Not Our Summer by Casie Bazay

Author:Casie Bazay [Bazay, Casie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Running Press
Published: 2021-05-11T00:00:00+00:00

We stop at an Arby’s in Birmingham to get dinner, and then K. J. insists on driving the rest of the way to Atlanta, where we have reservations at a Super 8 for the night. I’d rather she didn’t—I feel safer when I’m behind the wheel—but it is her car. Plus, it’s been a long day and I’m tired, both mentally and physically.

I’ve lost track of how long we’ve been back on the road, and my eyelids are starting to grow heavy when K. J. breaks the silence again.

“Hey, sorry I blabbed about the whole affair thing to your friends.”

My eyes snap open and I shift uncomfortably in my seat. I guess I wasn’t expecting an apology, and I’m really not sure what to say now that I’m getting one. Finding a string on the hem of my jean shorts, I wrap it around one finger and tug, but it doesn’t want to come loose.

“Yeah, they had no idea,” I finally admit.

“I could tell.” She glances my way, but I’m still toying with the string. “And just so you know, my mom feels really bad about everything. I mean, she doesn’t ever talk about it or anything, but I know she does.”

“She should feel bad.” My words come out harsher than I intended, but K. J. doesn’t seem to notice. “How could someone do that to their sister?”

“I don’t know… maybe there’s more to the story than we know, though.”

I roll my eyes. “Oh please. Don’t make excuses for her.”

“I’m not! God. I hate that she did that. I just wish we could maybe talk about it without you getting your panties all in a wad.”

“What’s the point?” I say, finally yanking the string on my shorts free. “Your mom and my dad screwed up, and now we’re the ones who have to pay for it. End of story.” I turn the radio back on to effectively put an end to the conversation.

It’s evening and the sky is a swirling mixture of pink and orange by the time we pull into the motel parking lot. We get checked in and settled into our room, reverting back to our familiar pattern of silence. K. J. reads and I use the free Wi-Fi to get caught up on Instagram. Mom’s posted a picture of herself and Tim at a fancy restaurant. They’re toasting with glasses of wine. The waiter must have taken the photo. I use my fingers to enlarge the picture. Mom’s wearing her favorite dark red lipstick and a floral sundress I’ve never seen before. She looks so happy—they both do—which for some reason, leaves me feeling empty and sad. I can’t quite pinpoint why, but maybe it’s because Mom has found someone to fill part of the void that losing Ricky left.

I don’t have that, and I’m not sure I ever will.

It’s still dark when we set out the next morning for Long Creek. K. J. insists on driving again, and I have no choice but to let her.

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