We'll Always Have Summer Read online

  “I live plenty,” I say.

  “Yeah, at the nursing home.” Chris snickers and I glare at her.

  Margot started volunteering at the Belleview Retirement Community when she got her driver’s license; it was her job to help host cocktail hour for the residents. I’d help sometimes. We’d set out peanuts and pour drinks and sometimes Margot would play the piano, but usually Stormy hogged that. Stormy is the Belleview diva. She rules the roost. I like listening to her stories. And Miss Mary, she might not be so good at conversation due to her dementia, but she taught me how to knit.

  They have a new volunteer there now, but I know that at Belleview it really is the more the merrier, because most of the residents get so few visitors. I should go back soon; I miss going there. And I for sure don’t appreciate Chris making fun of it.

  “Those people at Belleview have lived more life than everyone we know combined,” I tell her. “There’s this one lady, Stormy, she was a USO girl! She used to get a hundred letters a day from soldiers who were in love with her. And there was this one veteran who lost his leg—he sent her a diamond ring!”

  Chris looks interested all of a sudden. “Did she keep it?”

  “She did,” I admit. I think it was wrong of her to keep the ring since she had no intention of marrying him, but she showed it to me, and it was beautiful. It was a pink diamond, very rare. I bet it’s worth so much money now.

  “I guess Stormy sounds kind of like a badass,” Chris says begrudgingly.

  “Maybe you could come with me to Belleview sometime,” I suggest. “We could go to their cocktail hour. Mr. Perelli loves to dance with new girls. He’ll teach you how to fox-trot.”

  Chris makes a horrible face like I suggested we go hang out at the town dump. “No, thanks. How about I take you dancing?” She nudges her chin toward upstairs. “Now that your sister’s leaving, we can have some real fun. You know I always have fun.”

  It’s true, Chris does always have fun. Sometimes a little too much fun, but fun nonetheless.

  5

  THE NIGHT BEFORE MARGOT LEAVES, ALL three of us are in her room helping pack up the last little things. Kitty is organizing Margot’s bath stuff, packing it nice and neat in the clear shower caddy. Margot is trying to decide which coat to bring.

  “Should I bring my peacoat and my puffy coat or just my peacoat?” she asks me.

  “Just the peacoat,” I say. “You can dress that up or down.” I’m lying on her bed directing the packing process. “Kitty, make sure the lotion cap is on tight.”

  “It’s brand-new—course it’s on tight!” Kitty growls, but she double-checks.

  “It gets cold in Scotland sooner than it does here,” Margot said, folding the coat and setting it on top of her suitcase. “I think I’ll just bring both.”

  “I don’t know why you asked if you already knew what you were going to do,” I say. “Also, I thought you said you were coming home for Christmas. You’re still coming home for Christmas, right?”

  “Yes, if you’ll stop being a brat,” Margot says.

  Honestly, Margot isn’t even packing that much. She doesn’t need a lot. If it was me, I’d have packed up my whole room, but not Margot. Her room looks the same, almost.

  Margot sits down next to me, and Kitty climbs up and sits at the foot of the bed. “Everything’s changing,” I say, sighing.

  Margot makes a face and puts her arm around me. “Nothing’s changing, not really. We’re the Song girls forever, remember?”

  Our father stands in the doorway. He knocks, even though the door is open and we can clearly see it is him. “I’m going to start packing up the car now,” he announces. We watch from the bed as he lugs one of the suitcases downstairs, and then he comes up for the other one. Drily he says, “Oh no, don’t get up. Don’t trouble yourselves.”

  “Don’t worry, we won’t,” we sing out.

  For the past week our father has been in spring-cleaning mode, even though it isn’t spring. He’s getting rid of everything—the bread machine we never used, CDs, old blankets, our mother’s old typewriter. It’s all going to Goodwill. A psychiatrist or someone could probably connect it to Margot’s leaving for college, but I can’t explain the exact significance of it. Whatever it is, it’s annoying. I had to shoo him away from my glass-unicorn collection twice.

