The Boys of Summer Read online

  “Urrgh. If I wasn’t going to spew before, I am now.” Ellie rubbed her stomach.

  I playfully sprayed Ellie with disinfectant, causing her to scream and leap to her feet, dodging behind Adam. She grabbed his shoulders and held him for ransom. He faked fear. “No, please, anything but that!”

  I did a fake-out squeeze and they both winced, which had me giggling with evil pleasure. This went on for a few more minutes, dodging and screaming until Adam spotted the chocolate-covered stick protruding from the wheelie bin. I could see the cogs turning in his mind and they weren’t just any cogs; they were evil cogs.

  “Don’t you dare!”

  His smile was wicked; he deliberately watched my reaction as he picked it up.

  “Adam!”

  “Bwahahahaha!” He chased me around the locker room with the vile mucus-choco stick. It was a good thing that the locker room was set far away from the main school building; there was no fear our shouts would unveil our lateness to class. There was no controlling the fact that we were laughing so hard we could barely breathe.

  Adam and I spent the next ten minutes spraying and scrubbing my locker while Ellie watched with a horrified expression from across the room. Adam worked on my lock as I wiped down my door.

  “What’s your combo, McGee?”

  I raised my eyebrows. “As if I would tell you.”

  He sighed. “Relax, I’m not going to send you love poetry, I’m just going to see if it works.”

  I finished the last wipe and gave him a pointed look. “You are totally going to send me love poetry.”

  “Pfft, dream on!”

  I slapped his shoulder and clenched my chest in mockery. “Oh, but I do.”

  Chapter Two

  Third period and I was a prisoner in double English.

  I prayed that Scott didn’t need to go to his locker between classes. My heart pounded against my rib cage, and my hands were clammy as I watched the agonisingly slow tick of the clock above Mrs Romano’s desk. Would Adam’s actions start an all-out war? I already thanked the timetable Gods that Scott was not in my English class.

  My plan was simple: hightail it to the locker room, grab my stuff and be gone before Scott even noticed his redecorated locker. Then I would just avoid him for the rest of the year. Which sounds totally hard, but wouldn’t be considering there were only three days left of school. By then we would all be cheering ‘School’s out for Summer’, Alice Cooper style.

  Three days; three … more … days.

  A wad of paper landed next to my hand, and I flinched, for more than one reason. Luckily, English was pretty safe, no horsemen of the apocalypse in this class, which made it a welcome refuge. I secretly unfolded the crinkled paper under my desk.

  You smell like Spray and Wipe.

  My mouth twitched as I glanced sideways to where Adam sat, two people across. I met his devilish eyes, and he grimaced dramatically.

  I discreetly eyed Mrs Romano, sitting on her desk at the front of the class, eyes downcast, animatedly reading aloud from her text. I scribbled my reply and did the tap down the line to pass it along. Like a lady would. I focused intently on the book I was meant to be following along with, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to contain myself as I envisioned the raise of Adam’s brows as he read my reply.

  What’s that, banana man?

  It went back and forth for the remainder of the class, which I was grateful for as it made the time fly. Once the bell rang, I was jolted into the cold, harsh reality that awaited me.

  Lunchtime.

  I didn’t even think to wait for Adam or Ellie; I was too focused on running to the locker room and praying that the combination of detergent and boy cooties hadn’t jammed up my lock. Adam had tested and opened it easily enough; surely it would be okay? I dodged and weaved through the thickening flow of bodies down the hall, cursing the distance between my locker and the English room as I got stuck behind a group of giggling Year Seven girls. I burst through the doors and quickstepped down the stairs. I heard the distant yell of “No running!” from Mr Hood, but I had to risk it. Detention would seem like a holiday camp compared to facing off with my ex.

  After tripping over my foot and dropping a textbook, I inelegantly made an entrance into the locker room. There were not many people in there, but the few who were there were laughing, crowded around Scott’s locker which had been marinating in banana for the past sixty minutes.

