The Summer I Forgot to Change
1. Embry
The week before school started was the week Embry got home from summer camp. She was tall and skinny, with short black hair and a lip ring, which wasn't expected of a fifteen-year-old girl who had left home rather plump and styling strawberry blonde hair.
I stared at her, tucking my hair nervously behind my ear as she ran toward me with her black duffel bag. There was a slight smile on her face, which was all you usually got out of her, unless you told her an amazing your-mama joke.
"Hey, you," she screamed at me, "c'mere!"
Everyone in the gate turned their head, and I felt myself blush. We ran at each other and met in front of a gift shop with a sign in the window that read 'Sunny California! Don't leave without a souvenir!' I gave her a hug, and her mom showed up, panting.
"God, you run like a bat out of hell, Cole." Which was a lie, really, because I sucked at running; Embry's mom, Allie, was always telling us to wait up or slow down (my mom always insisted, clicking her tongue, that it was because she chain smoked.)
"Do not." I smiled. Embry was looking over her shoulder, avoiding her mother's eyes.
"Oh, girl, yes you d— Embry Marie Coal, what on earth have you done to your hair?" Allie put her hand on her hip as she said this, a classic mom stance.
"What? Uh, nothing, it's just dye…," she turned to face us. Mistake.
"Is- is that a lip ring? My god, is there something else you'd like to tell me? A tattoo, maybe?" and with this remark she turned around and headed to the escalators, her heels clacking along with her.
"Dang. Bust-ed." I joked, starting after Allie.
"Oh, shut up," Embry gave me a playful punch and hauled her bag to the other shoulder. "Let's hurry up, I bet we can beat her to the car."
The Volkswagen Rabbit Allie drove had always carried distinct smell of peppermint and tobacco. I had some of my best memories in the old Rabbit, and some of my worst. I think I'll have to add this experience to the latter, I thought to my self dully as a sat in the back seat, staring out the window.
"I send you to a nice camp, one you've been absolutely dying to go to, and you come back looking like a model for Hot Topics."
"Topic, Mom. Hot Topic." Embry corrected, rolling her eyes. She moved her feet onto the dashboard, something she did so often that I knew the exact words coming next.
"Feet off Embry. I swear you were raised in a barn yard." Allie had a thing for phrases like 'bat out of hell' and 'off like a prom dress', and, of course, 'raised in a barn yard'.
"And why would I care about some dark, creep store, anyway? Oh, that's right, my daughter is posing as a cashier." Allie also had a nag for answering her own questions.
"It's not like that, it's cool. And so, by the way, are the cashiers." Embry turned up the radio, then, as to end the conversation. She picked a heavy metal station, which was new. Three months ago she could barely stand screamo.
After a long, eventless ride, through which I felt uncomfortable, we finally drove onto my street. Allie parked in her driveway, got out, and walked straight into the house. I waited for Embry to get out and push the seat up for me, and then I crawled out of the car.
"Call me." I said closing the door behind me.
"Stalk you." She finished. This was our not-so-inside-joke, copied straight out of Stick It, her favorite movie.
I smiled and ran next door to my house. When I got to the kitchen I could see Allie in the backyard smoking (my mom clicked her tongue disapprovingly), and Embry on the kitchen countertop drinking a soda. I looked away, then suddenly looked back; Embry wasn't a soda drinker, or at least she hadn't been.
2. The Rabbit
Embry sat on her bed, admiring my work.
"Hey, these aren't so bad," she complimented, staring at the door of her closet, which served as a mirror. Her hair was still neck length and strawberry blonde, and it was tucked behind her ears. They had cheap silver studs in them, and were tomato-red, which was my fault.
"I can not believe I did that." I laughed, sipping my Diet Coke.
"What-ever. Man, Cole, this is so cool…Oh my God, what if my mom finds out. She'll freaking kill me," but before I could respond, she interrupted, "but who cares? This is so cool!"
Embry was always a Drama Queen, but at thirteen she was in total teenager mode. It would have made my mom twitch or just plain walk away these days, but back then she had just laughed and rolled her eyes at us.
"Girls, Ray's here. I'm leaving." Allie shouted from downstairs. Ray was Allie's boyfriend when we were thirteen, or her 'victim' as Embry usually retorted with a snort.
"Call me if you need me. 'Bye."
Then we heard the door slam and Ray's Suburban drive off. I ran over to Embry's window to make sure they were gone, and when I couldn't see his car anymore I spun around.
"Okay, she's gone. Let's get ready." Embry jumped off the bed to open her closet while I made my way around her bed to the vanity. Using one hand to pull open the drawer where Embry kept all her makeup, I pulled a box out from under her bed to use as a second chair. Embry sat in it, her arms full of black and red garments.
