Summer Skies and Ocean Eyes

I didn’t know who was more surprised when I came across Jon while sneaking back into the house: him, or me. I had been hoping that just because I could see some light through the windows--peeking out from behind the blinds as I walked up the front lawn--that didn’t mean I would run into whoever was up.

Well, I did.

Literally.

He was looking quite dapper for his age in a crisp business suit, and I had to go and make a fool out of myself by accidentally getting some leftover sand on him when we collided. It figured that all I could do was stand there like a moron, mouth hanging open as if I had forgotten how to talk.

Jon probably thought I was a weirdo anyway. I spent most of my time in the new room, acting like a hermit. But, instead of giving me an annoyed expression, an understanding smile filled his lips and he warmly placed his hands on my shoulders, as if it had been his fault I catapulted into him while glancing behind my shoulder to make sure I had shut the door all the way.

“Sorry there, Calico,” he said, voice low and gravel-y as the skin around his forest green eyes crinkled from smiling at me. He was handsome in that Old Hollywood kind of way, like he could start singing Luck Be a Lady or say “Here’s looking at you kid,” out of nowhere and get away with it. Jon let go of me to brush a piece of white-blonde hair that had fallen out of place smoothly back. “Didn’t mean to run into you.”

He had been fantastically welcoming to me these past couple days, unfazed at having a teenage addition to his household. Ever since Mom and Jon officially started dating--after many summers of Mom traveling down here to visit her best friend from high school for two weeks, all the while pining after the local contractor, Jon--we’ve been exchanging a scattering of e-mails.

They were never very voluminous, but I at least was able to get a feel for the kind of guy my mom was dating while he good-naturedly inquired about what was going on with my life. The e-mails had been enough to were I wasn’t uncomfortable around Jon now, but it was still strange to be living with a man for the first time since I was seven.

“No- I- My fault,” I managed to mumbled out. His teeth were so white as he smiled down at me, it looked like they would have glowed in the dark if I turned out the lights. “Sorry about the sand.”

Jon glanced down at his black jacket, then coolly started brushing away some of the dirt. “It’s no problem. Sand is just sand.”

I nodded, completely at a loss of anything else to say.

“So you went out for a little walk this morning?” Jon asked, reaching down to pick up the briefcase he had dropped out of surprise when I had shouldered into him. I blushed for some reason, it felt like I had been coming home smelling like weed with a strange guy on my arm.

“Um. Yeah, just down to the beach.”

As he checked the chunky watch on his left wrist, Jon nodded. “Well, I’m fine with it as long as you don’t go swimming past your waist in the morning. Either a weird tide will suck you in, or a shark will get you.”

I wasn’t sure if he was joking or not, but the image of a Great White Shark clamping me in its jaws flashed across my eyes. I guessed he wasn’t waiting for any assuring words that I would heed to his advice, because he reached up, squeezed my shoulder, and walked past me, leaving a heavy scent of aftershave and cologne.

“I have to go to work, but have a nice day. I’ll be back for dinner.” He was one of the head-honchos at a local contracting business, always wearing a beeper and owning a humongous, shiny coffeemaker that helped him through early mornings and late nights of working.

And with that, Jon strode out of the door I had walked through a minute ago, and was gone.

The shock of having out first conversation alone caused me to stand motionless. It didn’t go all tat bad. Yes, it was short, I got sand on him, and he may have instilled a new phobia of sharks in me, but it wasn’t nearly as awkward as I thought it would be.

In aftereffect, I stared thoughtlessly at an abstract painting that adorned the wall of the foyer. When I realized what I was doing, I shook my head in an attempt to get rid of the spaciness, then shuffled to the staircase.

Once I had used the shower in the small bathroom adjoined to my room, I went straight to my bed and snuggled beneath the covers. It was like clockwork, I wasn’t even thinking about how cold it was as my exhausted eyes slowly closed shut.

Then, with the memory of the waves still playing in my ears, for the first time in three days: I slept.

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼

“Are there any Great White Sharks in Florida?”

Once again, it took a couple seconds before Kendall showed any sign she had heard me. One eyebrow going up, her hand paused halfway between her body and the wall of paint swatches as her head inched to look my way.

“What?” she asked, making me feel the slightest bit ridiculous. I fidgeted where I stood, adjusting my purse on my shoulders as I looked back at the wall of giant paint samples.

Ever since my run-in with Jon this morning, the only thing I thought about was what lurked beneath the ocean’s surface. All I could do when I first got up was stare at my bowl of fruit and picture all those animal programs where it showed sharks jumping out of the water to ram their prey. Even when Mom had somehow managed to get Kendall and I to go to the hardware store together to pink out a color for my room: those images were on replay in the back of my mind.

The fear had been condensing this whole time, and finally formed a sentence that poured out of my mouth before I could stop it.

“It’s not a trick question.” I tried to sound incredulous and unaffected by her chill attitude. Kendall shook her head, pulling her hand away from the wall and running it tiredly through her smooth hair.

“Why do you want to know?”

I pursed my lips, taking out two swatches to pretend to compare while I thought of a good reply.