  I ignored them and made a beeline for my locker with enough time to unload my books, grab my bag, and hide in a bush for the rest of the day. I froze, my sparkling padlock in my hand. What the hell was my combination? My mind had gone completely blank. Panic set in as more students flooded the room and saw Scott’s locker. I bit my lip. No, no, no … I looked up, finding the eyes of Kim Munzel, the resident grunge girl of our year, on me. Her green, scary eyes were caked with heavy make-up that was partly covered by a gel-sleeked jagged fringe – the longest part of her crudely short haircut. She seldom spoke and when she did, it was with a bad attitude. So why was she smiling at me?

  She grabbed her bag and walked up to me, her dog chain clinking on her low-rise baggy jeans. I turned my attention back to my lock, pretending that it was the most interesting thing in the world. At that point in time it really was.

  What was the bloody number?

  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Kim had stopped next to me.

  “Hey.”

  I glanced around. Was she talking to me? Oh God. Yes, she was looking right at me.

  “Hey,” I said in a small voice.

  “Did you do that?” Her head nodded towards Scott’s locker, which was now semi-circled by a crowd.

  Before I could get my thoughts together enough to form a coherent sentence, her smile tilted to form an evil grin.

  “Nice job.” Her scary eyes looked me over as if giving me a seal of approval, and then she left. So. Weird. The crowd peeled back to allow her through. She had that kind of effect. The locker room was now full of students; a mad hub of activity for the lunchtime rush.

  Oh God! I fumbled madly with my lock, guessing combinations in a frenzied effort. Scott would be here any moment. I turned the dial and tugged in desperation as if I was MacGyver and this was the last chance to crack the code before the bomb went off. Some people asked themselves: ‘What would Jesus do?’, but I always asked myself: ‘What would MacGyver do?’ MacGyver would probably be able to pick the lock with a crusty, chocolate-covered stick. I’m sure he could.

  TUG! TUG! TUG!

  I thudded my head against the locker; it smelt like disinfectant and was probably cleaner now than it had been in the past decade of use by past students.

  I felt hot breath blow into my ear as a voice whispered, “4-3-2-5-9-6.” I jumped, spinning around to see a laughing Adam.

  “Geez, McGee, jumpy much?”

  “432596! My combination! Oh, praise sweet baby Jesus.” I turned the dial and heard the magical click of freedom; it was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard. Which was ironic considering it was counterbalanced with the most horrible sound I could have heard right then: Scott’s angry voice. Oh crap!

  “What the …?” his voice trailed off as he closed the distance towards his locker. The crowd parted eagerly. They’d been waiting for this moment; their eyes darted from him to me and back again. Just as I feared, you wouldn’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure out they would assume it was me. I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to throw up.

  Adam stood stock-still beside me, silently taking in the scene. I felt the press of someone on my left. Ellie had appeared from thin air and was at my side. If it weren’t for my bookend buddies, I feared my legs would give out. I slowly turned to my open locker; best not to stare. While I pretended indifference, I heard him yell out to me.

  “Oh yeah. Nice one, Tess,” he sneered.

  I did my best ‘I’m bored’ look from my locker. Scott stood next to his. Wow, if looks could kill. He was flanked by nervous-looking
buddies, who were slowly opening their own lockers. Some friends they were, none of them even offering to get him a paper towel.

  Scott hurled the banana peel across the room and opened his locker as if it wasn’t covered in mush. He threw in his books and slammed his door shut, casting me a filthy look before storming out. His entourage looked at each other and appeared to be as surprised as I was. Like the mindless zombies they were, they quickly scurried after Scott, throwing uncertain glares my way.

  I was just about to let my shoulders sag in relief when I heard it, right next to my ear. The solitary sound of a slow clap.

  Adam.

  “Way to go, Tess, way to go!”

  It was as if I had just been carried out of a factory by Richard Gere or something.

  This was not how I expected the day to go. Although things had taken an unexpected turn that had me smiling into my opened locker, Scott’s voice echoed in my mind.

  “You may have won the battle, Tess, but you haven’t won the war.”

  ***

  Lunch and the rest of the day passed with surprisingly little drama. Scott’s banana-rised locker stayed like that for the rest of the day; I think he was trying to prove a point or something. The typical boy mentality of not caring, though the look he had thrown me had been chilling. If I knew Scott, it would be eating him alive.

