Just 18 Summers

  “Well, stop. I’m not a child.”

  Robin’s cheeks were bright as if she were sunburned. “I knew you would do this. I knew it. That’s why I told Marvin we should just elope. But no, he wanted—”

  They heard the most bloodcurdling scream.

  Robin grabbed her arm. “Mom, look! It’s Cory!”

  Beth spun around. Cory lay on the sidewalk on the other side of the fence, a pool of blood spreading out from underneath him as he grasped the kite that had been stuck in the tree.

  CHAPTER 30

  HELEN

  HELEN WALKED SO FAST that the automatic sliding doors of the ER caught the toe of her shoe, barely opening in time. “Hannah, hurry! Hurry!”

  “I am! I’ve got these stupid heels on!” Hannah barked from behind her.

  Helen’s large purse swung and hit her leg with each stride, but she didn’t care. She had to get to Cory.

  A nurse sat behind an ugly blue desk. Helen raced to it, trying to catch her breath.

  “I’m here to see my son. He was brought here. My neighbors, they brought him.”

  The nurse looked like nuclear war couldn’t frazzle her. She slowly blinked, finally looked up at Helen as if just now noticing someone was speaking to her. She took a long sip of a Big Gulp and said, “Name?”

  “Helen.”

  “His name, Mom,” Hannah said, taking off her shoes as she stood next to her.

  Helen glanced down. “Hannah! Put your shoes back on this instant! Do you know how disgusting this place is?”

  The nurse’s facial expression didn’t change a bit. Hannah kept her shoes off. They dangled from her fingers, taunting Helen.

  “Cory. Cory Buckley. He’s eight.”

  The nurse typed his name into the computer at a pace that seemed indicative of no prior computer experience. Hannah was smirking. Why was she smirking?

  “You can go on back. Room nine.”

  Helen rushed toward the large doors that were opened with a buzz from the nurses’ station. “Hannah, come on!”

  She hurriedly glanced up at the numbers above the tiny ER rooms. Nine seemed to be nowhere in sight. But Hannah pointed and began leading the way.

  They got to the room and Helen ripped back the curtain around the bed. Cory raised his head and smiled a sad smile when he saw her. Blood looked to be soaking through a large bandage across his forehead. His leg was propped up with pillows.

  Charles stood by his side, hands in his pockets.

  “My leg hurts,” Cory moaned.

  “The doc is coming back and he’ll get you something for the pain,” Charles said.

  “How bad is it?” Helen asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, gently squeezing Cory’s toes.

  “We don’t really know yet. Doc says he’ll need stitches on the forehead and the side of his head, and they’re doing X-rays on his leg, but he thinks it’s just a deep bruise. I got here two minutes ago, so I’m still catching up.” Charles ruffled Cory’s hair.

  “What happened, Cory?” Helen asked.

  “I fell out of the tree.”

  Helen glanced at Charles. “Our tree? You were climbing it? Why?”

  Cory winced in pain, but only for a second. “The Andersons built a kamikaze kite. It got stuck up in our tree. I just wanted it.”

  Helen felt her blood boil. Of course it was the Andersons’ fault! But when she looked at Charles for confirmation of her rage, he looked unusually . . . burdened. Guilty, even.

  “Oh,” Charles said and paused. “I’m sorry, Cory. I know I told you we’d make that kite, but I had to get things done at . . .” Helen watched as Charles’s words and thoughts seemed to ride off into a hazy sunset together. “I’ll tell you what. Forget my deadline.”

  Helen’s gaze cut back and forth between the two. “Forget your deadline? You can’t just—”

  But Charles held up a hand. “I’ll stay home tomorrow and we’ll make one, okay?”

  Cory sat up in bed, perched on his elbows. “Really?”

  Charles glanced at his watch but then seemed to regret it. “We need to get you better first, though.”

  “Right,” Cory said, staring at his leg.

  Helen felt herself growing slightly hysterical. Her husband was suddenly more interested in kites than work? And her son, who knew better than to climb anything over three feet high, had broken two rules: going outside the house while she and Charles were gone and climbing the tree. Then there was the unspoken rule of not engaging with the Andersons or their stupid activities.

