Summer Skies and Ocean Eyes

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼

All I saw when I entered Kendall’s room was a shock of silky blonde hair splayed out like a delta on her pillow. It originated from sparkly pile of blankets, which concealed the rest of the sleeping girl. I couldn’t believe that it was almost noon, and she still was laying there like a rock.

Tip-toeing up to the bed, I mentally sorted through options of how I could get her to wake up without becoming the victim of one of her infamous morning tantrums. Downstairs, Griffin had volunteered to do it for me, but I knew his favorite method of rousing his sister involved a squirt gun.

Fingers wiggling nervously, I grabbed the top part of her comforter and slowly began to peel it back. She didn’t stir from her spread-eagle position as I gently tugged it down to her waist, nor when I looked at her face and sharply snorted with laughter. Her mouth was wide open, forming a giant “O” as if she was trying to lure some kind of animal inside. Flaky dried and fresh, wet spit hung at one corner of her lips, almost traveling all the way across her cheek to her ear.

It felt like some sort of victory, just to know that the girl who looked perfect most of the time had a--almost medically troubling--drooling problem.

Grinning while clenching my teeth to keep myself from giggling, I noticed she had something clamped in her right hand. Soundlessly traveling to the other side of the bed, I knelt down. It was impossible for me to see what it was, she had gripped the very middle of the paper, causing the rest of it to crinkle and fan out on either side.

My nosiness got the best of me without my practical side putting up much of a fight. Kendall didn’t flinch as I stripped her fingers from the paper, one by one.

With it successfully in my lap, I pressed my hands against the wrinkles. I had to hold it toward the sunlight muffled through the closed blinds to read it properly.

Dear Kendall Rivers,

We at the G. Young Marine Laboratory, Naples Branch, are pleased to inform you that you have been selected out of the hundreds of high school students that applied to take place in our Florida Students For Marine Awareness internship program.

I had to read the words over a couple times before I could register exactly what it was saying. Selected out of hundreds? Kendall? For an internship with marine biology? Lowering the sheet, I turned around and looked at the drooling girl.

Maybe I shouldn’t have been so surprised. I had always known about Kendall’s fascination with the ocean, I just hadn’t known that she had the ability to be picked out of hundreds for an internship program.

“What are you doing?”

If physically possible, I would have jumped out of my skin. So trapped in my own thoughts, I hadn’t noticed Kendall wake up and turn her head to face me.

Mouth agape like hers had been earlier, I sat there wishing I was better at coming up with excuses. Her eyes darted to the paper in my hand, and I didn’t have the time to blink before she shot out of her bed and snatched it.

Clutching it to her chest, her eyebrows squished together in a harsh frown. “Why are you in here?” she exclaimed, her face puffy with sleep. I held my hands defensively up, slowly rising to my feet like I expected her to strike at any time.

“I was waking you up,” I coaxed. Kendall shook her head furiously, hair waving in ribbons around her.

“Waking me up doesn’t mean sticking your nose into all of my stuff!” She was poisonous, I could feel the sting of it from where I stood. Clearing my throat, I decided to try and act like I hadn’t been doing anything wrong. Denial was best for situations like this.

“I didn’t know you applied for an internship at a marine lab.” I made my words come out relaxed and chilled. Kendall was suddenly quiet, I could sense the air around her shifting as she became embarrassed. “It said that hundreds of students tried to get in, so congratulations.”

Flustered, she looked down at the paper now wadded in her hand. Still slightly frowning, she mumbled, “I wasn’t the only one accepted. There’s a couple different branches of the G. Young lab, and each one of them take on a student every year.”

“Don’t try to make it sound like it’s no big deal. I know I could never get into something like that.” I walked past her, sitting on the edge of her bed. “When do you start?”

Kendall’s jaw set as she tossed the piece of paper to her desk. It rattled across a couple vials of nail-polish before falling to the floor. “I’m not going to do it.”