  Ellie and I walked in mirror image, our thumbs hooked into our backpack straps as we pushed our bodies forward to balance the weight of our textbooks on our backs. I had made sure I had packed up all my valuables from my locker in case there was a mysterious attack overnight.

  Adam circled us on his bike.

  “Sooo, have you thought about my business proposition?”

  He wasn’t addressing Ellie, he was addressing me. I knew he was, because I automatically cringed every time he asked the question, which had been every damn day for the past semester. I also knew it was directed at me because Ellie, from the very get-go, had squealed and said, “Count me in!” Traitor!

  Adam must have read the look on my face.

  “Aw come on, McGee! It’s gonna be awesome!” His circling was making me dizzy.

  “I just don’t think I would be any good.”

  He rolled his eyes at Ellie. “I thought you promised to talk some sense in to her?”

  “Hey! I’ve been on operation ‘get a rocket under Tess’ for weeks. I even got her parents involved.”

  “Yes, about that.” I stopped walking abruptly to confront Ellie, nearly causing Adam to fall off his bike.

  Ellie gave me her fluttery-eye blink of innocence, the very one that probably fooled all the boys. Well, it didn’t fool me.

  “Mum has been giving me hell, saying, ‘It will be good for your confidence, Tess’ and, ‘It will give you some extra pocket money for the holidays’ and ‘You might meet some new people’.” I repeated every Mum-saying with enough exaggerated whining to sound almost authentic. Even to my ears.

  Ellie folded her arms. “And all that is so bad because?”

  I paused. Because it was out of my comfort zone. I was not good in foreign environments. I wanted to spend the summer with Ellie and Adam riding down to the lake, watching the fireworks at the show and eating ice cream at the Sunday markets. I wanted to regain that same essence of past summers and how wonderfully lazy it had all been. Not slaving away at the Onslow Hotel.

  “It’s not rocket science, Tess,” Adam said. “Come on, it’ll be the three amigos. No parentals. We can play pool all summer long and get paid for it.”

  “It will be so fun,” Ellie said, “serving drinks to hot guys.” Boys were never far from her thoughts.

  “Yeah – and cleaning up sticky messes and dirty dishes; sounds like a riot,” I said. “Can’t we just hang out at the lake?”

  “We ALWAYS do that.”

  “Not last year.”

  “Correction – YOU didn’t do it last year; you were attached to Snotty’s face the whole holidays. WE went to the lake and the market and stuff, and this year we want to do something different, don’t we, Adam?”

  “Yes, yes we do, and we want to do it with YOU.”

  The Onslow Hotel was almost like a tiara of Onslow in that it was positioned at the very peak of a hill overlooking the entire town. Ellie and I painfully walked up there a few times, agreeing that ‘Coronary Hill’ was an appropriate name dubbed by the locals. We had learned our lesson and chose for future reference to trek the long way around the back roads on bike, swinging around the imposing hotel structure to the quick trail home. Our bikes had blazed a path downhill as we screamed, our feet on our handlebars. So Adam was predicting awesome times ahead at the Onslow Hotel? I seriously doubted anything with the word ‘Onslow’ in it could ever be connected to awesome.

  It was obvious that the fore-founders of our grand community severely lacked in the imagination department. Onslow was a small town, population of less than three thousand, nestled in the valley of the Perry Ranges. It would be more in line with being a retirement village if the rolling hills weren’t the backdrop to Lake Onslow, a sprawling mass of man-made lakes that swept as far as the eye could see. Local legend claimed that it was bottomless, and Lord knows we had tested the theory. So far, it checked out: we could never touch the bottom.

  As students of Onslow High finished up from school, we would cut through Onslow Park, walk past Lake Onslow where the Onslow Hotel overlooked the town of … oh, what is it called? Oh yeah, Onslow!

  They looked at me with their pathetic, pleading doe-like eyes.

  Even after a full three weeks of having to endure ‘that’ look, I still felt my heart race in anxiety at the thought. I had never had a job before, even though my parents had nagged and nagged me to get one.