  I lay down my head in Margot’s lap. “So you really are coming home for Christmas, right?”

  “Right.”

  “I wish I could come with you.” Kitty pouts. “You’re nicer than Lara Jean.”

  I give her a pinch.

  “See?” she crows.

  “Lara Jean will be nice,” Margot says, “as long as you behave. And you both have to take care of Daddy. Make sure he doesn’t work too many Saturdays. Make sure he takes the car in for inspection next month. And make sure you buy coffee filters—you’re always forgetting to buy coffee filters.”

  “Yes, drill sergeant,” Kitty and I chorus. I search Margot’s face for sadness or fear or worry, for some sign that she is scared to go so far away, that she will miss us as much as we will miss her. I don’t see it, though.

  The three of us sleep in Margot’s room that night.

  Kitty falls asleep first, as always. I lie in the dark beside her with my eyes open. I can’t sleep. The thought that tomorrow night Margot won’t be in this room—it makes me so sad I can hardly bear it. I hate change more than almost anything.

  In the dark next to me Margot asks, “Lara Jean . . . do you think you’ve ever been in love before? Real love?”

  She catches me off guard; I don’t have an answer ready for her. I’m trying to think of one, but she’s already talking again.

  Wistfully, she says, “I wish I’d been in love more than once. I think you should fall in love at least twice in high school.” Then she lets out a little sigh and falls asleep. Margot falls asleep like that—one dreamy sigh and she’s off to never-never land, just like that.

  * * *

  I wake up in the middle of the night and Margot’s not there. Kitty’s curled up on her side next to me, but no Margot. It’s pitch dark; only the moonlight filters through the curtains. I crawl out of bed and move to the window. My breath catches. There they are: Josh and Margot standing in the driveway. Margot’s face is turned away from him, toward the moon. Josh is crying. They aren’t touching. There’s enough space between them for me to know that Margot hasn’t changed her mind.

  I drop the curtain and find my way back to the bed, where Kitty has rolled farther into the center. I push her back a few inches so there will be room for Margot. I wish I hadn’t seen that. It was too personal. Too real. It was supposed to be just for them. If there was a way for me to unsee it, I would.

  I turn on my side and close my eyes. What must it be like, to have a boy like you so much he cries for you? And not just any boy. Josh. Our Josh.

  To answer her question: yes, I think I have been in real love. Just once, though. With Josh. Our Josh.

  KAT

  The clock on my dashboard reads a quarter to two in the morning.

  I check my cell phone one last time before chucking it on the backseat. No calls, no texts. Nothing. She’s not coming.

  Why am I such an idiot?

  I should have kept this whole revenge idea to myself. Revenge is supposed to be a solitary thing, I think I heard that somewhere. And I don’t know what help I thought Lillia could give me. Her mind can’t go to the dark places mine does. She’s way too pure for that. And even with whatever’s going on between Lillia and Rennie, there’s no way Lillia would ever betray her best friend. Actually, knowing Lillia, she’s probably holding up her phone so she and Rennie can laugh at me. I got too excited, and now look. I’m going to be done before I even get started.

  I’m just gonna go home and work on my early decision app to Oberlin. That’s the only thing that will g
et me through this year—the thought of finally leaving this island for good.

  I pull into the ferry parking lot to turn around. The lights are off, the place is cleared out, except for one girl sitting on the curb. She’s got her elbows on her knees, her head in her hands, and her blond hair over one shoulder.

  I think about just cruising right past, but something makes me drive over. As I get close, I see that it’s the girl from the bathroom.

  “Bathroom girl,” I say, pulling to a stop.

  “My name’s Mary,” she says. She’s chewing on a piece of hair.

  “I know,” I lie. “I was being funny.” I shake my head and start over. “What the hell are you doing out so late?”

  Her eyes are wide and frantic. “I have to get out off the island.”

  “Well, you know it’s almost two in the morning, right? There’s not going to be another ferry until tomorrow. You missed the last one by, like, three hours.”

