Summer Skies and Ocean Eyes

I had awakened again to the boxes stacked in the corners of my room. Barely acknowledging them with half-open eyes, I swung my legs over the bed and stumbled to the bathroom.

After the party last night, I had successfully climbed back up the tree with a lot of help from Kendall, causing more ugly scratches to etch down my legs. When I was sure she was out for the night, I grabbed my flip-flops and snuck downstairs, taking my preferred late night exit of just using the door.

The trip to the ocean had been short, but it was enough to send me into a deep slumber after I climbed beneath my covers.

The warm water had woken me up as I showered, it was as if I stepped into a hot spring in the middle of the snowy mountains in Japan. You know, minus the monkeys. I had been surprised to see Jon reading the paper downstairs as I entered the living room, waiting for me on the couch. Apparently he had taken the day off work to help me paint the room I was overtaking.

All of my boxes--everything--had been pushed to the middle of the space, covered with a clear tarp Jon had gotten from his construction friend, Mr. Michaels, who was Poot’s father.

With Mom gone with her friend Yvette, and Griffin and Kendall out with friends, I had been trying not to be so tense about Jon’s and mine first attempt at bonding. He made it easy to like him, though, and soon I felt myself relaxing as we took on the project of painting.

“So, you think you’re going to try out for the soccer team this spring?” Jon asked, looking over his shoulder at me as he carefully painted the wall next to my sliding door. It was kind of nice to see him wearing sweatpants and a bright orange Miami Dolphins shirt with holes in it, instead of his usual office-ready getup.

I nodded, carefully tipping the paint can so that the deep ocean blue color spilled into the roller-tray. It came out smooth and cool, molding into the shape of the square plastic container.

“Yeah. I’ve been playing since I was in preschool, so I don’t think I’m ready to not do it this year.” I watched his paintbrush go up and down, Jon of course was that stereotypical kind of Man. Good with tools, polite with women, athletic, and could probably grow a beard by simply focusing before it popped right out of his pores.

“You know, Naples High School has a phenomenal women’s soccer program.”

I nodded, wiping my nose with my forearm instead of using my paint-flecked hands. “Yeah, that’s what my mom says. But that’s why I’m worried. I was one of the best players in my league back home, but I don’t know how I’ll compare with all the girls here.”

Jon paused, raising an eyebrow to signify he doubted I couldn’t match their skill level. He had never seen me play before, but I appreciated it all the same.

“I”m sure you’ll be fine, if you’re even one-hundredth of a fraction as good as your mother says you are.”

I smiled to myself, Mom didn’t mind yapping on and on about my talent for soccer. She had come to as many games as possible over the years: though she forgot about lots of them, and the ones she remembered she usually arrived late. But that was Mom.

We were quiet, I smoothed out the bubbles in my tray with the roller before walking to my patch of wall and beginning to paint again.

“It’ll be nice to have sporting events to put on the calendar again.” Jon broke his silent thoughts and said them out loud. “Kendall used to love to surf, did a couple competitions, but then she starting hating what the ocean water did to her hair and how her nails would get scratched on the board--you know.” He sighed loudly. “And Griffin, I would have loved for him to keep playing basketball or football, but he’s more into fishing, skateboarding, and video games. That sort of thing. Maybe now that you’re here, he’ll-”

Before he could finish, the doorbell rang. Jon looked out into the hall, then sat his brush on the plastic we had covered the wooden floor with.

“Sorry. I lost track of the time. I’m paying some guys to build me a huge shed by the pool this summer. All those water floaties and stuff I use for yard work are taking up too much space in the garage. Would you mind bringing them to the back? I have to get the blueprints out of my office,” Jon said. I complied, placing the roller back in the paint pan before following him out of the room.

Galloping sloppily for no particular reason once we had parted, I reached the front door and opened it while trying to get some paint out of my hair.

As the light from outside blared into the foyer, I turned to see Yin and Yang themselves standing on the front step. Poot, with his bright, joyful smile, and Tommy, with his under-the-weather aura. I froze, opening my mouth without having any words successfully make their way out.

“Hey,” Poot greeted, twirling his car keys around his finger: the quintessence of chill.

“Hi?” Then, it hit me. I had forgotten that Poot and Tommy were doing work for Mr. Michael’s business. Building sheds must be part of their repertoire.

I realized we were still standing there. “Oh! Uh, let me take you guys to the back.”

