The Big Summer Read online

  Maybe I would have felt differently if the people asking me over were true friends, people I could be myself around. I just wasn’t into the idea of being the caretaker of five slobbery drunk guys who didn’t particularly care for me.

  “Tell him, Adam,” Matt insisted.

  “You really should come over!” Adam yelled into the phone. “We’re having a blast, and we need the sixth amigo … fuck the essays!”

  “Okay! Okay!” I surrendered, rolling my eyes in exasperation. “I’ll come.”

  “God bless you, Willy!” Jordan shouted. They burst out in laughter and hung up on me before I could get another word in.

  . . .

  I could hear the party before I could see it, a pounding bass line etching fissures in the pavement.

  Jessie Stuart lived on a street paved with gold, lined with emerald green lawns and twinkling cars. Through the enormous windows, you could see the residents going about their wealthy lives with upturned noses.

  And as I walked toward her house from the bus station, passing manor after even larger estate, I rounded a bend and had to shield my eyes. Jessie’s enormous house was as radiant as a glow stick factory, the colored lights from the party pouring out the windows and painting the world in shades of green, red, and blue.

  Mr. and Mrs. Stuart would surely be out for the evening, and I’d heard that the neighbors had long since given up trying to silence Jessie’s wild parties.

  I jammed my hands into the pockets of my cargo shorts, hanging back and internally debating on the pros and cons of entering such a volatile environment.

  Aunt Nellie had certainly been happy when I told her that I “wanted” to go to a party with some friends. As I stood at the foot of the driveway, I entertained the thought that maybe it would be good for me.

  I even let my mind frolic in the flowery field of an idea that maybe, perhaps, the alcohol in my friends’ brains had somehow fixed a broken connection, and they’d simultaneously had wonderful epiphanies, making them realize the errors of their ways and prompting them to reconsider the nature of our friendship.

  Against my better judgment, I started up the driveway. The sound vibrations of the electronic music pummeled my body, pushing me back. Eventually, I made it to the front door. I didn’t bother ringing the bell; the door was unlocked anyways.

  It was quite a scene to behold. Jessie’s house was packed fuller than even the school hallways. People danced anywhere they could find a small pocket of space to occupy. And by “danced,” I mean they thrashed their bodies up, down, and against one another and pumped their fists in the air. No foxtrot over here, people.

  I took the most direct route to the back door, oozing between the partygoers. Beer sloshed out of cups and dribbled down my arms and neck. People shouted as I halved couples like the mitoses of amoeba.

  Finally, I reached the back of the house. The sliding door was thrown open, letting the warm near-summer air filter into the kitchen.

  I knew my friends would be in the backyard, where there was more space. Sure enough, they were at the center of the bull’s eye, a crowd around them. They were dancing with some girls.

  I hung back on the patio, watching them have a good time. Everybody else was enjoying themselves too. I just felt awkward. I knew I didn’t belong.

  As a girl in a hot pink bikini whipped her hair into Jordan’s face, running her hands up and down his body, he turned his head and noticed me. He nudged the girl away and spread his arms, yelling, “Willy, you made it!”

  My other friends stopped what they were doing and looked my way too. The members of the crowd followed their lead. Now I was the center of attention, and I hated it. I felt a flush rise to my cheeks, and my palms grew sweaty.

  “Let him through, guys,” Jordan ordered. At his command, the crowd slowly divided and allowed me safe passage.

  Uncomfortably, I made my way down the steps from the patio and stepped along the new path through the crowd. People were whispering things to one another and giggling. I tried to ignore them.

  “What’s up, guys?” I mumbled when I reached them.

  “Listen up, everybody,” Jordan shouted, disregarding me completely. The crowd hung on his every word. “This here is our friend Willy … you might recognize him from school.”

  A lot of kids shook their heads, not surprisingly. Still, it made me feel really good about myself.

  “What’s up?” I repeated. I wanted to find out why they had summoned me to the party so I could do whatever it was they wanted and get home.

