For The Summer

  This is a work of fiction. Names, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters and dialogue are the product of the author's imagination and should be interpreted as fiction.

  Published in the United States by L.L. Wright.

  Copyright © 2020 L.L. Wright

  All rights reserved.

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  “Everything is great, I'm so excited for this.”

  My glossed lips part, revealing a perfectly white smile as I stare into the mirror hanging on the wall above my bathroom vanity.

  I press my eyes shut and shake my head. No, that was way too forced, fake, and to be honest, too positive to be even remotely believable. Tonight is my going away party and, while I’m sure I’ll never see most of these people again in my life, I’m going to go out on a high note if it’s the last thing I do in this town. I straighten my back and take a deep breath, holding my eyes for just a second longer. When I open them again, I tilt my head slightly and force a small grin to play across my lips.

  “I’m fine, and anyway, it’s just for the summer,” I say with a shrug, allowing my smile to grow as I nod reassuringly. Yes, that’s the one. You know what they say, eighth time’s the charm.

  I drag a brush through my straight blonde shoulder-length bob one last time, followed by a final fluff. Then, I take a step back and eye myself up. Black skinny jeans hug every curve from my ankles to my hips, where a french-tucked black silk blouse takes over. My naturally golden blonde hair is the perfect contrast to my smokey lids, dark eyeliner, and thick black lashed. I dab on one more coat of lip gloss and step into my dark pink patent leather pumps. A smile curls my lips, brightens my green eyes. It’s a real one this time, staring at my own perfectly primped, yet tasteful, appearance.

  “Amelia,” my mother calls from the next room.

  I step out of the bathroom, onto the plush cream carpet of my bedroom, and meet my mother’s expectant gaze.

  “I’m heading out. I just wanted to see if you needed anything before I leave,” she says.

  “Nope, I’m fine,” I say, practicing my rehearsed smile and nod.

  Her eyes shift, and I can tell there’s something else she wants to say, something more. But she won’t. She never does. For as long as I can remember my mother has been soft-spoken and reserved. She’s the type of woman who would never say a negative thing about anyone. For the most part, she blindly supports what her friends and family do and keeps her opinions to herself. It drives me crazy. Take, for example, the fundraising event she’s attending tonight. The women in the Green Hills booster club are faker than plastic. Smooth and shiny on the outside with their gel-coated manicures, weekly highlights, and botox, but below the surface, they’re hollow and empty. There is nothing more hiding underneath their beauty. Not unless you count affairs, addictions, and arrests for DUI’s, anyway.

  Not one of those women batted an eyelash when my parents divorced. When news of Dad’s new wife hit the gossip chain, the ladies my mother had spent hours with every week for over ten years, raising money for local charities and causes all but disappeared. They stopped inviting her for salon days and shopping trips. Lunches and wine tastings became a thing of the past, and no one, not a single one of her so-called friends, called or visited to offer sympathy and support. Mom stayed in the club mostly for show, but she also enjoyed the work and didn’t feel right stepping down because of a little bit of catty-drama. We both know those ladies will be thrilled after tonight’s event when they can move on and forget all about her. Mom will graciously step down and say a few warm words about Jeanine, her successor, and the woman she once considered her best friend. She will pass on her beloved booster club to a pack of heartless snobs with a smile on her face. I’d love it if she gave them a piece of her mind. Just once. But I’m not holding my breath. Playing hardball and putting people in their place just isn’t Mom’s thing, and after what happened with Jim, I don’t think I’ll see that side of her again any time soon.

  Two years ago my father decided it was time to come clean. He sat Mom and I down in the living room and gave us this long spiel about how he needed to clear his conscience and start living a more honest life, for the family, he said. I assumed he was talking about some kind of white-collar crime. Tax evasion, money laundering, something to do with his business. Boy, was I wrong. That day, I learned three things about my parents.