  Speaking of . . . The curtain opened and Larry and Beth entered, Larry holding a blue snow cone.

  “Hey! There he is! Looks like they’re whipping you back into shape!” Larry said. “Here you go, bud.”

  But Helen intercepted the snow cone just as Cory reached for it. “I’m sorry, Larry, but we don’t let our kids have anything with corn syrup in it. It causes . . .” She paused, glancing at Nathan and Chip, who stood behind their dad. “Hyperactivity.”

  Charles took it from her. “Helen, he’s had an ordeal. This is what you do when you have an ordeal. It’s universal kid-in-the-ER protocol.” He flashed a smile and Beth and Larry laughed. Charles handed the snow cone over to Cory and then shook Larry’s hand. “Thanks so much for driving him to the ER and calling us and all that.”

  “Oh, it was no problem,” Beth said. “I’m just glad he’s okay.”

  “Obviously he should’ve been wearing his tree helmet,” Charles said.

  Helen’s gaze cut toward Charles. “What’s a tree helmet?”

  “Isn’t that a thing?”

  “No.”

  “I could’ve sworn that was a thing.”

  Helen smiled in a way that let Charles know he should shut it. Then she turned toward Larry and Beth. “Can I talk to you two for a moment?”

  Helen followed them out, jerking the curtain closed.

  Larry handed Nathan the keys. “Why don’t you bring the car around, okay, bud?”

  Chip and Nathan walked off, and Helen was glad. This would be a tough enough conversation as it was.

  “Beth. Larry. I’m just not happy about this at all.”

  “I wouldn’t be either, Helen,” Larry said. “It’s scary when a kid has an accident. Chip’s knocked himself unconscious three times. Nathan once broke his pelvis. And even Robin—”

  “I’m not happy about the influence your children have had over mine.”

  “What do you mean?” Beth asked.

  “I mean, Cory is not the kind of kid who would wander out of the house and climb a tree for some stupid motorized kite. That’s what I mean.”

  “You’re saying this is our fault?” Beth asked.

  “I’m saying that ever since summer arrived, your family has been acting very strangely, running all over the yard, whooping and hollering and doing all kinds of nonsensical things. Cory’s been watching all this, hardly able to concentrate a lick on the summer classes he’s taking. And so who do you think planted this grand idea in his head about making a kite? Before this, Cory never once in his life mentioned anything about making a kite.”

  “Of course he hasn’t,” Beth said. “That’s because he’s been too busy taking tap, speech, baseball, fencing, chess club, diving lessons, scuba classes—”

  “We’re molding a well-rounded kid,” Helen snapped.

  “Yeah? Well, any eight-year-old should be able to climb a tree. They don’t have a class for that. They usually learn it on a family camping trip or in the backyard while playing cowboys and Indians or dreaming about building a fort.”

  Larry patted his wife’s back. “Beth, okay, let’s just—”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Helen folded her arms.

  “I see you over there, on your manicured lawn with your manicured nails, judging us,” Beth said, her face tight. “Well, I’ll have you know that this man right here—” she pointed to Larry, almost jabbing him in the eye—“this man right here is a good man. His kids love him! And
yeah, maybe he looks like a fool running around with whipped cream and cherries and kites and who knows what else, but he’s creating memories, Helen. Memories. And maybe all of us could stand to take a lesson from his playbook.”

  Helen glanced around self-consciously. People were starting to stare. The security guard in the corner stood up.

  “Maybe if I had spent a little bit of time tearing my bathing suit up on our homemade Slip ’N Slide, my daughter would be more prepared for life. But instead, I always felt like something more important needed to be done. And now look at her! She’s about to leave the house and . . .”

  And then, suddenly, Beth began to cry.

  “Oh, Beth, honey . . .” Larry took her arm.

  “She messes with my family, she messes with me.” Beth swiped at her tears and pointed at Helen as Larry redirected her toward the door. “You better listen to me. Or Cory is going to grow up and have no idea what to do with an egg. And don’t think I didn’t notice Hannah’s nose piercing!”