  “Shut up for a goddamn minute,” Jordan spat in my direction. A millisecond later, he cranked back up his charm and continued to enchant the crowd. “Willy’s been doing homework all night.”

  Everybody booed at that, a few people throwing crushed beer cans.

  “We thought we’d show him a fun time. Right, guys?” Jordan turned to my other friends, and they readily agreed, nudging one another and chuckling. I looked for Adam, but he was nowhere to be found. Jordan hopped up onto a lawn chair. “We also thought we’d show you guys all a good time.”

  Everybody cheered.

  A shiver raced up my spine; something wasn’t right. I started to get scared. My friends were grinning mischievously, and expectant laughter rose from the crowd around me. I realized that I was alone; nobody was on my side.

  Jordan descended from his impromptu stage and strutted cockily toward me, hair disheveled and eyes unfocused. He stopped directly in front of me, our toes touching and his large chest closing the distance between us.

  I was shaking.

  “This is your first big party, Willy,” Jordan said, the reek of alcohol heavy on his breath. “You’re a … party virgin.”

  “I guess,” I whispered.

  “Welcome to your initiation!”

  A deafening cheer rose through the crowd, and Tyler and Sean grabbed my arms from behind. I struggled, but it was useless; they were so strong. Jordan and Matt joined in and picked me up by the legs. I shouted for help, but nobody was listening.

  “Toss the loser!” Somebody yelled. It quickly became a chant, thundering all around me. I was totally alone, one boy against an army.

  My friends carried me over to the edge of Jessie’s huge swimming pool and started swinging me back and forth, working the crowd. People were going insane, laughing and shouting.

  “Guys, wait, I—” The words got stuck in my throat. I tried again. “Guys, please don’t do this.”

  I felt tears stinging in the corners of my eyes and tried to blink them away. The swinging became more exaggerated, more of a tease. I was babbling nonsense and begging them to stop. But my pleas fell on deaf ears. My throat burned from screaming, and I was sobbing in a way that was totally pathetic.

  “What the fuck?”

  This was a loud voice that carried over the noise of the crowd, strong if not a little slurred. My tormentors stopped swinging and dropped me on the cement pool deck.

  Blinking through the tears, my apparent savior swam into focus. Hope soared in my heart at the sight. Adam had pushed his way through the crowd, towing a pretty girl by the hand. His expression twisted in confusion as he demanded, “What are you guys doing?”

  “Adam, buddy!” Jordan hollered. “You almost missed the main event. Willy’s about to go for a swim!”

  Totally puzzled, Adam looked back and forth between my friends and me. Words had deserted me; all I could do was look at him in desperation. Adam would help me. He had to help me.

  “Guys, this is—”

  Jordan cut him off. “Quit being a pussy, bro, and come help us. Because right now you’re looking like a bigger fag than Willy in front of all these people.”

  “Seriously, dude,” Matt agreed.

  Adam cringed at the word, and I knew the battle was lost. He looked down at me, a deep sadness in his eyes, and gave a
small, apologetic shrug of the shoulder.

  “Please,” I whispered.

  But then he was coming toward me, and everything became so loud again. Shouting, chanting, laughing, jeering … all directed at me. I felt five sets of hands grabbing me roughly. My limbs ached as I was swung higher than ever.

  The last thing I heard before being sent sailing through the air was the word “loser.” Then I was flying, arcing, and landing. The chilly water plucked me from the air and sucked me under, allowing me for the briefest moment a bit of silence.

  . . .

  I stumbled blindly up the steps to my house, jammed my key into the lock. and shoved the door open with my shoulder. It swung open and banged into the wall.

  “Will?” Aunt Nellie asked from the other room.

  I didn’t answer her as I slammed the door closed behind me, kicked off my waterlogged shoes, and crossed the entryway to the stairs.

  “Will, what’s going on?” she asked, appearing next to me. She put a hand on my arm, but I shook her off. “Honey, you’re all wet. What happened?”

