Beth Rose had dark red hair and transparent skin with an ever-increasing array of light freckles. She was not at her best in the sun. She lay on her stomach now, resting her face on her crossed hands, and admired the tans of the other girls. Anne, of course, was perfect, having tanned an even gold. Anne’s normally blonde hair had become nearly silver over the summer, until she was almost a walking beach scene. Golden sun and white-hot sand were the colors of Anne’s body. Even half asleep on the hot gray slates that formed a wide terrace around the swimming pool, Anne seemed warmer and more intense than the rest of them. She was not leaving till the next day, but already she had a star’s quality.
I want to be a star, too, thought Beth Rose. But I don’t know that I want to take on the whole world. One single terrific boy would do. Maybe tonight on the boat, I’ll meet a boy who is perfect for me.
Beth Rose sighed. She had often met boys who were perfect for her. They, regrettably, had not considered Beth Rose perfect for them. Besides, there would be no strangers on the boat tonight, only people she had known forever.
Beth could hardly wait for the signal from Kip to get moving on the surprise party plans. She could not imagine how the rest of them endured it—lying around getting tan when there was a party ahead. She wanted to talk of boys and dresses and dancing and life. They just snoozed away as if it were any old summer afternoon.
It was very hot.
The heat seemed to slow time down, the hours growing heavier and longer.
Beth Rose closed her eyes and dreamed of boys. She felt like a war strategist rather than a dreamer, but that was how it was with boys. You had to plan your moves. The other girls were leaving the battlefield. Anne circling the globe, Kip going to college in New York, Emily getting married.
Beth Rose did not know how all this had come about. It was as if she had gone to get an ice-cream cone or to set her hair, and in the same half hour everybody else made plans for life and bought plane tickets.
Everybody was so impressed with Anne’s job, so full of excitement about what Anne would be doing. I am a hick, thought Beth. I don’t envy Anne. I have no desire to see Paris or Rome. I want a boyfriend and some new clothes.
She toyed with the idea of Con being her boyfriend, since Anne was dumping him in preference of London and Tokyo. But why should Con forget perfect, golden Anne—like a shining dove in flight—to take out plain, old, red-haired Beth Rose? Plus, of course, being one of Anne’s confidants, Beth knew that Con might be the most handsome, suave and dashing boy in the high school, but he was not the nicest. In fact, for a guy with a ten body, it was too bad he was about a three on a nice scale.
“This,” said Molly from her side of the pool, “is the kind of afternoon when it feels as if something special is about to happen.” Molly was wearing a tiny bathing suit which she had rolled down to make even tinier, and when she propped herself up on her elbow it was to admire her own figure. Molly did a slow scissors kick and left one leg up to admire it framed against the blue sky.
Something special was going to happen, of course, but not to Molly. Nobody would invite Molly anywhere, let alone to Anne’s surprise party. Molly was petty, mean, and borderline-criminal, and why Anne even let Molly into her yard was a mystery to Beth. Probably so full of daydreams she forgot who Molly is, thought Beth. I think Anne has even forgotten who Con is. Con won’t like that at all.
“We could crash the dance they’re giving over in Raulston,” Molly suggested.
So that was why she had come. To find company for party crashing. How odd that she picked us, Beth thought. She knows we can’t stand her and I would have said it was mutual.
“Too hot to party,” Kip mumbled.
Molly snorted. She knew perfectly well it was never too hot to party.
“A hundred and eight degrees out,” Beth agreed, with mild exaggeration. “We don’t want to die of heat prostration the day before we turn into adults.” This silenced Molly. But Beth did not feel as if she were turning into an adult. The only thing Beth was turning into was a slightly more sunburned teenager than she had been yesterday. Beth was positively exhausted by the energy her friends had. Her own plans included nothing new. She would take biology and English at the junior college while she waitressed at Pizza Hut.
It was a mistake, she thought. Commuting is not a threshold. Nothing changes. Nobody will give me a good-bye party. I’m not going anywhere.