  They disappeared through the large-frame automatic doors. Helen could still hear Beth crying. She looked around, her hands tapping against her pearl necklace, and offered a short smile to the gawkers. Soon everyone went back to their business, but Helen felt rattled. What had gotten into Beth?

  Composing herself, Helen returned behind the curtain. “How are you feeling?” she asked calmly, signaling that everyone should just pretend they didn’t hear any of that.

  “I’m okay.”

  Helen gasped and glanced at her watch. “Oh, boy. Okay, listen, I’ve got to run and get Hannah from her pageant training class. I’ll drop her off and then come back to—”

  “Mom, I’m right here.”

  Helen glanced to the corner. Hannah sat, slumping just like Helen had taught her not to, iPod in hand.

  “Oh. Yes. Of course you’re here. I’m sorry, honey. It’s been a stressful . . . I just didn’t see you there. . . .”

  Hannah rose. “That’s the thing. You don’t see, do you?”

  “Where are you going?” Helen asked as Hannah slid sideways and out the curtain.

  “Why do you care? I’m not really here anyway.”

  Helen started to open the curtain and go after her but Charles said, “Stop.”

  Helen glared at him. “You’re not suggesting we let her get away with behavior like that.”

  “I’m suggesting that it may be time you and I adjust our parenting strategy.”

  Helen felt herself breathing hard even as their little curtained room grew very still.

  The only sound was Cory slurping his blue drink.

  CHAPTER 31

  BUTCH

  ONCE AGAIN, using thinly veiled guilt, Ava had convinced Butch to let her come to work with him. He kept a decent eye on her as he sipped his morning thermos of coffee. Mostly she stayed out of the way, except at one point he noticed Jack pass by with a hot-pink glitterfied hammer proudly bouncing against his hip as it hung from his utility belt.

  Around ten, when the guys took a fifteen-minute break, he walked by them near the water cooler. Ava stood right in the middle of the group.

  “C-a-r-e-f-u-l. Careful,” Ava said to some cheers.

  “The spelling bee is all yours,” Jack said, knuckle-bumping her.

  Butch stopped. “What spelling bee?”

  “It’s the summer one they put on for kids at the library,” Ava said.

  “Oh. Nice. Maybe we can practice at home.”

  Ava shrugged and turned her attention back to the guys until they returned to work.

  Around noon, Butch began to wonder who was running this construction site when he looked up from his toolbox in the back of his truck to find Marvin walking toward him. Carrying four pizza boxes.

  “Marvin, what are you doing here?”

  “Just bringing you your order.”

  “What order?”

  “Your lunch order. Two pepperonis, one Canadian bacon, and one half-olive, half-anchovy.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Marvin, hi!” Ava said, waving as she skipped toward them. “Right on time.”

  “I always am.” Marvin grinned.

  Butch turned to his daughter. “Ava, what’s this about?”

  “The guys were hungry. Day after day they have to eat lame bologna sandwiches. Sometimes they even forget their lunch. They said you don’t give them enough time to really go anywhere, so I thought I’d bring lunch to them.”

  Tippy walked by, grabbing the pizza boxes. “Thanks, Ava!”

  “Ava! You can’t just . . .”

  Her smile dropped.

  Butch sighed, turning to Marvin. “I’m sorry . . . Um, here, let me pay you. What do I owe you?”

  “No, we’re good. Ava already paid. See you soon!” And Marvin was gone.

  Butch looked at Ava. “Paid for too?”

  Ava shrugged. “Your wallet was in the truck, just like Mom told you not to do. I got your credit card and it was done.”

  “Why would you do something like this? Without asking me? Four large pizzas? Do you know how much that’s going to cost me?”

  Her pupils seemed to grow into orbs of innocence. “I thought it would help.”

  “Help what?”

  “The guys like you better.”

  Butch glanced up. They were under a tree, enjoying their pizza. “It’s that bad?”

  “They said they miss the old you.”

  “Who said that?”

  “I’m reading between the lines.”

