Until the Sun Burns Out (2 page)

Luca’s head popped up beside me. “That was awesome,” he declared.

“Yeah, it was fun,” I agreed. Glancing out at the vast expanse of water, I decided that maybe the summer wouldn’t be a total bust. I mean, there were worse ways to spend a summer, right?

“Here comes another one!” Luca shouted.

Giggling, I got back in position. To my right, a boy about my age headed toward the waves. His dark hair was wet and slicked back, his face and body tanned. Even though I could only see his profile, it was obvious by the strong set of his jaw and shape of his nose that he was cute. Not that I cared. I wasn’t here to meet boys. Besides, I wasn’t the boy crazy one. I left that job to Grace. She started liking boys in elementary school. She’d even had a couple boyfriends already. I never had. Then again, I wasn’t allowed to.

“Mina, watch out!” Luca hollered.

But it was too late. The wave slapped me in the face. Water shot up my nose and mouth. I sputtered as the wave took me under. When I finally made my way back up to the top, I heard laughter. Glaring, I assumed it was Luca. After sluicing liquid from my face, I turned in his direction. But he wasn’t laughing.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

I nodded. The laughter was coming from my right. When my head whipped in that direction, I saw
the boy I’d noticed earlier, chuckling at me.

“Next time, you might want to keep your eye on the wave,” he said.

My glare deepened, my cheeks warming. Not only did he see me get hit by the wave, but he knew it was because I was staring at him. How embarrassing. Ignoring the boy, I grabbed Luca by the arm.

“C’mon, let’s go back to the shore,” I hissed at him.

Luca’s gaze shot between me and the rude boy, and then he nodded. As we headed toward the sand, I hoped I’d never see that mean boy again.

On our first night, Dad took us out to dinner. He chose an upscale seafood restaurant that sat right on the water. It was my kind of place. Luca preferred going out for hamburgers or pizza. Mom’s favorite was Mexican, and Dad liked Italian. I was the one who liked seafood. But more than that, I liked going to fancy restaurants. Places where I had to wear a dress. Places that had crisp, white tablecloths and candles glowing in the center of the tables.

“What do you think, Mina?” Dad nudged me gently in the side.

He was trying so hard. And even though I was still angry with him, I wouldn’t ruin our evening. Besides, I was looking forward to eating here. The food looked good, and the view was amazing. At night the beach appeared almost magical with the moon shimmering along the surface of the water. “It’s nice,” I finally said.

“I knew you’d like it.” He smiled like he was pleased. Settling back in his chair, he picked up the menu and began perusing it.

I didn’t know why he even bothered. Dad always ordered the same thing at seafood restaurants – the fish tacos. However, I suppose that could have changed. Everything else had. When he set down the menu, I raised my brows at him.

“Let me guess. You’re getting the fish tacos?” I asked, and practically held my breath waiting for him to answer.

“Like always,” he said.

His answer gave me hope, and I smiled for real this time. I’d always been Daddy’s girl. That’s why the divorce had hit me so hard. It’s why his leaving and moving away hurt me so badly. I didn’t get it. Even if he and Mom had problems, why did that mean he had to leave me too? I wasn’t sure I’d ever understand it.

“I’m having a hamburger!” Luca announced.

I wrinkled my nose. “A hamburger?”

“Yeah. On the kid’s menu,” he explained.

“Oh.” Lowering my gaze, I looked through the remainder of the menu and finally decided on the shrimp scampi.

After ordering, I glanced out around the restaurant. It was mostly filled with couples on dates, but there were a few families. One family in particular captured my attention. Mostly because they reminded me of what my family once was. There were four of them – mom and dad, brother and sister. Stomach souring, I watched as the mom gently placed her hand on the dad’s shoulder. I noted how he threw her a smile, one filled with love and adoration. Had my dad ever looked at my mom like that? I wasn’t sure.

“There’s a park near my house with a soccer field, Mina. I was thinking maybe tomorrow I could take you there and we could kick around the soccer ball,” Dad said, interrupting my people-watching.

