“No,” Diver agreed. He looked puzzled. “And what was that about you being alcohol? You said it in your sleep.”
Summer laughed. She took his hand and held it tight. “That was some dumb idea I had. Back before I realized that there really can be miracles.”
“Here she comes,” Diver said as the fiery rim of the sun appeared on the horizon.
Summer watched with him for a while as the sun rose and the stars disappeared and the water turned from black to blue.
“I guess it’s a good thing we never went out or anything, huh?” she said.
“Speaking of a very disturbed wa,” he agreed. Then his expression grew troubled. “This means Diana’s my cousin.”
Summer shook her head. “Diana’s mom is my dad’s…our dad’s sister.” Every nerve in her body seemed to tingle at that thought. “But she was adopted. There’s no actual blood relationship.”
“Good thing,” Diver said, smiling with relief. “That would have been sad.”
Summer smiled. She laughed. “No way. Miracles are never sad.”
19
Huh Huh, Huh Huh…Love Sucks
It was late morning when Summer at last parted from Diver. He would probably always be Diver to her, she decided.
A Federal Express package had arrived from the hospital in Minnesota. In it were the impossibly tiny footprints of Jonathan Alan Smith, born eighteen years earlier. But it no longer mattered to Summer. She knew the truth now. It was a true miracle, or else fate, or perhaps just a coincidence. That didn’t matter either.
Four years earlier, at the age of fourteen, he had run away from the people who had taken him from his home, left behind the name they had given him, tried to leave behind the pain that had been inflicted on him. He had followed the coast, always heading south, begging, stealing, doing odd jobs, learning his way around boats and the water so well that he’d earned the nickname Diver.
From New Brunswick, Canada, where he had started, down to Weymouth, Maine, to Cape Cod, to Ocean City, finally to Crab Claw Key. As if he’d been drawn there, making a four-year trip to a rendezvous.
Or else, Summer thought, it was all just coincidence.
She borrowed Diana’s car and drove to Seth’s house. She was bursting with excitement. Later she would tell Diana and Marquez, and, soon, her parents. But first she had to go to Seth. She had to tell him: Miracles do happen. Maybe she was allowed more than one.
She knocked at the door and experienced a momentary flashback to the night before. No, it was the night before that. She’d staggered here to this door, and Seth had brought her inside, where she had…
…had thrown up on the kitchen floor.
“Oh, man, I could have lived without remembering that,” she muttered. She knocked again, steeling herself for his accusing, angry look.
The door opened.
“Oh, hi,” she said, taken aback. It was Seth’s grandfather. “I, um, I don’t know if you remember me,” she said. “I’m Summer. I’m a good friend of Seth’s.”
He looked her up and down, a disparaging look. “Some good friend you are.”
“Is Seth home?”
“Not yet,” Mr. Warner said. “He’ll be home in about ten hours. Home in Eau Claire. Poor kid.”
“What do you mean, Eau Claire?”
Mr. Warner shrugged. “He left. All of a sudden. He wouldn’t even tell me why, but I haven’t lived sixty years not to know that there was a female behind it.”
Summer was staggered. No, this wasn’t what was supposed to happen now. It couldn’t be. She couldn’t find Jonathan and then lose Seth. Not now. Not now.
“He can’t have gone,” Summer said in a whisper.
Mr. Warner looked at his watch. “Eleven-oh-five flight. He’s gone, all right. And who’s gonna help me with my business the rest of the season? That’s what I want to know.”
Summer looked at her watch. “It’s only ten fifty-nine. Your watch is fast.” She calculated quickly. Six minutes. No way. She’d get killed trying to make it to the airport in six minutes.
“Bye!” she yelled.
She raced for the car.
It was four minutes after eleven by the time she slammed to a screeching, rubber-burning halt in front of the tiny airport. She leaped out, leaving the door wide open. She had just reached the glass doors of the terminal when she heard the crash.
She spun and saw Diana’s Jetta, half turned. The door was off, lying in the road in front of a taxicab whose driver was shouting at the top of his lungs.
