

Then I clasp his wrist and draw it down,
and I lean in and give him a quick kiss goodbye on the jaw.

When I turn to the door to open it, he
stops me by placing his hand on my arm. "Call me if you have
nightmares." He looks utterly torn at having to let me go.

I nod just to reassure him, but I have
no intention of following through on his request. There's no "if"
about it; I always have nightmares when I don't sleep with him. But I won't
keep him from his rest just because
I
can't get any.

"Talk to you later," I promise
softly.

Then, heart heavy at having to separate
myself from him, I alight from the car and walk to the house entrance.

* * *

The house is dark and quiet except for
the sounds of the TV coming from the entertainment room next to the living area.
I pop my head in there and see Greg relaxing on the couch with a beer, watching
sports.

"Hi, Greg. I'm home." My voice
sounds nervous even to my own ears.

He looks up, confused. After a few
seconds his brow clears. "Ah yes, Summer, you were... out today? Err... did
you have a nice time?"

He didn't even notice that I was gone
all day, did he? I force a smile. "Yes, it was fine." Then, warily:
"Where's everyone else?"

"Louise attended a fundraiser in
Grand Rapids today, and she hasn't yet returned. Jessica is at home; upstairs
in her room, I believe."

"Okay. Thanks, Greg."

I'm bewildered. I was expecting Jessica
to prepare something horrible for my arrival at the house. Maybe she didn't
because Louise was out all day?—her mother is often her helper and abettor in her
nastier schemes against me.

I head upstairs, reach my room, and enter.
I turn on the light... and freeze in absolute shock as my breath escapes me in
an agonized whoosh.

Chapter 19

Dazed, appalled, disbelieving, I look
around me. Oh my God, how could she?!

I'm surrounded by the remains of everything
that I owned in this world. My closet and drawers stand open and empty, and all
my clothes and books are scattered on the floor—slashed viciously. Numbly, I
pick up my favorite tank top and insert my hand through the big diagonal rips running
down its silvery front. I lurch a step forward, only to stumble over a detached
sneaker sole and some plastic bits from my music player.

Sweet angel of mercy,
how
can
anyone be so sadistic as to wreak such destruction?!

Light-headed, I reach for the book I
almost stepped on: it's my precious copy of
Pride and Prejudice
—torn
from cover to cover. Turning around, I pick up a few random clothes off the
floor. There's not even a single one of them left untouched.

Then my eyes fall on the bed, on
something peeking from underneath a ripped sweater, and I lose my mind.
Oh God,
oh God, please no!
Not my box of mementos!

But my prayers go unheard.

With shaking hands, I raise the sweater
remains from the mattress and throw them aside. As I focus on the bed comforter,
the knife stuck in my heart twists cruelly.

The dried flower I'd kept for more than
ten years, a gift from Seth on my first day of school, has been ground to a
small pile of papery dust. The little teddy bear Seth gave me when I turned
nine, a joking nod to the huge one I used to carry everywhere when I was much
younger, has been hacked to pieces.

And dear heavens, please
no
!

My hand touches on a childhood photo of
me and Seth standing shoulder to shoulder with fishing rods in our hands, both
of us smiling hugely at the camera. I burst into soul-rending sobs. A big rip
trails midway through the photo, splitting my image from Seth's, and the part
where my eyes used to be has been gouged out.

Through blinding tears, I squint at the
other photos... but they've all been cut in the same pattern, without one
single exception. All my pictures with Seth—cherished reminders of our happy
childhood which I've taken out so often during my years alone, when I needed
comfort—are gone.
All gone.

I collapse to the floor. I wrap my arms
around my body as if trying to keep myself together, because I feel like I'm coming
apart.

"I see you found the little
surprise I left for you."

The
she-devil
has entered silently
through the door I left open, and her words cut venomously through my choking
sobs. "I told you not to mess with what's mine, whore. You didn't listen,
so I messed with what's yours."

Then, with a last satisfied smirk and a
cheery "Enjoy!", she flounces from the room.

Staring after her, I realize that I've
stopped crying. Instead I'm overcome with virulent hatred. I never knew I could
loathe like this, but swear to goodness, in this moment I could gladly slice
her eyes out like she did mine in my precious photos. I want to tear her hair
out and scratch her face. I want to break her apart, like she did all my
things... And I can do none of that because then my life here in Rockford would
be over.

But I can do the next best thing.

Without drying my tears, I leave the
room and go downstairs. To Greg.

When he notices me, he pales, stands up,
and rushes to me. "Summer, what happened?" He seems genuinely
concerned.

"Greg, please, I need you to come
to my room and see something."

With no hesitation, he starts walking, leading
the way back upstairs. The moment he enters my bedroom and his eyes fall on the
all-around destruction, he freezes. He stares, takes it all in.

"Who did this?" His voice is a
stunned murmur.

"Jessica."

A shudder passes through him. "I am
terribly sorry, Summer. I will take care of this." Then, rage filling his
expression, he turns on his heel and leaves.

A few moments later I hear a nearby door
hitting the wall with a mighty crash and Greg shouting. "What the devil
did you think you were doing, destroying Summer's things? Have you lost your
mind?"

"Daddy!" Jessica sounds
outraged. "That whore stole my boyfriend!"

"And does that, in your mind,
justify you taking a knife and slashing all of that girl's possessions?! A girl
who is an orphan, for God's sake—"

"So what if—"

"—who doesn't own very much in the
first place, so what she does own is very precious. Are you completely devoid
of human empathy?"

"Don't defend her, Daddy! The dirty
whore went into my room and stole something from me!"

Seems like Jessica discovered that the
letters were missing and put two and two together. But jeez, I can't believe
this girl's nerve, claiming that
I
stole from
her
. Those letters
were never rightfully hers, the grubby thief!