Summer Skies and Ocean Eyes

I stripped off my shorts and tank top, leaving only my bathing suit as I tossed them to the sand. Tonight, I felt off as I started to wade into the water. My head twitched a glance back, making me roll my eyes at my own paranoia.

Going into the water had gotten easier with each night. There was no hesitation this time as I pulled my feet off the murky bottom, letting the water buoy me. The nagging feeling continued to tug at the back of my navel, it took some concentration to ignore it and keep my gaze from flicking to the shore.

Sucking in a deep breath, I closed my eyes and plunged fully into the water. I loved the way it sounded as I was cradled in a limbo between the sand and surface.

A strange thing about me was that I had always been good at holding my breath: it was something I had learned about myself when I had to take swimming lessons in elementary school. It was a stupid thing to be proud about, along with being a completely useless talent, but I liked practicing it anyway.

The gush of each wave pulsated soundlessly beneath the surface, I could feel the water move me. About twenty seconds into it, the current took on a rough push and pull, but I dug my feet into the sand and easily kept control.

Around a minute into holding my breath was when I could start to hear my heartbeat. It pounded at a different rate than the waves, jumbling into a comforting sound.

The moment I managed to completely clear my mind, something grabbed me.

In a yelp of surprise, my lungs took in a sharp dose of saltwater. Panic gripped my body as I flailed, gasping for air and trying to break free from whatever was attacking. Water churning, bubbles sprouting: it was a burning fear.

My lungs were on fire as I hit the surface, the pain of it blurred my vision as I struggled to take the most basic of breaths. The heartbeat that I had serenely listened to a minute ago was thudding violently in my eardrums.

I was only vaguely aware that whatever had grabbed me was equipped with arms and hands, they were tightly wound around my torso. There was a tiny thought at the back of my mind that at least it wasn’t a shark, but now, there was the possibility that I was getting abducted.

I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t see, my veins felt like they were slowly catching on fire-

Somehow I was pulled onto the wet sand of the shore as I choked.

“Shit.” Wast the one word whoever had scared me seemed to know how to say, they were mumbling it over and over. I turned on my side, eyes squished shut as I coughed up what felt like gallon upon gallon of saltwater. The taste stung as it made its way out. In all the prickly pain, I still noticed that whoever had caught me, they were half-heartedly thudding my back in an effort to help.

Finally, after some adjusting--combined with me spitting out half the ocean, my eyes running like mad, and my nose springing a leak--I managed to shakily sit in an upright position, feeling like I had come back from the dead.

When my sight cleared up, I saw-

Tommy.

Sitting next to me, illuminated by the moon and streetlights on the boardwalk behind us.

His hair was in a wet disarray, clothes completely soaked as drops of water streamed down his tan face. He looked agitated, and maybe a little worried. I didn’t linger on the latter, because an angry fire engulfed the pit of my stomach.

“What the.” A cough, the words clawed my throat. “-Hell did you do that for!?”

He blinked at me with those long eyelashes, mouth dropping open as a line formed between his eyebrows.

“What do you mean!?” You went under and didn’t come back up!” he exclaimed, thrusting his hand toward the waves. I shook my head, wishing I could reach over and push him without losing my balance.

“I was holding my breath, you idiot! It’s what people do when they go underwater! I was swimming!” I snapped, voice cackling with the effort. This was surreal, absolutely surreal.

“It looked like-”

“What? Like I decided to drown myself!?” I had gotten the last word out before breaking into a nasty coughing fit. Tommy’s face broke into a full scowl as he got to his feet. I didn’t have the balance to stand and face him, but I gave him the nastiest expression I could muster from where I sat, eyes continuing to water.

“Whatever. I thought that- You can’t just- People-” He was having a hard time coming up with something, but the look that he was giving me made my blood boil. Without thinking, I pushed off the ground to give him a good shake, wobbling as I tried to stand upright.

Like reflex, Tommy reached over and grabbed my arm to steady me. My left hand planted on his shoulder, while my right one grasped the bottom part of his soaking shirt. The dizzying feeling swam lopsided in my head, making me momentarily forget what we had been fighting about.

“Ow...” I whined to myself, lungs trying to take a full breath.

