My mom rolled down the windows, and that unmistakable beachy smell filled the car at once: salt, sand, and even a little coconut oil mixed in. I took a deep breath. I couldn’t see the ocean yet—the dunes and tall beach grass blocked my view—but I knew it was out there, just past the sign that said WELCOME TO SALT ISLE. And I was suddenly filled with this jittery feeling. I couldn’t wait to get to the house!
Then I had to gasp for breath. The air smelled nice and all. But it was hot out there!
My mom turned down the soundtrack to South Pacific. “Sam, call your dad, sweetie,” she said, tossing her cell phone back to me. “Tell him we’re almost there!”
“Sure,” I sighed. “But call me Samantha, please, Mom.”
She grinned and looked back at me in the rearview mirror. “I keep forgetting, hon. I’m sorry.”
I quickly called my dad’s work number. It was just about three o’clock—two hours before he had to be on the air.
“Suzanne?” he answered, saying my mom’s name since I was calling from her phone.
“No, Dad,” I said. “It’s me.”
“Well, hey there, sunshine!” he said. “Where are you guys? Everything okay?”
“Yep. We’re here. Almost. Mom said to call. We miss you.”
“I miss you, too, sunshine. But you made good time! Hey, what’s the temp?” he asked. (It doesn’t take long for my dad to talk weather.)
I glanced at the gauge on the dash. “Ninety-one,” I replied. Then I breathed deeply again. “But it feels like a hundred.”
“Ooh, scorcher!” he said. “Well, get used to it. I’m looking at the air pressure, and it doesn’t look like the heat’s going anywhere for quite a while. And tell your mom to buy extra sunscreen. The UV index is only getting higher. Give her a big kiss for me, too, sunshine. And Joshie, too, of course.”
I looked over at my brother, who was picking away at his nose. I had to swallow hard to keep the milk shake I’d had with lunch from coming up at the thought of kissing him. “Uh, sure, Dad. Of course.” (Right.)
“Good. And, hey—save some fun for when I get there, okay?”
I grinned. “Okay, Dad. Love you.”
I hung up and turned my attention back out the window. This beach road was a lot different from the ones in New Jersey that I was used to. Where were all the T-shirt shops and ice-cream stands? Where was the amusement park? And the arcade? All this place had was beach houses, as far as I could see.
“So, uh, where’s the boardwalk?” I finally asked my mother.
“Oh, I don’t think there is one, honey,” she said.
“No boardwalk?” Where would Juliette and I hang out? “So what do kids do here?” I asked her.
“Well…” She shrugged. “I guess they go to the beach.”
Every day? For eight weeks?
“Oh, look!” my mom went on. “You can also play putt-putt.”
“Miniature golf. See.” She pointed to a miniature lighthouse surrounded by various strips of green. She read the sign: “Lighthouse Putt-Putt. Looks like fun to me!”
I sighed. Thank goodness Juliette was going to be there, or this would be a very long eight weeks!
Finally, we turned off the main road. Before I knew it, we were driving toward a big house with a sign on the front that said ISLE BE BACK.
I totally loved it!
“Is that it?” I asked my mother. “Wow, it’s pretty cool! I mean, it doesn’t look quite as huge as you described it, but that roof deck looks like fun. And it has a pool! And a tennis court, too?” I almost hated to admit it, but this place was going to be awesome!
“Huh?” my mom said absentmindedly. “Tennis court? Pool? Oh no, hon. That’s not it.” She laughed. Then she drove right by the house and pointed to another one behind it. “There you go. The Drift Inn. That’s us.” She pulled up and turned off the car’s engine.
“Whoa!” Josh cried. “Big one!” And he was right. Or he would have been, if he’d been talking about the ginormous mansion looming in front of us and not some three-pointer he’d just scored on his DS game. “Yes!” he added, pumping one fist in the air. “In your face!”
But back to the “beach house.” I mean, I’d seen some big houses—Olivia Miner’s came to mind—but this thing was out of control. Way bigger than the other house I’d been looking at. So big that there wasn’t even room for a tennis court or pool around it. I’d assumed it was some kind of old hotel or school or something.
And by “old,” I mean…a total mess.
We could start, for example, with the windows, which were caked in salt and basically impossible to see through.
Or we could talk about the shutters, which didn’t open out, but were more like boards propped up by sticks. They were the heavy eyelids on a house that truly looked like it needed to be put to sleep.
Or we could talk about the gray, weathered shingles all over the outside—or maybe not, since half of them, at least, had blown away.
Or we could talk about the roller coaster of a covered porch that dipped and swayed all around the first floor.
Or maybe we should talk about the wobbly stilts keeping the huge house from sinking into the sand. I mean, I could totally see taking one step inside and having the whole house collapse on me.
