Chapters 2-5

Chapter 2

 

 

 

 

            Lynnie sat in the back seat sulking the day Dad drove them to Aunt Irene’s in New Jersey.  Mom hadn’t felt well enough to make the trip, so that meant Evey got the front seat.  For the two hours it took to get there, she and her father talked without interruption about their favorite movies, the songs on the radio, her school, his job, the weather, the scenery, everything and nothing.  Never before had Evey had her father’s attention all to herself for such an extended period of time and she took great joy in discovering what a funny, insightful, intelligent and attentive person he was.  Usually it was Lynnie who got all his attention.

She glanced back at her sister now, arms crossed over her chest in petulance as she stared out the window.  Her pouty lips were full and pink, her crystal blue eyes darkened with self-pity making her appear all the more beautiful.

            Ahh, Evey thought, the luxury of living in your own selfish, oblivious little world.

            Lynnie caught Evey looking at her, and she made a face.  When Evey didn’t turn away, Lynnie shot nastily, “Mind your own business, you frigging little retard.”

            “Hey hey,” Dad said, and with Lynnie’s little utterance, Evey’s conversation with him was lost.    

            Aunt Irene’s townhome was located at the end of a row of five twin houses.  Dad pulled into the driveway, right behind her car.  The garage was open, revealing enough space for two cars, but filled only with a few boxes and some old paintings of ships and other beach scenes.  The neighbor’s garage was open, too, and Evey saw a black Ford pickup and a red jeep with a surfboard on the roof.  In the corner was a jet ski. 

            “I wonder who lives there,” she mused aloud while Dad unfastened his safety belt and climbed out of the car.

            “No surfing,” he scolded playfully.  He walked around to the back of the car where he had tied Evey and Lynnie’s bikes to a makeshift rack attached to the bumper.  He wheeled them into the garage, then opened the back door of the car, gesturing for Lynnie to get out.

            “Come on,” Dad said.  He went around to the trunk while Evey opened her own door and climbed out.

            Aunt Irene came outside then, excitedly walking down the cement stairs to greet them.  Dressed in pink pedal pushers with matching pink and yellow paisley print lounging jacket, she reminded one of Marilyn Monroe in her final months.  Although not as pretty as the legendary actress, Aunt Irene must have once been a looker in her own right.  Petite and blonde with aquamarine eyes, she was quite attractive and at thirty-seven, still young enough to remarry and have children if she cleaned up her act.

            Maybe we all will be good for each other, Evey thought as her aunt made her way down the driveway, arms outstretched.

            After hugging both her nieces, Aunt Irene led them inside, showing the girls their bedrooms.  Evey’s was furthest down the hall and the larger of the two.  Done in shades of pink and slate, in addition to a bed and two chests of drawers, the room also had a bookshelf and desk.

            “I went to Barnes and Noble last week,” Aunt Irene said proudly, showing Evey the titles in the bookshelf.  “I grabbed a few classics, as well as some young adult novels I thought you might find interesting.  I got some magazines for you, Lynnie,” she said, addressing her other niece.  “You’ll find them in your room.”

            She placed her hands on Evey’s shoulders.  “That desk will be a great place for you to put your laptop and write poems.  I know how much you like to do that.”

            “Thanks, Aunt Irene,” Evey said, a bit overwhelmed by such a lavish welcome.  But she was excited by her new room and couldn’t wait to look through all the books.

            Lynnie’s room was next door, across the hall from the bathroom, the walls colored seafoam green with light yellow window and bed dressings.  There was a stereo and television in her room, with a DVD player.  She set about to unpacking her things while Evey, Dad, and Aunt Irene sat in the kitchen drinking iced tea.  When the adults’ conversation turned to topics of little interest to Evey, she left the kitchen and explored the living room, checking out Irene’s CD as well as DVD collection.  The furniture looked soft and inviting if little-used, a full-sized sofa as well as matching loveseat and single chair, all done in a turquoise and royal blue cheetah print.  A glass topped coffee table sat in the middle of the arrangement, the base of it a marble snow leopard with eyes that looked like real sapphires.  In one corner of the room was a large plant of some sort; in another was a cubed shelf with various knickknacks and framed photos.

            The room also contained a stereo system and a wide screen television.  In the center of the south wall was a set of glass doors that led out to a patio.  Evey slid them open and took a step outside.  The deck overlooked the beach and provided an unobscured view of the ocean.

            Evey took the crisp, salty air into her lungs, exhaling with a loud breath and a wide smile.  She was going to like it here at Aunt Irene’s.

            This summer would change her life, she knew it.   

            Evey was up early the next morning, before anyone else.  She called her mother to tell her how much she liked Aunt Irene’s house and how much fun she thought she was going to have.

            “I miss you, my Evey,” Mom said.  She and Dad were planning to visit in two weeks for the July Fourth holiday.  She said she couldn’t wait to see her girls again.

            “How’s Lynnie?” she asked.

            “She’s fine,” Evey lied.  “She’s a little quiet, but she’ll get used to it.”

            Truth was, Lynnie wasn’t doing well at all.  She hadn’t come out of her room since dinner last night, and she’d shown up at the table only because Aunt Irene had forced her to.

            “It’s our first night together, and we’re going to eat together like a family.”

            “Whatever,” Lynnie had mumbled into her plate of chicken cordon bleu, wild rice and broccoli rabe.  Aunt Irene had gone all out for their first dinner, even making freshly squeezed limeade and strawberry rhubarb pie.  After supper, when Lynnie had gone back to her room, Irene and Evey sat up and played Scrabble and Yahtzee, then watched the first installment in the Matrix trilogy.