"Time?" she inquired.
"Uh," I checked the Winnie the Pooh alarm clock by Embry's bed, "eight fifteen. God, we're going to be late. What if I miss Ben?"
"You wont. Everybody cool gets to parties late," she finished a top coat of onyx mascara then promptly said, "It's true," in response to my skeptical expression.
"How're we getting there anyway?"
"The Rabbit."
"The Rabbit? Are you serious?" I gaped.
"Dead. What? It's not like we haven't driven it before."
This was true. Once when we were ten, Allie had went into the grocery store and left her keys in the ignition. So, with a sudden burst of rebellion, Embry told me to sit under the seat and press the gas while she steered. I am proud to say we made it all the way to the cinema without crashing into anything, take or leave a few bushes, before we hit the trash can that all the junkies in town hang out behind.
"Oh, okay. You kill me, and I'll make you're life a living hell."
"Right. And you can do this…" she paused dramatically, "because you – are - dead."
"Whatever." I twirled my hair around my finger. "Clothes time."
Half an hour later, I was in Embry's kitchen, which stood adjacent to mine, calling my mom. I saw her walk into the kitchen, singing and snapping her fingers, then picking the phone up from off the floor where I'd left it earlier that day. Embry muttered something, and closed the curtain on the kitchen window so my mother wouldn't see our attire, and faint. I had on way too much makeup, a jean miniskirt, army boots, and a crimson tank top. Embry, however, wore the same size shoe as Allie, so she had on black platforms, something I thought was totally unfair. Embry was also sporting a leather jacket and red skirt.
"Makeup check?" She called to me, after I had made up an excuse my mom would buy.
"Fine. Me?"
"Fine. Let's go."
We raced through town, with the Rabbit's radio blasting some pop song we knew every word to. At the party, I had my first kiss with Ben Shiant, a freshmen who went to the local high school, which, as an eighth grader, made me cool for at least a month. We even made it back home without damaging the car, beat Allie back, and without my mom noticing we had been gone for far longer than we needed to have seen a movie. But the best, and most memorable part of that night wasn't the victory over our parents, or the knowledge that on Monday I'd be envied; it was the feeling I got riding in Allie's Volkswagen Rabbit, singing at the top of my voice, my hair blowing in the wind, and totally free.
3. Ashley
The next morning I woke up, and the awareness that I had only six days of summer left made me want to puke. Or maybe that was my hangover. I rolled out of bed, and groaned as I hit the cold carpet.
Last night Embry had called me and informed me that she was grounded until school started up again ("a whole six days! Gasp!" she had said smugly, obviously expecting much worse) and that she couldn't go back to camp again ("so? What kind of girl who is going to be a Junior wants to go to summer camp?"). I reminded her that in June, when we got off school, she had inquired what a fifteen year old would do at camp.
Embry just ignored my comment and told me to meet her on the roof in five.
When we were eight, my dad had helped us build a little "bridge" that went from my roof to Embry's. Technically, it was a piece of wood that was nailed to the chimneys, but it worked just fine. Our parents were obviously under the impression we never used it anymore, or my mother would have insisted my dad take it down. However, Embry and I still climbed out our windows and sat on it sometimes, usually just to talk, but after we started high school we began to bring beer up there, and giggle at how we were so cool for breaking the rules.
Today, on the other hand, I felt like an utter idiot as I ran to the bathroom to throw up. Gross.
"Breakfast, Nicole…Ashley, honey, don't touch that." My mom called from downstairs. I popped the cap to the Asprin and followed one down with some tap water, then I ran down to the kitchen. Through the window I could see Allie yelling at Embry, while Embry stood facing the sink, apparently ignoring her mom, and staring at me desperately. I just shrugged and mouthed 'sorry,' as I sat down at the table.
Ashley observed me during breakfast, her eyes rarely leaving my figure. Her hair was dirty blonde, like mine, but it was long and wavy while mine grew straight, and cut off abruptly at my collarbone. She stopped watching only after my mom and dad had gotten up, rinsed their plates, and left the room. I got up slowly and she followed my lead. When I finished doing my dishes, I turned to leave, but Ashley was standing in the doorframe, blocking my way.
Ugh, I just wanted to go upstairs and sleep. I was totally tired, and my head was throbbing.
"You have a hangover." She declared, her hand on her hip.
"Do not." I replied defensively. Unfortunately, my defensive tone doesn't make a very convincing counter argument.
"Yes, you do. You are totally hung over," she adjusted her square, black glasses, "Mom's just stupid."
I didn't say anything, I just pushed around her and climbed up the stairs slowly, my muscles were sore, too. Great. Note to self: avoid over drinking unless absolutely and utterly necessary.