  First, they had a prenup. Though my parents married right out of college, it would seem that my dad knew his future business ventures would be a big success. I guess he wanted to make sure Mom was in it for the long haul, and I guess she planned to be because in the event of a divorce she wouldn’t get a penny. Who would sign something like that? Apparently, a young woman who was head over heels in love with a man she thought she would spend the rest of her life with.

  Second, my dad had been living a double life. That day he let us in on his secret, told us all about his five-year-long affair, and the love-child he and his partner had welcomed six months earlier. He even went into detail about how they would be moving to France for the next two years. It was a dream of Heidi’s that dear old dad was over the moon about bringing to fruition.

  Third, I would henceforth be calling the man previously known as Dad, Jim. This was an easy decision once he informed us that we would be allowed to remain in our house until after I graduated high school. After that, it would be sold. He and his new family would be moving back to town after their stint in Europe, and Jim was really insistent that the transition be a smooth one for Heidi and their son, Fox.

  This is where things got really interesting. My mother sat quietly. She nodded her head, listening, and absorbing everything he said. My eyes darted between them, waiting. For what, I wasn’t sure, but the calmness of the room was unsettling. A man can’t just sit his wife of twenty-years and daughter down, calmly tell them he has a second family and abandon them physically and financially without anyone so much as raising their voice. Something had to happen. And then it did.

  Mom sighed heavily and reached down into her purse, sitting on the floor beside her chair. She pulled out her floral day planner and a pen, flipping open the datebook to the back where there were blank pages, then she pressed pen to paper and looked him in the eye.

  “Amelia will attend at least four years of college; she’s yet to decide where but tuition, room, and board will need to be planned for. She will be getting her license soon and before she does start college she’ll need a car along with insurance and a roadside policy. There is also the matter of the move. When Amelia and I leave Green Hills we’ll move to Charlotte, which I’m sure you already guessed. The cost of moving everything halfway down the coast won’t be cheap.” She held his eye, dragging the tip of her pen against the book resting on her crossed leg.

  “Lydia, I don’t think you’re understanding the situation. We have a prenuptial agreement that releases me of all financial responsibility to you in the event of a divorce initiated by either party. That contract doesn’t legally extend to child support so I will keep up the house and reimburse you for all of Amelia’s expenses until she turns eighteen, but after that, you will both be on your own.” His words were factual and curt, as if he were talking about financing a new business, and not the well be
ing and stability of his only daughter.

  I scoffed. My mouth opened a fraction, completely lost for words.

  He turned, facing me for the first time since he began the conversation.

  “Amelia, you’ve never shown a passion or even an interest in anything other than that boyfriend you’re practically attached to. Your grades are average and your attention span is short. You will either major in something useless like fashion or you will drop out midway, possibly a combination of the two. Why would I agree to pay for that? You aren’t going to follow in my footsteps. You won’t be the next big business mogul. You’ll follow that boy or another until he gives you a ring. You don’t need a degree or my money for that.”

  My father and I never had a particularly warm relationship, I mean, how could we? He was never around. The man was out of the house twelve hours a day, traveling at least one week each month, and spending two months every summer in Italy. He never took much interest in me and once I was old enough to see that wasn’t going to change I adjusted my expectations and stopped trying to get his attention altogether. Now, all of these things made sense. My mother and I were simply a placeholder. A beautiful wife and healthy child to pose with for Christmas cards and take to the occasional corporate function while he wined, dined, and started a brand new family with some other woman. The cheating and lying were awful, but trying to completely abandon your wife and daughter, leaving them penniless, was something completely different. The idea churned my stomach, and my breath caught in my chest as panic set in, and the full picture of what was happening became clear.

  “That’s enough, Jim. I think you’re the one who isn’t grasping the situation. Our prenup isn’t valid. It never was,” Mom said, laying her pen in the spine of her planner.

  “What the hell are you talking about? Of course, it’s valid. Our lawyer drew it up and we both signed it.” His voice was cold and cocky. He’d lost his calm, professional tone, and irritation underlines his words.