            “I’m glad you’re having fun,” Mom said over the phone.  “Take care of your sister, Evey.”

            After hanging up, Evey made herself a breakfast of cornflakes and milk with sliced banana and ate it on the back patio in one of the two lounge chairs.  She watched the boats out on the ocean, one of them pulling a water skier.  She thought of the Sea-Doo in Aunt Irene’s neighbor’s garage.  She’d never been on one of those before.  She wondered if whoever lived next door would take her for a ride on it.

            Aunt Irene and Lynnie were still sleeping by the time Evey had finished her breakfast, so she went to her room to read one of the books.  Titled “My Insides Out,” it was about a teenaged girl with psychic powers who was wrongly committed to a mental institution.  After thirty pages, Evey began to grow tired, and she lay back against the pillows and closed her eyes.

            When she awoke, Aunt Irene was in the kitchen brewing coffee.  The sun was bright through the curtains, warming her face from across the room.  She put on her bathing suit and knocked on her sister’s bedroom door.

            “Lynnie?” she called out.

            “What?”

            “Can I come in?”

            Several seconds later the door was opened.  Lynnie stood there, her eyes were red from crying.  “What?” she asked again.  Then she looked down at Evey’s bathing suit.  Evey followed her gaze, inspecting her appearance self-consciously.

            “What?” she asked, just as her sister had, but in a completely different tone.

            “Nothing.”  Lynnie turned and retreated back into her room.  Evey followed.  There were no windows in Lynnie’s room, and it was dark, depressing.  No sun in here.

            Lynnie climbed back into her bed, facing away from her sister, pulling the covers up over her shoulder.

            “Um, I thought maybe you’d like to go to the beach with me,” Evey said.

            Lynnie said nothing.  Evey moved closer to the bed.

            “Really, Lynnie, you can’t keep moping around like this.  You made your point, you staged your protest but got drafted anyway.  We’re here.  For the entire summer.  You might as well enjoy it.”

            “I won’t enjoy it.  I hate it here, away from all my friends.”

            “You’ll make new friends.  You make friends so easy.  Everyone loves you.  Everyone wants to be your friend.”

            “They do not.”

            “Well, not if you stay all pasty and mopey.  You’ve got to get out in the sun, work on that tan.  Let the sun lighten your hair a bit more.  Be a real California blonde.”

            “We’re in New Jersey.”

            “We’re anywhere we want to be.”

            Lynnie flipped over, sitting up.  “Well I want to be home right now.  And I’m not.  So second best is this bed.  And I can rot here and it’s none of your business.  So you’ll have to go to California and get tan all by yourself.”  She flopped down, turning her back again.  “Shut the door on your way out.”

            Evey left her sister’s room, being sure to close the door behind her.  She didn’t want Lynnie’s mood to sour her own, but Evey was missing home, too.  She’d also left friends, the familiarity of their neighborhood, the comfort of her room with all her belongings.  She was trying to become acclimated to her new surroundings, but Lynnie’s attitude was counterproductive.

            “Take care of your sister,” Mom had said.  Well who was going to take care of Evey?  She was the younger sister.  Lynnie should be taking care of her.  Lynnie should be the one to know about the real reason they were here, not her.  It wasn’t fair.

            She stepped out onto the patio, sliding the glass door closed behind her.  She sank into one of the lounge chairs with a loud huff.

            Aunt Irene was out there, sipping her coffee, looking out over the ocean.  She turned to her niece.

            “What’s the matter, kiddo?”

            “Lynnie won’t swim with me.  She won’t even go out onto to beach with me.  She won’t do anything.”

            “Don’t look at me, kid.  I don’t do the ocean.  Or even the beach.  Gotta stay out of the sun or your skin will wrinkle and sag.  Look like leather.”

            Evey didn’t bother to remind her that adding a splash of vodka to everything she drank the way most people add salt to their food wasn’t exactly a tonic culled from the Fountain of Youth.  Nor did she bring to her aunt’s attention the fact that a person who wished to avoid the sun and the ocean had little use for a beach house.  But considering the acquisition of the property had been as much a feather in her cap as it was a thorn in Uncle Phil’s side, Evey kept her thoughts to herself and allowed Irene the most lavish of extravagances, the luxury of denial.

            “Hey now, there’s somebody,” Irene said, shielding her eyes with her hand.  “Whyn’t you go and ask her to swim with you?”

            She got up and went back inside, cackling, “She’d sure make a good life raft.”

            Evey slumped further into the chair, face scowling even though there was no longer anyone there to infect with her belligerence. 

            Well, there was that girl out there on the beach.

            Evey couldn’t see her very well from where she sat, but she could make out long, stringy blonde hair and a yellow bathing suit.  A very large yellow bathing suit.

            Evey watched for a while as the girl ran to the edge of the water and back, the waves chasing her up the beach with their frothy, foamy crests.  Usually not very outgoing and definitely the more introverted of the two Evelyns, Evey contemplated leaving the porch and walking down to the water’s edge to strike up a conversation.  She didn’t think she’d have much to say to the girl, but she was lonely and it would be a very long summer indeed if she had to spend it without having anyone to talk to.

            She got up from the chair and was debating about whether to take the chance or just go inside and play solitaire on her laptop when the decision was made for her.  Yellow Bathing Suit had discovered Evey’s presence and was moving up the beach toward the house.

            “Hello there!” she called out, waving her arms.