Usually, explanations follow statements like that, but after I waited for one, she remained silent. I prodded, I couldn’t help it. “Why?”

Kendall shook her head, briskly walking to her light switch and flicking it on. “Marine biology is stupid.”

I sighed, watching as she stomped to her large vanity mirror and brushed out her hair with long strokes. “Nice try. I’ve seen the way you cradle your Big Book of Tide Pools.”

She paused as her eyes darted to the worn copy of it that sat nestled on her bedside table. It was the only book I could catch sight of in her over-sparkled room. Nose scrunching in defiance, she started brushing her hair again with vigor.

“You seriously don’t want to do it? I mean, it seems like getting an internship like that would be hard work. You must have had to do a lot of stuff to even be considered for-”
 Kendall whirled around, gripping her brush so tightly in her right hand, I could see her knuckles turn white. Thick bottom lip sticking out remorsefully, her eyes looked ready to sprout tears at any moment.

“It’s because marine biology is way too embarrassing and nerdy and my friends would never let me live it down and as much as I really want to do it I won’t get a cute upperclassmen to ask me to prom and I already get made fun of for being good at stupid science!” Kendall rattled off, not pausing for a breath until spitting “science” like toxic waste into the air. “There. That’s why I’m not going to do the internship. Happy now?”

“You mean...” I said carefully, turning over every word in my mouth before saying it, “You don’t want to go do something you have a passion for, because your friends will think it’s stupid?”

She sniffed, choosing to guiltily stare at the brush in her hand instead of me. I thought of Sara and the other girls Kendall twittered along with, and wondered what it must have been like to be so terrified of your own friends. “Kendall, listen. I can’t believe you’re even second-guessing this. You obviously have twenty times more brains than those girls you call your ‘friends’ ever will. Don’t let them make you feel bad because you’re actually smart and can do something good with it.”

“It’s just so...nerdy,” Kendall whispered, like a forbidden word. I pushed off the bed and went up to her, putting my hands on my hips. There was no way she was getting off so easy.

“So?”

Pouting up at me, I could see her start to wiggle beneath the pressure of my stare. “So my mom wouldn’t let me do it even if I decided to take up their offer.” The wooden floor beneath her thudded as she stomped away from me, choosing a coral raw-edge crewneck PINK sweatshirt from her closet. She pulled it over her head and crossed her arms.

I didn’t know much about Kendall and Griffin’s mom: only little tidbits about her that my own mother muttered to me every now and then when I asked. Gathering everything together, I could only come up with a foggy picture of who Adele Willard was.

A professional photographer specializing in fashion, she used to travel a lot before she married Jon. From what I’ve heard, Adele was never content with being the housewife she thought she could be when she first quit her job. Around the time Griffin was five and Kendall was eight, Jon found out Adele was having an affair and a divorce soon followed.

These days, Adele is back to working in the fashion industry and jet-setting around the world. I know the kids don’t get to see their mom much, she hasn’t been back to Naples yet this summer. She calls, but I can always catch the wistful look on Kendall and Griffin’s faces when they talk to her.

So it didn’t make sense that someone who had been absent through a lot of Kendall’s life would get to call the shots of what she could and couldn’t do. I was positive she hadn’t told Jon about getting the internship, or else he would have been bragging about it to anyone who would listen within a hundred foot-radius.

“Why wouldn’t-”

“It’s none of your business,” Kendall cut my question in half. Her tone wasn’t rude or angsty, just laced with finality. I had to clamp my mouth shut. Though nosey, I could tell when someone had reached the end of their rope.

“Okay.” I walked to her and pulled her long hair out of the back of her sweatshirt, combing my fingers through it so that it would sit straight on her back. She let me as she blinked at herself in the full-length mirror next to her closet. Making eye connection through the reflection, I put my hand on her shoulder. “You know that if you ever want to talk about it, I’m always here. You’re a smart girl, Kendall. You should be able to make your own decisions of what will make you happy.”

