When I get home from the movies, Mom’s at the kitchen table with a cup of tea. She glances at the clock on the stove and sighs.
“You’re late,” she says. “It’s 12:15.”
“Yeah,” I mumble, “it is.” I don’t tell her why I’m late. I don’t explain that we actually pulled into the driveway at 12:03, but I had to listen to Hannah go on and on about Dustin and how sweet he is and how they like the same music and even though he’s a little on the dumb side, it’s not like she’s looking to get married, so why not?
“I’m glad that you and Hannah have gotten so close in such a short period of time,” Mom says, but her lips pinch together. “That doesn’t mean you can miss curfew.”
“I didn’t mean to.” I turn to get a glass from the cabinet and flip on the tap. “I tried.”
“Try harder, sweetie. We worry about you, you know.”
I nod. I know. I know it was hard for them, too; that it’s hard for them to see how Trixie’s parents have had to deal with losing a daughter.
“Did you have fun? You missed a wonderful dinner with the Stanfords.”
I turn in surprise, glass in hand, water running in the sink behind me. “You made it home in time for dinner?” She usually closes on Saturday nights.
“It was important to Betty and Ron that I meet the people who will be living there all summer. I can only imagine how difficult it must be to leave your home in the hands of strangers, even though Shay is a friend of Betty’s niece.”
I turn back to the sink and fill my glass as she rehashes their conversations, tells me what Betty served, how Ron’s Great Dane, Oscar, sat with his head on Simon’s lap the entire time.
“Simon’s adorable,” Mom says as she gets up from the table, rinses out her cup, and puts it in the dishwasher. “He seemed very interested in you, Lucy. He asked a lot of questions.” She smiles and tugs at a loose strand of my hair.
Before I get a chance to ask her what kinds of questions, she turns to straighten a dish towel hanging on the handle of the oven door and says, “I’ve got to get to bed. Don’t stay up too late, okay, Luce?”
She goes upstairs, and I sit down at the table to finish my water.
My phone buzzes—Hannah always texts when she gets home so I know she’s made it safely. I flip the phone over, but it’s a number I don’t recognize.
Sorry so late. This is Simon. Hope u don’t mind ur mom gave me ur number. Can’t wait to spend the summer on ur beautiful lake.
As much as I’m not happy that my mom thinks she can freely give out my number, my mouth turns up in a small smile as I think of something to text back. I’m not good at this. Trixie was the one who always knew what to say, and Hannah is, too. I’ve always been the shy one, the one who thinks things through a hundred times before making a decision.
My fingers hover over the screen. See you soon, I finally type.
Maybe this summer won’t be so bad after all.