SEVEN SUMMERS

1.

Ana

The Isle of ISLA. A secret slice of paradise, here in the very heart of Florida's own beautiful Boca Raton. A world away from home, where all of your troubles will disperse in an instant.A five-star luxury resort, with cottages and chalets and lakes and gardens. Tennis courts, swimming pools, and Michelin star restaurants. Lush green trails, white gold beaches and some of the bluest waters in the world, etc…

I read over the brochure, for what was probably the twelfth time that week. The Island of Isla. The resort myself and my family were heading to for the month of August. My mother's very own pick of course. A well done I deserve this treat. Nobody else got a say. Dad was thinking out of the country and to somewhere cold like Switzerland. Grandma had her heart set on Canada. I, on the other hand, did not even try and entertain a place I would have liked to go. What was the point? Nobody would have ever even listened to me, let alone considered it. Who listened to what a thirteen-year-old girl had to say anyway?

"Ana?" My mom shouted from downstairs. "Have you finished packing? The food is here!"

"Yes," I lied, running down the stairs. I was starving.

We were leaving tomorrow; it was currently the night before and the house was in full chaos. Suitcases by the door, last minute dresses strewn over them, and now, several pizza boxes on the coffee table.

"Your plain one is over there," my mom said, pointing to my margherita. She always made it very clear that she thought my favourite pizza was childish.

"It's not plain," I retorted. "It's classic."

My dad was already halfway through his pepperoni, and my mom sat eating a side order of sweet potato fries and kale salad as she breastfed Millie. Ever since giving birth six months ago, she had been determined to get back to her pre-pregnancy figure, even if it meant depressing side order salads.

"Give me a slice of your one love," grandma said, from over in her corner. "I don't like all this faff on it your grandpa eats."

I grinned, handing her a slice. I could always count on her to back me up. Grandpa on the other hand, was busy stuffing his face with what looked like a pizza, yet it had so many toppings on it was hard to tell.

"We're leaving at five in the morning," mom said to me. "So you can go up to bed after this."

I rolled my eyes.

"The flight is at half past eight," she continued, "and I don't want any lateness or rushing around. I'll get you up at four. We should be in Florida for just after one if everything goes smoothly, which is good because check in is at 3. Then you can run off and play once we're all settled in."

I rolled my eyes again. "I don't play anymore mom," I reminded her, but she just ignored me.

As far as she was concerned, I was just a taller version of Millie. Still a baby. Still a little girl who played and needed a bedtime.

"Better be good," my dad grunted, switching the TV on. "Costed an arm and a leg."

My mom huffed. "Why do you always have to see the price tag on everything Ray?" She asked. "Don't you think your wife deserves this?"

He grumbled a response, but I was already bored of being downstairs. I finished a last slice of pizza and headed up to take a shower. Tomorrow was going to be a long day, and I was already feeling the after-effects.

Just as my mom had promised, she woke me up promptly at four.

"Time to get ready," she sang, pulling open my curtains. The weak dawn light filtered through my room, but it was still far too bright.

"Mom," I groaned. "Please."

"Nope," she grinned. "I won't be late Ana. This is going to be the perfect vacation. Come on, hurry up before your grandpa gets in the bathroom first."

That made me jump up faster than anything, and she laughed as I sprinted.

After quickly getting ready (and packing my suitcase very last minute), I headed downstairs where dad was making scrambled eggs and grandma was soothing Millie. I had approximately five seconds to scoff down my breakfast before mom was back downstairs and ushering everybody out of the door.

We took the van in order to fit everybody in there, and then we were off. Our neighbour Joey drove us, which my dad hated. In any other circumstance he had to be the driver, never the passenger. The drive to the airport was boring, just as the flight itself was, and so I listened to my music and read my book for most of the journey. At some point, I fell asleep, and was awoken to mom running her hands through my hair softly.

"Come on honey," she said excitedly. "We're here."

Once we were off the plane, we got car service to the resort which took almost another hour due to the awful route he took. Mom withheld his tip due to this. By the time we arrived, everybody was so hungry and tired that we barely had time to appreciate the views or look around much. After checking in, a bubbly blonde showed us to our enormous cottage on the East side of the Island, which was beautiful and looked just like something out of a movie. It was covered in flowers and boasted several rooms, of which I ran up and picked the best immediately.

"Ana! Do not take the biggest room," my mom shouted up, but I just laughed.

In truth, I didn't want the biggest room. After looking around, I was not impressed with the views, and after trying out all the beds, I decided that the second biggest was the comfiest. All the rooms were exquisitely decorated, with thick Egyptian cotton white sheets and pristine floorboards. Looking out of the window, I could see the ocean in the distance, and several lush palm trees lining the sand.

Once everybody had settled into their rooms, and mom had sorted out Millie, we went out in search of food. Immediately however, we were set upon by another large family, who appeared to be literally waiting outside our cottage.

"Hi, I'm Grace" the mom of the group smiled. "We're the Greys. You must be the new family Sandy said we were having this month."

My mom looked taken aback, clearly not knowing that this was the sort of place she had brought us to. Cosy and connected and familiar, the woman looked like she owned the island herself. She was blonde and tall with pristine hair, and the rest of her family surrounded her. There was a girl with blonde hair, a few years younger than me, a dad, grandparents, another older woman, and two boys. One was an older and teenager and the other was around the same age as me. When he caught me looking, I looked away as quickly as I could, flushing vibrantly.

He was tall, and he had reddish brown hair that shined lighter in the sunlight. I couldn't see him properly because he had sunglasses on and he was half slouched behind his dad, but he looked like he would rather be anywhere else.

"Hi," my mom eventually replied, smoothing down her shirt. "I'm Carla. This is my family."

Grace gave us all a very clinical smile and then asked us if we were heading for dinner. When my mom said yes, she beamed.

"So are we," she said. "There's the loveliest little seafood restaurant here. Kids food too," she said, nodding at me.

I bristled. I was not a kid.

"We'll show you the way," she said confidently, and started to stride forward before anybody could even reply.

As we followed her, grandma whispered in my ear.

"Jesus, I hope we don't have a whole month of that," she said.

I gripped her hand.

"Neither do I grandma. Neither do I."

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