Summer ran inside. The gates, which way? Left! She ran.
The sign—Miami. That had to be it, there was always a plane change in Miami.
“I have to get on that plane!” she yelled to the frightened desk clerk.
“It’s leaving,” the desk clerk said.
“It can’t,” Summer cried. “I have to get on. It’s a matter of…of…of true love!”
“You’re kidding.”
“No, please!”
“Well, you can buy a ticket if you’re quick. How would you like to pay?”
Summer froze. “Excuse me?”
“The ticket. How would you like to pay? Cash? Credit card?”
“Credit card! My dad gave me a Visa card for emergencies. Good old Dad.” She fumbled in her purse and produced the card. Good old Dad was going to kill her. Maybe she could just explain to him that it was a case of true love. Or maybe Diana would kill her first for having wrecked her car.
The metal detector! No, she couldn’t just blow it off, they’d shoot her or something.
With excruciating slowness she was forced to walk through the metal detector. Her purse took an eternity to pass through the X-ray machine.
She looked at her watch. Too late! No, no, it was too late. Still she ran. Out the door. Across the burning tarmac. They were beginning to roll back the steps.
“Wait!” She ran up the steps. The mechanics rolled it back into place and she hurtled through the door and stumbled against the flight attendant.
“Welcome aboard,” the flight attendant said.
She caught a glimpse of Seth. The seat next to him was empty.
“Hi,” she said, panting and gasping and grinning.
His look of amazement was almost worth the cost of the ticket. She hoped her father would agree.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded angrily. His eyes were red and swollen.
“What am I doing here? What are you doing here?”
“Going home,” he said sullenly.
“Don’t, okay?” she pleaded. “Don’t go home. Not yet. It’s still summer. It’s not the end of August yet.”
“That doesn’t matter,” he said grimly. “It’s too late. You told me yourself. What’s the point? It’ll only come to an end, and then we’ll both feel worse for having dragged it out.”
“When did I say that?”
“The other night. Right before you blew chunks all over my kitchen floor.”
Summer sighed. “Look, I know all that. I mean, it’s still true. You can’t have real pain without real love. You can’t feel grief and loss and hurt without love. Love is the only way you can ever be really hurt, deep down. It’s all still true.”
“So?” he asked.
“So…it’s also true that you can’t ever really be happy without love, and you can’t ever feel like…like I feel when I’m with you. I like that feeling.” She took his hand and held it between both of hers. He did not pull it away. “It’s basically just a messed-up situation.”
He nodded reluctantly. “Yeah. Love sucks.”
“It kind of does,” Summer agreed.
“Pretty cool, though, too,” he said in a low voice.
“I love you, Seth,” she said.
“I love you,” he said.
“Can we go now?”
“Um, Summer? We’re in the air already,” he said.
“Oh. Will you…will you kiss me when we get to Miami?” Summer asked.
“
No,” he said. “I’ll kiss you right now.”
He did. And she did. And when she opened her eyes she saw a woman sitting across the aisle. A very familiar woman.
The tarot lady winked at her and shuffled her deck of cards.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Summer said. “Don’t even think about it.”
About the Author
After Katherine Applegate graduated from college, she spent time waiting tables, typing (badly), watering plants, wandering randomly from one place to the next with her boyfriend, and just generally wasting her time. When she grew sufficiently tired of performing brain-dead minimum-wage work, she decided it was time to become a famous writer. Anyway, a writer. Writing proved to be an ideal career choice, as it involved neither physical exertion nor uncomfortable clothing, and required no social skills.
Ms. Applegate has written more than one hundred books under her own name and a variety of pseudonyms. She has no children, is active in no organizations, and has never been invited to address a joint session of Congress. She does, however, have an evil, foot-biting cat named Dick, and she still enjoys wandering randomly from one place to the next with her boyfriend.
Katherine Applegate, Beach Blondes: June Dreams / July's Promise / August Magic
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