            Evey gestured back a small wave that most probably went undetected, but she was surprised she’d found the inclination to make any motion at all.  She was dumbfounded with fascination, mesmerized by the massive blob making its way toward her.  The girl was huge, and wobbled from side to side as she walked.  Even as she got closer Evey could barely make out her face.  Covered with excess flesh that practically forced her eyes closed, her apple dumpling cheeks and plumped forehead�"which looked like a loaf of bread rising to life after being baked in an oven�"seemed to be in a race to meet each other.  Her mouth was a mere slit situated atop a staircase of chins.

            When she finally reached the porch she stopped with a loud “Whew!” as if she’d just run a 5k marathon.   She bent over slightly, her wristless hands resting on what were once her knees.  Her breath was labored and she was sweating profusely, her face as crimson as the red hot Swedish fish they sold at Morrow’s Nut House.

            And her body.  Her poor, poor body squeezed into that yellow bathing suit that’s material was stretched almost to its ripping point, surely as was the skin it barely concealed.  Evey tried not to stare, tried not to notice every bump and dimple and rash and pimple and stretch mark and bruise and ripple on the mass of flesh before her, but it was as futile as trying not to notice roaches and flies and ants and spiders on a five-tiered vanilla frosted wedding cake.

            “I’m . . . Vivica,” the girl said, gasping for air.  “Vivica . . . Taylor.”

            “Evey.”

            “Hey, Evey.  Nice to . . . meet you.”

            Vivica straightened up, piling her hair on top of her head, holding it off her neck with one chubby hand while the other fanned her face. 

            “You want to go for some ice cream later on?”  

             

           

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 3

 

 

 

 

            The place where Evey met Vivica for ice cream was a retro burger joint called Joe Fifties where the waitresses wore roller skates and an old Rockola jukebox played such golden oldies as “Heartbreak Hotel” and “Party Doll.”  The booths were pink and baby blue, the table tops a speckled mixture of both colors, taking up the right side of the room overlooking Crest Street.  Across from them an old fashioned soda fountain and dining counter had been installed.  A pink Cadillac was parked in the middle of it all, surrounded by a raised platform where some people were now slow dancing to “Earth Angel.”

            Evey found Vivica seated at a booth toward the back of the restaurant.  Although Evey would have had a hard time missing her, Vivica raised both her arms and waved them wildly, bouncing up and down in her seat.

            “Over here, Evey, over here!”

            Evey bowed her head in embarrassment as she crossed the room, then slid into the seat across from her new friend. 

            “Did you wait long?” Evey asked, consulting her watch.  It was quarter past seven.  She was fifteen minutes late.

            “Ah, that’s all right.  I love this place.  How’d you get here?”

            “I rode my bike.”

            Vivica nodded absently, looking around the room.  “My dad dropped me off.”

            “Oh,” Evey said. 

            They sat in silence for a few moments, until a waitress skated up and took their order.  Evey had already eaten earlier with Whiskey.  They’d shared a frozen pizza, then Evey had excused herself.  She told her aunt she was going out with her new friend and promised to be home by ten. 

            “You mean that tub of lard who was on the beach today?”

            “Yeah, that’s the one,” Evey said, grabbing her jacket and ducking out the door.  She’d been offended by Whiskey’s mean comments about Vivica earlier in the day, and really hadn’t appreciated them once the girl extended her friendship.  But it was admittedly hard to keep up the sympathy when Vivica seemed to have none for herself.  Where Evey ordered a strawberry milkshake, Vivica got a hamburger with extra mayo, french fries with gravy, a side of onion rings and a diet Coke.

            “I’m starving,” she said. 

            “Didn’t you have dinner?”  Evey asked her.

            “A salad,” she said, sticking her tongue out in disgust.  “Whole family’s on a diet.  I know I’m fat.  ‘Morbidly obese’ is what the doctor called me.  So what.  I’m young.  I’ll work it off.”  She reached into the backpack she had sitting next to her and removed a notebook and a pen.  She clicked out the point and opened the book, flipping to the next blank page.

            “Full name?” he asked Evey.

            “What?”

            “Your name, your full name,” she said, talking to Evey like she thought she was an idiot.

            “Evelyn Dodson,” Evey said, pronouncing the first name “Eve-Lynn.”

            “Spell?”

            Evey spelled it for her.

            “No middle name?”  Viv asked.

            “No.”

            Viv raised her eyebrows.  “No middle name?”

            “No, Vivica, I don’t,” she said defensively.

            “Okay, okay.  Where are you from?”

            “What are you doing?”

            “I keep a detailed journal of my new friends.  I make one new friend each year.  This year it’s you.  So where are you from?”

            “King of Prussia.”

            “Really?  I’m from Norristown.  We’re practically neighbors.”  She wrote in her book.  “Speaking of neighbors, what are the names of your neighbors?”

            “What?”

            “Your neighbors.  The people next door.”

            “I know what neighbors are,” she said peevishly.  Vivica was starting to get on her nerves. 

            “So what’s the name of the hot guy living next to you?”

            “Hot guy?”  Evey stared at her blankly.  Then she remembered the neighbor’s garage.  Red jeep.  Surfboard.  Jet ski.

            Evey shook her head.  “I don’t know.  I’ve never seen him.  I just got here yesterday.”

            Vivica closed her book, looking around the room once again.  “He’ll probably show up here tonight.  He comes here all the time.  I’ve been in Crystal Creek since Memorial Day weekend and I’ve been here at least ten times with my parents.” 

She turned back to Evey, eyes glimmering.  “He’s been here every single time.  One day I was on the beach and I saw him riding a Sea-Doo.”  She shivered.  “It was June seventh.  I’ll never forget that day.”

            “So how do you know he lives next to me?  Have you been stalking him?”