  Mary doesn’t say anything. She just stares off toward the piers. You can hardly tell water from the sky. Everything’s black. “I think I’m losing my mind.”

  She says it, and honestly, I believe her. This girl is totally weird. Anyway, I should get down to the Yacht Club. On the miniscule chance that Lillia does show up, I want to be there. “Do you want a ride home or something?” I ask Mary, hoping her answer is no.

  “I’m just going to wait. Maybe I’ll get up the guts to leave by the morning.”

  “You’re going to sit here all night?”

  “It’s just a few more hours.”

  “Where’s all your clothes and stuff? Didn’t you move back here with anything?”

  “I—I’ll get it some other time.”

  This is crazy. Girlfriend is full-on freaking out. “Is this about Reeve?”

  Mary lowers her eyes. “It’s always been about Reeve.”

  I’m about to say Screw him—but before I can, I see Lillia’s silver Audi fly down the road and take the first right into the Yacht Club parking lot. I can’t believe it. She showed. She actually showed.

  “Get in,” I tell Mary, because I can’t leave her here alone in the dark.

  “I—”

  “Hurry up!”

  For a second, Mary looks like she’s going to argue with me. If she does, I’m out of here. I don’t have time to baby her. Lillia might not even get out of the car if she doesn’t see me waiting there. Mary hesitates and then she tries to open the door, but it’s stuck. “It’s locked.”

  “Let go of the handle,” I say, and push the unlock button, but when Mary tries the door, it still won’t open. God. “Just hop in, all right!”

  “Who are you chasing?” she asks, as I gun it to close the distance between us and Lillia’s taillights.

  I don’t answer her. I just drive.

  When we get into the parking lot, Lillia’s standing by her car. She’s got on a tight hooded sweatshirt, rolled-up pajama shorts with pink and red hearts on them, and flip-flops. Her hair is pulled up into a long ponytail. I think, from the way the moon hits it, that it’s wet. She must have just taken her bath. That’s a weird thing about Lillia, she always took a bath every night like a kid. I guess some things don’t change.

  “You’re late, Kat,” she says. Then she notices Mary with me, and her grip tightens around her car keys.

  I hurry out of the car and walk over. I’m excited and relieved Lillia’s here but trying to hide it. “She needed a ride,” I whisper. “Don’t worry. It’s cool.”

  “Kat—” Lillia’s giving me a death glare. “I’m not saying anything in front of her!”

  I guess Mary can hear us, because she calls out, “It’s fine, I can leave.” She climbs out of the car.

  I hold up my hand for Lillia to give me a second and look back at Mary. I say, “Leave Jar Island tomorrow morning like a scared little baby?”

  “I am scared. I’m scared out of my mind.”

  “Of Reeve Tabatsky?” I’m actually pissed now. This girl needs to get a backbone, stat. “I won’t let him touch you.”

  “That’s not what I’m worried about.” Mary covers her face with her hands. “It’s me. I’m the problem. I—I just can’t get over it. I can’t move on.”

  “Well, yeah. Because you don’t have any closure. The wrong hasn’t been made right. Reeve’s never gotten what’s coming to him.”

  Lillia shakes her head. “Forget this. I’m out.” She clicks her car alarm. The headlights flash on and off like a lighthouse and the doors unlock.

  I sidle up to her car cover the door handle with my back so she can’t open it. “Don’t leave now. You wouldn’t have come here if you didn’t want to get back at Alex as badly as I want to get Rennie.”

  Mary slowly approaches us. “What did Alex do to you?”

  Lillia hesitates before saying, “He didn’t do anything to me. He did something to my sister.”

  Yeah, Nadia and me both. Not that I’m not scarred or anything. It was just a stupid hookup. I’m over it. Almost.

  Mary says, “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to intrude. I’m going to go. And listen, I promise I won’t tell a soul. You can trust me. I know more than maybe anyone else on the island how this kind of thing can weigh you down. I just . . . I think it’s really cool you both are going to do something about it.” She turns around, and starts walking away, back toward the ferry. “Good luck.”