Honestly, it looked more like a sunken battleship that had washed up onshore than something human beings should be living in. They should change the weathered sign from Drift Inn to Cave Inn or Inn Big Trouble, I thought.
That and, I want to go home!
And then Karen came outside.
“Hey, y’all!” she yelled, jogging down the front steps and waving like crazy. She had on a bathing suit and some kind of tie-dyed sarong. But at least she wasn’t wearing any crazy shoes. That was a plus.
My mom jumped out of the car and ran up to hug her—which always looks funny to me, since Karen’s so teeny and my mom is six feet tall.
“I thought y’all would never get here!” Karen cried. She and my mom pulled back and looked at each other, then squealed and hugged again. “We’re gonna have so much fun!” Karen went on. “Now, let me see those adorable children of yours! It’s been too long.”
My mom turned back to the car, shielding her eyes from the sun, and hollered for us. “Guys, come on. What are you waiting for?”
Uh, I’m waiting for Jeremy Ryan to ride up on a big white horse and carry me away, I wanted to answer. But I didn’t. What was the point? Instead, I slowly opened my door.
“Come on,” I told Josh.
“No way,” he said, thumbs frantically tapping away at his DS. “I still have two minutes left in the period.”
I sighed and climbed out alone.
“Sam?” cried Karen immediately. “Is that really you?” She trotted over and grabbed me in a hug that was surprisingly hard for such a small person. Great, I thought. Now I’m going to smell like her weird perfume.
“Hi,” I mumbled, trying to smile. And as soon as she was done hugging, I added, “You can call me Samantha now. Everyone does.”
“Samantha!” said Karen. “Oh, my goodness, you’ve grown up since last fall! I do declare you’re taller than I am now! And that adorable haircut! Why, Suzanne—” She turned to my mom. “She’s just the spittin’ image of you!”
I must have looked a little upset at that idea, since my mom assured me, “She’s exaggerating. Don’t worry. And yes,” she said to Karen, “her hair does look good, doesn’t it?” She smiled at me proudly. “You know why she cut it? For Locks of Love.”
“No, you did not!” Karen hugged me again, and I couldn’t help coughing. Ugh! All that yoga had made her pretty strong. “If that’s not the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard! I swear, I would do that in a second with my hair,” she said, putting her hand up to the strawberry blond curls that surrounded her freckled face, “if my hair ever decided to grow down instead of out. Oh, well.” She laughed. “Hey! What are we doin’ standin’ out here in the sun? Samantha, honey, you must be boilin’ in those clothes. Shall we go inside?”
I looked down at my black tights and fingerless gloves, then up at the house, and kind of shrugged.
“Yeah, it’s not much, is it?” Karen said with a nod. “I’m so sorry. I’d hoped to have it fixed up more before y’all got here.” She heaved a sigh. “But it’s a lot more work than I’d expected. Jay says we should change its name from Drift Inn to Inn Over Our Heads.”
Good one, Jay, I thought.
“You know,” Karen went on, “this place used to be a hotel.” (Yes! I was right!) “My granddaddy actually won it in a poker game when he came back from World War Two.”
“So how’d you get it?” I asked.
Karen shrugged. “The only heir left,” she said. Then she rolled her eyes. “Well…actually, the only one willing to take it on.”
I nodded. I wasn’t surprised.
“Jay and I know we could fix it up and rent it out,” Karen explained. “But before we decide to invest the money and keep it for good, we thought we’d spend a summer here and make sure we really want it. Luckily, an engineer told us it’s sound. She said it would take at least a category-five hurricane to knock this old place down.”
Yeah, I thought, that or a category-one sneeze.
“Well, I love it!” my mom declared.
I had to look at her and frown. I couldn’t help it.
“It’s fantastic!” my mom went on, ignoring my glare. “And I know Marvin’s going to love it, too.”
“Well, if you like it now,” said Karen, “just wait till you see the inside!”
My mom turned back to the car. “Hey, Josh! Let’s go!” she yelled. “Turn off that game and get out here now!”
At last, Josh climbed out, said hello to Karen, and the three of us followed her up the old steps into the house.
“It reeks,” said Josh.
“Mildew,” Karen explained, before my mom could snap at Josh for being rude. “What can you do?” She shrugged. “It’s the beach!”
Well, you could toss out all these moldy chairs and sofas, I thought as I looked around a big room filled with dusty, faded furniture. At one time, I guessed, it had all been green and blue. Now it was all pale and grayish—like construction paper when you leave it in the sun. And you could turn on some air-conditioning, too, since it was at least a hundred degrees hotter inside than out. Oh, and you could also cover your nose, which was exactly what I did with the black, skull-patterned scarf Liza had given me for my birthday.
“It is a little musty, isn’t it?” said Karen.
“And hot,” I groaned.