She didn’t say anything as I turned and made my way out of her room, pausing in the doorway. “And I’m taking you and Griffin out to lunch, so get your butt downstairs in about ten minutes before your little brother gets too hungry and starts eating the couch.”

Kendall turned her head to me, mouth in a straight line across her face as if she was trying to figure something out. She nodded once, and as I started walking down the hall, I thought I heard a barely whispered “Thanks, Cal” follow me out of the room.

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼

Lunch had been nicer than I thought it would be. After our little conversation in her room, I could tell Kendall was trying extra hard to be agreeable. That, of course, didn’t mean that she and Griffin could get along in perfect harmony for any longer than ten minutes, but I was getting used to it.

After heading to the café, we went putt-putt golfing, in which I kicked everyone’s butt. Apparently, to Griffin and Kendall, it wasn’t something that I should have been so excited about. I pulled a Brandi Chastain--à la 1999 Women’s World Cup--and took my shirt off after the last putt, but they remained unamused.

I had such a good time that I didn’t remember the impending doom of getting in trouble with Jon until we got back to the house. As good as my day had been, my stomach twirled with nerves and I shut myself in my room to try to chill out and read.

It didn’t work. I had been staring at the same page for about an hour when I heard Mom and Jon arrive at the same time. Their laughter drifted all the way up to my room as they both called “We’re home!” like some fifties sit-com.

I knew Lilia was waiting downstairs as she cooked, the air in my room had started tasting spicy about twenty minutes ago. All I could do was lay still on my bed and wait and wait and wait until she finally told Jon.

After what seemed like a lifetime of guilt, Kendall knocked on my door and opened it, leaning against the doorframe with a smugly curved mouth. “So. What did you do?”

Sniffing shortly through my nose, I went on pretending that I was actually reading. I took my time as I theatrically licked my finger and flipped an un-read page.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah. Right,” Kendall deadpanned, “Then why did Dad ask me to tell you to go to his office downstairs?”

My façade of indifference simmered away as I dropped the book to the side of the bed. Sitting up, I wrung my hands together. “And getting asked to the office is bad?”

The way the girl chuckled did absolutely nothing to boost my confidence.

“Yeah. I never get pulled into the office unless I’ve got caught doing something that Dad figures needs more than a slap on the hand, you know? Anyway.” Kendall flounced over to me, perching on the edge of my bed with bright, wide eyes. “What did you do?”

“What usually happens in the office?” I completely ignored her. I felt like Kendall and I were getting somewhat close--at least, as close as we could in a situation like this--but that didn’t mean that I could tell her about something like Tommy. Or really, anyone for that matter. Everything seemed so personal.

She rolled her eyes in that dramatic way of hers and shrugged. “Nothing big. Just the average torture. Whipping. Bleeding. Stuff like that.” When she realized the dry look situated on my face, she laughed. “You’ll be fine. I’m not saying it’s easy, but you’ll live. Dad has a way of making you feel the maximum guilt just by talking, and the words ‘I’m disappointed in you’ never really stop echoing in your head for days, or weeks after...”

Kendall hadn’t realized she trailed off, lost in memories of office visits past. I snapped my fingers in front of her face, making a jolt go through her before she calmly flipped her hair.

“It usually ends with a grounding, at least with my experience. I haven’t had my phone taken away yet, but I’ve been close.” She shuddered at the thought, then once again leaned forward. “Now what did you do?”

“What did I do? When?” I feinted confusion and swung my legs over the bed, feeling my throat tighten uncomfortably. Kendall groaned, following me like a duckling out of my room.

“C’mon, Calico! You’ll have to tell me eventually!”

“Tell you what? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My feet speedily zipped me down the hall. I wanted to get this over with, and I wasn’t going to stop for anything. Kendall stopped pestering me the moment I hit the stairs, falling behind.

“Fine. But I will find out. Don’t think that-” But her voice was lost as I wove through the side of the house I rarely stepped into. Jon’s office was next to his billiards room, and I had only curiously peeked into it the second day after my move. For some reason, it felt like it had this big “DON’T GO IN HERE” sticker slapped across it.