Tearing my gaze from the strange family, I looked at Dad. “No, thanks.”

He bristled at my response. Luca’s face paled, his mouth curling downward. I knew my brother was angry with me for not being more pleasant, but I couldn’t help it.

“Okay,” Dad spoke slowly as if trying his best to maintain a positive attitude. “I don’t have a lot of work to do this week, so I guess we can go another day.”

Dad worked in graphic design. He did contract work mostly. Years ago, he landed a few corporate accounts that kept him busy. It was the reason he could so easily relocate. Sometimes I felt irrational anger towards Dad’s employment. If only he had a normal job like everyone else. One that would’ve required him to stay close by. Then maybe he wouldn’t have moved all the way out here.

“No. I don’t want to go play soccer at all, Dad,” I said.

Of course the waiter chose that moment to bring our food. I was certain he could feel the uncomfortable tension surrounding our table. In fact, he hardly said two words to us as he deposited the plates in front of us and scurried away.

“What do you mean you don’t want to play soccer?” Dad asked the minute the waiter was out of earshot. “You have to practice over the summer. How else will you expect to make the team next year?”

I shrugged, picking up my fork. “It doesn’t matter, because I’m not trying out.” It was a small rebellion, but it was all I had. The only thing I could control. Mom and Dad had torn my life apart. They’d taken away what meant the most to me, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. But this was something I could do.

Dad sighed, running a hand through his hair. Then he leaned forward, reaching across the table and placing his hand over mine. I didn’t pull it away. “Mina, I know this is hard for you. But soccer is your talent. Don’t give that up just because you’re angry with me. I promise if you do that, you’ll regret it later.”

Yanking my hand back, annoyance surged through me. “I’m not giving it up because I’m angry with you,” I hissed. My lips trembled and tears pricked at the back of my eyes. Embarrassed, I bit down hard on my lip and blinked profusely.

He didn’t get it.

I started playing soccer because of Dad. It had been his sport. He played in high school, and then participated in rec leagues as an adult. When I was a little girl I used to go to his games. And that was where my love of soccer first took root. Dad coached my team every year until I got into high school. And even then he was as involved as they allowed him to be. Also, he and I practiced at home all the time. Now that Dad didn’t live with us, and he wouldn’t be there to go to my games or practice with me in the evenings, I didn’t want to play. It wouldn’t be the same.

“I’m sorry, Mina,” Dad said, and that’s when I realized I was actually crying.

Luca stared at me wide-eyed. Dad looked stricken.

This had to be the most humiliating thing ever. Shoving away from the table, I stood up on wobbly legs. Maybe if I got some fresh air I could pull myself together. As I stepped away from the table, I frantically swiped at my face, hoping to erase all traces of tears. Dad called my name, but I ignored him. I’d already made a spectacle of us and ruined dinner, but I was determined not to make it any worse.

My knees shook, so it took more effort than usual to move forward. I was used to gliding effortlessly over a soccer field. I wasn’t the clumsy type, so this was new for me. It made me feel out of sorts. Taking deep, steady breaths, I did my best to calm myself. Ever since my parents split, I felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff, my toes hanging over the sides. And it took all my effort to keep myself from falling.

Keeping my head down, I weaved through the tables of customers. I imagined they were all having a better night than me. Hearing a familiar voice, the skin on the back of my neck prickled. Slowly, I craned my neck to look. Sure enough, there he was. The rude boy from the beach. The one who laughed at me. He was sitting at the table I had been watching earlier. I’d been so focused on the mom and dad that I hadn’t noticed him.

Plus, he looked different all dressed up. His dark hair was combed and gelled, and he wore a blue collared shirt. It matched his eyes. When his head bobbed up, my breath hitched in my throat. The last thing I wanted was for him to notice me staring. His lips curled upward in an amused smile that turned my stomach. It was clear that he recognized me.

Averting my gaze, I raced toward the front door of the restaurant. It wasn’t until I was safely outside that I released the breath I’d been holding since the moment our eyes met.

