Kody Keplinger: A Midsummer's Nightmare

Nathan looked over at Harrison, then turned back to me. “Sorry,” he said. “But Bailey’s ready to go. She says she doesn’t feel well.”

Classic cop-out , I thought. Is that the best excuse the kid could come up with?

“Hello there.” Harrison winked at me as he extended his hand toward Nathan. “I’m Harrison Carlyle. You must be Whitley’s stepbrother.”

“Not yet,” Nathan said. “Our parents don’t get married until sometime in September. I’m Nathan, by the way. I’m sure Whit told you that.”

“ Whit-ley ,” I snarled. “With two syllables.”

“She is so lucky to see your handsome face every morning,” Harrison told Nathan. “Many people would kill to be in her position.”

“Ha. I doubt that, but thanks.” Nathan laughed. “I’ll meet you in the car, Whit. Bailey’s already outside.”

“Fine.”

Nathan nodded to Harrison once before turning and walking out the front door of the club.

Harrison practically swooned. “Now that is beauty. I mean, that body? Tall and lean… You can’t tell me there aren’t a few dirty things you’d like to do to him.”

“Not really,” I said, mentally adding, I’ve already done them. Slowly, I stood up. “I should go.”

“Okay,” he said. “But I really liked talking to you. We should do this again.”

“Yeah, we’ll see.”

The truth was, as cool as Harrison had seemed, what I’d told him was true. I didn’t really do the whole “friends” thing. Not since middle school, anyway. In my experience, friends turned on you, abandoned you, lied about you. The best kind of “friends” were the ones you played beer pong with at a party and never saw again. I just wasn’t looking to make friends.

I was already moving away when he caught my elbow.

“Actually,” he said, spinning me to face him again. The guy was pretty strong, I’ll give him that. “My best friend is having a party at his house. You should come.”

I wasn’t looking for friends, but I was looking for a party.

“Will it be as lame as this place?” I asked, gesturing to the stage, where the shitty band attempted to fix their malfunctioning sound equipment.

“Oh, God, no,” Harrison assured me. “This party will be killer. He lives in a freaking mansion. You should come and hang out. I’ll introduce you to everyone. It’ll be fun.”

“Will there be drinks?”

“Yes.”

“Besides Coke. I mean, like, beer or—”

“ Yes ,” Harrison insisted. “There will be.”

“Then I’ll be there.”

“Fabulous. Don’t wear those flip-flops, for God’s sake.”

“I won’t,” I told him, handing over my cell so he could program his number into my phone book. I’d call and get the address later. “I promise.”

“Great.”

He handed back my phone and I started to walk away again, but Harrison yelled after me, managing to raise his voice over the loud feedback from the ancient speakers. I turned to look at him one more time.

“It’s this Saturday night,” he said. “Do you think you could get Nathan to come?” There was that hope again. That same bright sparkle I saw in Bailey’s eyes. But this one… this one I had to crush. For Harrison’s own good.

“He’s straight,” I said.

“How straight?”

“He sleeps with girls, so I’d say pretty straight.”

Harrison’s face fell, but only for a second. “Oh, well. He should still come. The party will be a blast. I’ll see you there.”

I nodded and, finally, managed to walk all the way out the door.

It was way too early the next morning when Sylvia knocked on the door of the guest room. Like, eight-o-freaking-clock. I rolled out of bed, feeling distinctly murderous, and stumbled across the room.

“Yeah?” I said, pulling the door open a crack.

“Do you want breakfast?” she asked, showing all of her perfect teeth when she smiled. I saw a sudden flash of what she might look like if I knocked out a few of them.

She was already dressed in a navy suit and those super-high heels. For a second I was confused about why. Then I remembered she must have work, which meant it was Monday. The summer always had me screwed up like that.

“I’m good,” I replied, already starting to close the door.

She stuck out the toe of her shoe, forcing me to keep it open. “Do you have plans for this morning?” she asked.

“Um, yeah. Sleep.”

She laughed.

That hadn’t been a joke.

“Well, there is some money on the counter in case you decide you want to go out,” she said. “There’s not much to do in Hamilton, I know, but there’s a mall and a movie theater in the next county—about twenty minutes from here. I’m sure you or Nathan could look up directions on the computer. And there’s plenty of food in the fridge when you get hungry. Your dad will be home around noon, but you can call my cell if you need anything. The number is on the counter.”

“I’m eighteen,” I told her. “I know how to take care of myself.”

She raised an eyebrow at me. “I know you do. I’m just… trying to be helpful.”

“Well, thanks, but I’ll be fine.”

“All right,” Sylvia said, eyeing me for a second more. Slowly, she slid her foot out of the door opening. “Then I guess I’m off to work. It’s my first day at the new firm, so wish me luck. Bailey and Nathan are downstairs watching TV.”

They were seriously awake at this hour? Dear God, I must be living with aliens.

“I’ll see you tonight,” she added, starting down the hallway. “Have a fun day.”

“Whatever.”

A second later, her heels were clacking down the stairs as she sang an old Donna Summer song under her breath. Now I knew where Nathan got it.

I closed the door and crawled back into the comfy guest bed, burying my face in the pillow and pulling the blankets up to my neck. My eyes squeezed shut as I willed sleep to wash back over me. It wasn’t noon yet. I should still be dreaming. Dreaming of things so much better than this summer.

But I was wide awake now, and sleep just wouldn’t come.

After twenty minutes, I gave up. I climbed out of bed and walked over to my duffel bag, searching through the mess inside for clothes to wear. Within seconds, though, I came across my bathing suit, tossed among the shorts and T-shirts and rolled-up socks, and I decided exactly what I’d be doing that day.

I slipped off my pajamas and pulled on the hot pink string bikini I’d packed. The thing only covered what was required by law. Maybe there would be some cute boy living next door who’d see me through the fence. Or perhaps Sylvia had enough money to hire a sexy pool boy I could flirt with. After striking out with Harrison, I needed a little bit of ego stroking.

I grabbed my iPod and walked downstairs, not bothering to put on a T-shirt or anything as a cover-up. No point getting something else dirty, after all.

Nathan was making a bowl of cereal at the counter when I walked into the kitchen. He was wearing a pair of black athletic shorts with a rusty-orange-colored T-shirt (how did Harrison like him when he was so poorly dressed?), and he had to push his messy hair out of his eyes. I didn’t miss the way those eyes popped when he looked up and saw me. The way his cheeks flushed and his mouth parted a little was all the ego stroking I needed. Apparently he didn’t have to be drunk to find me attractive. Good to know.

“Um… hey.” He cleared his throat twice. “You… You going swimming?”

“No, just lying out,” I said, grabbing a Diet Coke from the fridge.

“Oh. Cool.” He turned away, focusing on his hands a little harder than was required to pour milk into a bowl of cereal.