A prolonged section of silence passed between us, I could feel him watching me as I closed my eyes, working hard to find my balance. I wanted to let go of him, but didn’t think I’d be able to, so I carefully cleared my sore throat before talking again.

“What were-” Another annoying cough. “-you doing out here, anyway?”

Tommy let out a forced sigh, signaling to me that no, he definitely didn’t want to talk to me. His other arm was hanging loosely by his side, and the way he was clumsily gripping my bicep made me feel like a child in trouble.

“I come out here every night,” he begrudgingly mumbled once he realized that I knew he didn’t want to answer, but was waiting for a reply anyway.

“What?” I asked, as if that was helping anything. A dry look was sent my way, he tilted his head as he looked down at me. His eyes were as misty and colorful as the ocean in front of us. I couldn’t tell if they were blue, green, or gray--probably a mixture of everything.

He wiped his mouth with his free hand. “I come down to this beach every night. I’ve been doing it long before you got here. It’s not like you’re the first person to do this.”

Tommy said that as if I had cheated him out of something. I frowned, wishing I had something witty to snap at him with, but comeback were never my forté.

“So you’ve been creeping around, watching me?” I asked, no matter how positive I was that wasn’t the case. Without warning, Tommy let go of my arm, causing me to stumble klutzily back to the ground.

“No.” He glared defiantly. I didn’t know how to gracefully react to what happened, so I sat there, plotting for how I could somehow get my dignity back. “I’ve been coming here, hoping that you would stop showing up so that I could have the beach to myself again.”

“Why don’t you come back another time?” I realized that maybe this had been why he had acted so childish toward me, guys had a habit of being territorial.

Or, you know, he could just be an asshole.

Tommy shook his head, looking toward the ocean.

“Why don’t you come back another time?”

I let out a perturbed moan as my answer. We exchanged scathing gazes, both of us unblinking. We must have looked ridiculous, but neither of us were going to break first.

When I realized it could go on all night, I acknowledged the moot point and looked at the ground.

The two of us were quiet, both lost for words to say. Tommy stuck his hands in the pockets of his soaked cargo shorts. He had appeared so detached from everything, it was unusual to be with him and hold a conversation...of sorts.

He raked back his wet hair with his fingers, revealing his strong, dark eyebrows. “You shouldn’t swim without anyone else around.” Then, he turned without another word and started to make his way down the opposite end of the beach. I watched him walk away, head bowed.

Putting my hand on my chest, I tried to breathe without feeling like my lungs were leather.

So much for getting sleep tonight.

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼

I brushed my thumb over the top of my phone, tracing the familiar faced of my friends. Carissa had sent me a picture of our--I mean, her--group at Sherman Lake. Again.

They all looked so happy, it twisted my heart in the worst way. Everyone would like to believe that when we leave, our friends won’t be able to have fun without us. I had known it wouldn’t be like that: as much as they missed me, their lives wouldn’t hesitate to go on.

The hard part about it was how badly I wished I could have been there. Included and wanted and in a place where I was known, accepted.

I crinkled my nose, swallowing the lump forming in my throat with some painful effort. Rolling over on my bed--on which I had only slept about an hour the night before--the sickly sweetest feeling of homesickness waved over me.

My fingers dialed before I gave it much thought. It rang once, twice, three times, four, five-

“Cal?” Dad’s voice was more than nice to hear. Though I hadn’t lived with him in the longest time, the familiar feeling of calling him to check in was enough to make me feel a fraction better.

“Hey Big Papa.” My voice came out raspy and sore from the previous night’s adventure.

“Listen, I’m about to go out with Ashley and Brie, can I call you back later today?” He sounded rushed, so I had barely gotten out an “okay” when he hung up the phone.

Dejected, I pouted to myself and dropped the phone to the mattress. My stomach was churning, face hot, throat burning, and head pounding. I sincerely wondered if I’d ever find the strength to get off my bed.

After about half an hour of grumpily laying there spread-eagle, I dizzily got to my feet and went downstairs. I made some coffee and put a mixture of cold assorted fruit in a bowl before plopping warily down on a bar stool at the island counter.

I hadn’t been able to find Mom, and found a note that said she was going to help her friend Yvette pack lunches for her daughter’s brownie troop. When did my mom start acting so...together? The fact that she thought things through enough to write me a note was insanely out of character for her.

