Indian Summer (3 page)

“Well, I, uh, don’t have them,” Annie stammers.

“That’s what I thought,” says Ashley. She looks knowingly at the others. “You never did have them. You’re just a little liar.”

It’s obvious that Ashley is about to say more, but Sara stands up, glares directly at Ashley and says, “Why don’t you leave her alone, Ashley Barnes. Go and buy your own bracelets.”

Ashley catches her breath and takes a step back. She isn’t used to being confronted. “Yeah, well, maybe I will, since we’re obviously not getting any from her.” She recovers herself and glances in Marcie’s direction. “Nice necklace,” she says, sarcastically referring to the silvery dolphin necklace encircling her neck. “I saw they were giving those away at the baby games.” Marcie covers the necklace with her hand and opens her mouth to say something in reply, but no sound comes out. At that moment, Kaitlyn approaches the group, saying, “Well, I think it’s a nice necklace. I’ve always liked dolphins.”

“Huh!” says Ashley. To Meghan and Bailey she says, “Let’s get out of here. This is totally boring.” They turn and saunter off.

“Just ignore her,” Kaitlyn says to Marcie. “See you at the lake!” and she walks off after the other three girls.

“Thanks, Sara,” says Annie, letting out a big sigh. “I told them I would bring back bracelets from our spring break trip to Florida, but my mom wouldn’t let me.” Her lower lip quivers a little. “She said I was buying friends. They’ve been bugging me ever since.”

“Who needs friends like that?” Sara scoffs as she sits back down on the grass.

“That was so great Sara!” says Marcie, a bit too enthusiastically. “You really told her off!” She hopes they don’t realize how flustered Ashley made her feel.

“What’s up with Kaitlyn?” asks Sara. “I didn’t know you two were friends.”

“We aren’t, really. Her family will be at the lake when I’m there this summer, and our moms suggested we go sailing together. Not that we will or anything!” Marcie wonders again about the race and what it would be like go to the Pappakeechee Yacht Club. She also wonders why Kaitlyn stood up for her.

“How can you be so brave?” Annie asks Sara.

“It’s no big deal. She deserved it. I was just making good Karma.”

“Good Karma? What’s that?”

“It kind of means, ‘what goes around comes around.’ Like if you do a good thing, good things will happen to
you and if you do a bad or mean thing, bad things will happen to you. My mom told me about it.” Sara’s mom is Indian—from India. That’s where Sara gets her smooth dark hair and eyes like pools of ink.

“Well, those three should have a lot of bad things happen to them!” laughs Marcie.

Marcie, Sara, and Annie decide to go to the Moon Walk before Marcie has to go home for dinner.

On the way over, Marcie wishes she could be as brave as Sara. Why can’t she stand up to Ashley like that? She is afraid of becoming a target herself, that’s why. Sara seems to be immune to it. Perhaps having exotic good looks helps her to be so confident, thinks Marcie. Her own snub nose and freckles certainly don’t give her a feeling of confidence. It doesn’t hurt that Sara’s dad’s side of the family is one of the oldest and most respected families in Winnetka. Not to mention the wealthiest. You’d never know it, though, from how they act. They’re not stuck-up at all. In fact, Mr. Clements is an attorney for one of those environmental watch-dog groups. But Marcie thinks it’s more than that. Sara would be comfortable with who she is no matter what.
Why aren’t I comfortable with myself like that?
Marcie wonders.

T
HE SCREEN DOOR
bangs closed behind Marcie as she comes in through the back door to the kitchen. It startles their Cairn terrier, Speck, who is sleeping in his favorite armchair in the family room. He comes tearing over to Marcie yapping wildly. His nails can’t get purchase on the wood floor so he skitters past her in his rush. She stoops to pick him up. “It’s only me, Speck.” He stops barking and begins licking her face with his little pink tongue.

“Oh, good. You’re just in time.” Her mom is washing her hands at the sink. “Are you on table-setting or cleanup this month?”

“Setting. What’re we having?” Marcie puts Speck down in his chair, and he rests his head on the arm to watch them. She washes her hands in the sink and then gathers up silverware and napkins and starts to set the table in the dining room where they usually have dinner. Her mom says it makes the evening meal more special than always eating in the kitchen.

“I thought we’d have spaghetti and meatballs since it’s our last family meal together at home for a while.” A little louder she says, “Dinner’s ready!”