“I just want to know,” I shrugged, mentally cringing at my lack of creativity. She let out a small sigh, like she could think of a million other things she’d rather be doing right now. Kendall hadn’t looked pleased when Mom suggested she take me to the boardwalk, but said yes anyway. It was embarrassingly apparent that she was trying to get the two of us to know each other better.

“Yeah. There’s Great Whites, mostly in the winter, though, when the water cools down. Sometimes there’s Tiger Sharks. But the most common ones here are the Blacktips, Lemons, and Mako Shark.” She rambled it off like an everyday fact, dropping the bored tone if only for a moment as a hint of interest spiced her words.

And WHAM! Another shark jumped out of the water to snatch me in its jaws. I gulped the image down, trying to appear fine with what she had said. The only thing that I had to worry about when swimming in lakes back in Michigan was Zebra Muscles, and those only stung my foot if I stepped on them.

Sharks, from what I’ve heard, had a record for killing people. It was yet another thing to miss about my hometown.

“Have you ever seen them when you were swimming?” I asked, gaining another odd look from Kendall. Since she’s lived here her whole life, she probably didn’t understand my scared interest with what creeps in the ocean. It was everyday, normal stuff for her.

“Um, yeah.” To her it was an obvious answer. Her eyes connected with mine, and she must have read something in my expression, because she continued. “I’ll always remember the first time I saw a Tiger Shark.”

There was a far-away look in her eyes as her fingers mindlessly flipped through a couple swatches. I watched her, mesmerized as Kendall started to take on a completely different persona: one that I liked a lot better.

“When I was about six, Dad used to take me to a private spot of beach so he could teach me how to surf. Sitting on my surfboard in the water one time, I saw this humongous shadow move out of the corner of my eye, and knew it was a shark. I didn’t tell my dad about it, he went on talking as I watched it slowly swim past us, further out to the ocean. It came quietly, and exited peacefully. It was weird, I wasn’t even scared,” her voice got quieter as her story went on, so I was almost surprised when she snapped out of it and regained her normal composure. “Anyway, I don’t surf anymore. Just tan.”

I felt like I had gotten whiplash from the change in her tone, but shook it off.

“So, you like sharks?” I was perplexed at the idea of someone liking something so scary, but that expression that had been on her face made it hard to doubt. Kendall rolled her eyes, flipping her hair behind her shoulder. But, before she could dryly reply something, her eyes got big as she looked past me.

“Ohmygawd,” she said, barely moving her lips as her hands moved to straighten her outfit and apply a fresh layer of lip gloss. I raised an eyebrow, looking over my shoulder to where she had been staring. After starting to get a feel for who Kendall was, I knew it wasn’t the killer sale on lawnmowers she had been reacting to: it was the two guys who had walked in, and were talking to an employee of the store.

They were both tan, like most Florida natives, and had a confident air about them that grabbed other’s attention as they went about their business. Kendall’s focus was stuck their way as she pulled out a tiny compact mirror and checked her teeth and hair. She clicked it shut once satisfied, eyes still glued to where the boys were.

“Wow, Kendall. You like those guys or something?” I asked her, a chastising pitch to my voice They looked like they were at least seventeen or eighteen, and she was only going to be a sophomore in high school.

She looked me up and down before replying, dismayed at my less-than-caring appearance. I had pulled on an old pair of athletic shorts and a beat-up t-shirt from my freshman year of soccer: the regular summer-wear for me. Plus, I couldn’t understand how she could handle having her hair down in the sticky weather, mine had been constantly pulled into a ponytail ever since I arrived.

“That’s Tommy Rose and Chandler Michaels,” Kendall quietly scoffed, “They’re going to be seniors, so you might have classes with them this Fall.”

I turned around again, feeling like I might have missed something because she was looking at that area like they were Gods. Crossing my arms, I tilted my head as I tried to inconspicuously watch them.

Yes, they were attractive in that by-the-book way. Both had that shaggy, tousled soccer hair, and athletic bodies--though the brown-haired one was taller and less built than the other. They were wearing junky clothes, and even from where I stood, I could see some kind of colorful smudges all over their skin.

I couldn’t delve into scrutinizing them any more, because they both turned and started walking our way. Kendall’s body jolted in surprise beside me as I tried to sneakily pretend like I had been looking at something else. The two of us turned back to the swatches, though we weren’t exactly thinking about the possible color I could paint my room at this moment.

“You have the stick?”

“Yeah, right here.”

They were mumbling to each other as they approached, not noticing us as they stopped in front of the wall of swatches, no more than two feet away. The sandy blonde one had a folded bandana wrapped around his head like a sweatband, making his slightly wavy hair stick out in different directions. Both of them smelled like paint and the ocean, and were only preoccupied with what was directly in front of where they stood.

It wasn’t until Bandana looked down the line of swatches when he noticed Kendall and me. A wide, infectious smile framed his face, and when he turned: I noticed he had what could possibly be the bluest eyes I had ever seen.