“You don’t look too good.” Kendall raised an eyebrow and slid onto the stool next to mine. To say that I didn’t feel like dealing with her today would have been a massive, epic understatement. I wished that I would have appreciated the only-child thing more before I moved.

“Yeah. I didn’t sleep.” I tried to compose the gumption to pick up the heavy cup of coffee sitting in front of my and bring it to my lips. My whole body was tired and weak, even thinking about moving another muscle made me internally groan.

“We still on for shopping today?” she asked, pulling her shiny, fluid hair into a perfectly messy ponytail. I squished my eyes shut, absolutely dreading the thought of going shopping for a dress with her, in this weather, feeling the way I did right now.

“I don’t think so, Kendall,” I managed to creak out. It was like salt from the ocean water that had infested my throat and lungs right now was still scratching up and down my esophagus. At my reply, she paused, looking at me like I couldn’t qualify to be human.

“Dad gave me the money. We’re in the clear. Besides, the party tonight is kind of high-end. Didn’t you see the people putting up the decorations in the backyard?” Kendall spoke slowly as if I wouldn’t understand it any other way. I used the building annoyance to fuel my hand in picking up the coffee and taking a sip. It sparked against my throat, causing a fresh sheen of tears to cover my eyes.

“Yeah.” I carefully swallowed another tiny bit. “I saw.”

Jon was throwing some sort of party for one of his business partners. I heard him talking about it on his cell phone or to Mom now and then over the past week. There were caterers coming, musicians, and a carefully thought-out guest list of only the most business-worthy in Naples.

“Haven’t you ever been to a party like it before? I mean, I’ve seen the stuff in your closet.” Kendall was a snob. I was biting my tongue so hard to keep myself from yelling, I was sure I was slicing it open.

“No, Kendall,” I growled through grit teeth.

I was homesick, grumpy, tired beyond belief, in pain, my friends were fine without me, Mom wasn’t acting like herself down here, and I couldn’t swallow anything without feeling like it was tearing my throat open. How do people ever learn to deal with younger siblings?

Plus, I wanted to see pine trees of Michigan. I’ve had enough of all these palms.

“Whoa, what’s up with you?” Griffin asked, walking up from behind and taking a grape from my bowl. It was the smallest of small action, and any other day I wouldn’t have cared. But today, oooh, no. I let out a shaky breath, then wordlessly got to my feet: shoving my chair into the counter before stalking out the back door.

I wasn’t thinking, the first impulse had been to get some fresh air.

Incomprehensible words, even to myself, flew out of my mouth as I ranted to no one in particular: clenching my fists as I tried to get myself in check. I was tired of being new here, living with complete strangers, of not sleeping, of stupid boys who made me feel like the most insignificant, stupidest thing in the entire world-

“C-Calico?”

I froze, then cringed as I turned to see Poot and Tommy standing there with bewildered expressions. They both had their shirts off, and were covered in dirt from their feet to the tips of their fingers that were gripping shovels. They were starting to dig the outline for the concrete to be poured into for the shed.

I had also forgotten that there were a gaggle of people prepping for the party, but they were too focused on what they were doing and didn’t cast one look my way.

Sniffing, I discreetly glanced at Tommy before looking back at Poot. “Sorry.” I forced my mind to calm down, reminding myself that I shouldn’t scare off the nicest person I had met here. “Sorry. I just had a bad night. Had a bad run-in at the beach.”
 Poot frowned, dropping the shovel to his side as he walked forward. “Are you serious? What happened? Did someone-”

I impatiently held up a hand to stop him, using the other to rub my aching temple. Thankfully, his sentence cut short.

“Never mind. It was some tool who annoyed me for a couple minutes, then left. Nothing big. But I didn’t get much sleep last night,” I grumped, sneaking another glance at Tommy. He scowled back at me, then shook his head, turning as he walked back to where they had started to dig. I wanted to sprint over and collide with him, knocking the jerk to the ground with the finesse of a linebacker.

But I didn’t.

“What-?” Poot was absolutely clueless.

“It’s nothing. I- I need to go lay down or something. That’s it,” I said quietly, quickly losing what remaining energy I had. Turning my back to him, I started walking to the house.