Barefoot, I shut the door behind myself and led them through the front yard, around to the fence that Kendall and I had used to sneak out the night before.

“So, you end up having a good time at the party after I left you?” Poot asked, easily falling into conversation. After I had told him I played soccer, he found me a cluster of people to hang out with. There were a couple girls from the team there who talked to me, but weren’t all that interested. At least I kind of looked like I was part of a group.

The night had been interesting enough, but I was more than happy when Kendall texted me to let me know Sara’s brother had come to pick us up.

“Yeah. The soccer girls were pretty nice.” I didn’t have much to say about the party. Cracking open the tall, wooden door of the fence, I let Poot and Tommy go in front of me.

I watched the moodier one as he went by. It was like there was a wall around him, so when I stared I couldn’t see anything. It was disconcerting: like that wall also made me invisible to him.

“Hey, we play soccer down by the beach all the time, if you ever want to come. I think we’re heading over there later today, you should show us what you got.” Poot’s eyes were competitively gleaming at me.

“Sounds like fun,” I agreed, excited at the thought before I saw the annoyed look Tommy was giving his friend. I snapped my gaze away, self-conscious of his undisguised opinion about having me hang out with them. Poot was blissfully unaware of it as the three of us walked past the deck and over to the side of the pool.

“I need to warn you that Tommy and I are kind of amazing at soccer. Professional level. So don’t be surprised when we tear it up,” he bragged. I forced myself to keep my eyes away from his friend this time, cleaning his expression from my mind.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” I challenged. Jon made his entrance then, emerging from the door that led to the porch from the kitchen. A couple large rolls of paper were in his bear hands as he walked up.

There was something relieving about knowing I was about to escape from the discomposing feeling Tommy was giving me.

“Thanks for letting them in, Cal,” he said once he approached, “I’m going to get these guys started, then I’ll be right back up to help you finish your room.”

“It’s almost done.” I was already starting to make my retreat. “All I have left is the part by my door, then I can handle cleaning it all up.”

Jon sighed as he thought it over, then nodded. “Okay, we’ll be out here if you need anything.”

I couldn’t help but sneak a look at Tommy. He had his arms crossed as he stared down at the pool, done with being irked at Poot and back to looking disconnected from anything that was happening right in front of him.

“And remember, we’ll be at the beach sometime around seven!” Poot said, pointing a finger at me.

“Right.” I gave a small wave to him--not attempting to say goodbye to Tommy--then turned and headed back to the house.

After some time passed when I was finished painting and cleaning things up, I peered out of my glass sliding door to see if Tommy and Poot were still there. Jon had gotten them some stakes and bright pink tape, and left the boys to map out where the shed was going to go in the overly-fertilized grass.

I watched as Poot talked to Tommy, waving his hands around in the midst of some crazy story. Then, taking me completely by surprise, Tommy tilted his head toward the sky, and laughed. One of those stomach shaking ones, where his body couldn’t take it and had to double over.

After the few times I had seen him, he left enough of an impression to cause me to think he must barely smile. But here he was, suddenly looking like a happy little boy in Jon’s backyard. There must be something about Poot that brings it out of him.

He was like this big mystery to me.

Noticing I wasn’t trying to be discrete anymore, I shuffled my feet backwards to get out of the view of my door. With one look up, they could have easily seen me lurking and watching them. Pressing my back against the wall, I felt something wet seep through my shirt to my skin.

Right. I had painted a short while ago.

Examining the now-blue skin on the back of my arms, I couldn’t help but picture Tommy’s laugh in my head over and over again.

Ugh. I was being bizarre.

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼

“Someone get her!”
 I wasn’t used to playing beach soccer, so the sand was unfamiliarly hard to push through. My calf muscles were burning as I made a breakaway toward the makeshift goal some of the guys had set up. The beach was hot and stingy against the bottom of my bare feet, while the top of them were scratched and red from kicking the ball around.

Heart thudding, breath short: I pressed on as fast as possible.

I might have been surrounded by people I didn’t know, but soccer was familiar. Skill doesn’t change with the environment, and neither does the rush or joy I get from playing. In my element, I almost felt at home.

The sound of someone gaining on me echoed in the back of my ears, so I gritted my teeth and pumped my legs harder. Just as I elongated my stride, something hit me from behind, causing me to tumble hard to the hot sand.