What if that’s true all my life?
What if I never go anywhere?
Maybe I’m already as sophisticated and knowledgeable as I’m ever going to be.
If that’s true, Beth thought, I might as well roll over into the swimming pool and breathe chlorinated blue water.
Only two years before Beth Rose had been an ugly duckling, blossoming overnight at the Autumn Leaves Dance with Gary. Maybe I’m going back into the ugly duckling’s shell, she thought. It was magic, but the spell is broken. The old pieces of shell are still lying there, waiting to snap shut on me.
Suddenly the thought of staying in Westerly was oppressive, even frightening. Life was a dark alley.
Beth Rose sat up quickly and moved back into the sunlight.
“What’s the matter?” Molly asked, amused. “Ghost walk on your grave?”
Molly could always laugh at people in pain. Beth stared at Molly, trying to detect Molly’s plan, her reason for coming there. But the sun was in Beth’s eyes and Molly just looked like another teenager in a skimpy bikini, worrying about her tan.
Molly is jealous of us, Beth Rose thought. She’s jealous of Kip, going to a terrific school; and Emily, whose boyfriend wants them to get married; and Anne, who is going to see the world. If Molly knew about the surprise party, she’d want it to be for her. She’d make it be for her. But nobody cares enough about Molly to say good-bye. Not one of us here has even asked Molly what she’s going to do this fall.
How jealous is she? Beth Rose wondered. Jealous enough to—to do something?
Chapter 2
ANNE STEPHENS TANNED AN even gold. The thin straps of her bikini top were tucked in so that her shoulders would get no white stripes. The pale pastel of her swimsuit looked like ice against her skin. She lay directly on the dark gray slate that made a path around the swimming pool in her backyard. She loved the deep heat of the stones, soaking into her bones and giving her strength. She was going to need a lot of that to get through the rest of the day.
There was a certain joy in being beautiful. Anne liked being admired. She liked looking in a mirror. But there was a certain agony in it, also. People did not look beyond the beauty. Anne could be upset, but people would tell her how nice her hair looked. Anne could be screaming inside, but people would say how becoming that color was on her. Anne could be sick with fear, but people would say, You know, you should be a model.
Right now Anne was filled with rage and not one of the other four girls suspected a thing. Nobody saw her moods. It was as if beauty was supposed to put you beyond bad moods. A glamorous girl had no right to feel rotten and, if she did, she should keep quiet about it.
It was her parents she was mad at.
How could they raise a daughter, teach her right and wrong, teach her to say Thank you and Please, to brush her teeth, study hard, and cross the street only at corners…and then spend her last weeks at home telling her she was no good?
Anne, dear, you were just hired because of your looks. You have no background for this. You’ve never organized anything in your life. Your friend Kip could do this job well. But you? Darling, it’s not too late to back out. Why don’t you telephone Miss Glynn right now and say you’ve decided against it?
Anne, dear, your head is going to be turned by all those glossy, glitzy people. You won’t be able to withstand the pressures.
Anne, you’ll have to manage so much money. Your judgment isn’t very good, you know. What if you find yourselves in Japan or Australia and you have no money because you’ve spent it all on silly souvenirs?
Anne, dear, a whole year? Why, you were so homesick at camp we had to go get you on the fourth night.
And when Anne, dear, did not give in to criticism, they began offering her bribes. If you stay home, dear, Daddy will buy you your first car.
And when Anne, dear, resisted even the bribes, they began to tell her it wouldn’t be any fun, anyhow. Anne, dear, you realize you won’t actually see anything of those great romantic cities? You’ll just be in airports, hotel lobbies, and more airports and hotel lobbies.
Under the hot August sun Anne’s skin turned more golden.
But her thoughts burned and burned.
Emily struggled to keep total control. It was imperative not to break down. This was Anne’s last day and Emily must not turn the attention on herself. That would be selfish.
Emily yearned to be selfish. She wanted to leap to her feet, screaming and sobbing and gathering them round her to comfort her and agree that Matthew O’Connor should be killed in a long drawn-out painful manner.