“Hey, I’ll see you tonight at Jon’s party!” Poot called, as if that would help. I surveyed the professional-looking people decorating the backyard with lights and little glittery strings of paper. A group of them were assembling a large, draping white canopy as others set tables fit for celebrities.

“Can’t wait.” I pursed my lips, then went back into the house.

Must. Get. Tylenol. P. M.

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼

The party was gorgeous, it was something that someone could only witness in swank suburbia. Again, I felt out of place, standing among people who acted like this was a normal weeknight under the stars for them: the expensive champagne, hors d’oeuvres, and designer evening wear were nothing special.

White lights illuminated everything, from the massive palm trees to the tiny fence that surrounded the garden. The canopy overhang that I had witnessed the workers setting up before looked willowy and whimsical from where it grandly stood in the center of the yard. Beneath it, there was one of the two bars, and a couple tables covered with crisp white tablecloths, white candles, and these fake plants that had been spray-painted white then doused in glitter. The small quartet of musicians with string instruments were over by the pool, playing with their eyes closed.

I tore my own eyes away from the fairy-tale party, looking down at the snow colored fabric of my dress. It was a simple spaghetti strap one, that hugged around my torso before gently poofing out after my waist. My mom, after finishing her list of responsible activities for the day, had gone with Kendall to buy me something as I sulked on my bed.

Someone cleared their throat from my side. It was Poot, looking irresistible in a white tux, and it seemed like his mom had combed his hair earlier and he was halfway there to getting it back to its usual casually-disarrayed look. He had two flute glasses of champagne in his hands, and was cautiously moving toward me as if wary of a possible attack.

“Still have a headache?” he lowly inquired. I sighed, pressing my cool hand against the back of my neck.

“A little.” There were about fifty people in Jon’s backyard, all chattering and laughing in high-pitched voices. They were also all wearing the color theme of this party--white. It was something which made my head hurt if I looked at the yard as a whole for too long.

“Here, drink some. You’ll feel better.” Poot sat beside me on the bench I had found. It was semi-secluded and off to the side, halfway in the shadows and giving me a view of everything. I wondered how he had found me.

“What did you lace this thing with?” I weakly joked, taking the glass from him.

He shrugged, taking a sip from his own. Swishing the light ocher liquid around, I watched bubbles form and break away from the bottom.

“That’s for me to know, and you to find out,” he carefully teased, keeping an eye on me. A smidge of guilt for how I had previously acted prodded at my gut, he was still being exceptionally gentlemanlike.

“Sorry about being so snappy this morning. You’ve been great to me, and didn’t deserve my little tantrum.” I looked everywhere besides his sky blue eyes. Poot let out a miniature chuckle, shaking his head.

“Whatever, it all went down in less than a minute, so I didn’t know what happened.”

I nodded, tracing my finger around the ridge of the pretty glass.

“I just hope that whatever is bothering you will stop. I’ve never been the new kid before, but I can imagine how rough it could be to move so far from home.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” It shot out of my mouth uncontrollably, like when your knee is hit at the right power and angle, causing your leg to pop up as a reflex. Poot blinked once in surprise as I felt a blush fill my skin. I was too out-of-sorts to keep my mouth properly clamped.

“I don’t know,” he mused, actually taking my question into consideration. He watched the crowd of schmoozing people, taking another long drink from his champagne. “I mean, you’re new. I’ve grown up with the same people, barely anything around here is different. And I guess that makes you kind of interesting.”

I wasn’t sure if I liked or disliked his explanation, but I accepted it anyway as an apology for asking it in the first place.

Poot gave me a simple, carefree smile, making me somehow feel like he didn’t think I was horrifically weird for asking that. I couldn’t help but smile back. From sitting here with him, taking the smallest of breaks to breathe, I could feel that thud in my head begin to weaken.

“Ah. So once you get to know me more and I’m not-so-new, you’ll treat me like yesterday’s old news.” I took the first, crisp sip of my drink. It felt good against my tongue, and I focused on the bubbly sensation instead of the sting as it went down my throat.

“Pretty much,” Poot quipped, reaching over and patting my shoulder. Instead of pulling his hand back like I expected, he let it rest there, warm against my skin, before smoothing it down my arm. I contained the nervous gulp that was threatening to travel down my throat, ignoring the flutter in the pit of my stomach.