The office entrance was a set of these huge, hulky brown doors. It looked extra-intimidating as I walked up, my feet pressed side-by-side when I stopped at its mouth. Shaking my right hand to try and wiggle some confidence in it, I took a deep breath and formed a fist, knocking gently against the mahogany.

“Come on in, Calico.”

I wanted to run. I really did. Getting in trouble wasn’t something I accomplished that often. Mom preferred to “let me learn” my “own lessons,” Dad only awkwardly mumbled at me over the phone (and did a much worse job of it in person, though he had gotten better ever since Brie was born), and the only time I had gotten scolded by the teacher in school was in second grade when I purposely kicked a basketball at a boy who was making fun of how tall I was.

I guess there was always room for more experience. Opening one side of the door, I lowered my eyes to the floor as I walked in.

“You can go ahead and shut the door. Kendall always has a habit of trying to listen in.” Jon’s tone was friendly enough, but there was something new and professional in it that made me internally cringe. With a click, I shut the door and looked up.

Jon’s office was huge, with a sort of look I would have imagined Sherlock Holmes to own. Every color was warm and earthy, giving it a feel of an old library though it was only a couple years older than Kendall was. Recreations of famous paintings dotted the bare wall space where bookshelves and wooden filing cabinets didn’t cover. Wide, circle top windows stretched from the floor to a couple inches below the ceiling, letting in the dim light of the mopey day.

The large, In the far end of the room, a large, rectangle desk was propped on a chunk of floor that was raised about six inches off the ground, making Jon look like a rich principle from where he sat behind it.

He was still dressed in his suit from work, looking rather Paul Newman but without the cigarette. Though the tie was slightly loosened and his hair was getting back to normal from its usual combed-through position, he was absolutely handsome. “You probably know why I asked you here. Go ahead, take a seat.”

I nodded, walking across the 1800’s Victorian-styled carpet before reaching the shiny black leather loveseat. It squeaked as I sank into it, going down a good couple inches like I did in every other couch residing in Jon’s house.

The couch was squarely in front of the desk, though I had to slightly look up to see Jon sitting beside his fancy Mac computer, paperweights, and perfectly organized three ring binders.

I remained silent, feeling every passing second like it lasted a whole minute. His hands were clasped on top of the shiny wood of his desk as he blinked at me a couple times, then sighed. “I know this is probably strange. You and I only knew each other through e-mails for a while, and you’ve only been here a little more than a month now. Though, that is enough for me to know you’re a really good kid, and hopefully, with this warning, I won’t have to pull you in here again.”

A small, slightly tentative smile curved the corners of his lips up. It was a tiny gesture, but it showed he didn’t want to scold his girlfriend’s child as much as I didn’t want to be scolded. This was weird for both of us.

Dutifully nodding, I kept my lips shut. Jon unclasped his hands and spread them out on the desk. “I thought I wouldn’t have to draw out the house rules for you, your mother always boasts about your maturity.”

Oh, there it was. The guilt Kendall talked about. Hello, Guilt. Thanks for making a fresh appearance after riding on my back all day.

“I feel like it’s partially my own fault, I should have laid some lines down.” Jon’s voice was getting softer as he became more accustomed to talking to me. “See Calico, the thing is, I could go on and on about all of our mundane house rules, but you’re a smart girl. I know I can trust you to make the right decisions.”

Guilt guilt guilt guilt guilt. Adults were always tricky like that. They already knew how you felt, and then they complimented you when you knew you did something you shouldn’t have.

“Though there is one rule I feel like I should capitalize on today, and then we should never have to deal with the same problem. Because, let’s face it, you getting in trouble with me feels just plain uncouth to both of us.”

I nodded, feeling a little smile poke my mouth up. Jon’s face became solemn, the way adults usually look when they’re about to get their main point across, and want you to know it. Every word came out slowly and deliberately.

