Five Summers by Una LaMarche Page A

the summer had felt risky . . . but then again, she had an apartment to stay in for almost no money. Getting the internship of her dreams had been amazing . . . but she’d been there for over six weeks and hadn’t published so much as a sentence. She hadn’t even tried.
    “I dare you right now to put a thong on Jo’s bed,” Skylar said.
    “No way.” Emma glanced over at the bunk bed that was set catty-corner to theirs. Jo was taking a shower and had laid out a new, almost identical outfit on her bottom bed, which had been made with military precision. Above it, Maddie’s still-unclaimed upper bunk was adorned with a framed photo of the four of them, along with a sprig of Queen Anne’s lace that Jo had picked as they’d carried Emma’s bags up the path from her aunt’s car. The picture had been taken by their counselor Tara at the end of their first summer, and they all had copies. Emma’s was on her desk back home—at least, she was pretty sure it was, buried beneath a precarious mountain of textbooks.
    “See? I knew it,” Skylar scoffed.
    “That doesn’t prove anything,” Emma said. “I’ve just matured.” She kicked the underside of Skylar’s bunk and laughed.
    “So how come there’s no hot hipster New York boyfriend?” Skylar teased.
    “I don’t know,” Emma said. “My internship is nine to six and then at night I have to do SAT prep and work on my college essays.”
    “Dude, it’s
summer
.”
    “A Brown early decision applicant’s work is never done!” Emma declared with mock cheerfulness. “Plus I live with my brother, which kind of cramps my style.” Kyle was twenty-two and spent his days either playing video games in his boxer shorts while eating stale Chinese food straight from the carton or “working on his screenplay”(an activity that did not, sadly, require a wardrobe change), which was a sci-fi action saga set in a dystopian universe in which the sun became toxic and people had to live underground in tunnels. (Emma called that “unemployed,” but she kept her mouth shut because according to their mother, Kyle was feeling “extremely emotionally vulnerable right now.” Maybe that was why they kept sending him checks.)
    “Maybe you could find someone at work,” Skylar said.
    “It’s a feminist teen magazine, so the boys are scarce,” Emma sighed.
    “Well, maybe you’ll meet someone on the subway or some- thing.”
    “Ew, have you ever taken the subway? The most eligible bachelor I’ve ever seen was an old guy clipping his nails.”
    “Was he cute?” Skylar joked. Emma kicked her bunk again.
    “You know, you don’t need to play matchmaker for me anymore,” she said. “I’m fine by myself.” It was actually kind of annoying how Skylar seemed to be suggesting that she needed a boyfriend.
    Skylar got quiet for a minute.
    “Did you feel anything when you saw Adam again?” she finally asked.
    “Sky,” Emma sighed, “if that’s what this is about, you don’t have to worry. I’m not here with some kind of grand plan to seduce Adam Loring.” Of course, the thought had crossed her mind, and Emma couldn’t deny that old feelings had been stirring ever since he had hugged her in the gazebo. But no one needed to know that. Yet.
    “Good,” Skylar said. “Because . . . there’s some stuff . . . I don’t know, I feel like we need to talk.”
    “About Adam?” Emma asked.
    “What about Adam?” Jo breezed in from the bathroom complex with her head wrapped in a towel.
    “Don’t look at me,” Emma said. “She brought him up.” Jo turned to Skylar with raised eyebrows as she slipped off her shower shoes, keeping the towel around her body firmly in place with one arm.
    “Nothing,” Skylar said. “Just that he’s frustrating as usual.”
    “Tell me something I don’t know.” Jo somehow managed to shimmy into her underwear and bra without dropping the towel. She looked at Emma. “Please don’t tell me I have to hear about him all