"You're a freak, you know that?" Ashley followed me down the hall. "I mean, I could totally bust you right now. But instead, you are going to drive me to the mall later."
"Right. And why are you going anyway?" I opened my door, and leaned against the frame.
"Whatever. See you at four…" And then she walked away, muttering profanities at me under her breath.
Ashley, my darling little sister, had turned twelve in July, which meant she was entering her wannabe teenager year. For anyone who doesn't know what I'm talking about, it's a time of spending hours on end in the bathroom we shared, slamming the door in people's faces, and answering every question with an absent minded 'whatever.'
I was sitting on my bed watching some show on Lifetime and drinking water when Ashley came marching in wearing shorts and a red shirt that said 'Go Away Or Pay'.
"Cole, what's pwned?" Ashley asked me, suddenly in my doorway, chomping her gum loudly.
"What? Why?" I was already annoyed with her, and she'd been here ten seconds.
"Just because. What is it, already?" She tapped her foot impatiently.
"It's like owned. Just go away, okay?"
"Whatever. Fine." She turned away, and then back, "Remember, mall at four."
I was tempted to shout 'your shirt is retarded' or something at her, just to start something, but she was already running down the stairs. Instead, I rolled my eyes and tuned out the TV, thinking about change.
My mom was tall and had dark brown hair. It had been in a ponytail all summer, and as far as I could remember, the last time I saw it down was the Saturday after I'd gotten out of school. Embry was leaving for camp Monday, so she was hanging out at my house religiously, but we were stuck babysitting Ashley while my parents went out to dinner.
Now that I thought of this, my mom and dad hadn't been out in a while… maybe since then. This, apparently, had changed also. Anyhow, the parentals were going on a date then, and I was trapped with Ashley. She was begging Embry to let her watch an R movie, and I told her that if she didn't stuff it, she'd ruin the night for all of us.
"Okay, we're leaving." My mom's face was red from laughing, and her hair was let down, framing her face perfectly. When remembered her tonight, I remembered the good mom, the nice one, the easygoing mom that she was then.
"I will see you," she said hugging me, "and you," she hugged Ashley, "in a little. Have fun."
"Be good girls. 'Bye Cole…Ashley… I'll see you in a couple months, eh, Embry." My dad smiled, then held the door open for my mom to walk through.
Once the car left, I made popcorn and Embry told Ashley that if she went to bed right after the movie, then she could watch it.
"Right after." Embry repeated.
"Okay. You know, I'll be twelve next month. I can so watch this." She jumped around excitedly in her Carebear pajamas.
"Mhm," was all Embry replied. She was chewing on her hair, which was still longer and blonder.
However, we didn't make it through half the movie before a car pulled up. I hastily turned to Disney Channel, and Embry sighed then got up. My mom opened the door, screaming.
"I do not care, Rick." She slammed her purse down on top of the TV. My dad
said something I couldn't hear, which made my mother curse loudly, slam the door, and run upstairs, putting her hair into a ponytail. The ponytail that became ever existent from then on. See, my mom brings a whole new meaning to the phrase 'she needs to let her hair down', which is something Allie said loads, by the way.
4. Ben Shiant
The mall was filled with people rushing around to do back to school shopping. Ashley had insisted I come in with her, probably to show off the fact that she knew a Sophomore, but she refused to walk next to me or talk to me. Eventually I told her I had things to do, and she replied how? I'll give you three quesses.
"Whatever."
"I'm serious, I do have a life." We passed Urban Outfitters and I saw a cute pair of jeans, but then I remembered I was broke.
"I know, I know. But I need you to meet someone." Ashley pulled me into Brenda's Booth, a café that was painted bright orange and red.
"Ashley. I'm busy, I'm tired, and I'm hungover. Let me leave."
"So she admits it…Here, over there, that's my boyfriend Zane." She smiled expectantly.
"You brought me here to see your boyfriend. I'm going home."
"Please," she wined. Next thing I knew I was being dragged across the room to a bright, yellow table where a boy with brown hair was sitting, smiling at Ashley and me.
"Hey." He extended a fist.
"Hi."
"Hey, Zane," Ashley blushed.
"What's up, girl," he smiled, and kissed her on the cheek.
He was a total gangster wannabe. My sister either had the worst taste in guys, or there were some serious bucks involved. I sat with them for ten whole minutes, only because my sister stomped on my foot whenever I tried to escape. Just when I was getting altogether too fed up with the two of them, Zane yelled out to someone.
"Hey, Ben, over here!" He stood up, waving his arms.