“You are not, under any circumstances, allowed to have a boy in your room at night.”

His words echoed through the room, settling on my shoulders to weigh them down. At first, all I could do was nod. I wasn’t thinking about Tommy or his secrets or anything else: only that I wanted to get out of this room as soon as possible. “Okay, Jon.”

“I won’t ask you who he was, I won’t ask you why he was there, and I won’t ask you what happened,” Jon listed off, causing a heat to blot at my cheeks at the thought of what he must have assumed. “But I hope that in exchange for that, you will honor my house rules.”

“Yes, Jon.”

Jon’s eyes bored into me as if he were watching his last sentence imbed itself in my skin. “And it won’t happen again?”

“It won’t happen again.” I stopped nodding to shake my head “no.”

“We understand each other?”

“We understand each other.” I stopped shaking my head “no” and began nodding again. I realized how foolish I must have looked, but it completely satisfied Jon. The laugh lines by his eyes and corners of his mouth crinkled as he smiled, standing up

“Good. I’m glad we could make this quick and relatively painless,” Jon said, walking out from behind his desk as he started taking his tie off the rest of the way. I took that as my cue to stand as he came up beside me.

“I’m sorry, Jon.” It hadn’t been nearly as bad as I had thought, but maybe that was Lilia’s whole idea: make the stupid girl from Michigan die in her own pool of self-created dread while she waited for her doom (which really ended up not being her doom at all, just a little talk).

He nodded, still smiling down. “It’s okay. Take it as your official initiation into the family.”

With one more pat and a wink, Jon strode out of his office, leaving me to stand in the middle of the room. It was the second person to suddenly call me part of their family in the span of two days. Though unlike yesterday when I felt almost stunned at Kendall’s casual reference to us being like sisters, it kind of felt right today.

In Michigan, it had been just my mom and I. And I had been okay with that, really.

But now, I couldn’t help and admit that it felt...good, to be a part of something bigger down here in Florida. Smiling to myself, despite the fact that I had pretty much just gotten in trouble with Jon, I started walking out of the room. The moment my fingers brushed the doorknob, I could feel the phone in my pocket vibrate.

Taking it out, I flipped open the screen to see a text from an unknown number come up.

This is my #. Ill make it easy for u again. Cal. Store #. In cell.

The smile that had been on my face turned into a grin. It was sad that a simple text--in which Tommy totally treated me like an incompetent loser--made me so excited. But it did. I didn’t have a chance to begin to store his number in my phone before I got another text from him.

No storms tonight. See u at the beach.

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼

I was started to become increasingly familiar with the tall, smooth angles that made up Tommy’s silhouette. The storm clouds that had been covering the sky like a thick mold had cracked open during the night, revealing a shining moon. The light bounced off the water, backlighting the boy’s figure before I walked to him in the sand.

Tommy was always there before me, and I was always the one who left first. I would think that he spent the whole night staring at the stars from the beach if it wasn’t for the fact that he would check the time on his cell phone every half hour or so.

“You’re late.” He informed me. I sighed, adjusting my t-shirt over my shorts as I came to a stop at his side.

“Jon was still up, working on something in his office, so I had to shimmy down the damn palm tree,” I defended, feeling my face twist in dislike. Though I still didn’t have a curfew, there was a new piece of guilt the size and weight of a hard-boiled egg sitting in my stomach.

Tommy examined me, eyes brushing over my freshly scraped arms and legs that were made blue in the moonlight. No matter how many times I tried, I could never gracefully climb down that stupid palm.

“Looks like the tree made you its bitch,” he mused, grabbing my forearm as he held it closer to his face to get a better look. I scowled, pulling my arm away and cradling it with the other.

“Not all of us are skilled in the art of sneaking around,” I grumbled, examining a particularly long scratch on the inside of my wrist that was especially stingy. Tommy watched me in a way that made me a little uncomfortable, he had never really stared like that before.