  I knew all the answers to the questions I was about to ask, but I tentatively asked again, anyway.

  “So how many hours?”

  “Weekend lunch, twelve to two, and dinner, six to nine.”

  I didn’t need to calculate, I had done it a thousand times. Adam was good, he didn’t smile or even show an ounce of excitement. He was serious and business-like, knowing that if he was any other way it would scare me off.

  “Ten dollars an hour?”

  He nodded. “Cash in hand.”

  I definitely didn’t need to calculate that either. I’d had all of my hypothetical money spent for the past three weeks.

  Ellie wasn’t as diplomatic as Adam, and started to bounce on the balls of her feet.

  Adam inched closer, maneuvering his bike right up to me. “Come on, Tess. My uncle wants me to be dish pig for the holidays, doing it without you guys would make it what it is, a pretty shitty way to spend my weekends. But I don’t know, I thought if you guys were with me it would be a blast. We always make our own fun, and just think of it. We can go and blow all our money together on Big Ms and dirty deep-fried chicken wings at the Caltex afterwards.”

  That had me frowning in disgust more than anything. He’d been doing so well until now, but suddenly it seemed like he’d totally forgotten who he was talking to. But I now saw something new in Adam’s pleading eyes. He had made it sound like an awesome adventure because his uncle and dad had given him little choice for the weekends but to slug it out in dirty dishwater for a good chunk of his holidays. He had sold it to us on the angle of money, free soft drinks and an array of cute boys. Admittedly, it did definitely have its perks.

  But the bigger reason my icy facade had started to thaw was because if I didn’t do it, I would barely get to see my best friends on the weekends, and I wouldn’t be able to join in on all the ‘in-jokes’ they would share from all that time together over the summer without me. Plus, Ellie would no doubt snag a cute, new, Onslow-Hotel-visiting boyfriend for the summer, and Adam would be buying everyone chicken wings at the Caltex and where would I be? At home, doing chores because my parents wanted to drill some sort of work ethic into me, in some other torturous way as a form of revenge for not getting a summer job with my work-savvy
friends. There would be no ten dollars an hour for the displeasure either. I thought of one of my mental purchases, a cute little summer dress I had spotted in the window of Carters’ clothes shop, and smiled.

  I re-adjusted the weight of my backpack as I looked down at my foot, tracing a circle in the dirt. I squinted back up at Adam who was waiting intently.

  “Does the restaurant have air conditioning?”

  Adam broke into a broad smile, like a cat that got the mouse.

  “Like a freakin’ igloo.”

  Smug bastard, he didn’t need to look so satisfied with himself. I fought not to smile and looked from him to Ellie, who was acting as if she had a brigade of ants in her pants.

  I sighed in defeat. It wasn’t the summer I wanted, but it was the summer I was stuck with. “Alright.”

  “Sorry?” Adam questioned.

  “Alright, I’ll do it.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t hear you. Can you repeat that?”

  “I’ll do it!” All air was knocked from me when a squealing Ellie body slammed me into a bear hug.

  Bloody hell.

  “Okay. Well, hopefully Uncle Eric will think it’s okay. He is pretty desperate, but I can’t promise anything. If you’re lucky, I guess …” Ellie and I set in on him, giving him a dual beating in the rib cage, but he preempted the attack and sped off on his bike, our textbook-filled packs preventing us from giving chase.

  Adam called back, flashing a winning smile.

  “You won’t regret it! We are going to have the best summer!”

  Chapter Three

  The arrangement had been to meet at the Onslow Hotel for orientation in our spare school period, so we could get the feel of our surroundings.

  Little did we know it was actually an ambush and we were about to be thrown into the deep end. A billowing cloud of steam blew up into Uncle Eric’s face, threatening to melt it off entirely. This was just as disturbing as the loud hissing sound he was creating in an attempt to froth up milk on the coffee machine. I looked on in horror; how was I expected to be able to master this beast of an apparatus? I had never made a cappuccino in my life! Ash teetered on the edge of Uncle Eric’s cigarette as it wavered every time he spoke.