Read the first Summer:
BEACH BLONDES
More beach reads from Simon Pulse:
The Au Pairs series
Melissa de la Cruz
Honey Blonde Chica
Michele Serros
Surf Ed.
Karol Ann Hoeffner
Shirt and Shoes Not Required
Todd Strasser
Partiers Preferred
Randi Reisfeld
For Michael
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
SIMON PULSE
An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
Sand, Surf, and Secrets copyright © 1996 by Daniel Weiss Associates, Inc., and Katherine Applegate
Rays, Romance, and Rivalry copyright © 1996 by Daniel Weiss Associates, Inc., and Katherine Applegate
Beaches, Boys, and Betrayal copyright © 1996 by Daniel Weiss Associates, Inc., and Katherine Applegate
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
SIMON PULSE and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
Library of Congress Control Number 2008923442
ISBN-13: 978-1-4391-0184-1
ISBN-10: 1-4391-0184-1
These titles originally published individually.
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june
1
The Magic of Prom Night and Other True Myths
The doorbell rang at seven o’clock on the night of Summer Smith’s senior prom. While Summer’s mother ran to the door with her camera in tow, Summer stood calmly at the top of the stairs.
Wiser, worldly girls with diplomas and cars of their own had told Summer what to expect from her senior prom. In all her years of high school, they vowed, nothing would be as magical. Not home-coming, not the Christmas dance, not senior skip day, not the day she cleaned out the banana peels from the bottom of her locker for the very last time. Not even the great moment when the principal handed Summer her diploma. Nothing could compare to senior prom, these girls claimed. Things happened that night.
But Summer suspected that senior prom was just another high school ritual, even if it did feature giant paper pom-poms and boys in pastel cummerbunds. It was just a dance, just a corsage, just a chance to play dress-up. Not magic.
She’d even considered skipping the whole expensive event, since Seth, her boyfriend, lived far away. Besides, her good friend Jennifer was in a temporary state of guylessness, and it seemed only right not to go. Solidarity and all.
But in the end, Seth had convinced Summer that, as an official senior, it was her obligation to attend the prom. And Jennifer had promised that she was not going to slit her wrists just because she had to miss some stupid dance.
She glanced down at her long black velvet dress, sleek and sophisticated, slit to the thigh in a style that was both sexy and very practical for dancing. Her blond hair was swept up in a simple French twist. Her mother, with some trepidation, had lent Summer her diamond earrings and pendant. Jennifer had helped her do her nails and even her toenails. Summer was wearing her favorite perfume, a fresh, lemony scent that reminded her of Florida, where she’d first met Seth.
Her mother opened the door, and there stood Seth, looking impossibly older and grave in a form-fitting black tux. He gazed at her and blinked.
“You look…so beautiful,” he whispered in a voice full of sheer amazement.
“You look…so beautiful, too,” Summer said, and then she laughed.
Her mother snapped a million or so pictures of Seth pinning on Summer’s corsage while he tried very hard not to touch anything off-limits. Out the living room window, Summer could see a black stretch limo filled with their friends waiting at the end of the driveway.
Seth took her arm.
He said it again: “You look so beautiful.”
It was an I-can’t-believe-my-eyes kind of voice.
And for the first time Summer wondered if maybe those older, wiser girls had been right after all.
2
Pen Pals at a Prom Are Not a Pretty Picture.
So what if the crepe paper in the Hyatt ballroom kept falling on the dancers? So what if the band played Kanye West—badly—whenever the chaperons sneaked outside for a cigarette break? So what if the punch tasted remarkably like Gatorade?
None of that mattered. It was still incredibly romantic.
Except for one tiny little nagging detail.
Summer laid her head on Seth’s shoulder as they swayed slowly to the band’s cover of “You’re Beautiful.” She tried to concentrate on the feel of his arms around her. She tried very hard not to think about the letter in her purse that was threatening to ruin her entire evening.