  Butch smirked. “Are you. Well, listen, Ava, after today, you have to go back to day care.”

  “That’s not fair!”

  “What’s not fair is you ordering pizza without my permission.”

  “You’re being mean!”

  “I’m being reasonable, which is something I’m going to have to teach you, I guess.”

  “R-e-a-s-o-n-a-b-l!”

  “E! You left off the e!”

  “Who’s the child now?” Ava said and stomped off.

  The guys stared, most of them midchew, but Butch ignored them. A long breath dragged through his lips. He just needed to get through this day without any more incidents.

  By later afternoon, he was happy with the progress they’d made. He had a lot to sort through, including what to do about Ava. Dr. Reynolds had been helpful, but Butch didn’t see himself going to therapy regularly. He didn’t have time. Maybe he should send Ava. Or call Beth. He didn’t know. He just needed time to think. And to have a lengthy talk with Ava about her behavior.

  Then he saw Tippy rushing toward him. And though Tippy was long legged, he was a slow walker and never hurried for anything. So as Tippy got closer, a feeling of alarm shot through Butch. Was someone hurt? He once had a guy shoot a nail through his foot. Nailed it to the board he was standing on.

  “What’s wrong?” Butch asked.

  Tippy was nearly out of breath. “I just need to warn you.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Before she gets here.”

  “Before who gets here?”

  “Ava.”

  Butch tugged his gloves off. “What now? She promised steak dinners to the crew after work?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Then what?”

  “Don’t tell her I told you.”

  “What is this, second grade?”

  Tippy shrugged. “I like Ava. I don’t want her mad at me. I’ve seen her mad at you. It’s not pretty.”

  “Just tell me what’s going on.”

  “I was standing at the water cooler—I was legitimately thirsty this time—when I heard Ava talking to someone. So I kind of moved toward the fence so I could hear better. Just watching out for her, you know?”

  “Who was she talking to?”

  “A girl named Bryn. Said she was six. Said she was just watching us build a house, and then Ava warned it was dangerous and she shouldn’t be so close or she was going to have to wear a hard hat, which I thought was cute—”

  “Get to the poi
nt, Tippy.”

  “Anyway, Ava struck up a conversation with her and it came out that she lives with her dad and that they live there.” Tippy pointed over his shoulder, toward the end of the block. “That church. It has a homeless shelter.”

  Butch scratched his head. “So what’s the big deal?”

  “Well, then she . . .” Tippy glanced up. “Uh-oh, here she comes.”

  “Just tell me.”

  “I gotta go.”

  “Tippy!”

  But he was racing the other way, trying to seem inconspicuous but doing a horrible job of it. Butch turned to face Ava, who was moving as innocently as a shark. Once again Butch found his hands on his hips. What was it with that posture? It wasn’t like it did any good or gave him superpowers. He guessed he had to stake his ground while he could.

  Ava walked up. “What?”

  “What have you been up to?” Butch asked.

  “Good things, Daddy. I promise. I’ve been staying out of trouble. I thought about trying out the handsaw earlier when no one was looking, but I didn’t. I swear.”

  Butch’s hands dropped to his sides. “Good. Well, listen, we’ve got about another hour and then—”

  “But I do have good news!” Ava said.

  Butch pulled his gloves back on. “Oh yeah? What’s that? I need some good news today.”

  “I met a girl named Bryn. She’s six. And she’s homeless.”

  “Oh, wow. That’s too bad. Were you nice to her?”

  “I told her my dad builds houses.”

  Suddenly the alarm returned. “And . . . ?”

  “And I told her you’d build her and her dad one! I said you make them really fast!”

  “You what?”

  “It doesn’t have to be a big house. I think it’s just the two of them.”

  “Ava!” Butch pulled his gloves off again, this time throwing them to the ground. “You can’t go around making big promises like that! I can’t build them a house!”

  “Why not?”

  “We’re not using LEGOs here, Ava. This kind of thing requires land and materials and people who are willing to work on the house. They obviously don’t have any money to pay for it. How am I supposed to do it?”