  “I don’t … have … any … friends,” I choked through my tears. “Threw … me … in … the … pool!”

  Leaving Aunt Nellie looking thoroughly confused, I stormed up the stairs and locked myself in my bedroom.

  I flicked on my lamp and turned on my iPod docking station, cranking up the volume. I took comfort in the soothingly familiar melodies of my favorite band, The Fuzzy Sweaters.

  Then I tore a page from my math notebook and grabbed a marker and started writing a list. It wasn’t hard. I just let all the things I had been feeling pour out onto the page, all the things I wanted to do but never could because I was weak. Everything I wanted for myself, but was too scared to go after.

  Across the top of the page, I wrote in big block letters three words that seemed to make sense. I had a plan, I knew what I wanted, and I had nothing left to lose but to take it.

  I would show them all that I could be happy … I would show myself that I could be happy. Failure was not an option.

  I capped the marker, tossed it aside, and read and reread the list a few times. I smiled at its title: The Big Summer.

  . . .

  (Note: I did not finish my ex-friends’ essays. They failed. I received a black eye. It was worth it.)

  Chapter 3

  The Big Day

  It was the day of the move. I stayed in bed for a few minutes after waking up, working up the energy required to swing my legs over the side of my mattress, plant my feet on the floor, and actually stand up.

  Eventually, the pressure of Satan’s claws gripped around my bladder grew too intense, and I decided to get out of bed.

  First, I stumbled like a drunken zombie into the hallway bathroom. Then I peed. This was followed by brushing my teeth, popping a zit on my chin, and shaving off my practically nonexistent facial hair. Next, I spent the necessary five to ten minutes every teenager does staring into the mirror and picking apart my every physical flaw (too-small nose, weird eyebrows, disproportionate lips, etc.) before sighing dramatically and just getting on with it.

  After a brief shower filled with song, I got dressed and headed downstairs. Aunt Nellie was at the kitchen table, munching on a breakfast sandwich and sipping a coffee.

  “I got you one,” Aunt Nellie said when she saw me. “I was up early.”

  “Thanks.” I took the sandwich and began to feast, reaching for the carton of orange juice she had taken out of the fridge.

  “Jeannette’s going to be here soon with the U-Haul. You’ve got everything packed?”

  “Yeah, I’ll start bringing the boxes down in a minute.”

  “Cool,” Aunt Nellie replied.

  I crumpled the waxed paper from the sandwich and tossed it in the trash, rinsed out my glass, and grabbed a banana from the bowl on the counter.

  “Um … thanks again, Aunt Nellie. Really. It means a lot that you’re doing this with me.”

  She smiled and nodded. “I’d do anything for you, kiddo. You know that.”

  “I know,” I said and started upstairs.

  The plan was that Aunt Nellie’s friend Jeanette would look after the house for us while we were gone. She would come over a few times a week, water the plants, pass the vacuum quickly … essentially just making sure that the house didn’t become a giant kingdom for mutant spiders.

  Before I had even managed to stagger downstairs with the first bulging box, I heard a loud honk outside. Aunt Nellie opened the front door, and I saw Jeannette walking up the front steps, her black hair its usual frizzy mess.

  “Hey, Nell-Bell,” Jeannette said, giving my aunt a kiss on the cheek. “How’s it going, Will?”

  “Fine, thanks.”

  “Excited for your big trip, huh?” she asked.

  I nodded. “Yeah, it’s going to be great.”

  I left my aunt and her friend to chat for a while, continuing the backbreaking chore of lugging all our crap downstairs. I had two big suitcases full of my clothes and linens, three boxes of belongings, my electric keyboard, and a backpack of stuff I wanted to keep with me in the cab of the truck.

  The man I’d been in contact with about the apartment told me that it was fully furnished, so we wouldn’t have to worry about bringing furniture with us. But I did have to keep my promise and help Aunt Nellie move that godforsaken chair out of the house and heave it up into the truck.

  “Thank you so much for doing this for us, Jeannette,” my aunt told her friend as they hugged.