He frowned at me, putting his hand on my arm again, then moved it to press the back of it against my forehead.

“Are you feeling okay?” Poot asked, leaning toward me. I shrugged as he continued to press his strong, cool hands against my face.

“Like I said, I didn’t sleep much last night, and I’ve been kind of stressed lately. You know, the whole moving thing.” I couldn’t help but flinch a little as he placed his hand on my cheek.

“Well, you’re burning up,” he murmured, gently brushing his thumb against my cheekbone. My mouth cracked open. I didn’t know if he was making a move on me, or sincerely worried about my health. I mean, I felt sick, but that was to be expected after the whole Almost Drowning Fiasco with Tommy. And the homesickness. Oh, and the surreal amount of heat and sun I’ve been getting lately.

“You know, we are in southern Florida. It’s known to be hot here.”

There was a soft, endearing look on Poot’s face as he continued to sweep the tip of his thumb against my face. My heart gave a jump as his eyes flicked to my lips before solidly connecting with mine again.

“Poot.” The voice was low and abraded, but was sudden enough to give me a start as Poot took his hand away from my face like he had been burned. Tommy was standing there, also in some white designer tuxedo. His golden chocolate hair was mussed all over the place, making him look amazing--much to my disappointment.

“Yeah man?” Poot asked, taking a Nothing Was Happening sip from his champagne. I couldn’t help but internally pout, I was never going to know what would have happened next--if anything--if we could have had a couple seconds more. Stupid Tommy.

“Your dad’s looking for you.” He put his hands into his pockets, face blank. Poot got to his feet, standing by his friend. The two of them looked suave and practiced in their dressy clothing, like they had done this a million times before.

“Don’t move, Calico. I’ll be right back,” Poot said, nodding to me before sending TOmmy an unreadable expression and walking away. He still stood there, face full of curious dislike.

Glowering right back, my hand swished the champagne around in the glass. I crossed my legs and looked away from him, mentally cursing him with every breath I took.

“I’m going back to the beach tonight.”

I ran my tongue impatiently over my teeth, taking a simple Screw You Gulp from the drink. “Me too,” I replied, shooting my eyes darkly his way. I could see the muscles in Tommy’s jaw tighten, but his face maintained the same, indifferent expression.

“I’m going there at the same time,” he challenged. I sat up straight and puffed out my chest. Seriously, I couldn’t understand how someone like Poot could be friends with Tommy.

“So. Am. I.”

His lip curled, then he opened his mouth as if he were about to say something scathing, but nothing came out. Tommy was either at a loss of words, or trying his hardest not to say something too mean. He lowered his chin so that his hair fell into his misty eyes: toe poking grudgingly against the ground.

“As beautiful as this conversation has been, I think I should go,” I flatly said, getting to my feet and striding past him. He didn’t move as I left, only checking over my shoulder once to see him still standing there, hands in his pockets as he stared at the tall fence that lined Jon’s yard.

Hmph. At least I had gotten the last word.

Poot had told me not to move, but I doubted he would be upset if he had to find me somewhere else. Downing the rest of my drink, I swallowed through the pain and set the empty glass down on a spare table.

I was surrounded by a crowd of people who were only faces to me. Earlier, Jon had taken my Mom and me around, introducing us over and over to business partners and friends. Eventually, I had somehow managed to slip away and find my secret spot.

It was all off-balance. Jon wasn’t my step-dad, or even my almost-step-dad. Mom never divulged any plans of getting engaged, she was perfectly happy where they were in the relationship.

He introduced me as “This is Laura’s daughter, Calico. She just moved in with us.” Then, they’d ask him to repeat my name over once or twice, always thinking they must have heard wrong. I used to appreciate the uniqueness of Calico, but tonight it felt like a burden. I’d painfully smile, laugh at the right time, then we’d move on to the next person and repeat.

As if it wasn’t weird enough to have to go face to face, Mom was acting strange. Well, I guess she was acting strange to me, everyone else would have considered it normal. She hadn’t stepped within feet of the bar the entire night, which normally was her favorite place to post herself at the weddings, birthdays, and office parties back home. I used to have to trail behind her and literally wrestle the drinks from her hands when she had too many.