I looked over my shoulder and saw Ben Shiant staring at me. His hair was shorter, and had thick arms that could only qualify him as a football player. Different. The Ben Shiant I remembered from June, the one who had denied making out with me during his freshmen year, had an Orlando Bloom cut and a skinny figure. Now a proud almost-Junior, he strode over to our table, never taking his dark eyes off of me.
"Hey Bro," Ben was still looking at me as he greeted Zane. Then I realized it was me who was staring and looked, for the first time, over Ben's broad shoulder. Another guy was standing behind Ben, his hands shoved into his pockets. It was remarkable how much he resembled Daniel Radcliffe. Nice.
Zane introduced him as Dean, which, as far as boys' names go, was pretty decent. Ashley presented me as, and I quote…
"Cole. That's short for Nicole. You know, without the Ni." Insert girly giggle.
I swear I could have killed her, I mean seriously, who gives? Dean seemed to think it was pretty funny, and now he was gazing at me with a vacant expression. I blushed and turned to face Ashley. She was in a deep discussion about Jimmy and Kellie's recent fling at the movie theater.
Sighing, I got up and hedged towards the entrance to Beth's Booth. Ashley didn't seem to notice, so I made a quick getaway. I was almost at the escalators when someone yelled for me to wait up.
Turning around, I saw it was Dean, and stopped walking to wait for him. He strode over, his button-down shirt blowing in the breeze that was blowing in the mall, and tugging at my hair. He caught up to me, and smiled.
"Hi. Uh, what's… up?" I offered, unsure of what to say.
"I just wanted to give you this," and he handed me a quarter. I'm dead serious, I swear. A freaking quarter. Wait, oh my God, he had a British accent, how hot is that?
"Uh, this isn't mine…"
"I know. Keep it, though," he smiled, as if enjoying some inside joke, "I'll see
you Cole." Then he turned and left, strolling through the second floor of Bankford Mall.
"And he'd never met you before?" Embry demanded that night as we sat on the roof, drinking Diet Coke. Embry drank soda devotedly now, what she insisted was "making up for fifteen and a half years of avoiding it". I had told her about my charade at the mall with Dean, Ben, and Zane.
"Nope. I think he probably lived in town, and he's probably a Junior this year." I took a swig of my soda, thinking. Even Ben had changed this summer. Embry, Ashley, Zane, Mom… who else could possibly change?
"You know," Embry said, and I could have sworn a light bulb appeared over her head, "we should look him up in the yearbook." She sat up, stretching.
So we climbed in through Embry's window, and sat on the red comforter that covered her bed. Embry pulled a yearbook out from underneath the mattress and handed it to me. We needed a last name.
Embry seemed to comprehend this too, because after a few seconds she muttered "Damn. Go ask your sister."
"How would she know? Plus, she'd ask questions and crap." Ashley never made anything simple anymore; everything was always how or why nowadays.
"C'mon…here," she handed me the purple phone we had made in fifth grade; it was one of those 'Make Your Own!' products you could buy at gas stations. I took it reluctantly and dialed my house number.
"'Sup?" Ashley answered.
"You shouldn't answer the phone like that, it could be one of dad's business people calling."
"Caller ID, duh. What do you want?" I could hear her masticating her gum. Groan.
"You know that guy Dean from earlier? What was his last name?" Please don't ask why, please don't ask why.
"Why?"
"Um, because I thought I knew him from school, but I can't exactly remember."
"Nice one," Embry whispered from beside me. I couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not, so I just smiled and rolled my eyes.
"Oh. Okay. I met him once before… Ben sometimes calls him Wither Man, so I'd try Wither. Sound good?"
"Yeah, great. Thanks." Embry started flipping through the Sophomore section of last years' book, going through the T's.
"Whatever. Later." Ashley hung up. Nice kid, eh?
"Got him. He really does look like Daniel Radcliffe, wow," Embry mused. The black and white picture did him justice. My own little Harry Potter.
"Look, he signed yours," I pointed to a sentence of neat, green handwriting wedged between Dean's picture and the picture above his.
"What's it say?" Embry asked. She was searching for something she'd left in the pocket of yesterday's jeans.
"Em – Have a great summer, hope to see you as a Sophomore (though its not as great as it may sound.) And a smiley face. Cute."
"Hmm. I guess I knew him. I mean, he did call me Em," this was something nobody called Embry, with the exception of a drunk Allie.
My mom called just then, outraged that I was out of the house so late (twelve thirty). I sighed and Embry laughed out loud.
When I got home I dashed directly to my room, closing the door behind me. I pulled out a white tank top and plaid pajama bottoms. A quarter fell out of the pocket in my jeans, and I picked it up. Dean's voice, accent and all, shot through my head, Keep it, though. So I did. I put it on the white table by my bedside, clambered into bed, and fell asleep.