The Dead of Summer Read online

  I tugged at my hair self-consciously as Lindy continued to lecture me on what constitutes a fourth grader as opposed to a kindergartner.

  “We need to chop that hair off,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone, as if this was gospel, rather than merely a suggestion from a girl that I didn’t even know. “You can come to the bathroom at recess and I’ll cut it off for you.”

  I had just bobbed my head up and down obediently. Stupid me, desperate to be loved and accepted by the girl who was obviously the ring leader of the fourth grade cool girls club, followed her to the bathroom that day like a lackey, and allowed her to chop off the gorgeous braids that had taken me my entire nine years on this planet to grow.

  Mama cried buckets that day when I got home, breaking my heart.

  Yet, to this very day I continued to follow Lindy around like a puppy, not so much because I couldn’t think for myself, but because despite her gruff exterior, she had become my closet and dearest friend.

  “Look over there,” Lindy hissed, hot breath warming my already flaming ear.

  “Where?” I asked with confusion, whipping my head back and forth and getting branches tangled in my hair.

  Lindy reached out and pinched the inside of my thigh. I tried not to squeal in pain and I didn’t do too badly. I managed to only whimper slightly. “Don’t be an idiot,” she said. “He’ll hear you.” The “he” was the only part of the sentence that wasn’t uttered in vicious Lindy-ese.

  I knew better than to ask who. Instead, I sat up the best I could and followed Lindy’s gaze to the edge of the property. Seeing that the house was nearly a quarter of a mile from the edge of the wood, one would think that most of the area was free land. In actuality, the Lincolns’ hold on the land only ended right where the trees began. Even though there was no fence erected to announce this fact, most people were aware of it and everyone avoided it entirely. But when I looked between the trees and the edge of the Lincoln landscape, I saw a boy strolling by, without a care in the world.

  He was older than Lindy and I were, that much was for sure, but he was definitely shy of being a full-fledged man. He was tall—I’d say almost six foot—and muscular, well proportioned. He had dark brown, almost black hair, which seemed to bounce when he walked, if you could even classify what he was doing as walking. He appeared to float over the earth, his feet not looking like they made a connection with the ground, as if he were an unearthly creature from a different plane. He was tanned and there was definitely something almost exotic about him, as if he had some sort of foreign blood in him. His face was slightly scruffy, giving him an air of indifference. Maybe he was a deeply pensive soul, the kind who wrote poetry. Or maybe he was the type of guy who was most comfortable on the back of a Harley. I just couldn’t tell—he carried an air of mystery.

  He wore a dark green T-shirt with the sleeves cut off, his thick biceps on display for all to see. I groaned with audible appreciation. I was, and always will be, a sucker for a nice set of biceps. My sudden noise resulted in another warning kick in the shins from my bush partner.

  As if all that were not enough for him to reach godlike status in my eyes, even from my spot on the ground I could see that his face was unblemished, quite unlike my own nearly pockmarked face. As hard as I tried, I could not resist digging the pus out from underneath my skin when a new blistery pimple appeared on my nose or my forehead. My mama would cluck her tongue like a mother hen whenever I would emerge from the bathroom with a fresh, angry telltale sign screaming on my face and mention taking me to see the dermatologist in Newbury. That promise would never materialize because it would require her to actually leave the house and speak to people.

  My hand self-consciously snaked up the side of my face to touch the newest crater on my skin as the boy/man trailed past, whistling to himself, swinging what appeared to be a belt back and forth.

  He was about ten feet away from the edge of the bush when Lindy hissed at me. “Pull your feet in and don’t move a muscle.” That’s when we heard him speak.

  “Colt!” The boy’s voice came out higher than I had anticipated. I was expecting a deep baritone—he was more of an alto.

  Colt? Who the hell was Colt? I gazed up at him, noticing that he was inspecting the bush where we were hiding.

  “Colt?” the kid called out again, more like an uncertain question this time. I could almost hear fear in his voice.

  “Your feet are still sticking out,” Lindy whispered and pinched my thigh again, in the same spot, really hurting this time. I pulled my feet in more and shoved my balled up fist into my mouth to avoid yelling out in pain.

  “Come on. This isn’t funny! Come out!”