            “Yes!”  Vivica admitted shamelessly, breaking into fits of giggles.  “And I can’t believe I’m now best friends with the girl who lives next door to him!  It’s destiny!  He’s bound to be my husband!”

            She asked Evey a few more questions, such as her favorite color, rock band, book, movie, song.  She recorded her answers in the book.

            “Do you have a boyfriend?”

            Evey shook her head, sipping the shake the waitress had brought a few minutes ago.

            “Have you ever had a boyfriend?”

            “Nope.”

            “Have you ever kissed a boy?”

            Evey laughed.  “Have you?”

            “I’m the one asking the questions here.  Now have you?”

            “Well, sort of.  I mean, on the lips, but no tongue.”

            Vivica’s eyes widened.  “Really?  Who?”

            “Some guy at my eighth grade graduation dance.  We liked each other all through school.  I guess you could say he was my boyfriend.”

            “No way,” Viv said, popping a fry into her mouth.  “You can’t be a girlfriend of someone you’ve never kissed with your tongue.”

            “Yes you can.”

            “Can not.  Technically, a boyfriend is someone you sleep with.”

            Evey shook her head dismissively.  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

            “Have you ever seen a bare penis, up close and personal?”

            Evey practically choked on the shake.  “Viv!” she whispered, laughing.

            “I did!”

            They were both giggling uncontrollably and Evey was about to ask for details when Vivica suddenly reached for her arm across the table.

            “Oh God, he’s here!” she whispered excitedly.  “I knew he would be.”

            Evey made a move to turn around in her seat, but Vivica squeezed her wrist.

            “No, no, don’t!  He’ll see you!”

            “Well of course he’ll see me:  I am here.  It’s not like I’m invisible.”

            Vivica rolled her eyes.  “No.  He’ll see you seeing him.  You can’t be obvious about it.”  Then she quickly put her head down, hiding her face.  “Oh, God, here he comes!”

            Once again Evey found herself fascinated by Vivica, this time with the notion that the girl believed ducking her head would render her two hundred-plus frame undetectable.  What she also found interesting was how infectious the girl’s mood was.  Feeling unreasonably nervous in the presence of a boy she’d never even seen, let alone met, Evey felt an inexplicable yet urgent need to hide herself.

            But then the object of Vivica’s affection was breezing past them, the napkins on their table flapping in his wake.  Evey saw comfortably worn jeans hugging a firm, rounded rump, long legs moving with a confident yet not cocky swagger, blue t-shirt and spiky blonde hair with chunky dark roots.  And he was tall.  Over six feet.

            He fell easily into the last booth, sliding all the way in, sitting sideways and propping his head against the window.  He had an iPod attached to his arm, his eyes closed as his lips moved slightly in sync with the music coming through the earbuds plugged into his ears.  His skin was smooth, caramelized from the sun, dewy with the sea air.

            “What’s he doing, what’s he doing?”  Vivica hissed.

            “Oh, you mean I’m allowed to look now?” Evey asked sarcastically.  Although in truth she hadn’t been able to take her eyes off him since his arrival.

            “Isn’t he gorgeous?”

            Beautiful.

            “What’s he doing?”  Vivica asked again.

            “Just sitting,” Evey answered, leaning to one side to see him over Vivica’s massive form.  “He’s listening to music.”

            “Oh God, I wonder what he listens to.  God, I’d run out and buy it tomorrow.”

            He lives next to me.

            As if she’d said it out loud, screamed it instead of thought it and jarred him from his private world, the guy’s eyes snapped open and Evey found herself looking right into them.  And he was looking into hers, catching her straining to see him over Vivica’s shoulder.

            She snapped back into place, out of his sight.

            “I think he saw me.”

            “I told you not to let him see you,” Vivica chastised.  Her rosy cheeks blushed further as though she’d been the one snagged ogling him.

            Although thoroughly embarrassed, Evey couldn’t stop herself from stealing another peek around Vivica’s shoulder.  He was still looking in her direction.  He cocked an eyebrow.

            Evey shrank back.  “S**t.”

            “Stop that,” Vivica commanded.  Then in the next breath, “What is he doing now?”

            “Just sitting there.”

            “Oh.”  She waited a few seconds.  “Okay.  What is he doing now?”  She slid over to give Evey a better view, but Evey moved over with her.

            “No!”

            “My God, Evey, didn’t I tell you he was gorgeous?”  Vivica practically squealed.  “Didn’t I tell you?”

            A waitress skated past them, approaching his table.  Evey heard his voice, deep and low, but couldn’t make out what he was ordering.  Over it all, Vivica’s breathless whispers invaded her head.

            “Oh my God, he’s so cute!  I wonder if he has a girlfriend, what his name is.  My God, Evey, you live right next to him.  You’ve got to find out.”  Her voice went lower, but somehow what she said next exploded like a bomb in Evey’s head.  “I so want to see his naked penis up close and personal.”

            Evey widened her eyes, looking around at the other patrons.  “Vivica.”

            “I want to touch it.”

            As Evey rode her bike the six blocks back to Aunt Irene’s later that evening, Vivica’s brazen words were still ringing in her ears.

            I want to touch it.

            But the more they played out in her head, the less they became Vivica’s words and more her own.  She wanted to touch it, too.  Well, not it, but him.  His skin looked so smooth, his body lean, but strong.  She wanted to feel his arms, his hands with their long fingers.  She’d studied him far more closely than she should have, her eyes noticing every move he made, her brain recording them.

            “You’re on a mission now, Evey,” Vivica told her right after he’d gone, while they were outside waiting for Viv’s dad to pick her up.  “You’ve got to find out his name, first and foremost.  Then find out if he has a girlfriend.”

