Page 54 of Summer's Edge

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The attic is sweltering. It’sabout eight thousand times hotter than it is outside. Chelsea and Emily and I sit in our usual arrangement on layers of towels, surrounded by a fortress of suitcases. Before us are an array of cold drinks and a deck of tarot cards. We used to hide from Chase and Ryan up here when we were little. It’s the only place they wouldn’t follow us. They couldn’t stand the heat. We were made of tougher stuff. We would spread out towels, strip to our swimsuits, sip frozen drinks, and whisper secrets about love and the future and dark truths no one else could ever find out because it might ruin us. Emily read our tarot cards, and I read scenes from my mother’s romance novels. These were the topics we never discussed with Chase and Ryan. It would have been coy on Chase’s part and depressed on Emily’s, because she has always been into him, and he has never wanted her back. Ryan liked Chelsea, even as kids, but she was always mysterious about it. In a way, I don’t think Emily would ever have forgiven her for choosing her brother over her. Not in a romantic sense. Just as a matter of fact. You couldn’t spend more time with Ryan than with Emily, because we were Emily’s friends first. Ryan was the tagalong. The secondary friend. The extra seat at the table.

Now Emily keeps shuffling and reshuffling the tarot cards,insisting every time she begins to deal that she made a mistake.

“Her name is Mila,” Chelsea says in a hushed tone. We have to speak quietly up here because the sound carries down to the second floor, but it’s still the most private place on the property. She reaches for Emily’s hand and gives it a concerned squeeze, and I feel a ribbon of warmth encircle us. Chelsea is chaos where I am order, but Chelsea is safety and loyalty and love.

This is how I fell in love with her.Afterwe broke up, I told Emily we couldn’t do the lake house anymore because it would be too awkward, but I didn’t know how to tell Chelsea. It was hard enough breaking up with her, and I couldn’t face her again. Emily said she’d take care of it. For some inexplicable reason, she took it upon herself to tell Chelsea that I said some precious family heirloom had gone missing and one of my friends must have seen it, or moved it, or borrowed it or something. Chelsea, in high-dramatic fashion, had shown up at our doorstep in the pouring rain, and informed my mother that she wasn’t a thief, she wasn’t afraid of our family, she didn’t care what anyone said about her, I was a liar, and she loved me anyway.

The problem with Chelsea is how she jumps to conclusions that aren’t there.

But the second she said the words, I realized that I did love her. Unfortunately, those words also sparked an all-out war within our group. I naturally assumed that Emily had told her I accused Chelsea of stealing from my family. Emily was furious that I was angry at her instead of Chelsea. Chase, my oldest friend, naturally took my side, and of course Ryan took hers.Chelsea sort of folded into herself, and I died inside. I tried passing her note after note, but she refused to speak to me until finally, about half a year later, I showed up on Chelsea’s doorstep in the freezing snow and, when she opened the door, told her she wasn’t a thief, I wasn’t afraid of my family, I didn’t care what anyone said about me, she was a liar too, and I’d do anything to win her back.

You know what? It worked.

“When did he have time to get a girlfriend?” Emily’s face is streaked with charcoal lines. She doesn’t wear a lot of makeup, but dark eyeliner on her lower lid is her signature. It’s an unfortunate choice on sad days.

“He didn’t,” Chelsea says. “Not that I know of. Ryan said they weren’t really dating.” I swallow a thousand questions. When did Chelsea and Ryan have a chance to talk about Chase and Mila? Five seconds. It only takes five seconds to look away, to stop paying attention, and secrets start spreading like rot. I blame myself for not paying attention. Things happen when you aren’t paying attention. And who can you blame but yourself? Chelsea continues. “They met at an away game, and it was kind of a one- or two-time thing. That’s why none of us heard about it. You know Chase. He doesn’t kiss and tell.”

Emily’s shoulders drop. “So they… just kissed?”

How to put this gently. “Do you think he would have brought her here to hold hands and sip lemonade on the porch?” Another thought occurs immediately. “Oh god, do you think he’s planning to use the lake house as his personal motel? He has his own weekend home. Much closer by.” I doubt thatwill sit well. And I stand behind the quiet people. The house deserves to be respected. Loved as a home.

“Yeah,” Chelsea says. “With his parents.”

“Ugh, what a dick. No, that’s not happening.” I take Emily’s hand. “Chase is not having sex this weekend. I promise you that. You have my sword.”

“And my axe,” Chelsea growls, imitating the dwarf in theFellowship of the Ringmovie.

Emily giggles. “I don’t want him to not have sex. I want him to have sex. Just not with the intruder.”

“Yeah. Well. Let Operation Get Rid of the Intruder begin,” Chelsea says cheerfully.

“Mmm. Okay. Let’s not let this get out of hand,” I say. Chelsea loves projects and Emily is… passionate. For all I know, Mila is a perfectly sweet person, although I seriously resent the fact that she showed up uninvited, and Chase for bringing a guest without asking, although so far the quiet people don’t seem to object to her. If he’d asked first? Totally different scenario. Though I would have said no. Because of the quiet ones. And Emily. And loyalty. And friendship.

Being hostess, even as a proxy for the true hosts, involves tough decisions.

Emily and Chelsea look at me the way they do whenever I say no to anything. Like I’m the boring one in the group. Like I’m the mother. The one who always ruins all the fun. “Fine,” I say. “But nothing mean. No bullying or anything remotely dangerous. This operation is to be confined to tactical and humane strategies for intruder removal with minimal suffering, resulting in a happily ever after, in the fashion of the nudging-asideof Baroness Schraeder inThe Sound of Music.Which means I think we need to focus on building up Emily, not knocking down Mila. Agreed?”

Chelsea nods. “Yes. Definitely.”

“And if that doesn’t work?” Emily drops the cards, and they fan out all over the floor.

Chelsea puts an arm around Emily’s shoulder and strokes her hair soothingly. “It will. Or, we’ll nudge her out the door.”


Tags: Dana Mele Horror