  We said our final good-byes, and then Aunt Nellie and I clambered into the truck’s cab. Aunt Nellie looked at me, and I saw the thrill of adventure in her eyes. I think she was just as excited as I was. “Ready?”

  “Totally.”

  . . .

  “But I have to pee, Will!” Aunt Nellie complained. We had been driving for approximately an hour and were passing by New York City.

  I rolled my eyes and laughed. “Aunt Nellie, can’t you just wait until we stop for lunch?”

  “Great, Will … just freaking great,” she groaned. “Now I’ve got to pee, and I’m hungry!”

  She looked at me pleadingly, and I shrugged. “I suppose our schedule can allow for an early lunch stop.”

  “Yay,” she said and laughed. “You’re so good to me, Will.”

  We turned off of the highway at the next rest stop. Aunt Nellie was practically doing the pee-pee dance as we got out of the truck.

  “I’ll see you inside, okay, kiddo?” she asked and hobble-sprinted away before I could reply. I followed her inside, taking my time and stretching my legs.

  I waited outside the bathrooms for Aunt Nellie, and she emerged a few minutes later with a big smile on her face. “Much better.”

  The rest stop was packed with people, so I went to grab us a table while Aunt Nellie waited in line at the sandwich restaurant. I was perfectly happy people-watching.

  There was an old lady holding up the line at Starbucks because she was demanding very loudly to know why her coffee order cost so much and what was wrong with people nowadays that they couldn’t just be happy with normal coffee.

  “One turkey and Swiss sub with tomatoes, lettuce, and bacon,” Aunt Nellie said, tapping my shoulder and handing me a tray. “And a brownie because you let me stop to use the bathroom.”

  “And one meatball sub for my aunt,” I replied with a grin. “Because that’s what you always get.”

  “You know me too well,” she told me, sitting down across the table. “My secrets have been revealed.”

  “Yeah, especially the ones you keep hidden in your bedside table,” I teased.

  She let out a scary cackle and shook her head. “You’re disgusting, you know that? But hey, you can always ask me if ever you want to go shopping for—”

  “Groceries!” I interjected quick
ly. “Just groceries.”

  I opened up my sandwich and took a few bites.

  “So do you want to explain to me what The Big Summer thing entails?” Aunt Nellie asked, a bit of tomato sauce clinging to her upper lip.

  I brushed a finger over my own lip discreetly, and she wiped it away with a napkin, getting the hint. “Um, what’s your stance on teen drinking again?”

  “Have fun, kiddo,” she said and laughed. “Seriously, I’m kinda glad you’ve decided to experiment with a few things. I think it’s good for you. And you know what? As long as you act responsibly and stay safe, I’m behind you 100 percent.”

  “What about getting a tattoo?” I asked.

  She merely smiled and took a huge bite out of her meatball sandwich, mumbling, “The Lord is testing me.”

  . . .

  We drove for another two hours and a bit, and it was a lot of fun. Aunt Nellie brought some CDs with her, and we had a major jam session complete with air guitar and some not-too-shabby vocals.

  We stopped another two times because Aunt Nellie wanted either chips or chocolate or a T-shirt from whatever little town we were passing by. And I obliged because, not only was she funding The Big Summer and picking up and moving her whole life for me … but I was also glad that she was enjoying herself as much as I was.

  Finally, we did in fact arrive in Seaside City. There was a long, high bridge to cross as we headed into town, passing over a somewhat swampy inlet of the ocean. And a huge sign proclaimed:

  Welcome to Seaside City, NJ

  Delighting families with a smile for over 30 years

  “Where are they?” Aunt Nellie asked as we passed the sign.

  I frowned. “Where are who?”

  “The people,” she said. “I expect there to be people welcoming us with a smile. I want some smiling people or so help me I’m suing for false advertising.”

  I turned to look at her and flashed an enormous grin that nearly ripped my face in two. “Welcome to Seaside City, New Jersey.”