I tried to orient myself, hearing the sound of people laughing as Poot’s grinning face came into view. Blocking the sun with his head, he was looking down at me from where he was crouching beside me on the ground. And I was pretty sure he had his hand on my bare waist, exposed from my shirt riding up from the fall.

With a flip of my eyes, it was confirmed.

“Sorry, got a little too excited there.” His whole face was lit up like an over-energized boy in elementary school. I tried my best to frown at him, pretending to be annoyed as I lightly spit out the sand in my mouth that I harvested on the way down.

“Way to go Poot, annihilate the new girl,” someone said from the small crowd of soccer players forming around us. I had been introduced to most of them when I first showed up, but their names soon disappeared from my mind once they let me joint the team of six that had one less player.

I rolled my eyes, shifting to my back and sitting up. Poot’s hand dropped from my side.

“I thought we’d give her a proper introduction to how we play down here,” Poot joked, still kneeling beside me as he brushed some of the beach off his bare shoulders. I forced myself to not stare at his soccer body.

“It’s not prison rules, Chandler.” Poot’s friend Emily, who I had met the night before at the party, walked forward. Though she was a lot shorter than me, she reached down her hand and helped me up.

“That’s the way us men play.” He said it as gruffly as he could, flinching when Emily pretended to punch him in the gut. I mumbled a thanks as Poot rose to his feet, reaching over and sweeping some of the sand off my face and hair. I was flustered by how he treated me, how could someone be so openly nice?

When I couldn’t bring my eyes to Poot, I looked past him to find my eyes settle on Tommy. Safely standing just outside the circle, his arms were crossed as he steadily scowled at me. Not anyone else: me.

After I pulled my eyes away from his sour expression, I could still feel his stare.

“Well, The Man’s got a cut on his knee.” One of the other four girls playing pointed to blood on Poot’s leg that was starting to trickle down to his shin.

“Ah, shit. Must have hit a shell or something,” he muttered, reaching to wipe it with his bare hand.

“Wait!” I exclaimed, acting on reflex instead of considering how lame I was about to be as I grabbed his wrist. “Don’t wipe it off like that, gross. I have a had-wipe and Band-Aid in my bag. One second.”

I let go and jogged to my purse, sitting on a beach towel that one of the girls playing had laid out for our things. Everyone’s stares pressed against the back of my head as I pulled a bandage and wet tissue out of the depths of the bag and jogged back over. Poot watched in quiescent interest as I handed him the tissue to clean up the blood with.

He dabbed at his skin while I opened the Band-Aid, then stuck his knee up for me to place it. Successfully acting like I wasn’t checking out his leg muscle, I stuck it professionally over the jagged cut, smoothing my thumbs over the sides.

“There.” I put the wrappers in the pocket of my shorts. Poot shook his head at me, entertained.

“Thank you, Dr. Calico,” he teased, looking down at his knee.

“Whatever. But tackle me again, and you won’t get a Band-Aid next time,” I smiled, then retreated to where the ball had shot off to. It had landed next to some sunbathers, who every now and then disinterestedly glanced over and watched our game.

Emily caught up to me as I picked up the ball. “Hey. You’re pretty good, did you know that?”

I paused, looking at the petite girl. She may have been tiny, but I had quickly found out that she was a speed demon of sorts, and could go shoulder-to-shoulder with any guy and still hold her ground.

“I’m okay. I may not be fantastic, but I know what I’m doing.”

Emily gave me that grin she did last night that made it impossible not to like her. With large, slanted black eyes and equally dark midnight hair, she had been the one who tried to include me the most at the party. It wasn’t like she went out of her way like Poot, but she was nice enough to be polite.

“You should come to girl’s soccer conditioning sometime. We go every Tuesday and Thursday during the summer, from ten until noon.” Emily, as friendly as she seemed, still gave off the feeling like she was trying to size me up. “That is, if you’d be up to it.”
 Giving her a flat look, I tossed the ball to her hands. “Up To It just happens to be my middle name.”

She caught my sarcasm and laughed: a light, bubbling sound that was too adorable for a girl who had brought a guy to the ground when she elbowed him in the gut while chasing after a ball minutes ago.

“Good. Now you should take your free-kick because we need another goal,” she instructed. The two of us turned to the group of impatient people waiting for us to bring the ball back. “And by the way, I saw it.”

And somehow, I knew she was referring to Poot’s hand. She didn’t look at my flushed expression, simply tossed the ball in the air then connected her foot. She sent it rocketing toward the small crowd of her friends. They scattered yelling half-hearted complaints while laughing. Emily appeared to be the kind of girl no one could really get mad at.