  “Your lawyer, Jim. Donald was never my council. I was a nineteen-year-old girl with no legal representation. The contract was void from the moment I signed it.” Mom looked over, giving me a small smile and a wink, then she turned back to face him.

  My eyes grew wider as her words sank in. I have no idea how long she’d known that their agreement was invalid. Maybe she always knew? Regardless, I learned at that moment that my mother is a force to be reckoned with. A wolf in sheep’s clothing and completely calm as she delivered her final blow to the man that just tried to destroy her entire life without so much as an apology.

  “We’ve been married for twenty years, Jim. We have a sixteen-year-old daughter. I have never strayed and you have just admitted to not only cheating but to having a child out of wedlock. It doesn’t take a genius to know that no judge in this state would side with you and give me anything less than half of our marital assets plus maintenance,” she said, taking another deep breath and quirking her mouth to the side thoughtfully. She tucked her book back into her bag and stood. “You’ve been a shit husband, and I can’t say you’ve earned the right to be called a father, so this situation doesn’t come as much of a surprise to me. My lawyer will draw up an offer, one that I highly suggest you sign without delay. In the meantime, pack your stuff and leave before we get back.”

  “Where are we going?” I whispered, following her out of the living room.

  “To celebrate.”

  The memory fades, leaving a satisfied smile on my face as I stare at my mother, still standing in the doorway.

  “I promise we won’t trash the place,” I say when she doesn’t move.

  “Oh, no. It’s not that. The papers are signed, we leave tomorrow. I don’t care what happens to this place now.” She smiles, looking around my empty room. All that’s left is an air mattress, an open roll away suitcase, and a few toiletries in the bathroom. Everything else was packed into a truck headed south a few days ago.

  “Then, what is it, Mom?” I ask. My brow creases, and I shift my weight impatiently.

  “I’m looking forward to this,” she says. “A fresh start, leaving all of this drama behind. I think it will be good for us.”

  “Yeah, me too,” I lie, flashing her a reassuring smile. The same one I know I’ll have to replay countless times tonight.

  With that, she leaves the room. The click, click, click, of her heels gradually fades away. A few minutes later I hear the heavy front door close, and I head down the stairs into the foyer. The house is eerily quiet, every footstep echoes now that it’s empty, and my chest tightens at the sight of the barren rooms. The pictures that once lined the walls and the decorations that made this huge house feel warm and homey are long gone, probably already sitting in a Pod in the driveway of our new home in North Carolina. I know this could be a lot worse. If my mother hadn’t stood up to my father that day, we would be completely broke. But, leaving this place- my home and all of my friends. It hurts.

  Mom is ready for a fresh start. After losing her husband, friends, and social life, she’s excited about the adventure that lies ahead. But me? I have a boyfriend and a best friend I’m leaving behind. I don’t want to pick up my life and relocate, especially not at the start of my last summer before going to college. This is supposed to be the last hoorah. The last few months with everyone I care about. The last time I’ll get to be carefree, without thinking of my future plans and the path that lies ahead. Instead, I’m moving six-hundred-miles away to a town I haven’t seen since I was five. Jim was the one that ruined our lives. He should have been the one to leave. But he wouldn’t, and he was willing to shell out a lot of money in exchange for our leaving. At least it's just for the summer. After that, I'll be on a plane to California. College on the west coast will be my real fresh start.

  A knock at the door startles me. But it’s not just a knock. Someone is pounding on the front door. I walk over and look through the peephole, sighing heavily when my best friend Lexi comes into view. I unlock and open the door, pulling it open wide.

  “You almost gave me a heart attack,” I say, stepping aside so she can enter.

  “Amelia Katherine Brenner, scared? Say it ain’t so.” She laughs, looking around the empty foyer with wide eyes. “Wow, I still can’t believe you’re actually leaving.”

