The Summer Before Read online

  Mom and Dad and Mimi had prepared plat- ters of food, which we were going to carry over to the Goldmans' kitchen.

  "What else do you need for your party?" asked Mom wistfully, thinking, I guess, of chairs for Musical Chairs and paper tails for Pin-the-Tail-on-the-Donkey and goody bags filled with whistles and balloons and bubble gum.

  "I think that's it," I said. "See? That's the beauty of a pool party. We really just need the pool and some food."

  "What are you and your guests going to do all aftemoon?"

  I shrugged. "Swim and eat."

  And the girls would watch the boys and talk to the boys and show off for the boys. And the boys would watch the girls and talk to the girls and show off for the girls.

  I planned my pool attire with great care and attention, changing my mind a number of times. My bathing suit - a new bikini - was fine, but I had to make it into An Outfit. I looked through my hats. I looked through my jewelry. I looked through my sandals. I pulled filmy tops and summery pants out of my closet and tried them on over the bikini. I even experimented with making a beauty mark on my cheek with a glop of mascara, but I didn't know what would happen to the glop when I went in the pool, and I didn't want to risk the embarrassment of watching the beauty mark float off of my cheek and onto a raft or down a drain.

  My room looked like a department store changing room at the end of a sale, but by the day of my party I had put together the perfect outfit - sophisticated and, I was pretty sure, alluring, yet acceptable to parents. It was complete with jewelry, hair combs, my silver sandals, and the shirt my parents had given me. If I did say so myself, I looked at least fourteen.

  Everyone I had invited to the party had said they could come. The boys knew the girls would be there and were very excited. The girls knew the boys would be there and, with the exception of Kristy and Mary Anne, were also very excited. Kristy and Mary Anne, though, had made faces and had wondered what happened to the slumber parties I used to have.

  "There'll be other slumber parties," I said, just as I had said to my mother.

  My sister, on the other hand, now seemed excited about the pool party, which was a switch from her original reaction.

  "Who did you invite?" I asked her early that aftemoon. The party was due to start in an hour and I was standing in front of my mirror, once again scrutinizing my pool wear. I was extremely curious about Janine's answer, since my sister had almost no friends.

  "Marlene," she replied, and when I raised my eyebrows in the mirror, she elaborated. "She's in my statistics class."

  "Ah," I said.

  "And Frankie."

  I raised my eyebrows again.

  "He's in my statistics class, too."

  I was surprised that Janine had invited a boy but not surprised that he was in one of her summer classes. So Janine had invited two of her - well, it wasn't very charitable to think of them as her loser friends, I told myself, but two of her, let's just say, scholarly minded friends. That was all right. They could hang out together. As long as they didn't try to correct my friends' grammar, we'd be just fine.

  "What are you going to wear?" I asked Janine, tuming away from the mirror.

  Janine looked at me in surprise. "This."

  "That? What you have on now?"

  My sister was wearing jeans (and I couldn't help noticing that they didn't fit her very well, making her look rather puffy in places where she wasn't puffy at all) and a T-shirt with a picture of Albert Einstein on the front and E=mc2 on the back. Janine looked down at her outfit and then back at me. "Yes."

  "All righty," I said.

  A few minutes later I saw the Goldmans pull out of their driveway, and a few minutes after that my mother called up the stairs, "Girls! Come help me carry the food next door!"

  Everyone in my family scurried back and forth between our house and the Goldmans' with platters of hamburgers and hot dogs, bowls of salad, bundles of silverware, bags of ice, and bottles of soda. By five minutes to three we were ready for the party, and at exactly three o'clock, Kristy and Mary Anne let themselves through the Goldmans' back gate.

  "We're here!" announced Kristy.

  "Happy birthday," added Mary Anne.

  "Remember that we already gave you your presents. On your actual birthday?" said Kristy. Kristy was wearing jeans and a plain white T-shirt. She stripped them off to reveal what I was pretty sure was last year's bathing suit. At least, it fit like a suit would fit someone who had grown three inches since the last time she'd worn it.

  Mary Anne then delicately removed her checked pedal pushers and lavender baby doll blouse. Undemeath was the pink frilled suit with the mermaid over her left hip that I definitely remembered from the previous summer. "I wasn't sure I was going to be able to find this," she said. "But I opened my bottom bureau drawer a few minutes ago and there it was."

  A few minutes ago! Had Mary Anne given no thought to what she would wear to her very first boy-girl party?

  "Come on, Mary Anne!" cried Kristy. "I'll race you into the pool."

  With a giant splash, my friends cannonballed into the deep end of the Goldmans' pool and came up laughing and sputtering.

  "Hi, Claudia!"

  "Happy birthday, Claudia!"

  I tumed around and saw four kids standing at the gate: Emily Bemstein, Dori Wallingford, Darnell Harris, and Pete Black.

  "Hi! Come on in!" I called.

  Before I knew it, the yard was full of kids, and Mom and Dad and Mimi were bringing the first round of food out to the picnic table. A hill of gifts had risen on a lounge chair.