But Anne was her best friend. Emily believed firmly she had a duty to her best friend to keep the whole night on a cheerful happy level.
She made herself think about the party. The Duet was a lovely tubby boat that took tourists from Westerly to Swallow Island and back. Burnished brass rails surrounded a deck large enough to dance on, and loden-green paint gleamed on a cabin large enough to lounge in. She wondered how much the party would cost Con and why his parents allowed it. Nobody else had mentioned the practicalities of such a lavish send-off. Could it really be true that Con had arranged fireworks? Why, whole towns had to struggle to raise money for fireworks!
Emily fidgeted with her towel, and Beth Rose smiled at her as if to start a conversation. Any conversation with Beth Rose would be about boys. Emily could not talk about boys right now. Certainly not about her own boy. Emily blinked hard to keep the tears from rolling down her cheeks.
“Why, Em,” Beth said, “is something wrong?”
“No, no. Allergy. Humid air. Affects me like this.” Emily lay down and put the towel solidly over her eyes to soak up the tears. Her tears hurt, as if they were acid poured in there by some villain.
“Do you think Gary will be there?” Beth Rose whispered to her, so Anne could not hear.
Em felt sorry for Beth, still fond of Gary. They had studied a poem in English Lit. “No man is an island.” Well, John Donne was wrong. Gary was an island, complete with rivers on all sides and no bridges. Nobody would ever possess Gary and Gary would never try to possess anyone, either. He was content to be alone or on the fringes.
But then, thought Emily Edmundson, I am sorry for all girls, because all of us love boys.
She felt the ring on the fourth finger of her left hand. In that tiny gold circle were all the plans so carefully, lovingly made since New Year’s Eve when Matt had placed it there.
All gone. All meaningless.
For Matt had had a better offer.
Chapter 3
BETH ROSE COULD NOT stand it any longer. It was driving her crazy, this gathering. Anne stayed suspended in a dream; Emily and Kip either slept or pretended to; Molly forced her bright, sharp chatter on people who didn’t like her.
“Oh, my gosh!” Beth jumped up, stumbling over her own towel. “I forgot the ice cream.”
Kip glared at her. Emily slept on.
Anne said, “What ice cream?”
Molly’s eyes narrowed.
Beth said, “My family. We’re—having this big summer thing—uh—tomorrow—and I was supposed to drive over to Benjie’s and get homemade ice cream. I’ve got to run.” There. She’d handled it well. Nobody would suspect Beth Rose was responsible for bringing the ice cream to the good-bye party. Beth slipped into her white jeans and sleeveless T, slithered her toes into sandals and headed for her car parked out front.
Anne cried out, “Bethie! Beth, where are you going? I’m not going to see you later. I’m leaving in the morning.”
“I forgot,” Beth said guiltily. “I mean, I didn’t forget, it’s just that the whole idea of you going abroad for a year—I can’t get a grip on it, Anne. I can’t believe it’s actually tomorrow.”
Anne’s silvery shiver of laughter matched her hair. She’ll never come home, Beth Rose thought. She’s going to be among stars and she’s going to become a star. No wonder Con is throwing this huge party in a last-ditch attempt to keep her home. He knows that once the world has seen Anne, she’ll belong to the world, not to him.
Anne hugged Beth fiercely. “Oh, Bethie, to think that two years ago you and I had never even spoken. We were so lucky we met at that dance. It feels like years ago. I feel like you and I have been friends forever and ever and ever.”
It was a strange, unsuccessful good-bye. Beth knew they would say it all over again in a few hours, but Anne didn’t. And for all that Anne was sorry and would miss Beth, Beth could feel Anne shaking with excitement, her mind already gone, waiting for her body and clothes to catch up.
I will never forget Anne, Beth thought. But she will forget me.
That made Beth cry, and tears from Beth seemed to satisfy Anne, so they were able to break loose. Beth got into her car and drove quickly off, stopping around the corner to search for a Kleenex and mop up her tears before she went on.