  Was Colt playing hide and seek? I really hoped not. I didn’t want this kid to peek underneath the bush and see two teenage girls curled up in a ball, spying on him. Despite the fact that this guy was quite the enticing eye candy—Boy Wonder, if you will—I was hoping he would go away.

  “Colt!” The boy had cupped his hands around his mouth so that his voice would carry louder. He was so close now that I could feel his words skim over the top of the bush and reverberate loudly in my ear drum.

  “Colt!” The boy took a step closer and then the tip of his foot hit the back of my tennis shoe. “What the—” he said as he crouched down by the side of the bush. “Colt?” He lifted the hanging branch and knelt on the ground as I gathered my legs toward my body and struggled to sit up. I found myself face to face with Boy Wonder. My lungs fought to breathe—he was breathtaking in every sense of the word. I could have sworn he had a halo shimmering around his body and angels were singing in the background.

  A sly grin played on the corners of his sweet, sweet mouth as he said, “Well you’re certainly not Colt.”

  TWO

  “No, I guess I’m not,” I managed to stammer, eliciting another grin from Boy Wonder. It was contagious and I found myself wanting to smile back, which would definitely be a mistake. My smile wasn’t even remotely as sexy as his—I looked like a deranged jack-o-lantern when I opened my mouth. My front teeth were really crooked as Mama hadn’t taken me to get the braces I so desperately need.

  Trying not to look at Boy Wonder’s face, I reached for a branch to pull myself out from underneath the bush. Immediately, he offered me his hand. I was reluctantly to take it, but needed to if I wanted to avoid face planting in the dirt in my struggle to make it to my feet.

  As my skin brushed against his, it instantly sent tingles down my arm. I sucked in my breath and allowed him to yank me to my feet. I dropped his hand as soon as I was standing upright.

  “Thank you,” I managed to mumble while dusting off my now dirt stained knees.

  “Hey, no problem. What are you doing under there?” He asked with that very slight grin again. The grin that said, I know I’m so hot and I really don’t care if you answer me or not, but rest assured you’re certainly lucky that I’m speaking to you. I couldn’t help but notice he had a dimple on his left cheek, but not one on his right. The obvious imperfection added to his charm.

  “We should be asking you the same thing,” Lindy piped up angrily, shaking the bush as she crawled out and rose to her feet. Oh yeah. Forgot she was there. The entire rest of the world had melted away when Boy Wonder had caught my eye.

  Boy Wonder appeared taken aback. “I didn’t realize there was more than one of you in there. What are you guys doing? Throwing a party?” He grinned, but Lindy would not be charmed. Her lips were set in a firm line.

  “We have every right to be here. This is my backyard, my daddy’s land.” She planted her hands on her bony little hips. “You however, are trespassing.”

  “I’m really sorry,” Boy Wonder stammered, and he sounded like he might have actually meant it, except for that sly smirk perpetually stuck on his face. “I was walking my dog in the woods and I let him off the leash. He saw a squirrel and took off.” He held up what I had previously thought was a belt, but was actually a dog’s leash.

  “Maybe you sho
uldn’t have taken him off his leash then,” Lindy said with a roll of her eyes.

  “I always take him off. He’s really well trained, but he loves squirrels. He always comes back. Sometimes with the squirrel,” Boy Wonder replied, still smiling. I could feel my own cheeks throbbing from my desire to smile.

  “Oh, well—” Lindy started to say, but at that very moment we heard the sharp sounds of barking coming from the woods. All three of us turned our heads just in time to see a large black dog charging at full speed.

  “Oh my God,” Lindy gasped as she jumped behind me, using my body as a shield. She was petrified of all dogs, big or small. She had once been bitten by a Chihuahua when we were walking on Main Street and had never been the same since.

  I, however, loved dogs. I always felt extremely passionate about them, but my mama had adamantly refused to let me have a pet. Apparently her fear of people also extended to the animal kingdom. She claimed I would get over my love for animals, but, so far, it had only deepened over the past few years.

  Boy Wonder’s grin spread even further on his face as he bent forward and slapped his knees. “Come on, Colt!” The giant dog lumbered toward his owner, floppy pink tongue lolling animatedly out of his slobbery jaw. Lindy’s sharp talons dug into the flesh on my ample arms. The dog sailed into Boy Wonder’s waiting arms like some dopey Valentine’s Day advertisement, but damn it, it certainly tugged at my heartstrings.

