IanI watched Summer's bedroom light from my window, as I did just about every night since we were fifteen. There wasn't anything to see, just a soft glow through the weeping willow branches from across the two acres between us, but it was habit. My gut tightened as I took a swig of beer, the condensation from the long neck bottle soaking my hand. Pacing my bedroom, I glared at her everywhere I turned. There's been no escape for years now. Stupidly, I'd kept every ridiculous trinket she'd ever bought or made me, even the little ceramic frog she'd done in fifth grade art class. At least, that's what she'd said it was. It didn't look like a frog. Pictures of us as kids, as adults, and our families scattered the dark blue walls. I stared at the one of Tom, Summer, and myself outside her house. There was a pull in my chest as I remembered Tom, lying in bed, too sick to even hold his daughter in the end.Christ. Our lives were like a jacked up version of Dawson's Creek, sans the romance

SummerDee sat with me at a small table outside Mel's Café and watched me play with my salad. I pretended not to notice. Eventually, she drew her brows together, dropped her fork, and glared at me. "Out with it. What's wrong?"I sighed. Where to start? "Nothing. I'm sorry. I'm fine." Dee didn't look convinced. "Okay, but don't tell anyone. Got it?"She leaned forward, her eyes round in panic. "Summer, what's going on?"As if expecting someone to approach us, I glanced at the other diners sitting at their tables. No one looked familiar. "My mother showed up at my house the other day."Dee flew back in her chair as if she'd been slapped. "No way. What did she want?""To take my house." I rubbed my forehead, relieved to have it out in the open, and told her everything. A tremendous weight lifted from my chest, my shoulders. I was still sinking rather than swimming, though. Ian's weird behavior, Matt moving here, and my mother's damn visit had been bothering me to no end. I was bar

Fifteen Years Ago-Age ThirteenIn moments like this, I wished I had a mom. Most of the time, I told myself I didn't give a hoot whether that woman gave me away and ran as far as she could, that she didn't love me and left me wondering why. Or how there was a hole in my heart which couldn't be filled. But when a girl gets her period for the first time, she just wants her mom. Though it left me feeling stupid and weak, I wanted her. I wanted my mother. She would tell me what to do, not to worry, explain things.We'd gone over it all in school. I'd giggled from my lone perch behind the other girls and rolled my eyes. But now, as I sat on the floor of the bathroom, I wished I'd paid more attention in health class. Panic was threatening to take over, and I fought not to have another attack. My heart beated a mile a minute.Should I tell Daddy? Did he know about this stuff? Maybe I could ask Mrs. Memmer. Ian's mama could help, right? Yes. What other choice was there?I rushed to the ph

IanI woke from a fitful slumber to some ingrate pounding on my back door. Grousing from little sleep, I reluctantly hauled my ass out of bed and downstairs to let Rick and Dee in. Rick gave me a once-over. "Man, we've been pounding for ten minutes."I groaned in response. Mornings sucked. Morning people sucked harder.Rick followed me upstairs, leaving Dee mumbling something about breakfast.I sat on the side of my bed and rubbed the grit out of my eyes."You look like crap. I'm driving today." Rick lifted his eyebrows as if I'd explain my dismal state."I didn't sleep well." "What's the matter with you? It's Fourth of July week. Vacay. Seasmoke. Beach, sun, sand.""I kissed Summer last night."Rick froze like a comical cartoon and dropped beside me on the bed."I told her we'd talk about it at Seasmoke. She high-tailed it out of here faster than a blink." I lay back on the bed, covering my face with my arm. My chest felt ready to explode all over my bedroom walls from th

Ian"That was Jenny on the phone," I said, descending the stairs to join the others. "We're supposed to pick her up on the way." We were heading farther into South Myrtle tonight, where local bands played on the beach and venders sold hush puppies and various other unhealthy foods. Locals and tourists alike crammed into pavilions and onto the dunes to celebrate, drink, and lose sight of inhibitions. The third of July bonfire has been a tradition since childhood. Summer glanced up from the wicker chair she was curled in, looking past me instead of at me. The mention of Jenny's name should have pulled some reaction from her, but no. Nothing. Summer liked Jenny, always had. Well, maybe more like tolerated her. Jenny was a local woman I hooked up with once a year while we were on vacation. Nothing serious, friendly even. Of course, I didn't plan on sleeping with her this trip, not after everything with Summer, but Jenny had hung around our circle since we were teens and to leave her o