Kip Elliott was filled with the joy of going to college soon.
For all those long high school years, she had struggled for good grades, run committees, chaired activities, and played on teams. She had read hundreds of college catalogs and filled out dozens of forms. She had taken SAT exams and visited campuses and lived through interviews.
The long wait for acceptance was over. College began in ten days. She had her dorm assignment, her roommate had written, her trunk had been shipped—and New York, New York awaited the arrival of Kip Elliott!
She remembered how, on the day her acceptance arrived in the mail, she raced into school screaming, “I’m going to college in New York City!”
Nobody was thrilled. “Why do you want to do that?” they all said, frowning. “Don’t you want to be on a real campus? Aren’t you afraid of crime? Don’t you worry about getting homesick?”
“No!” Kip shouted. “No, no, no, a thousand times no!” She’d spent her entire last month of high school trying to find a single graduating senior who thought she was lucky. But they were glad to be going to ordinary colleges close to home, with big maple trees and wide campus lawns, low brick dormitories, and other freshmen they knew from home.
How unfair it was to have worked so hard for something nobody else even wanted.
Kip was definitely ready to leave Westerly.
Kip leaped into the pool suddenly, splashing Emily. She did a swift stroke to one end and came more swiftly back, working off a little of the tremendous energy she always had.
Anne herself never went into the pool. The chlorine hurt her eyes too much. Kip lived in an apartment with four little brothers. It is symbolic of the unfairness of life, Kip thought, that the girl who hates swimming is the one who owns the pool.
Kip had always envied Anne. Anne was so pretty and popular, with Con always at her side arranging the next time they would be together. Anne had plenty of money and a truly enviable wardrobe. Of course, Con had a few drawbacks, number one being that he was a conceited jerk.
Yet Kip liked Con. She had to remind herself what a jerk he was or she forgot. He was charming and funny and always said the right compliment to make a girl feel good. Even Anne (who had more proof than anybody what a jerk Con was) fell time and time again under Con’s charm.
Those two had started dating in seventh grade. You had only to look at this year’s crop of seventh graders to know that it was a disgusting uncivilized age. Thirteen-year-old boys didn’t seem capable of anything other than rude, crude, and socially unacceptable noises. Yet Con and Anne had begun even then setting an example of romance few had been able to match then or later. (Of course, there was the little lapse of Anne’s pregnancy and then giving the baby u
p for adoption; few girls wanted to match that at age sixteen, and unmarried.)
It’s good, Kip thought, that Anne is leaving. If she went on to State University with Con, Con would stay in charge and Anne would stay obedient. Anne will come back changed. She’ll have spent a year doing things Con can’t even imagine.
Even I can’t imagine them, Kip thought, pushing her jealousy away, not letting herself think of foreign lands and fine hotels and fabulous star-studded gala parties.
I wish it were my good-bye party tonight, Kip thought, diving under one more time. I wish somebody had decided to give me a goodbye party.
She started crying underwater, a weird feeling, and when she surfaced her tears blended in with the pool water streaming out of her hair.
She forced her thoughts to college.
There would be, among other things, eighteen hundred boys in her class.
Now how, Kip asked herself, can I possibly live with a collection of one thousand eight hundred boys and not find at least a dozen absolutely perfect ones? Answer: I can’t. So, in a matter of days, life is going to be boy-perfect.
Buy Summer Nights Now!
A Biography of Caroline B. Cooney
Caroline B. Cooney is the author of ninety books for teen readers, including the bestselling thriller The Face on the Milk Carton. Her books have won awards and nominations for more than one hundred state reading prizes. They are also on recommended-reading lists from the American Library Association, the New York Public Library, and more. Cooney is best known for her distinctive suspense novels and romances.
Born in 1947, in Geneva, New York, Cooney grew up in Old Greenwich, Connecticut, where she was a library page at the Perrot Memorial Library and became a church organist before she could drive. Music and books have remained staples in her life.