  “Good boy,” Boy Wonder said affectionately, roughly rubbing the dog’s mane. “Good job, Colt, getting that big bad squirrel.” The dog covered Boy Wonder in wet kisses.

  After a moment or so, he straightened himself up, and like the polite southern boy that he was, stuck his hand out at me. “Carson Tyler,” he said.

  Damn it. He has a name. I can’t call him Boy Wonder.

  I accepted his hand, despite its slobbery nature, and nearly melted once more as a result. And no, I doubt it was from the ninety-nine degree heat swirling around us. It was from the near thermonuclear reaction in my body from his touch.

  “And you are?” Carson asked, eyebrow arched in amusement. My God how that made my heart race…he looked like some lovable villain that you just couldn’t hate. I realized my mouth must be gaping open and quietly ordered myself to shut it. He was still holding my hand and I found that I couldn’t speak.

  Suddenly, I was being shoved aside, tripping over my own two feet and collapsing to the ground as Lindy pushed forward, sticking her own hand into Carson’s. “Hi,” she practically purred. “I’m Lindy Lincoln.”

  Carson seemed shocked as he remarked, “Uh, yeah. Nice to meet you.” He quickly dropped Lindy’s hand like he had personally witnessed her picking her nose with it. He reached back down to me. “Are you okay?” he asked with seemingly genuine concern on his face.

  “Pfff!” Lindy said, waving her hand in front of her face. “That’s just Kennedy being Kennedy.”

  Carson turned to stare at her with bewilderment as he pulled me to my feet, my tingles returning.

  “Kennedy?”

  “I’m Kennedy,” I explained. “Kennedy Ryan.”

  Carson laughed, snorted almost. Most girls would think that was crass, but I found it even more endearing. “That’s hilarious.” He pointed to Lindy. “You’re Lincoln and she’s Kennedy. That’s really ironic.”

  I waited for Lindy to shoot back her usual sarcastic remark of how we’ve “never heard that one before” but she was silent as Carson shook my hand and said, “Very pleased to meet you, Kennedy Ryan.” Our eyes met, his deep chocolate pools boring into my own hazel green eyes.

  “Oh my God!” Lindy squealed. “Oh my God!” she repeated before Carson and I broke our gaze. She was being enthusiastically assaulted by Colt’s tongue.

  “Oh, crap,” Carson muttered as he dropped my hand and pulled the dog off of her. He quickly clipped the leash onto the dog’s collar. “Damn, I’m sorry about that. He just loves everyone. It’s really annoying.”

  Lindy straightened out her twisted hot pink tank top and patted down her ponytail that had gone askew in the brief melee with the dog. “It’s fine,” she purred, smoothing down the white shorts that accentuated her pert little butt that I would kill for. “I love dogs. In fact, I want to be a vet when I grow up.”

  I nearly choked on my tongue as I watched Lindy brush Carson’s shoulder lightly.

  Liar! She couldn’t stand animals! In fact, she refused to even be in the same room with her cousin’s cat because it “looked at her funny”. And what was the deal? She originally seemed like she wanted Carson to take a hike and now she was being all friendly? I didn’t know what game Lindy was playing, but I sure as hell wished that she would knock it off.

  “Oh, that’s nice,” Carson said politely. “My mama was a vet.”

  “Oh really? That is so interesting,” Lindy gushed. What the hell, was she batting her eyelashes? Oh, Lindy Lincoln, two can play at this game.

  I tried to bat my own eyelashes, but I must have looked like a cat about to have a seizure.

  “Are you okay?” Carson asked with concern. “Did you get something in your eye?” He stepped away from Lindy and once again toward me, practically sending Lindy toppling over.