“Mina, you can’t come home right now,” Mom said, her tone a mixture of exasperation and sympathy. “You know you have to stay for the summer.”

“But I don’t like it here,” I whined into the phone. Rolling over on the bed, I stared up at the ceiling while holding my cell against my ear.

“You’ve only been there a week. You haven’t even given it a chance.”

I hated how calm she was being.
Didn’t she miss me?
“A week is long enough. I want to be with my friends…I want to be with you.”

A sigh carried through the line. “I want to be with you too.”

“Then let me come home.”

“You know I can’t do that,” she responded. “Look, Mina, I know this is hard for you. It’s hard for me too. But we have to make the best of it.”

“I don’t want to make the best of it. I want to come home.” I knew I sounded like a spoiled brat, but things weren’t going well for me here. Ever since the night that I walked out of the restaurant things had been tense. Luca hardly spoke to me, and Dad acted like I was a piece of glass that was going to split into a million pieces at any second. I didn’t know how to deal with this for an entire summer. The last time I texted Grace she was having a great time going out to the movies and to ice cream with our friends. It wasn’t fair. I should’ve been with her. I should’ve been home enjoying my summer. Not stuck in a place where I didn’t know anyone with a dad who had abandoned me.

“Stop being so dramatic,” Mom scolded. “It’s not like this is the worst thing in the world. You’re at the beach. Go for a swim. Go lay out. Make some friends.”

“It’s not that easy to make friends, Mom,” I grumbled. Every time I went to the beach I saw kids my age, but they were always in groups. They probably lived in Inland Cove, and they didn’t want to make friends with someone who was only here in the summer. We didn’t get a lot of tourists back home, but even if we did, I didn’t think I’d befriend any of them. I was already pretty set with my own friends.

“Well, Luca sounds like he’s having a great time,” Mom pointed out.

I groaned. Of course Luca was having a great time. He was the easy going one. He never held a grudge. The minute Dad took him to the beach all was forgiven. But that wasn’t going to cut it with me. My love couldn’t be bought or bribed.

Mom and I spoke for a few more minutes, and then I ended the call. It was clear I wasn’t getting anywhere with her. No one cared what I thought. What I wanted. That was becoming more and more apparent with each day. Leaving my phone, I slid off the bed and walked to the window.

I had to admit that the view was pretty. White sand spread out before me, the ocean waves cresting beyond that. The house was quiet. Luca and Dad went into town about an hour ago. They had invited me, but I decided to stay home. It was the same most days. The two of them went all sorts of places – the movies, miniature golfing, bike riding, shopping. You name it, they’d probably done it. Some of the things didn’t appeal to me, but some sounded fun. Still, I declined every offer, and I’d been holed up in this house ninety percent of the time.

As I stared at the kids running along the beach or playing in the waves, I realized that Mom was right. I was being silly. No amount of moping was going to change anything. I was stuck here whether I liked it or not. I could spend my entire summer locked in this bedroom feeling sorry for myself, or I could be out there having fun. The beach was literally at my doorstep. Most of my friends would have killed to be in my position. In fact, Grace had said as much to me the last time we had a text conversation. Honestly, I think she was getting a little irritated with all my complaining.

Everyone appeared to be.

Mind made up, I changed into my swimsuit and packed my beach bag. I wasn’t sure when Dad and Luca would be back, so I left a note on the counter before heading outside. The air was warm as it feathered over my skin, and by the time I reached the beach I was ready to get in the water. But first, I set down the beach bag, laid a towel in the sand and lathered up my body with sunblock. Of course, I couldn’t reach every spot on my back, so I prayed I wouldn’t end up with red streaks all over it. That had happened to me one summer, and it was embarrassing. I looked like a red and white zebra.

Glancing back at Dad’s house, I wondered if he and Luca were back yet. I was sure when they did get home they’d join me. They’d probably be overjoyed that I left my bedroom. After not wanting anything to do with them for days, I was surprised that I even cared. Then again, it sure beat being out here alone. My gaze scoured the area around me. Everyone else was here in groups. I was the only one sitting by myself, and it made me regret my decision to come down here. From my bedroom window it seemed like a good idea. The beach appeared inviting. And maybe if I were here with Grace or one of my other friends, even Luca, it would be. But alone it seemed kind of sad.