  Lillia and I look at each other. “Wait!” I call out. Mary turns around. “You want in on this, Mary? Help us . . . and we’ll help you take down Reeve.” I’m afraid to look at Lillia, because I know she’s probably pissed at me right now. But she doesn’t say anything. And she doesn’t leave, either.

  “Why would you do that? You don’t even know me.”

  Mary’s staring at me all intense and unblinking, and it throws me off. It takes me a sec to recover. I say, “I don’t have to know you to see that you’re a total effing mess over whatever happened, like, years ago. And hey, it wouldn’t be a free ride. You’d have to get your hands dirty too. But we’d be in it together. The three of us.”

  Mary looks at me and Lillia for a long moment. So long I start to get antsy. At last she says, “If you help me get Reeve, I’ll do whatever it is that you want.”

  Lillia’s doesn’t move. Her lips are tight and she’s shaking her head. “I don’t know.”

  “Think about it,” I tell her. I’m so psyched, I’m practically bouncing on my toes. “Mary’s new. No one even knows her, much less suspects her. Plus, with one other person, it’ll be easier on both of us.” She doesn’t look convinced. I throw my hands in the air and say, “You trusted me enough to come here, didn’t you? All you need to do is trust me just a little bit more. I’ve got a good feeling about this.”

  Biting her lip, Lillia says, “So we’re going to get revenge on Rennie, Alex, and now Reeve? You’re basically asking me to take down everyone in my group.”

  She has a point. Maybe you shouldn’t be friends with such jerks is right there on the tip of my tongue. But I swallow that down and go with diplomacy. “I hear you,” I say, nodding. “You’ve got the most to lose, I get that. So we’ll take care of Alex first.” Pointing, I say, “Let’s go scheme where we’re not out in the open. My boat’s parked down that way.”

  I lead the way along the dock with the moon at my back. Mary’s next to me, and Lillia a few steps behind.

  As we walk, my mind is racing with possibilities. How we can do this, what will be the best way to get started. I’ve already given it some thought, just in case Lillia did show up tonight. But now that Mary’s in the mix too, I’ve got to make a few quick adjustments. All I know is that I have to seem prepared, for Lillia’s sake, to put her mind at ease. That girl is as skittish as a cat in a thunderstorm. One hiccup and she’ll bolt.

  When Mary asks me if I own one of these boats, pointing at the souped up yachts, I barely hear her. She has to ask me again. Shaking my head, I say, “Not exactly.”

  Because I work at
the club, I get to park my boat for free. But not here with these boats, obviously. Mine’s tied up back behind the gas pumps on an older stretch of dock where my boss keeps his junkers, the broken old boats he’s bought cheap to strip for parts.

  “Be careful,” I tell them. “The planks along this dock are half rotted and there’re lots of rusted nail heads poking up through the cracks. I think I still have a splinter stuck in my heel. This jerk pulled his yacht in too fast and made a wake so big that it rocked me right off my boat.”

  “That sucks,” Mary says.

  I nod. “And he barely even said sorry. Rich people never say sorry.”

  Lillia rolls her eyes but keeps her mouth shut.

  I take the tarp off my Catalina Daysailer, fold it up, and put it in the hatch. It’s been a while since I’ve had it out on the water. Maybe not even since June, which is crazy. But the thing is, Alex and I would always hang out on his boat, because it had a fridge to keep our drinks cool and leather bucket seats that reclined, and an amazing stereo system. For some weird reason, I feel guilty about this. About forgetting who I was before I met him. The things that used to be important to me. Fixing up my boat, hanging out with my real friends. I never thought I’d be one of those girls, those girls that compromise who they are just for a guy. Especially some two-timing wanna-be player like Alex Lind.

  “Get in,” I say, hooking my floodlight up to the battery. It sends a bright beam out through the night, lighting up the caps of the waves. Perfect.

  Lillia takes one step on board and freezes as the boat sways. Then she hops off like a scared bunny rabbit. She backs right into Mary, who looks nervous too. Crossing her arms, Lillia says, “Let’s just talk out here.”