Her dad calls out, “Coming!” from his office off the family room. Eric’s footsteps can be heard pounding down the stairs. The Hortons’ house is in town, where many of the faculty live. The neighborhood was built in the 1920s, so the houses are older and a bit creaky, but they have high ceilings, crown molding, and wood floors; as Mom says, they have character. No two houses are alike. Back when the house was originally built, they didn’t have family rooms or big kitchens, so somewhere along the line an addition was built on to the back, enlarging the kitchen and adding a family room and an office. The neighborhood also has mature trees. Not like out in the subdivisions built on what used to be cornfields where none of the trees are over 15 feet tall. Marcie can’t imagine not having the trees. They make her feel safe somehow. Like giant sentinels sheltering and watching over them. She always thinks it is sad when she rides her bike past one of the original farm houses in the area and reads the sign posted on the picket fence that says I
NDIANA
F
AMILY
F
ARM
H
OMESTEAD
. O
WNED BY THE SAME FAMILY FOR OVER 100 YEARS
. Now it is in the middle of a sprawling subdivision surrounded by cookie-cutter houses.

At dinner they talk about going to the lake in the morning. Marcie says, “I don’t know why we can’t just stay here. Dad will be here, and we’re old enough to be on our own.”

“Drew is not old enough to be left unsupervised, and I don’t want you and Eric to be at loose ends,” Mrs. Horton says, dabbing her mouth with her napkin. “Your dad will be busy with his graduate students and won’t be able to keep an eye on Drew. We’ve been through all this before. We’re lucky to have a place like Lake Pappakeechee to go to and grandparents who want you to stay with them.”

“I want to go,” says Drew. “Poppy is going to take me fishing.”

“So do I,” says Eric. “Why are you whining about going? It’ll be great!”

“Great for you, maybe. You can do stuff with your friends at the Boat Company, but the only person I know will be Kaitlyn Swyndall!” says Marcie shrilly. “And I am not whining, you dork!”

“That’s enough, Marcie. You too, Eric,” says their dad. “I’m sorry that none of your friends can go this year, Marce, but this is the best solution for our family. You’ve always enjoyed going before.”

“It’s just not fair!” She slams the palms of her hands down on the table, making the dishes clatter and water slosh over the glasses. She isn’t sure why she is feeling so
upset. Perhaps it’s the encounter with the girls at the fair, or maybe she’s worrying about seeing Kaitlyn at the lake. It feels like her insides are boiling and they are going to rise up and choke her. “If Mom weren’t going to Utah, we wouldn’t have to go. Why do you have to work anyway? Why can’t you stay home like some of the other moms?” She knows she is going overboard, but she can’t seem to stop herself. “It’s all your fault!”

There is a stunned silence at the table. Her mom looks at Marcie thoughtfully. Her Dad finally says, “Why don’t you go upstairs until you can cool down. You can finish your dinner later.”

“I’m finished now!” she says, flinging her napkin down on the table and rushing upstairs to her room.

She throws herself down on her bed and buries her head in the pillows. Why did she act that way? She hadn’t intended to, but something just came over her and now she has spoiled their family dinner. What’s the matter with her? Going to stay at her grandparents’ cottage had always been something to look forward to. Lately she can’t seem to sort anything out. She feels something cold and wet in her ear. Reaching up, she touches Speck’s silky hair, and turns her head toward him.
You love me, don’t you
? she thinks. He starts licking away her salty tears. After a few minutes she starts to feel better. There is a knock on her door and her mom says, “Can I come in?”

“Okay,” says Marcie quietly. Her mother comes in and sits on the edge of the bed. She reaches over and smoothes Marcie’s hair. “Do you want to talk?” she asks.

Marcie sits up and turns toward her mom. “I’m sorry, Mom. I don’t know what’s wrong with me! Sometimes I feel like I’m on a roller coaster ride. Part of me really wants to go to the lake and part of me doesn’t.”

“I’m sorry too, honey. I wish I could go with you to the lake, but I also like my job. It’s part of who I am.” She wipes away the remaining tears on Marcie’s face. “Being confused is part of growing up and dealing with new emotions and changing responsibilities. You’ll work it out. It just takes time.”

“Speck came up to comfort me. He always seems to know when I’m upset.”