Also, by now she would have started her whole game of Wouldn’t It Be Funny If? Like “Wouldn’t it be funny if I pushed someone in the pool?” or “Wouldn’t it be funny if I stole the violinist’s bow and poked people when they weren’t looking?”

But there she stood, supportively standing beside Jon, more sober than I was. I watched her laugh at some joke that probably wasn’t very funny, feeling odd that I didn’t have to take care of her. It was like I didn’t know what to do with myself.

Mr. Michaels, or Papa Steve as I heard Poot refer to him once, went up to talk with Jon, accompanied by his son. I had met him earlier on in the party, and he had been the easiest one to smile for. He looked like a young Richard Gere, and it had been obvious to tell where Poot had gotten all his charisma and charm from.

My feet carried me absentmindedly to the fancy snack bar, where I picked up what could possibly the plumpest strawberry I had ever seen. With the I-want-to-kick-cute-forest-animals feeling of Tommy dawdling with me, I chomped into it mercilessly, chewing with attitude.

“Jesus, hungry much?” Kendall appeared out of nowhere, looking gorgeous in a shimmering white halter dress that hugged her potentially model-esque body. I swallowed with vigor, instantly regretting it as it bumped down my raw throat.

When she saw my tense expression, Kendall tucked her top lip into her mouth, pressing the tips of her fingers against the table in front of us.

“Look.” She glanced around, probably making sure that no one was around to listen in. “I’m sorry. I should be trying to make you feel more at home, and I haven’t been doing a very good job of it.”

The tone of her voice made me forget everything else that was upsetting me. It was uncouth, how out of character it was for her to sound so sincere.

“Whatever. I know all of this hasn’t just been hard on me. I should be the one apologizing for being such a grouch.”

“Whatever.” She repeated what I had said, examining her nails as she started to fade back into the girl I was familiar with. “I thought maybe we could do something you like tomorrow. So, what do you like?”


“Soccer,” I smiled, making her scrunch her nose in distaste.

“What else?”

“Uh...reading, biking, rock climbing, tennis-”

“This is going to be harder than I thought.” Kendall had a fresh look of Yeah, Right on her face. I paused, trying to think of something we could possibly have in common. Her dad said she used to love to surf.

“I like the ocean,” I listed as a last resort. Kendall’s eyes took on a spark as she reached and grabbed a strawberry from the big bowl beside us.

“I’ll take you to the tide pools,” she decided, voice sounding different than I’ve ever heard it before.

“The tide pools?”

Kendall looked up at me with her doe eyes, a smile building on her perfectly glossed lips.

“I’ll bring my book...”

“What book?” I asked, but before I could get a reply, I felt an arm slid around my shoulders. Poot was smiling at Kendall, who was giving him a look that was comparable to one seeing God for the first time. It was hard for me to try and remember how I saw the hot senior guys when I was a sophomore.

“How’s it going, Kendall?” Poot asked, lightly leaning into me. She shrugged, all glitter gone from her eyes in a stark transition.

“Fine, you know, this stuff can get pretty boring.” She professionally tossed her hair over her shoulder. Poot chuckled, I could feel it move through him.

“I don’t know. Back by the pool, some of the guys were having a pretty thrilling conversation about breeding horses. It was kind of racy and exciting,” he fauxly chirped in an optimistic way. Kendall wasn’t trying to be discrete about the way her eyes continued to stare at his arm around me.

“Right, well, maybe I should check that out,” she politely said, then left. Poot let go of me, turning so that we were face-to-face.

“I’ve got to head home, but I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early when I’m working on the shed.” He flipped his cell phone open to check the time.

“Mmm, bright and early. Sounds like a good time.” I meant for it to come out light, but my voice was haggard and dull. Poot stopped smiling, reaching over to squeeze my shoulder.

“Hey, could you try to get some sleep tonight. The more I look at you, the more sick you seem.”

“Is that some kind of insult?”

Poot gave a small smile at my weak joke, flicking his hair so it sat the right way. “Seriously.” He pressed his head toward mine, lips coming and going on my cheek before I had a chance to react. All that I was left with was a small, warm feeling in the back of my mind. “See ya.”

“Bye,” I slowly said. He grabbed my hand and gave it a tug before turning around.

Moments later, he and Tommy made their way out the back door in the fence. I reached up and touched the spot he kissed me with the pads of my fingertips.

What was that for?