  “Yeah, that makes two of us,” I reply, leaning my back against the door and scanning the bare walls again.

  Lexi and I have been best friends since she moved to Green Hills five-years ago. She transferred the year before high school started and at five-foot-nothing, her curvy figure and long brown hair gave her the innocent look bullies love to zero in on. I saw something different. I saw the stack of books she carried in her arms. The familiar names and titles on the spines. The same weathered paperbacks filling my own bookshelves. None of the other girls in my grade were reading Orwell, Salinger, Golding, and Atwood. Most of them didn’t read anything until Twilight came along. So when I saw Lexi sitting alone with all of my favorite books I knew I needed her in my life. And she has been, every single day since. Lexi’s curves have softened over the years and her long brown hair is highlighted and hangs in dramatic waves over her shoulders now. But, deep down, my bookish best friend is still the same, unlike so many other girls who changed for boys and status. She’s still Lexi.

  “We’ll stay in touch, though,” I say, pulling my attention back to her face. “We’ll Facetime and plan visits.”

  “Yeah, of course,” Lexi smiles. She pulls her phone out of her back pocket and swipes the screen. “They’re here!” she announces, scurrying toward me.

  I step out of the way, brow creased as she pulls open the door.

  “Who’s here?” I peek around her a second later, answering my own question.

  “Everyone!” She steps back, bumping into me as she ushers a sea of people into the house.

  I watch with wide eyes as people file in, and I lose count of how much alcohol is in the house after two kegs and three cases of Natural Ice. When Lexi clos
es the door I press my back to it again, eyes scanning the packed first floor.

  “Who invited all of these people? It was supposed to be a small going away party,” I whisper-shout, grabbing Lexi’s shoulders.

  “Oh come on, Kat. If you have to go you might as well go out with a bang, right?” She smiles and after I look around the room one more time, I nod somewhat reluctantly.

  We make our way through the crowded foyer into the kitchen. The punch bowl I placed on the island before heading upstairs to get ready is on the counter. Connor, Green Hills star running back is pouring two small bottles of Smirnoff into the mixture of sprite and sherbet. That’s going to be lethal. The island is now stocked with solo cups and various liquor and soda bottles, and the two kegs are sitting side by side on the kitchen floor.

  This was definitely not what I expected when I got ready tonight. I thought our small inner circle would spend a few hours eating takeout and sharing stories. I had no idea my last night in my childhood home would include more alcohol than a speakeasy. My heart is racing, and I run my fingers through my blonde bob. Connor cracks open a third mini bottle of vodka and heads back toward the punch bowl.

  “Connor!” I shout. He startles, spins on his heels, and looks at me with wide eyes. “Enough vodka in the punch, dammit.”

  He nods his head, looks down at the bottle in his hand, and takes a swig.

  “Sure thing Kitty Kat.” He flashes me a smile and a wink and heads out of the kitchen.

  I cringe at the horrible nickname, walking out after him in search of Lexi or my boyfriend, Oliver. He was supposed to text me when he got home from his weekly therapy appointment, but that should have ended over an hour ago. I pull out my phone, checking it for a missed call or text. No, nothing.

  A few people stop me as I walk through the house. The girls hug me, tell me they can’t believe I’m really leaving. The guys are just all sorts of awkward. Some lean in for one-shoulder-hugs. Others offer me high fives and fist bumps. Brad, who I’ve known since the first grade but barely ever spoken to, is already plastered and tells me he loves me. So that’s something. Someone set up a card table in the dining room, and flip-cup is in full swing. After two laps around the house, I pull off my heels and climb the stairs. It’s quiet and immediately clear that the party hasn’t extended this far. Lexi’s party girl attitude when she greeted everyone took me by surprise. She’s always down for a good time, but her idea of living it up takes place more behind the scenes. Lexi tends to gravitate toward quiet places and situations that don’t put her in the spotlight. The fact that she went out of her comfort zone to make sure I had a memorable last night here deserves recognition.