Shaking his head, he removed his shirt with one motion of his arms. I watched as he dropped it to the sand. For a moment, it was nice, until I realized he was starting to take off his shorts. My face embarrassedly burned with way too many pervish thoughts as he unbuttoned and unzipped his cargos, then hunched over and pulled them down to reveal a plaid pair of boxers.

I tore my eyes away from his smooth skin and frozenly stared at the ocean in front of me. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him give an amused smile. It was like he knew exactly what I was thinking. “Let’s go.”

“What?” I asked, my voice coming out a couple octaves higher than usual.

“The best way to heal cuts like yours is to get some ocean water in them.” He used his Duh Voice as he flicked some of the night-darkened brown hair away from his eyes. Not waiting any longer, he strode up to the edge of the water.

I watched as he sloshed against the quiet waves, then dove into the water when it reached his thighs. He disappeared under the surface, then popped his head out, further into the ocean.

“Strip, Calico!” he called. From the distance we were now at, I couldn’t see the features of his face, only the shape of his head and shoulders against the moving water.

Flustered, I looked back and forth down the empty beach though I knew no one was here. The boardwalk looked like a haunted ghost town, dead to the night except for the street lights that lined the cement walkway.

Pursing my lips, I held my breath and took off my shirt, then shorts, feeling the soft breeze rub at my skin to create nervous goosebumps. There really was no difference when it came to underwear and bathing suits, so why was I suddenly feeling so shy?

Gulping down any reservations I was beginning to have as I stood there in my undies, I walked into the warm, dark ocean. I could feel Tommy watching me as I sloshed in, before diving into a small wave and swimming the rest of the way to him.

As I came up for air, I brushed my hair back, grimacing against the sting of the salt water against my cuts.

We weren’t deep enough to be treading water. It came up to my shoulders, bouncing me up when a hump of a wave rolled past.

“Does it hurt?”

“Little bit,” I replied, wiping some of the water off my forehead. The two of us stood there in silence, which I was basically used to by now. My eyes followed as he tilted his head back, hair a wet mess on his head from shaking the water out of it like a dog.

“I have to ask you something.” Tommy was staring at the sky as I blinked at him, pressing off the slurpy bottom of the ocean to bounce with a wave. “About what happened..after Drew’s...last night.” He was having a hard time getting it out. I could barely hear him over the sound of the waves brushing to the shore.

Tommy didn’t continue until I nodded. It happened only a day ago, yet felt so far away as I remembered his worn body, trembling as rainwater dripped off him in my room.

“I don’t want you to tell Poot. About, you know, what happened. Or really, any of this,” he made motions at the ocean around us.

“It’s just...” He warily peered at me beneath his long eyelashes. “Poot can get...I don’t know. He tries to help too much, and it smothers me sometimes. He thinks I can’t handle things on my own.” Tommy’s voice was quiet and cautious, his words coming out slow as if he thought over each individual one before he said it. “And I can handle it.”

I thought about that ugly bruise, probably still laid into his skin like a splotch of paint. Is that what he called “handling it?” Poot had a right to be worried.

“Anyway, I would appreciate it if you would keep things under wraps,” Tommy cringed, absolutely not happy to talk with me about it. I gulped, feeling town. After seeing how close Tommy and Poot were, it was hard to keep something from one of them.

Tommy had managed to successfully push everyone else out of his life. By asking me to keep things away from Poot, it was like he was trying to keep the one person who had stuck by his side at an arm’s length.

But, as his eyes clicked into a stare with mine, I couldn’t help but want to help and do what he asked. I’m the Mommy, the good friend: sooner or later, I’ll be able to figure out how to make this all better. For now, though, I’ll keep my lips sealed.

“Okay.”

He let out what sounded like a sigh of relief. Completely dropping the past conversation, he moved on. “How are your cuts feeling?”

I looked down, even though my entire body was immersed in the ocean, invisible to my eyes. “Numb.”

Looking up, my eyes connected once more with Tommy’s as we stared at each other without expression.

“Good.”

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