“Ay, it’s Kendall,” he grinned in an easygoing, warm way, putting his hands on his hips. The one with light chocolate hair looked our way then just as quickly dismissed us and continued trying to match the paint color on a mixing stick to a swatch on the wall.

“Hi Poot,” Kendall smiled back, absolutely radiant.

Wait, Poot? What?

“What are you up to?” he asked, then pointedly looked at me. It had been easy to make fun of Kendall for preening herself at the sight of these guys when they had been farther away. Now that I got a closer look at the two of them, I could feel my hand itching to smooth down the flyaway hairs on my ponytail. They were handsome and cute in a pleasantly boyish way.

“Looking down at the possible colors for her room.” Kendall nodded her head toward me in a bored way. “You’ve met Laura, this is her daughter, Calico. She just moved in.”

Poot fully turned to me, he was only wearing a cut-off so I could see his arm muscles move beneath his browned skin as he reached out to shake my hand.

“Oh, right. My dad is good friends with Jon, so I’ve met your mom through a couple barbecues. And Calico? That’s an interesting name.”

I placed my hand in his, meeting his slightly calloused skin with my own.

“Not as interesting as Poot.” Either there was a hell of a tale behind the nickname, or his parents had a sick sense of humor.

He shrugged as we took out hands back. “My real name’s Chandler, but everyone’s called me Poot since I was in preschool. It’s a long story.”

“I bet. It’s nice to meet you,” I casually said. Poot glanced over his shoulder and pointed his thumb toward the other guy who was still enveloped in matching the paint.

“Then this is Tommy, he likes classic eighties rock and long Sunday drives,” Poot teased, but it didn’t get much of a reaction from his friend. Again, he uninterestedly looked at me, mumbled something that resembled a hello, the turned his attention back to the swatches. His reaction didn’t phase Poot. “He’s not much of a talker, if you haven’t noticed yet.”

“So, what are you guys doing?” Kendall asked as the window opened for her to be included in the conversation. Poot grabbed the fabric of his shirt and held it toward us to show the light salmon-y, orange-y pink splotches that decorated it.

“Tommy and I work for my dad’s construction company during the summer: doing little things like fix-ups on houses and stuff like that. Right now, we’re painting someone’s porch. We ran out of paint, and the stuff was so old, the wrapper wasn’t there to let us know what color it was. So now we’re stuck trying to match up some new paint to the ancient-ass stuff he had.” Poot scratched at a spot of dried paint on the back of his hand. He gave off a feeling of being incredibly at ease with himself, like one of those rare people who never got embarrassed.

“Got it,” Tommy interrupted, pulling a swatch from the wall. “Summer peach blush. How...adorable.”

His friend stepped over to him, looking at the stick and paint sample side-by-side. “You sure, man?”

Tommy shrugged, running a hand through his choppy, disheveled hair.

“I think this is as god as it’s gonna get. We have to be finished by five, and there’s no way we’ll be done if we spend all day trying to match this stuff perfectly,” he replied, misty green-blue eyes checking back and forth between the two samples. Poot nodded and noisily clapped his hand against his friend’s back.

“Good work, boy.” He turned to us as Tommy jetted off without another word. “Hey Kendall, you coming to Miller’s party tomorrow?”

Kendall’s eyes widened to their full capacity, but she snappily muted the expression and raised her eyebrows like it was no big deal. “I didn’t know I was invited.”

“Of course, and you should come too, Calico.” Poot caught me by surprise. I blinked as it registered with my brain, then nodded.

“Maybe.” Which was pretty much the lamest answer I could have given. It made him smile as he adjusted his red bandana. I doubted he cared if I came or not, it sounded like a common courtesy invite.

“Well then, maybe I’ll see you there,” he said, and with that, he waved, then turned to follow his friend of few words. As soon as he turned the corner, I looked at Kendall to see her pining after him, staring at what was now empty space.

“You okay there, Kendall?” I asked in a poking tone. The poor girl didn’t realize I was jabbing at her: she shook her head and bit her lip, turning her attention back to the wall of swatches.

When I realized she wasn’t going to talk, I made sure the two guys were nowhere near and attempted to start up another conversation. “So, how do you know those guys?”

She snapped back to the present, the airy attitude disappearing--the magic had worn off. “I told you, they go to my school.”

“You must have talked to them before or something because-”

“Of course I’ve talked to them before.” Her nose raised higher into the air. “I see them at the beach, like, all the time.”

“So you guys hang out?” I prodded. My fingers idly moved along the wall, picking up a deep blue color. Kendall scoffed at the question like it was absurd, then shrunk where she stood.

“Not really. I mean, every now and then me and my friends go and watch them surf or play soccer on the beach, and I’ve been to a couple parties they were at.” She flicked one of the swatches with a manicured nail.

Underclassmen groupies were something you could find at every school, no matter the climate. Realizing that Kendall only watched them from afar made me appreciate Poot’s kindness more.

I sighed, already tired from the small excursion. Even though I had received about three hours of sleep last night, I still felt worse than I did the day before. It was a new kind of tired I hadn’t experienced before, were I was groggy, body and mind.

I was definitely going to need another trip to the beach tonight.