Falling for Summer by Bridget Essex Page B

that Morrie hadn't brought up Tiffany, but of course she was going to.  Morrie is the town gossip, and that's what town gossips do.  They keep the stories of the town alive. 
    Summer's never stopped swimming...
    I take a deep breath as I roll down my window and turn off the AC.  I just want to smell the lake, have the beautiful scent of all that fresh water permeate my skin and consume me.  I missed it so much, moving down to the city.  I guess I never realized how much.
    I exhale loudly through my nose.  That unsettled me, to hear how Tiffany's death affected Summer.  Again, I'm pushed outside of my comfort zone.  I was so wrapped up in how Summer's death changed my life, changed myself as a person, that I failed to see what it was doing to other people. 
    I don't remember much about that night, or the police reports that followed.  I do remember that the police said at the time that several of the girls had tried to save Tiffany, had tried to swim out into that dark water to reach her, only to turn back because it was too deep, too far, too frightening. 
    Summer had been one of those girls. 
    I don't know what that was like for her, but as I sit in the car, I try to imagine what it might have been like.  Summer, then just a little girl, had waded into the cold water of a summer night, pushing through the darkness and her own fear of the black water, to attempt to swim out to where Tiffany was flailing, drowning...
    My stomach turns inside of me as I think about that moment from her perspective. 
    When I return to Lazy Days, Summer is waiting for me on the front steps of the main office.  She has her hands clasped, her elbows on her knees, her head bent as if deep in thought, her shiny braid slipping over her shoulder and draped over her arm.
    I don't know why, but the somber sight of her gives me a bad feeling, adding to the anxiety that started when I began wondering about that night...
    It looks like Summer has something to tell me.  But when she lifts her face as I turn into the driveway, Summer's pensive look is gone, and she's smiling at me, a smile so huge, warmth spreads through me, bringing with it a small measure of peace.
    “Hey, I got some beers.  And some popsicles,” I tell her, as I climb out of the car, shutting the door behind me.  “And Gramma Morrie knows you're gay?” I ask her, my head tilted to the side as I give her a teasing smile.
    “Yeah, well,” says Summer, spreading her hands, “you can't hide a thing from that old fox.  She knew you were gay, too,” she tells me then, her brows up as she chuckles a little.  “Morrie's really accepting for a crotchety old lady.  I know it's crazy,” she says, lifting a hand as I shake my head and chuckle, too, “but she is.  Hey, listen,” she says then, sliding her hands into her pockets and hunching her shoulders forward, “are you ready for that swim?”  She looks up at me through her long lashes inquiringly, and my heart skips a beat again.
    “Yeah, I am,” I tell her, grabbing the food and beers out of the back seat, shutting the car door with my hip.  “Just let me get this stuff inside.”
    “Get swimsuited up,” says Summer with a little chuckle.  “And meet me at the lake, okay?”  She looks at me thoughtfully, as if she's about to tell me something more, but she stops herself.
    “Sure,” I say, but as she turns, I can see that her smile is already fading away into a thin, hard line.
    My stomach does flip flops.  What's wrong?  It really feels like something's wrong.  I deposit the food into Summer's little fridge and peel off my clothes, draping them over the foot of the bed.  I dig my wet swimsuit out of the bottom of my wet suitcase and wrinkle my nose as I try to squeeze most of the water out of it. 
    It's only after I get the suit on, only after I redo my loosened ponytail, preparing for the swim, only after I glance at Summer's calendar tacked to the wall, that I realize exactly what day it