The rest of the scrimmage went without anyone fully knocking another person off their feet. It wasn’t until it ended when my soccer high started to dwindle, and I looked around and realized that though I had a group of people to play with, I was still friendless.

After a couple of the guys had cleaned up the goals, stacking the crates near the lifeguard’s post, Poot told me that everyone was headed to a more secluded part of the beach for a bonfire--I was welcome to come. I had wanted to head back to Jon’s, the sun was already starting to go down, but Poot grabbed my wrist and pulled me after him when he saw my hesitation.

As they had started it up, the bonfire itself had been comical to me. It was made in a small, charred pit of iron in the sand, and the fire was only about one foot tall. In Michigan, we preferred our bonfires to be beastly and stand over everyone’s heads--that was how you knew you were doing it right.

But then, with some thought, I realized a fire like that here would have cooked all of us if combined with the Florida Heat.

By the time everything was settled, the sun was casting reds and purples and oranges, almost touching the edge of the ocean’s horizon. Emily patted the empty space on her towel, smiling up at me as an invitation. I did, and the two of us made small talk about Michigan, what I thought of Florida, and the other things it was polite to ask a new person.

When Emily stopped talking for a moment to text on her phone, I surveyed the people surrounding the fire and noticed that Tommy and Poot were having a quiet conversation on the other side.

Tommy was leaning forward, propping his elbows on his knees as he stared at the sparks. His misty eyes looked far off, the only sign that he was still tied down to the world was that every now and then, he’d look at Poot and barely move his lips to reply something. Poot himself was leaning back in his chair, twisting an empty plastic water bottle around in his hands.

The two of them made quite the pair, and I didn’t get it. Poot was this charming, outgoing guy, and Tommy was extremely introverted and almost snobbish. How did the two of them become friends in the first place? Their dissimilarities should have put them universes apart.

“Hey,” I thoughtlessly said to Emily, who looked up from her cell phone. “How long have those two been friends?”
 Emily looked where I nodded my head, smiling widely as she saw who I was talking about. The few people that had been sitting by us had gotten up a couple minutes ago to toss a light-up football, so we were secluded.

“Since kindergarten.” A small breeze rustled the fire, sending sparks the other way. “Those guys are inseparable, literally. They follow each other like Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dumber.”

“I’ve noticed,” I said, looking down at where my toes were buried in the sand. It was none of my business, but I continued to pry. “It’s strange, though. The two of them seem so...different.”

Emily let out a long, tired sigh, shaking her head. “Yeah, I guess that’s what it would look like. But, you know, Tommy wasn’t always like this.”

I didn’t miss the hidden tone in her voice as she almost sadly watched the pair of them on the other side. Pursing my lips, I took my time in continuing so it wouldn’t seem like I was trying to hack away at an answer.

“What do you mean?” I properly weighted my voice. Emily was one of the people who was making an effort to make me feel welcome, I didn’t want to look too nosey to her.

She paused as her eyes cautiously looked left, then right, then she turned to face me. “Tommy used to be one of my good friends. We weren’t super close, but I could call him up to hang out and we’d sit with each other at lunch. Stuff like that. Tommy was...well, he changed.”

“How so?” I matched her low tone of voice. Emily gave her reply some thought, the fire reflected spectacularly in her dark eyes.

“ I don’t know. He sued to be really funny, was always making some smart-ass comment.” He and Poot could go on and on about the stupidest stuff, like they were a comedy team or something. Tommy used to be up to doing anything. He wasn’t super nice like Poot, but was, you know, friendly enough.” Emily was slowly listing everything off. With every passing characteristic, I found it harder and harder to imagine the same Tommy I had met being the way she described. “Of course, he was a cocky little asshole, and always had his eye on a different girl.”

“What happened?” I carefully egged her on. She let out another prolonged sigh, shoulders slouching as she looked up at me.

“It may not be my place to say, but you’ll probably hear about it eventually. Gossip travels faster than the speed of light here.” She wiggled uncomfortably. “About a year ago, Tommy’s older brother committed suicide.

Her words thudded strongly in my chest, so much so that I didn’t have anything to say. Other than my estranged grandma dying, I had never been through something like that before. I instantly regretted digging so much about Tommy’s life--like maybe it would have been better if I hadn’t known at all.