  “Uh, um, no I’m fine,” I managed to mumble, not sure if I was more embarrassed that he caught me looking like a fool or by his attention. This was completely new territory to me. Usually when I was with Lindy, boys didn’t even see me. Okay, let me be honest. . .always. As the prettiest (not to mention, richest) girl in Novella, Lindy Lincoln was well sought after by the boys at our school. Sometimes even full grown men tripped over curbs when Lindy swished by them on the street with her tiny hips and bouncing perky breasts. And who wouldn’t love a blonde with model-worthy proportions, a boatload of money, and a vixen-like attitude? The boys fell over each other trying to help her reach the books on the high shelf in her locker (which she could totally reach herself) or held doors for her, while she simply rewarded them with a smile or occasionally a kiss blown in their direction. She had never claimed to be “in love” or have a “crush” on anyone. Lindy didn’t seem to be interested in the boys themselves, she was interested in what the boys could do for her. Like President Kennedy’s speech, ask not what Lindy Lincoln could do for you, ask what you could do for Lindy Lincoln. When she had no further use for you, she would toss you to the curb like scraps.

  But for some reason, it seemed that Lindy’s normal black magic wasn’t grabbing hold of Carson, which was a first. That was definitely going to have her panties in a bunch.

  “You live nearby?” Carson asked as he tightened the collar around Colt’s neck.

  “I told you, this is my daddy’s land,” Lindy replied indignantly, even though it was clear that Carson was not speaking to her. I was just waiting for her to stomp her foot like she did with her mama when she wasn’t getting her way. I could tell she was beside herself that this boy was not succumbing to her wily charms.

  “I know that. I asking Kennedy,” Carson explained, not even turning to face Lindy. He smiled at me and I felt my limbs melting like butter…maybe it was from the heat. Or maybe it was Lindy’s death stare at the side of my head.

  I could almost feel her wrath vaporizing my body as I replied, “I live on the, um, other side of town.” I quickly clarified, “Not the trailer park, though.” I wouldn’t want him to think I lived in the place where you could count on a neighborhood nightly call to the police for your entertainment when your cable got cut off. I may not be rich, but I wasn’t trash.

  “Oh, hey me, too!” Carson said as Colt jerked on the leash and headed toward the trail that ran behind Lindy’s house. Carson jogged slightly to catch up to the dog as he pulled.

  Like an idiot, I tagged after him with Lindy following us, huffing loudly to voice her displeasure. I ignored her as I watched Colt bury his nose in the grass as he walked, feverishly ferreting out a scent.

  “What kind of dog is he, anyway?” Lindy asked, unable to keep the annoyance
out of her voice.

  “He’s a German Shepherd,” Carson answered without looking at her. He was actual looking at me. Why is he looking at me? I felt my cheeks getting hot.

  “But he’s all black,” Lindy said as if Carson had some control over this fact; like Carson had personally colored him. “Aren’t German Shepherds supposed to be brown, too?”

  “He’s a mutant,” Carson said with a laugh, just as Colt stopped short, nearly sending Carson flying. “His great granddaddy was also all black. His great grandma was actually red.”

  “A red German Shepherd?” Lindy said as if he had told her the sky was made of Swiss cheese.

  “German Shepherds can be black and tan, black, red, and even all white. Though anything other than black and tan is a genetic mutation,” I said, sounding like I was reciting it from a textbook. I wanted to stick my foot in my damn mouth the second those words escaped my lips. I lowered my eyes. “I read a lot,” I mumbled.

  Carson, however, did not seem to mind my know-it-all-ness. In fact, he seemed down right impressed. “That’s right!” He smiled. “Colt here is my dog. My dad was a K9 cop for years and he always had black and tan dogs. When his last dog died, I told him that I wanted a dog I could actually play with. The K9 dogs aren’t really allowed to play and interact with the family until they retire. So even though Duchess—that was my dad’s last dog—lived with us, I wasn’t allowed to play with her or anything. Tell that to a kid.”

  “Sounds pretty brutal,” I said at the same time that Lindy chimed in behind us with, “Oh, that is just too sad.”

  I really wanted to turn around and tell her to scram. In the optimistic recesses of my brain, I thought that maybe she believed she was helping me out with Carson, but for once I didn’t need her assistance.

  “Well, not really. If I had to choose between all the lives she saved, including my dad’s, over me being able to play with her, I have a feeling I’d still choose not playing with her,” Carson said, glancing back at Lindy’s spacious mansion, which we could still see. “Life isn’t always about having what you want.”