  I was watching Pete study the back of Janine's shirt from afar, a frown on his face, when I heard the gate open again and saw Janine's expression change from bored (she'd been talking to Emily) to terrified to... I think the word would be luminous.

  I tumed and followed her gaze to the gate. Approaching it was a boy with a head of dark curls who was at least four inches taller than any of the other party guests. He was whistling, and as he opened the gate he spotted my sister and waved to her.

  Janine waved back. "Hi, Frankie!" she called. She abandoned Emily and ran across the yard, pulling me with her. "This is my friend Frankie Evans," she announced. "Frankie, this is my sister, um, my sister..."

  "Claudia," I supplied.

  Frankie grinned at me. "Hey. Happy birthday." That was it. That was all he said as the gate was closing behind him. So I can't explain what happened next. Maybe it was his grin - who knows? - but suddenly "Happy birthday" took on a meaning of galactic proportions. It was as if Frankie had said instead, "You are a young woman of stunning beauty. Thank you for inviting me into your life." And also, "Why is it that we haven't met before? I know we're destined to be together."

  But all I said in reply was, "Thanks."

  "Frankie goes to SHS," Janine informed me.

  "Well, I will be going to the high school. This fall," Frankie told me. "I'll be a freshman."

  I couldn't stop staring at him.

  "Claudia?" said my sister.

  I shook myself. I actually shook myself.

  I saw Janine narrow her eyes at me.

  Somehow I managed to speak again. I waved my hand around, indicating the backyard. "The food's over there," I croaked. "Help yourself."

  "Claudia. He can see the food," said Janine. Frankie grinned at me again, which caused me to feel slightly off balance, but before I could say anything to my sister, I heard Rick Chow calling to me from the gate.

  "Come on in!" I called back, and managed to drag my eyes and my thoughts away from Frankie.

  I was thinking instead how interesting it was to see my male classmates wearing nothing but their bathing suits, when from the direction of the pool I heard Kristy shout, "Marco!" and then Mary Anne's answering shout of "Polo!" At the same moment my father appeared in the yard wearing Mrs. Goldman's apron, which said KISS THE COOK in red letters over a picture of a very bosomy cartoon lady. I barely had time to be mortified, though, because when Janine, who was mortified e
nough for both of us, saw our father in the apron, she stared at him in horror, took a step backward, and fell in the pool, still fully dressed.

  "Janine!" yelled a guest I didn't recognize, so I figured she was Marlene. Marlene was also not wearing a bathing suit, but when she saw Janine in the pool, she jumped in after her, clothes and all. "Hang on to me!" she spluttered, to which Janine replied, "I can swim!"

  I hovered at the edge of the pool, open-mouthed.

  I heard laughter.

  Dori was standing next to me. She said, "It could be worse. Remember - I'm the one who got a No-Pest strip stuck in my hair."

  I did remember. It had happened in front of our math class and Mr. Conklin had had to cut the sticky strip out of Dori's hair with a pair of pinking shears he found in his desk.

  Recalling someone else's embarrassment does help relieve your own, but still. This was not quite what I had envisioned for my party. Especially not when a Greek god had unexpectedly shown up.

  After Janine and Marlene had climbed out of the pool and peeled off their wet clothes, and after I had hustled into the Goldmans' kitchen and asked Dad if he could wear Mr. Goldman's plain white chef apron - or better yet, no apron at all - the party got back on track. I managed to ignore Kristy and Mary Anne, who remained in the pool and steered clear of the boys. I think Mary Anne was steering clear because she was so shy. She could barely speak to boys in school when they (and she) had all their clothes on. So the experience of seeing them close up, as if in a zoo, without their clothes (or hers) was nearly unbearable. Kristy just thought the boys, clothed or otherwise, were disgusting. I heard her make at least one remark to Mary Anne that included the term "booger breath," and that was when I decided to ignore Mary Anne and Kristy entirely.

  I was standing near the picnic table, talking to Dori, when I felt a hand on my shoulder. "Can I fix you a hot dog or something?" said a voice. A semi-deep male voice.

  It was Frankie, and he was watching my mother slide another batch of hot dogs onto a platter.

  "Um, sure," I replied, trying to ignore the fact that the Goldmans' backyard had started to spin.

  Frankie led me to the table, and I actually had to look at my arm to see if his fingers had left some kind of mark there. Why else would my wrist seem to be on fire?

  He placed a hot dog in a bun. "Catsup or mustard?" he asked.

  "Both," I replied, hoping that didn't seem weird.

  "That"s how I like them, too." Frankie squirted catsup and mustard onto the hot dog and handed it to me with a flourish.

  "Thanks," I said.

  "Want to go sit down?" asked Frankie.

  Immediately, the yard began to spin again. Maybe I was sick. But no, I had been fine until Frankie had told me I was a stunningly beautiful young woman. I mean, until he had said, "Happy birthday."