            “And how am I going to do this?”

            “You’re his neighbor.  Go to his house and borrow some milk or something.  Steal his mail and then knock on his door and say the postman stuck it in your box by accident.  Yeah, say that.  Say, ‘stuck it in my box.’”

            Evey said good-bye to her friend, the two girls arranging to meet back tomorrow night, seven o’clock.

            “And have the info,” Viv said.

            When Evey got home Aunt Irene was lying on the couch in the dark living room, the only light being that which emanated from the television set.  A Meg Ryan flick was on and Evey sat on the edge of the loveseat to watch it.

            “Have fun?”  Whiskey asked after a few minutes, her voice cracked with a combination of sleep and whatever drink had been in the now empty snifter resting on the glass coffee table.

            “Yeah,” Evey answered.

            “Where’d you go?”

            “Joe Fifties.”

            “Right, right, with the fat girl.”

            “Vivica.”

            “Have fun?”

            “Yeah.”

            Several seconds passed.

            “Where’d you go?”

            Evey sighed.

            “I saw our neighbor there,” she said in lieu of getting caught up in the same loop of questions again.

            Whiskey didn’t take the bait.  She was making pasty-mouthed noises, probably dreaming of drinking beer from a ten gallon barrel the way dogs fantasized about lapping at a toilet bowl.

            Evey tried again.  “I didn’t know the people next door had a kid my age.”

            “They don’t have any kids your age,” Whiskey practically yelled, suddenly sounding quite alert.  “You stay away from those Canyon boys.”

            Evey sat frozen in her seat, not knowing what part of the command to focus on:  that she was forbidden to go near her neighbor or that there was more than one of him.  And what was a Canyon Boy anyway?  Was it like a flip-flop wearing, K-mart shopping, dumb as nails pool boy?  Was it a surfer dude?  A hunter?  She was almost afraid to ask.

            She rose from the mini sofa.

            “Good night, Aunt Irene,” she whispered. 

            She moved quickly but quietly down the hall to her bedroom, careful not to disturb her aunt for fear of getting her riled up again.  Lynnie was hovering in the doorway of her own room and gave Evey a start when she grabbed her arm.

            “Jesus!”  Evey exclaimed, still trying to keep her voice at a whisper.  “You scared the hell out of me!  What are you doing just standing here in the dark?”

            Lynnie ignored her question, delivering one of her own instead.

            “Did I hear you say we had boys living next door?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 4

 

 

 

 

            Evey rode her bike to Joe Fifties, pumping her legs as fast as they would move.  She had completed part of the mission assigned by Viv and couldn’t wait to tell her.

            She had his name.  Sort of.  She had his last name.  Canyon.  She knew he was one of the sons of Aunt Irene’s next door neighbors Austin and Carol Canyon.  He was one of their two Canyon boys.

            Getting the information�"and keeping its importance to herself�"hadn’t been very easy.  Not only did Evey have to pretend to her aunt she was asking out of sheer curiosity, she had to convince her sister of it as well.  And she feared she’d failed at that last one.

            Last night Lynnie had pulled Evey into her room and demanded to know all about the boys next door.  And although Evey found it terribly thrilling to be on Lynnie’s bed, their hands clenched together in that special bond of kinship and secrecy that only sisters could experience, she wasn’t quite ready to share this one. 

            An image of Lynnie passed through her head, causing her legs to propel her faster on the bike.  Tall, cool, elegant Lynnie in a blue strapless sundress, sharing a chocolate milkshake with one of the Canyon boys.  Or both of them, for that matter.  Surely when they saw her they’d both want her.  And soon she and Viv would be sitting on the front steps of Aunt Irene’s house watching Lynnie drive away with their dream boy in his red Jeep, crying into their pints of Ben and Jerry’s Ice Cream, lamenting over what could have been.

            This picture had been all too clear in her mind last night while talking to her sister.

            “Didn’t you see the red jeep?”  Evey asked her.  “The surf board, the Sea-Doo?  Of course there are boys living next door.”

            “You said you met one of them.  Where?”

            “Oh, I didn’t meet him.  I went to Joe Fifties with my friend Viv.  She knew him.”

            Lynnie’s eyes were shining as she curled her bottom lip in between her teeth. 

“Is he cute?”

            Evey couldn’t even lie about him, deny God’s creation. 

“Yes,” she said with a sigh.  “He’s cute.”

            “How old?”

            Evey shrugged.  “Older than us, I think.”

            “What’s he look like?”

            “Tall, skinny, blonde hair.”

            Lynnie released her hands, a gesture Evey knew signaled the end of their bonding and the start of her sister’s solo project.  “Let me know if you see him again.  I want to get a look at him.”

            “Sure.”

            “Does he hang at that place?  What did you call it?”

            “Joe Fifties.”

            “Right.  Was he with friends?”  Without waiting for Evey to answer, Lynnie was on her feet, pacing the room.  “I’ll just have to go over, introduce myself.  Tell him I don’t know anybody here and would he be interested in showing me around, introducing me to a few of his friends.”

            Evey felt sick inside.  Sicker than when Aunt Irene had told her to stay away from them.  Lynnie had heard that, too.  And it wasn’t a deterrent.

            “I wonder what old Whiskey has against them.  They must be dangerous.”

            “I’m tired,” Evey had said, going to the door.  “Good night, Lynnie.”

            Her sister hadn’t answered.  She was busying herself with thoughts of the Canyon boys.

            Evey had a hard time getting to sleep last night, due in part to her own thoughts concerning her temporary neighbors.  Or at least one of them. 

