Chapter 20

THEN

2006, Camp Wawa, End of Week Five

“Are you still having a good time, honey?” Mom’s voice sounds breezy and light. We’ve been catching up on Saturdays, when I come into town and can get solid cell phone reception, but last weekend she never answered my call. It’s been two weeks since I spoke to her—a record.

I smile. “The best time. Really. It’s been great.”

“I’m so happy to hear that. And that you’re staying out of trouble.”

“It’s not hard. I’m still on probation.”

“What about that boy?”

I glance over at Kyle, to see him and Eric punching each other in the arm as Ashley draws money from the bank machine. I wonder if my mother would consider me losing my virginity to that boy last weekend “staying out of trouble.”

“He’s fine.”

“Piper—”

“How are things on the island?” I ask, to divert the conversation.

“Oh, I’m having a fantastic time. It’s exactly what I needed.”

“But you’re coming home in three weeks, right?”

“Of course I’m coming home. You’ll be home.”

“So . . .” I hesitate. “Has Dad visited you lately?”

She sighs into my ear. “Your father and I agreed to give each other some real space. That means him not coming out here.”

It also means they can’t work things out. It also means my life may be turning upside down when I leave Wawa. My shoulders sag with dismay. Leaving will already be hard enough. “You haven’t been lonely out there, all by yourself?”

“Me?” She laughs. “No, darling. Jackie came out for a few days. And I’ve been at the club almost every day. My tennis game has improved. This instructor I have now is . . . well, he has definitely taught me a lot I didn’t know.”

“That’s good. Maybe we can start playing singles again.”

“Hmm? Yes. Maybe. So, listen, I’m going to be heading off to Paris on Monday for two weeks.”

I frown. “By yourself?” How hurt is Dad going to be that she refused to go with him in May, but is jetting off now?

“Uh . . . no. Jackie said she’d come with me,” she says, almost as if she’s deciding then and there that she’ll invite her sister along. “But your dad is in Lennox and not traveling. Should you need anything while I’m gone, you can call him.”

“Okay. I guess?”

“Good. Love you, darling. See you in three weeks!”

I hang up, the reminder that the end of summer is looming nearer making my chest ache. Just three weeks left with Kyle, and then we have to figure out how we’ll manage a long-distance relationship until we’re back here next summer.

Kyle sidles up beside me, roping his arms around my waist. “Why so sad?” he whispers, kissing the side of my neck. This past week has been a test of teenage hormonal fortitude—of seeing him but not touching him, of pretending that we’re not aching for another Saturday night.

His hands have been on me since the last camper rolled out of the parking lot today—a thumb stroking the small of my back while Darian presented this week’s counselor stars; a palm warming my thigh as we inhaled the grilled cheese sandwiches that Russell whipped up for us; fingers digging deep into the back pockets of my jean shorts before we got in his car.

“There’s only three weeks left.” I don’t hide the dismay from my voice.

“I know.”

I steal a kiss. “It’s so hard, not being able to do that all week.”

He steals one for himself. “Unless we risk it and sneak out at night.”

“It’s not worth it,” I remind him with a knowing gaze. Kyle needs this job.

“Anything that means I get more time with you is worth it.” He presses his body into mine.

My cheeks flush. “Wow, you’re . . . ready.”

His chuckle sends shivers down my spine. “I can’t help it. That’s what you do to me every time I see you . . . or think about you . . . or do this.” He kisses me deeply on the mouth, and I forget for a moment that we’re standing in a parking lot, with people milling around us.

I can’t wait to get back to his cabin. “Do you think Shane’s gone yet?”

“Probably.” He checks his watch. “We’ll head back as soon as Ashley and Eric are done.”

“What are they doing?”

“I don’t know about Ash, but Eric’s buying condoms. Don’t worry, we’re good for tonight.”

I struggle to hide my smile. Never did I think I’d end up with a boyfriend—let alone needing condoms—when my mother dropped me off at Wawa five weeks ago.

“But I thought you liked the ribbed ones, Freckles!” Eric hollers. We turn to see him trailing Ashley out of the convenience store, holding up a box, earning several glances from people nearby. “They’re for your pleasure!”

“That must have been Avery,” Ashley throws back, giving him the finger before storming toward us, chips and licorice in hand, her cheeks bright red.

I feel my eyebrows pop with surprise. “Did Ashley and Eric hook up?” She would have told me, wouldn’t she?

“Nope. And I’m guessing he just officially killed any chance he had. The guy has no tact. What an idiot,” he mutters, but he’s grinning. “Come on, let’s get back.”

“I think my parents are getting a divorce.” I stare up at the underside of the top bunk in Kyle’s bed, my head resting against the crook of his arm.

“Why do you think that?” Kyle asks, then shoves a handful of chips into his mouth.

“Because my dad cheated on my mom and she’s not in any rush to forgive him.”

He chews slowly. Finally, he swallows and asks, “Do you blame her?”

“No. I guess not. But she’s been at our summer house since she dropped me off here, and now she’s taking off to Paris next week. And she sounded happy on the phone today.”

“And that’s bad?” He offers me the bag of chips.

I grab a few. “Well, yeah. If she’s happier without him, then they’re going to divorce and my entire life is going to change. I’m not even sure how, exactly. I already don’t see my father much as it is.” Will I be taking turns living in their separate houses? Will we keep our house in Lennox or sell it? Oh God, what if they remarry? What kind of stepparents will I end up with?

“If it does happen, you’ll adjust and you’ll be fine.”

“I don’t want to have to adjust, though. Why are they doing this? Why did my father have to . . .” I don’t want to finish that sentence. Talking about my parents having sex with each other—let alone anyone else—makes me cringe.

“Were they happy?”

I consider that. “I don’t know. My dad’s never home, so . . .”

“Maybe that’s the real issue.”

I sigh. “I think you may be right.”

When I pass on more chips, Kyle tosses the bag to the floor beside us. A few chips spill out, but he doesn’t seem bothered. “When my dad went to jail, I thought my mom would divorce him right away. She keeps saying she will, that we’ll pack up and move far away from the whole mess, but . . . she hasn’t yet.”