“Sam!” my mom said, giving me a look.
“Well, we don’t have any air-conditioning, I’m afraid,” said Karen. “Takes a little gettin’ used to…”
“No air-conditioning?” I couldn’t help gasping. “None at all?”
“No, darlin’. Sorry,” Karen replied. “But we’ll get these ceiling fans workin’ soon—don’t you worry.”
I looked up at the fan above us. It had two blades instead of four. It looked like Juliette and I would be hanging out on the beach, no matter what!
“So where’s Brian?” Josh piped up.
“Down at the beach with Jay and the girls,” Karen said.
“Josh, why don’t you bring in your bag and put on your bathing sui—” my mother began.
But she was wasting breath on him, as usual. By then, Josh was long gone.
My mom rolled her eyes. “Do you want to go, too?” she asked me.
I shrugged. I could have used the fresh air, I guessed. But something made me want to see more of the disastrous house. So I stayed with my mom and Karen—and tried to breathe through my mouth as much as I could.
“So this is one of the sitting rooms,” Karen said as she led us to a large room just off the front hall. “My granddaddy called it the Fish Room. I do believe he caught every one.”
I looked around at the hundreds of stuffed fish lining the walls. There were some especially big ones with long, pointy noses, but most were more normal looking. They were all totally gross.
Then we moved on to the Buoy Room, which was completely decorated with buoys and big round life preservers. Somehow, someone had even managed to make furniture out of them. Then there was other stuff made out of thick, white rope—chairs, a sofa, and even a rope table with a slightly cracked, dust-covered piece of glass on top.
“And this is the dining room, or the Shell Room, as my grandmama called it,” explained Karen, moving through a doorway.
“Look at that chandelier!” My mom gasped.
It was made—surprise!—completely out of shells.
So, basically, not only had this house absorbed every watt of heat from the sun; it had also let the ocean roll in and throw up absolutely everywhere.
The kitchen was a little more normal. In fact, it was actually cool. Or maybe I should say “not bad looking,” since it was by no means a comfortable temperature. But it was about twice the size of our kitchen at home, and all the appliances were super-old—like, from a black-and-white TV show.
“Does this really work?” I asked Karen, pointing to the stove.
“Good question.” She bit her lip. “Haven’t got to it yet, but we’re working on it. Don’t worry, though. Jay’s a whiz with raw food!”
“Raw food?” I said. “Like cereal?”
“No, darlin’.” Karen shook her head and grinned. “Cereal’s cooked before you get it. Raw food never gets any heat at all. It’s surprisingly tasty…and handy when the stove’s not workin’.”
So’s the microwave, I thought. But as I looked around, I didn’t see one.
“Relax,” Karen said. I think she noticed the look of pure panic that crossed my face. “We have a grill, too.”
I sighed a little, unzipped my hoodie, and fanned it in and out. “Do you, um, have anything to eat right now?” I asked hopefully. My insides were suddenly rumbling, and I was really, really hoping there might be Fudgsicles in the big white “icebox.”
Karen clapped her hands. “Oh, of course, darlin’. Where are my manners? I can’t believe I haven’t offered y’all any refreshment after such a long trip. How ‘bout a nice, cold glass of sun tea, and some fresh figs?”
“Mmm,” said my mom. “That sounds great.”
Tea and figs? Oh no. I didn’t think so.
“Samantha?” Karen said.
I couldn’t help it. “Um, no thank you. Do you have Popsicles, by any chance?” I asked.
Karen shook her head. “Sorry, hon. I don’t.” She turned to my mom. “Haven’t kept sugar in the house since Brian was two. That and wheat. It makes a big difference in his behavior.”
No sugar? No wheat? I thought. What else is there to eat?
“I’ll bet there are some frozen bananas in the icebox. How ‘bout one of those?” Karen asked.
I probably shrugged.
I could see my mom giving me the stink eye.
“I know. How ‘bout some watermelon?” said Karen.
My stomach rumbled happily. “Yes, please.” Bingo!
“Great!” said Karen. “But let’s cut it outside, shall we? One drop of food in this kitchen,” she added, “and I’m afraid the ants literally come marching in, two by two.”
Ants? I looked down at the floor and raised up onto the tippy-toes of my pink boots.
Great.
The back porch was shady, at least, and a relief from the inside of the house. (Who needs a working oven when you can bake pizzas in the dining room?) Plus, the bright-colored towels and bathing suits draped along the porch railing gave it a way more cheerful look—like an old bike dressed up with streamers and those plastic things on the spokes. It wasn’t easy to find a place to put down a whole watermelon, though. The porch leaned so much, it took all three of us to keep the big green beast from rolling away.