            I don’t care if there are ten of them, she’d thought to herself, and prayed silently to God.  Let Lynnie have nine of them.  Just one.  All I want is just one.

            In the morning Aunt Irene made eggs benedict for breakfast.

            “So you and your fat girl have fun last night?” she asked when Evey sat at the table.

            Lynnie wasn’t awake yet and Evey wanted to find out about the neighbors before she did.  But she didn’t want to get hollered at again.  She decided to take a different approach.

            “Yes.  And she has a crush on our neighbor.  But I think he looks like bad news.”

            “Hmph,” Aunt Irene sniffed, pouring the orange juice.  “Both of them boys is no good.”

            Two of them.  Check.

            “What are their parents like?  Are they even still together?”

            “Yeah.  But they’re never around.  They work up in the city all summer, let the boys go wild.  They only come down on weekends, and even that’s sporadic at best.  They dropped the boys here last month; haven’t been back since.”

            Evey sipped her juice.  “What do they do that’s so important?”

            Aunt Irene shrugged.  “Nothin’s more important that your kids, if you ask me.  God didn’t bless me with none, but damn sure if he did, me and Phil would have taken better care of them than Austin and Carol Canyon do.”

            Canyon boys.  Canyon.  Their last name.  His last name.

            Lynnie came out of her room then, went into the bathroom and closed the door.

            “Maybe we should keep quiet about them,” Evey told her aunt.  “You know how Lynnie likes bad boys and wild parties.”

            It was deviant of her, sure, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep her sister away from them forever, but she needed the time a few more days would buy her.

            The girls went grocery shopping that afternoon with their aunt, then watched a bit of television.  Lynnie went to her room after a while to check her Facebook page.  Evey’s father had given Irene an allowance for each of the girls and she asked for ten dollars to meet Vivica for dinner at Joe Fifties that night (“Better hurry before all the food’s gone,” Irene cracked as she handed her niece a twenty).  The two girls sat in a booth for two hours, but Bryce never showed.

            “I don’t understand,” Viv lamented.  “He’s been here every night.”  She checked her watch.  “He’s usually here by now.  He’s not coming.”

            Viv’s dad was picking her up at nine, and Evey waited outside with her until he arrived.  He offered to give her a ride home, but she declined.  Mr. Taylor told her to be careful, and Viv told her to call tomorrow when she woke up. 

“Or sooner than that, you know, if anything develops.”

            Evey didn’t know how she could call anyone before she was awake, but she promised to do it anyway, and watched her friend drive away.

            She wasn’t ready to go home just yet, so she went back inside and ordered another strawberry milkshake and continued reading the book she’d brought.  She was almost at the end, just about fifteen more pages to go, and decided to leave when she’d finished.

            She was on the second to the last page when he arrived.  The last booth was empty and he went and sat in it again.  Tonight he was wearing baggy khaki pants and a white button-down shirt�"which Evey noticed was unbuttoned�"with a white undershirt beneath it.  Once again he was listening to his iPod, lightly bobbing his head as he looked around the room.

            Evey quickly buried her face in her book.  She knew she should talk to him, this was her chance, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.  She wasn’t scared, exactly, but something like fear was keeping her glued to her seat. 

            Fifteen minutes later she had read the last two pages of the book at least five times, but still didn’t know the ending.  It was after nine-thirty and Aunt Irene was expecting her home by ten.

            There was a reason why he was here now.  Why he’d shown up later than usual, after Vivica had gone. Why Evey had chosen to go back inside rather than go straight home.  There was a reason why they were here, alone, and while she didn’t know exactly why the opportunity presented itself, she did know that it had.  And that was enough to give her the courage to leave her booth and approach his.  Somewhere inside she knew a messed up chance was better than no chance at all.

            He saw her coming.  He looked up and removed the earbuds.  He raised his eyebrows as if to ask what she wanted, why she was bothering him.

            “Hi,” she said with a slight wave of her hand.  She was amazed it wasn’t shaking, although the corners of her mouth were quivering a bit.  Never before could she recall feeling this nervous around a boy.

            His lip twitched with something that may have been a smile.  “Hi.”

            “I’m your neighbor.  Evey.”

            “Well hey, Evey,” he said brightly, and for a minute she thought he was mocking her.  But he gestured toward the seat across from him.  “Why don’t you take a load off.”

            “Oh,” she said, surprised by the invitation.  This she hadn’t expected.  Rejection, maybe.  Indifference, a possibility.  But acceptance?  Never.

            When she made no motion in either direction he said, “That was an invitation to join me.”

            “Oh,” she repeated, noticeably flustered.  She slid into the booth.

            “Bryce,” he said as she was situating herself.

            Bryce, her mind repeated.  Bryce.  Bryce is nice.  Nice Bryce.  Nice Bryce, Nice Bryce, say it twice.

            “So how are you my neighbor?” he asked.

            “My aunt has the house attached to yours.  I’m staying with her this summer.”

            He nodded. 

“I saw you here the other night.  I was with my friend Vivica.  I met her on the beach yesterday.  I just got here two days ago, but everybody’s been pretty friendly.  See, I’ve made two friends already.  You and Vivica.  That’s a friend a day.”

            Shut up, Evey, just shut up.

            “Your garage was open the day I got here.  I saw a surfboard and a jet ski.  Do you do that?  I mean, either one?  I’ve never surfed.  Or been on a jet ski, for that matter.  But both look fun.  I saw someone water skiing the other day.  I’ve never done that, either.”

            God, just seal my mouth shut, please, just seal it.

            She picked up one of the ice cream menus and pretended to peruse the selections.  “So what are you listening to?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

            “You.”