I settled with an “Oh” and bit my bottom lip. I could see the sadness Emily had for her old friend still gleaming in the corner of her eyes.

“Yeah. It hit him really hard, they had been like best friends, closer than him and Poot. But anyway, that was the end of Tommy as I knew him. He shut me out, all his other friends- well, everyone except Tweedle-Dumber.” Emily motioned across the fire at them. “He still comes to stuff like this. He’ll talk to people, play games, and of course he still hooks up with the random girl every now and then, but he’s... on another world, almost.”

She reached down and pinched some sand in her fingers, slowly letting it drain to the ground. I watched the grains of it filter down, then stared off at the dark, moving body of water at our side.

“Hey Emily!” One of her friends flounced over, disrupting the bubble we had formed as she curiously looked between the two of us. “Sean Peters is on Kellie’s phone, and he wants to talk to you.”

Emily’s eyes squinted into an embarrassed smile. “I’ll be back. I just have to- uh, yeah. Right back.”

“Okay.” The word was halfway out of my lips when she hopped to her feet and practically jogged with the girl over to where some of the others were crowded around Kellie. Emily tentatively took the phone, turning into a giggly preteen.

Taking in a deep breath through my nose, I wiggled my toes in the sand and trained my eyes on the flickering flames in front of me. I was too tired to worry about how I looked sitting by myself. Faces of my friends back home were flashing through my mind, I would have given anything to have them here right now.

“Calico!”

Poot’s voice tugged me back to the present, I looked to see him and Tommy watching me. He gestured me over, the fire glowing warm against his face.

Creakily rising, I walked over and took a seat in the sand by their feet. I had been focusing so much on Poot, I hadn’t noticed the death glare Tommy was giving me. He let out a short, agitated breath, then got up and stalked toward the shoreline without saying a word.

My face heated at the tactless snub, but Poot didn’t let me linger on it. He patted the empty seat his friend had left open.

“Ignore him. He’s not usually like that.” He was annoyed, like he wasn’t used to Tommy acting so rude. The sourpuss sure had a flair for knowing how to make me feel like a complete loser. When Poot noticed I was still stuck on it, he shook his head. “Seriously, Tommy’s been a jackass lately, it’s nothing to do with you, personally.”

I wasn’t quite convinced.

It was uncomfortable how I couldn’t shake off that burned feeling. I’ve been so stressed lately, it was difficult to keep all of my emotions in check.

“So tell me the truth, Tommy’s jerk-ness aside, how are you liking Naples?” Poot tried to divert my concentration: I happily gobbled up the opportunity to attempt to forget my stupidity. His eyes were wide and interested as he waited for my answer, as if he really wanted to hear what I thought.

“It’s,” I started, finding the right words, “It’s nice. I mean, it’s different, but...nice.”

Poot laughed, poking the head of his crumpled water bottle at the sand. “But tell me this, is it nice?”

I cringed. “I don’t know how to explain it. I really miss my home, it feels like I’m on vacation right now. There’s palm trees.”

He nodded as if he understood the random trail of thoughts that had tumbled through my mouth.

“Palm trees, and alligators. Bet you don’t have those in Michigan,” he brightly replied. I raised an eyebrow at him, feeling the smile that usually formed when I was with Poot grow on my lips.

Neither of us had much to say after that, but the silence between us was almost calming. My eyes wandered to where Tommy was sulking by the shore. As dumb as he was, I was so puzzled about him, I wanted to pry his head open and see what thoughts were passing through his mind. Why did he come to something like this if all he was going to do was be angsty off in the corner?

“He’s actually really cool, you know,” Poot murmured, following to where my eyes were glued. I tipped them away, feeling another wave of heat hit my face. I cleared my throat, looking down at my sun-burnt feet.

“Hm...well.” It was yet another well-thought out reply to add to the growing list. I pressed my lips together and hoped that Poot would have enough kindness to change the point of conversation again. Instead he flashed another smile at me, getting to his feet.

“I’ve got to head out, but I’ll see you later. You’re always welcome to play soccer with us,” he said, stretching out his long body. I nodded, starting to wonder just how long Poot’s extreme friendliness would last. I’ve never met someone who was nice like that without any other kind of motives.

“Thanks.” I waved goodbye before he called to Tommy, who followed without another look my way. Poot called out to everyone as he left, his friend solemnly nodding to anyone who bothered to say bye.

I shook my head, exhausted from the new people and environment.

It was time I headed back to Jon’s house.