As soon as things were under control and Karen starting cutting, I turned and looked out over the dunes behind the house. The sea grass growing on them stood up straight and tall, and since there was no breeze, it blocked most of the view of the beach below. Still, I could hear people calling and splashing, and I could see the blue-green Atlantic in the distance drifting out to meet the sky. As the sweet smell of watermelon filled my nose, I closed my eyes and thought for the first time, Okay, this is summer vacation…
Arf, arf, arf!
I opened my eyes and looked up, surprised.
“Did you get a puppy?” my mom asked Karen.
She laughed. “Puppy? Oh no. That’s just Emery. Jay must be bringing the girls up to see you.”
Sure enough, a minute later Karen’s spanielsize, dark-haired three-year-old came bounding up over the dunes. Barking loudly, she trotted down the wooden walkway toward the porch on her hands and knees.
“Be careful, sugar pie,” said Karen. “We don’t want to find another splinter in that sweet little paw.”
“Arf, arf,” the little girl replied.
Karen stopped cutting the watermelon for a moment, and glanced up at me and my mom. “She thinks she’s a dog, bless her heart, ever since I taught her the downward dog position in yoga. We do yoga out here on the porch in the mornings.” She grinned. “Anyway, Emery’s imagination just ran with it, I guess.”
“Heel, Emery,” a high voice called from the porch steps. Kiki clomped up the stairs into view. She was five, short, skinny, and completely covered in freckles and sand.
“Bad girl, Emery,” said Kiki sternly. “Go sit in the corner.”
Emery knitted her thin, dark brows together and plopped down, panting, at her mother’s feet.
“Now, Kiki, be a good master,” said Karen. “And mind your manners. You have guests. Look, it’s Samantha!”
Kiki cocked her head and looked me over. “Where’s Sam?” she said.
“This is Sam,” said Karen, chuckling. “She just cut her hair.” Karen turned to me and smiled. “Kiki’s been so excited to see you, Samantha, darlin’. We’ve been looking at pictures from last fall,” she explained. “Too bad we didn’t have a new one with you lookin’ so chic!”
Kiki looked me over. “You look different,” she said.
I adjusted the ruffles on my tutu skirt. “Thanks,” I said.
She grinned and reached for my sleeve with her sandy hand. “You’re welcome! Hey, do you wanna play Polly Pocket?”
“Uh…” I muttered, firing another look at my mom. I’d rather do yoga with Karen, I thought.
“Kiki, darlin’,” said Karen, “give Samantha a second. She just got here. I’m sure she’ll want to play with you later.” (You’re sure? I thought.) “But right now, it’s time for watermelon. Who wants some?”
“I do!” called Jay as he reached the porch. He wore a loose white shirt, and a floppy straw hat to cover his bald spot. He gave my mom a hug. “Welcome to our humble abode, m’lady!” he said. (Which is exactly how he always talks, I’m afraid.)
Then he turned to me. “And greetings to you, Sam! I like your new style—very Emo!” he declared with two thumbs up.
I tried not to roll my eyes—even though everyone knows that Emos wear Chuck Taylors and straight-leg pants, not combat boots and tutus. “Actually, it’s Goth,” I said very patiently. (He probably would have known that if my mom just let me wear black eyeliner and dye my hair pink. But she says no chance until I’m in high school. Oh, well.)
“So, hon, where are the boys?” Karen asked, handing him a slice of melon. The pink juice left a trail of sticky drips across the porch.
“They’re chasing seagulls and eating fiddler crabs—raw,” Kiki said, before her dad could answer.
Ew!
“Don’t worry,” Jay said. “They’re fine. They should be up soon.”
Karen handed me another slice of watermelon and I took a big, slurpy bite. Mmm. It wasn’t Fudgsicle good…but it was icy-cold and sweet. It definitely did the trick.
Karen clicked her tongue. “Well, they’d better hurry if they want some watermelon,” she said, placing a slice on a napkin and putting it on the deck in front of Emery.
“Arf, arf,” Emery barked, bending forward to dig in. She was pretty good at eating with no hands, I had to admit.
Kiki, on the other hand, was already covered in juice and fuchsia watermelon bits. “Okay, I’m done,” she said, handing a half-eaten slice back to her mother. Then she grabbed my arm with her two sticky hands. “What do you like better?” she asked. “Polly Pocket or Littlest Pet Shop? I have both!”
Karen reached out and stroked Kiki’s curly red hair. “Poor Kiki,” she told my mom. “She gets so tired of playing puppy all the time with a three-year-old…”
Poor Kiki? How about poor me? I was twelve and a week already! I hadn’t come to the beach to play with a five-year-old!
I turned to my mom for some support, but I was saved by the car horn.
Jay dabbed at his chin with a towel. “Jackie’s carriage has arrived, I do believe!” he said.
I would have groaned, but I was suddenly too happy. Juliette was here—now summer vacation could really begin!