  I was following Frankie to a lawn chair (truthfully, I would have followed him into a nest of snakes) when Janine, who doesn't usually like being the center of attention for any reason or for any length of time, suddenly cried, "Hey, Claudia! How about opening your presents?"

  Most of my guests were taking a break from the pool and fixing themselves plates of food, and the girls looked with interest at the pile of gifts on the chair.

  "Yes, open them!" exclaimed Polly Hanson.

  So I hurriedly finished the hot dog and began opening. Frankie sat next to me (now my entire left side was on fire) and helpfully stuffed all the wrapping paper and ribbon into a trash bag. Janine sat next to him and kept saying things like, "I remember when I was twelve years old," and "Gosh, I haven't seen one of those since I was in seventh grade."

  Frankie nodded and smiled at her and then brought me a glass of ginger ale. "I put in extra ice cubes," he said.

  I finished opening the presents - a fake nose ring (my parents would love that), earrings, a little jeweled mirror, another gift card for the art store - and thanked my friends. Marlene and Frankie hadn't brought me anything, of course, since they didn't know me, but now Frankie said, "I just heard the best new song. I'm going to get it I for you. You'll really like it."

  "Wow. Thanks," I said breathily. "You don't have to -"

  "But I want to."

  "Hey, Frankie!" called my sister.

  Frankie tumed around, and Emily grabbed my hand. "Claudia!" she said in a loud whisper. "He likes you!"

  I gripped the arm of the chair. "Frankie does?" I said, and realized I was squeaking. I coughed. "You really think so?"

  "It's obvious! It couldn't be more obvious. And he's going to be a freshman. You are so lucky. He's cute."

  I risked a glance over my shoulder at Frankie, who was being led around to the other side of the pool by Janine. "He is cute," I agreed.

  What an understatement. It was like calling the pyramids cute.

  The party continued. Frankie left Janine, sat beside me, and told me about his friends and the fact that they had started their own garage band. I tried to appear as if I were listening instead of thinking of ways to capture his excessive cuteness on paper. Mimi brought out my birthday cake and Frankie helped me cut it. When the air began to cool off, Frankie handed me his T-shirt. It smelled very boyish. In a good way.

  The guests began to leave. I walked Frankie to the Goldmans' gate. "Here," I said, and began to peel off his shirt.

  He touched my wrist again. "That's okay. I don't want you to be cold. I'll get it from you some other time."

  There was going to be another time. Another time with Frankie. That was all I could think about as the best birthday party ever came to an end.

  The feeling of ecstasy and wonder lasted until that evening.

  Mom and Dad and Mimi and Janine and I had cleaned up the Goldmans' house and yard and now were back at our own house. I was in my room, putting away my gifts, and thinking about - what a shock - Frankie. He was the most amazing thing that had happened to me in a long time, and I had suddenly, heartbreakingly realized that there was no way I could talk about him with my two oldest friends. I tried to picture myself having a conversation about Frankie (and spinning yards and wrists on fire) with Kristy and Mary Anne. And I couldn't do it. I kept hearing murmurings of "Marco Polo" and "booger breath." And remembering Mary Anne in her mermaid suit, and Kristy diving underwater to escape Pete Black when he swam too near her.

  I felt sad. I felt as though I were walking away from... what? From something I might not like but that I knew I was going to miss anyway.

  I was trying to sort out my thoughts when I heard my sister's bedroom door slam. I peeked into the hallway. "Janine?" I called.

  Nothing.

  "Janine?"

  "Leave me alone."

  "But I didn't do anything."

  Janine opened her door a crack, just long enough to say, "Are you kidding me? " She paused. "Think about it." Then she slammed her door again.

  Think about what? This was the trouble with a smart person. Janine sometimes thought I knew everything she did. I was about to yell this very thing through her closed door when Frankie floated into my mind again. I was enjoying that pleasant image, when suddenly it was replaced by another one. In this one I saw my sister's face become luminous as Frankie walked through the Goldmans' gate. And all of a sudden I understood.

  My sister liked Frankie. And that was why she had invited him to the party.

  Uh-oh.

  When I was in sixth grade, I started baby-sitting for some of the kids in my apartment building. Thank goodness. If it weren't for those kids, I would hardly have had anyone to say good-bye to when we moved to Connecticut. There were Will and the other doormen, of course. But if my parents and I had moved after, say, fifth grade, I would have had to plan tearful good-byes with Laine and about twenty-five other ten- and eleven-year-olds. Now... well, there were Will and Tomas and Nazim and the maintenance crew; and the Beckett twins, who were three; and Twila and Jeremy Rosenfeld, who were five and eight; and the Goldsmith children. But as for anyone my own age? Zippo.

  It was mid-July an
d our apartment was already partially packed up. My mother had finished her grand cleaning out, and we had all been amazed at how much we didn't need. We'd given away boxes and bags of stuff: clothing that didn't fit and things my parents found in closets that we realized we hadn't used in five or ten years. My mother had even discovered a box that had never been unpacked after we had moved out of our last apartment.