Feeling stupid, I reached for the beach bag. As my fingers closed over the handle, a shadow cast over my shoulder.

“So you must be a summer kid too, huh?” A somewhat familiar voice said.

Craning my neck, I peered up. The boy from the restaurant stood over me. I shuddered. “What’s that supposed to mean?” His tone was friendly enough, but I assumed what he said was a slam. After our last two encounters, it was clear he was a jerk. The sun blinded me, so I shielded my face with my hand.

Moving his body over, he blocked the sun. Even though I still didn’t like him, I was grateful for it, and I dropped my hand.

“It means that you don’t live here,” he said in a condescending tone as if I should have known immediately what he meant.

“And why do you think that?” I lifted my chin in a challenge, hating that he was able to peg me so quickly. Surely he didn’t know every single person in the entire town.

His gaze flickered to a group of teenagers nearby. “Well, you’re not hanging out with any of the other kids. So either you don’t live here, or you’re the most unpopular girl who does.”

Irritation bubbled inside of me. How rude was this kid? As if laughing at me in the ocean and smirking at me in the restaurant wasn’t enough, now he had to come over here to insult me? Glaring at him, I said, “Well, I don’t see you hanging out with the other kids either.”

Unbothered, he shrugged. “Yeah, cause I’m a summer kid.”

I froze. Perhaps I’d misjudged him. When I saw his family at the restaurant, I assumed the woman and man were his parents. But maybe one of them had been his stepparent. Was it possible that he and I were the same? Maybe that was why he was acting like such a jerk. Softening toward him, I said, “You were right about me. I’m a summer kid too. My dad lives here now, and my brother and I are going to be spending summers with him.” Fighting against the knot in my throat, I swirled my fingers in the sand, drawing nonsensical pictures. Lifting my eyes, I asked, “Are your parents divorced too?” When I posed the question, I hadn’t meant to sound so hopeful.

He shook his head, and my heart dive-bombed. “No. My parents own a house on the beach, so we come here every summer.”

“Oh,” I said, crestfallen. So he was just a jerk because he was rich and arrogant. I should’ve known. Feeling stupid, I closed my fingers around the handle of my bag and pushed myself up to a standing position. “I better get going.” My skin was covered in a thick sheen of sweat, and when my gaze connected with the water, my heart lurched. I wanted nothing more than to run to it and dive in, but no way was I going to stand here with this mean boy any longer.

“Wait,” he said, shoving his arm out. “You didn’t even tell me your name. I’m Austin.”

His fingers brushed mine as he went in for the handshake. Perplexed, I returned it. This guy was seriously confusing. One minute he was making fun of me, and the next he acted like he wanted to be friends.

“Mina,” I responded quietly, still trying to figure him out. Then again, boys weren’t my area of expertise. I’d never had a boyfriend, and not only because I wasn’t allowed to. Inwardly, I was grateful for my parents “no dating until you’re sixteen” rule. No boys were interested in me, and, besides, I had no idea how to act around them.

His lips pushed upward into a bemused grin. “Nice to meet you, summer kid.”

Yanking my hand back, I grimaced. Why did I even bother telling him my name if he wasn’t going to use it?
Oh, well.
Two can play at this game. “You too, summer kid.” I emphasized the last two words so much I practically spit. Then I slid past him and stalked through the sand toward Dad’s house. At least, that’s what I tried to do. But it’s not easy to stalk in sand. Honestly, it’s not easy to walk at all in sand. And it’s nearly impossible to make an angry exit. I must have looked comical fighting my way through the sand until I finally made it to the concrete walkway that lead to Dad’s front door. Holding my head high, I wiped the grains from my thighs and hurried forward. Only when I made it around the corner did I dare to glance behind me. I had to know if he was watching me.

He wasn’t.

He was nowhere to be seen.