“Yes,” says her mom, scratching the little dog’s head. “Speck does have a kind of intuition, doesn’t he?” Speck rolls over onto his back to get his belly rubbed. “Makes me think of that tsunami wave that hit India and Sumatra a while back. Remember no animals were found dead? It’s like the animals could sense the wave coming and got out of the way. Isn’t it strange—and sad, really—that with all of our technology, we humans were caught by surprise.”

“Didn’t the elephants run into the hills with tourists on their backs?” Marcie asks.

“That’s right—I think there was even a story about a dog helping to rescue a boy by chasing him out of a hut where he was hiding and herding him up to the hills.”

“I know Speck would rescue me.” Marcie picks him up and cuddles him. “Do you think people can ‘sense’ things like animals can?”

“Yes, I do. After studying the Native Americans all these years, it’s become pretty clear to me that they may not have had all the technology and material stuff we do, but they were much more connected to the natural world. I’ve also read and heard some amazing stories about aboriginal tribes living now in Australia and South America who have abilities that we can’t explain with modern science.”

“Like what?”

“They have an inter-connectedness between the members of the tribe and to the world around them. They can communicate without words. Also, they seem to have a knowledge and understanding of what will happen in the future, or what did happen in the distant past,” says her mom.

“It sounds like they’re psychic or something.”

“It’s like psychic powers. We used to call it ESP, Extra-Sensory Perception—perceiving or understanding things outside of your five senses.” She shifts her position on
Marcie’s bed. “The difference is that instead of being limited to certain people, the entire tribe has these abilities.”

“So, maybe everyone has a ‘sixth sense,’ but we don’t know how to use it,” Marcie says reflectively.

“That’s what I think. We just need to give ourselves some time and space to be quiet. Sometimes quiet is hard to come by,” says her mom. “Well,” she sighs, sits up and places her hands on her thighs, “I need to finish packing for my trip out west. Are you all set?”

“Pretty much. I just have to do shampoo and bathroom stuff.” She pauses and lets out her breath. “Thanks, Mom. I love you.”

“I love you, sweetheart. I’m going to miss you.” She gives Marcie a hug.

“I’ll miss you too. Will you call us?”

“I’ll try to call every few days, and I’ll be thinking about you. Moms have a kind of intuition, too, you know.”

M
ARCIE STRETCHES OUT
on her bed with her arms behind her head. Her eyes fall on the her race medals and ribbons. She loves the exhilarating feeling of running. The wind rushing past her, the feeling of speed. It feels almost like—
flying. Could she really have been flying that afternoon? It sure felt real when it was happening.

After a while, when she feels calmer, Marcie goes in the bathroom to wash her face. As she splashes water to rinse off the soap and reaches for a towel, she catches her reflection in the mirror. It’s not a bad face, she thinks, just ordinary. But she doesn’t want to be ordinary, and she doesn’t feel ordinary inside. She feels different; even special. Maybe everyone feels that way. She sucks in her cheeks creating hollows beneath the bones and turns her head to the side. That’s better, more dramatic. Then she lets out her breath and her face returns to normal. Back to ordinary, everyday Marcie.

As she turns away from the mirror, she catches a glimpse of a second reflection out of the corner of her eye. It is so fleeting that she’s not even sure it was really there. She had the briefest glimpse of the face of a girl with a darker complexion, deep brown eyes, and black hair pulled behind her head. When Marcie turns back to face the mirror, there is only her own reflection, green eyes gazing back at her. She reaches out to touch the mirror with her fingertips, as if it might not be entirely solid, and encounters the reassuring, smooth surface of the glass.
What’s going on?
she wonders.

C
RICKETS ARE BUZZING
and lightning bugs flash on and off over the lawn as Marcie crosses the back yard looking for her dad. It is not as hot as during the day, but humidity still hangs heavy in the air and the cool grass feels wonderful on her bare feet. The night is clear. Looking up, she sees the sky is filled with stars. Sometimes her dad will load the family into the van and drive everyone out to the country to star gaze with his telescope. Marcie finds it hard to imagine that all those pinpoints of light are stars like our own sun and that each of them is part of its own solar system. The Universe is so huge. Just thinking about it puts her little problems in her little world into perspective. But surprisingly, instead of feeling diminished, she finds it comforting. She is part of the Universe—granted, a tiny, confused part, but still somehow connected. Maybe she’s even a vital part—who’s to say?