            She glanced up at him over the top of the menu.  He was smiling at her.

            “I’m listening to Radiohead.  Yes, I surf.  And I water ski.  And I would love to take you riding on my jet ski one of these days.”

            Evey’s skin prickled at the thought of sharing a Sea-Doo with him, her arms wrapped around his waist. 

            God, he was cute.  And what a smile.  His entire face changed with just a smile, from uncommonly gorgeous to indescribably beautiful.  Like a bowl of chocolate chocolate chip ice cream was rich and creamy, but a bowl of the same with hot fudge, peanut butter sauce, whipped cream and caramel drizzle was positively decadent.

            “Just say when you’re free,” Evey found herself saying, but her voice was drowned out by the waitress who skated up to their table.  She plopped down next to Evey, practically sitting on her.

            “Hey, Bryce,” she breathed, smelling of fresh linens and spearmint gum.

            “Hey, Shari.  What’s up?”

            Shari had blonde curly hair and big teeth.

            “Party tonight,” she said through her enormous choppers.  “At Heather’s.” 

            He nodded, but said nothing as Shari rambled on about someone named Pippa who got so drunk last night she peed all over herself.

            “It was hilarious!” she howled, then without taking a breath launched into a story about some poor soul named Chazzy who stuck a pencil up his a*s for a laugh, then couldn’t get it out.  His parents drove him all the way to Philadelphia to have it removed at University of Penn Hospital.  Because of the incident he was now known about town as Chazzy Pencil.  This, too, was something Shari found quite amusing.

            “My God, I’d kill myself!” she exclaimed with her Bubble Yum smile.  She turned to Evey, looked her up and down.

            “Hi,” Evey said.

            Shari turned back to Bryce.

            “So are you going?  You can ride me and Tiff.”

            “Um, thanks, but I think I’m going to hang out with my girl Evey here.”

            “Oh.”  Shari turned to Evey again, inspecting her more closely.  When she looked back at Bryce, her nose was wrinkled, her eyebrows raised in mock horror.  He met her look evenly, expressionless.

            God bless you, Bryce Canyon, Evey thought.  Even if I am just the excuse you’re using to escape this horrible beast of a girl, God bless you.

            Bryce Canyon.  How she loved that name.  She repeated it out loud, after Shari had gone.

            “Yep,” he said.  “That’s my name.  Ha ha.”

            “Were you born in Utah?”

            “No, but my dad’s always been quite the explorer.  He thought it would be cool, given the last name of Canyon.  I think it sounds ridiculous.”

            “Hey, he could have called you Grand.”

            “That’s what they named my older brother,” he deadpanned.

            Evey laughed, but Bryce remained serious.  She fell immediately sober.

            “Your brother’s name is Grand Canyon?”

            That wonderful smile broke out over his face again.  “Go ahead, you can laugh.  Better him than me, I say.  A lot of people have never even heard of Bryce Canyon.  Extra points for you for knowing where it is, Evey.”

            She loved hearing him say her name.  Almost as much as watching his lips form it.

            “Well, let me tell you what my parents did to me and my sister,” she said.

            She told him how both she and Lynnie had been named Evelyn, and how relatives continually confused them even though they were nothing alike.

            “She’s tall, I’m short.  She’s blonde, I’m brunette.  She’s pretty, I’m . . . not.”

            She couldn’t believe she just said that to him.  She couldn’t believe she just told him how pretty Lynnie was.  Worse yet, reminded him how pretty she herself wasn’t.  He had eyes of his own; she didn’t need to bring his attention to details he could easily pick up on by himself.  Why didn’t she just say, “You two would look great together.  Why don’t you ask her out?”

            “So Evey . . . you want to take a ride with me on my jet ski tomorrow?”

            She wasn’t sure she heard him correctly.  But he was looking at her expectantly, waiting for an answer.  “Unless you’ve got other plans,” he said.

            “Actually, I am supposed to go snorkeling with Chazzy Pencil.  But he’s out of town, so I guess I’m free.”

            His smile broadened.  “Cool.  Come on over anytime.  I’ll be home all day.”

            She nodded.  “Okay.”

            He began sliding out of the booth.  “You need a ride home?”

            She slid out, too, smoothing out her shorts as she stood.  “Um, no.  I have my bike.”

            “I can toss it in the back of my Jeep,” he said, fishing in his pockets for his keys as he walked, expecting her to follow.  She did, quickening her step to keep up. 

He knew a lot of people in the restaurant, and they called out to him as he walked towards the door.  He waved good-bye to some of them, stopped at the tables of some others, grabbed food off their plates.  Evey stood behind him, staring down at the floor, feeling like the tagalong nuisance girlfriend of a rock star at the Playboy Mansion.  Everyone ignored her, and Bryce didn’t bother to introduce her to any of them.  Then again, why would he?  She was just some girl he was giving a lift home because they happened to live next door to each other.

            “You still with me?” he called over his shoulder as they left the eatery.

            “Still here,” she answered, admiring from behind the way he moved.  Head held high, shoulders broad and opened.  He took long, confident strides, knowing if no one could keep up with him, it was all their fault and all their loss.

            Evey had left her bike chained to the rack outside and after she unlocked it Bryce walked it over to the red jeep she remembered seeing in his garage.  After lifting the bike into the back of the vehicle, he next opened the passenger door, helping Evey inside.  As he walked around to the driver’s side, Evey pretended they were going home after a date and once they got there, he’d escort her to her door and kiss her goodnight.

            As he climbed in beside her and started the engine, her eyes went directly to the crotch of his pants and Viv’s words rang in her ears.

            I want to touch it.

