Endless Summer - LightNovelsOnl.com
You're reading novel online at LightNovelsOnl.com. Please use the follow button to get notifications about your favorite novels and its latest chapters so you can come back anytime and won't miss anything.
A bigger rocket exploded in bright golden sparks, and then came another red heart.
"Upside down," said all the boys.
Three explosions layered on top of one another, gold, blue, pink. Then still another red heart exploded, growing and growing before it faded.
"Upside down," said everyone in the boat but me.
My own heart expanded for Adam. I whispered, "I know what he meant."
I stood up and started to put one foot over the side of the boat.
"Where are you going?" Sean grabbed me by the wrist. "Are you bailing on us? You're not upset, are you? Adam's planning to ask you to go to Birmingham with him in a couple of weeks. He thought you needed a while to cool off but the fireworks would soften you up."
"Birmingham!" I exclaimed. "That's serious!"
"That's what I said to Adam." Sean raised one eyebrow at me.
I watched a Roman candle pulse into the air: foop, foop, foop, with very bad aim, too low. In silhouette, the people in the boats closest to the sh.o.r.e ducked and covered their heads with their arms. "Adam makes terrible plans," I said.
"Oh, come on," Sean said in his most persuasive voice. "Wait a few weeks like he said, and maybe you'll feel differently. He'll explode something else to impress you. It wouldn't be my choice of method to get Rachel back if I were in the doghouse with her, but there's no accounting for taste." Rachel batted her eyelashes at him.
And I gaped at him. It was hard to concentrate on what he was saying with fireworks flas.h.i.+ng and booming above us, but I did believe that, while trying to put in a good word with me on his brother's behalf, Sean had managed to insult both of us. Then I shook my wrist out of his grasp. "It's a terrible plan because I'm not waiting a few weeks."
Before Sean could stop me again, I leaped out of the boat and into the one next to it. The men relaxing in lawn chairs in the bow hardly had time to turn around to see what blonde G.o.ddess had descended on them before I traversed that boat and leaped over the side, onto a pontoon boat loaded with drunks. They braced themselves as the boat s.h.i.+fted under their feet, but they were inebriated enough and fascinated enough with Adam's light show that they a.s.sumed it was the alcohol making them sway rather than a teenage pirate on a mission. They never turned around.
Quite a few boats were like that. A few had more alert pa.s.sengers who stared at me. One old lady tried to lecture me about boat-hopping among strangers at night, a nice girl like me. And a couple of times I had to convince people to start their engines and putter a few feet forward so I could make it to the next boat without going into the lake. At the beginning of this summer I would have sworn I was not capable of drowning, but my last wakeboarding accident had convinced me I was wrong about that.
And it would be my luck to go out that way: floundering in the lake and succ.u.mbing under the boats to the jaunty tune of "Stars and Stripes Forever."
The boats always obliged. Whether I knew the people in the boat or not, the driver idled closer to the next boat, just to stop me from interrupting the fantastic show overhead. I chose a safe path through the boats that would put me onsh.o.r.e at the yacht club wharf, rather than heading straight for the hill where the fireworks were coming from. It would be just our luck for me to get stabbed through the heart by a wayward rocket just as I was making my way back to Adam.
Come to think of it... wasn't Adam the one more likely to get killed by a rocket, since he was the one setting off rockets? The detail was different, but our luck was the same. I pictured reaching the hill a few minutes too late and the other pyromaniacs pointing to the chalk outline sprinkled with ashes that was the only evidence left of his body.
I leaped from the last boat, hit the yacht club wharf, and ran.
Thick ropes anchoring huge white sailboats crisscrossed the wharf, but I was a master at dodging maritime obstacles. I skittered toward sh.o.r.e as fast as my flip-flops would carry me, all the time watching the hill. Between explosions, the hill was dark and silent. Adam had been killed, and the show was over. Then pink light flickered through the gra.s.s, and silhouettes ran away from the light with their ears covered. Funny that I recognized Adam from the way he ran in silhouette. I would have known him anywhere.
I slowed to a walk now that I knew he wasn't in (immediate) danger of dying. I hadn't realized how hard I'd been running, but my lungs felt like they were about to fall out as I turned backward to watch the latest rocket arc impossibly high into the air. It paused, quiet. Then it burst into a million golden sparks, and the thunder came afterward to thump me in the chest and take my breath away all over again. The sparks faded into the black sky, then came back in a lovely surprise, bursting suddenly brighter and chasing one another around in circles as they fell. The entire bouquet of golden light reflected in the water. The lake looked like it was rising to meet the light instead of the other way around.
Foop, foop, foop. Three more rockets left the hill. I looked in that direction for Adam's silhouette.
That's when I saw him running down the hill- oh no, ma.s.sive explosion, every man for himself, run for your lives! I did have that thought for a split second, but as I watched him, I saw he wasn't running away from anything. He was running toward me.
The fireworks exploded in midair and lit him up. Two new burn holes had appeared in his T-s.h.i.+rt, giving me a peek at his chest. Soot streaked his tanned face, and his curls were dotted with small lengths of white straw-courtesy of ducking and covering on the ground, I guessed. He grinned at me.
We were on a collision course. Unless a rocket crashed down to explode just above our heads in the next ten seconds, we would meet in the middle, and I had no idea what to say. I'd told Sean that a few weeks was too long to wait to see Adam again. Now I wasn't so sure. Maybe I should suggest we forgive each other but let things cool down between us before we started up again. We could have some long talks and discuss where we'd been and where we were going. That would be the adult thing to do- He threw down his lighter, grabbed me with both hands, and kissed me.
I let him kiss me for a few seconds, shocked and relieved.
Explosions startled me. I'd gotten so lost in Adam, I'd forgotten we were standing in a fireworks display.
Then I moved forward, into him. I kissed him harder and put my hands in his hair, my fingers slipping past the pieces of straw. I wanted him closer.
More and bigger explosions went off behind him. I couldn't tell whether the percussions in my chest were from the fireworks or from being chest to chest with Adam himself.
He kissed the corner of my mouth, kissed my cheek, and growled in my ear, "Fireworks or what?"
"Stars and Stripes Forever" ended with a flourish of horns. The silence grew, waiting for another rousing patriotic tune to fill it. The silence stretched. Then there was another noise-foop, foop, foop, foofoofoofoofoo-endless launches of rockets. The music had stopped because no one would hear it over the grand finale of explosions.
I put both hands on his chest and backed him up a pace. The black sky behind him was filled with color. I said, "Go. Hurry. You can still help. You're missing it." He pulled me close again and gazed down at me, tracing one finger so tenderly along my cheekbone. His finger was black, and he might be leaving an attractive black streak across my skin. I didn't mind. The way he was looking at me with those light blue eyes, I had never felt more beautiful.
He bent his head close to my ear again so I could hear him whisper, "I'm not missing anything."
About the Author.
Jennifer Echols grew up on beautiful Lake Martin in Alabama and learned to water-ski when she was five years old-wakeboarding wasn't invented yet! Currently she lives with her husband and son in Birmingham. Please visit her online at www.jennifer-echols.com and sign the guestbook!.
end.