            She looked away, starting to giggle.

            “What?” he asked, pulling out of the parking spot.

            She shook her head, suppressing her laughter.

            “Thinking about my brother’s name again?  Or poor old Chazzy Pencil?”

            She allowed herself a hearty laugh, and he did, too.  “What the hell’s that about?  Why in the world would you stick a pencil up your a*s?  ‘Oh, this’ll make people laugh.’  What an idiot.”

            “You’re laughing, aren’t you?”

            “Yeah,” he admitted, glancing over at her.  “Yeah, I am.”

            “Well he got what he wanted.  Who cares the price?”

            He looked at her with admiration.  “That’s the spirit, Evey.”

            She smiled at him, blushing, then relaxed back in the seat, enjoying her time in Bryce Canyon’s red jeep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 5

 

 

 

 

            It was close to eleven thirty when Evey got home.  Aunt Irene was in the kitchen playing solitaire.  Before Evey could say anything she was asked, “Don’t they have clocks at that Joe Fifties place?”

            She looked up from her game.  Her eyes were bloodshot, heavy-lidded.  “Or doesn’t your boyfriend wear a watch?”

            Evey just stood by the front door, unmoving.  Aunt Irene had never been violent before, just mean.  Still Evey felt uneasy.  Was her aunt upset because she was late, or because she’d been with Bryce?  True, she’d warned Evey to stay away from him, but that was all it was, wasn’t it?  A warning?  It hadn’t been a command, had it?  Evey knew Aunt Irene would be perturbed if she found her niece associating with Bryce, but angry?  She wasn’t sure.

            “Well,” Irene said, “what have you got to say for yourself?  And don’t even try lying to me:  I saw you with him.”

            “I was out with Vivica,” Evey said, her words running together, feeling like they were a lie even though she spoke the truth.  “And we were at Joe Fifties.  Her father came for her and I wanted to finish my book and my shake.  Bryce gave me a ride home.”

            Aunt Irene picked up the can of beer sitting next to her and drank from it.  All of it, tilting her head back.  She slapped it hard on the table.  “It took him over an hour to bring you home?”

            “No.  We sat and talked.”

            “Where?”

            “At Joe Fifties.”

            Now Evey was becoming exasperated.  It was so very difficult to speak sober to someone intoxicated.  Like trying to speak English to someone who only understood Japanese.

            “Coming home late in not asseptable.”  She shook her head quickly, as if trying to shock her motor skills back into working mode.  “Acceptable,” she said slowly, enunciating each syllable.  “And especially not with that piece of trash.  I thought I told you to stay away from him.”

            “No, you didn’t,” Evey said, finally giving in to the temptation to lie.  What would Irene know anyway?  She’d been stoned last night when she’d said it.  It was amazing how she could remember that, but not what had been said mere seconds ago.

            “What’s wrong with him, anyway?”  Evey continued.  “He’s a very nice guy.”

            Aunt Irene rose from the table, letting out a bitter laugh.  She went into the kitchen and Evey heard the refrigerator door open and close.  She came out with another beer in her hand.  She popped the tab, took a sip, then pointed at Evey.

            “Well let me tell you something�"”

            She stopped in mid-sentence, now just noticing that Evey was still standing in front of the door.

            “Come on in here,” Irene said.

            Evey entered the living room, standing by the back of the couch.

            “Let me tell you something about your nice guy,” Irene continued.  “He drinks, takes drugs and sleeps with anything that moves.”

            “He drinks?  I would think that would endear you to him.”

            The minute she said it, Evey wished she hadn’t.  That was something Lynnie would say.  She felt ashamed.

            “Aunt Irene�"” she began, but was cut off.

            “That’s right, Evey,” Aunt Irene said, nodding, her eyes squinted practically shut.  “I see your exposure to that boy is already affecting you in all the right ways.” 

            She picked her cards up off the table and extinguished the kitchen light.  “You have a good night, now.  I’m sure your folks would like to hear about the company you’re keepin’, staying out until practically midnight.  We’ll see how they’d like to handle this.”

            She went back into her bedroom, closing the door with a loud slam.  Evey sat on the couch in the semi-darkness, the small lamp on an end table providing the room’s only light.  She didn’t know if she should feel angry, scared, or upset, so she felt nothing. 

            “What just happened?” she asked herself, and letting out the words served as a prelude for tears to follow.  Obviously, she was feeling something, and that something had to do with Bryce.  Of all the things her aunt had said to her, the words replaying in Evey’s mind had him drinking, taking drugs and sleeping with anything that moved.

            She covered her mouth with her hands and let out a loud wail that she tried desperately to suppress.  She picked up one of the couch pillows and held it against her face, sobbing into it.  Finally, defeated, she fell over on to her stomach, burying her entire body into the comforting softness.            

            She cried a weeks’ worth of pent-up tears and then some.  She cried for the possible dissolution of her family and being forced to live with Aunt Whiskey in the wake of it.  She cried for how lonely she felt right now and isolated from everything she loved.  She cried for the nasty things she’d said to her aunt, the nasty things she’d heard in return.  And she cried most of all for the inexplicable aching in her heart for a boy she hardly even knew who somehow made her feel more alive and important than anyone else she’d ever spent a significant amount of time with.

            She cried Lynnie’s tears, too.  Everyone thought they were the same person anyway, so why not?  She cried for her sister’s being so miserable and inconsolable that she couldn’t even bring herself to leave her room.

            When she’d expended every last emotion, extracted every last drop of water from a seemingly infinite supply, she was too drained to pick herself up off the couch.  She fell asleep on the wet cushion, saturated with pain.