If only she hadn’t seen it as she and Seth were walking out the door, she’d be dancing in blissful ignorance. But no, Summer had noticed the envelope addressed to her in the pile of mail on the hall table. She’d seen the return address. She’d seen the name Austin Reed. And after considering whether to faint or not, she’d grabbed the note and stuffed it in her purse while Seth was busy promising Summer’s mom he would behave himself that night.
As she danced, Summer once again told herself not to overreact. It was probably just a “Hi, what’s up, drop me a line sometime” note. The kind of letter a friend wrote to another friend.
Only Austin wasn’t exactly a friend.
Summer put her arms around Seth a little tighter. He hated to dance, but he was pretty good at it. She rubbed her cheek on the stiff, cool fabric of his tux and closed her eyes.
She and Seth had been together almost a year. Like all couples, they’d had their ups and downs. There’d been jealousies and misunderstandings the past summer. During the school year, with Summer living in Minnesota and Seth in Wisconsin, there’d been too-quick weekend visits and too-long phone calls.
And over spring break, when Summer and Seth and their friends had spent the week on a yacht in Florida, there’d been…well, complications. Complications of the male variety, which Summer didn’t like to dwell on.
The point was, she was there with Seth at that moment, and all was well. Better than well.
It was just a letter, nothing more.
“What?” Seth whispered in her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.
“Did I say something?” Summer asked, loudly enough to be heard over the wailing lead singer.
“You sighed.”
“Oh.” Summer gazed up at him. “I was just thinking about how much we’ve been through.”
“It’s been worth it, though.” Seth stroked her hair gently. “And now it’ll start to get easier. We’ll have the end of the summer in Florida, and then college together in Wisconsin.” He grinned. “And after that, who knows?”
The song ended, but couples still swayed lazily. Seth leaned down and kissed Summer for a wonderfully long time.
“Let’s go outside,” he whispered. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
“What?” Summer asked.
“Wait till we’re outside,” Seth said with a mysterious smile.
She took his hand as they drifted off the dan
ce floor and past the long table filled with cookies and a big plastic punch bowl. Parents stationed behind the table watched them pass with discreetly approving smiles.
“I have to go pee,” Summer said.
“I’ll wait with the other abandoned males,” Seth said, nodding toward the group of guys waiting patiently near the ladies’ room.
“Don’t let her go,” a guy in a red cummerbund warned. “She’ll never come back. It’s like the Bermuda Triangle in there.”
The rest room was packed with girls adjusting straps, bemoaning runs, retouching blush, respraying hair.
“Please, Summer, save me.” Mindy Burke grabbed Summer by the shoulders. “Please tell me you have some deodorant in your purse.”
Summer held up her tiny beaded black purse as evidence. “Does this look like it could hold anything?” she asked.
“Perfume?” Mindy pleaded. “I’ll take anything. I can’t believe I’ve been planning for this prom for, like, decades, and I forget my deodorant. I am such an idiot. Anyone have any perfume? Hair spray?”
“Please, Mindy, tell me you’re not going to use hair spray on your pits,” someone groaned.
When she reached a stall at last, Summer locked the door. The air was thick with mingled perfumes. She opened her little beaded purse. It was hardly worth carrying—she’d barely managed to fit a comb, a quarter, and a box of Tic Tacs into it.
And, of course, Austin’s letter.
Austin T. Reed, read the small print in the left corner of the envelope. It spoke to her like a voice, like his voice—soft and caressing and full of trouble.
She pulled out the letter. Notebook paper, torn on one edge. A coffee stain on the bottom.
Her hands were trembling, and she didn’t know why.
May 14
Summer, my beautiful, unforgettable Summer. Of course you are surprised to hear from me. Probably as surprised as I am to be writing you.
I know I left you abruptly in the middle of your spring break with nothing but a scribbled letter, a pair of mouse ears from Disney World, and, undoubtedly, a lot of questions.
I’m writing to tell you that I have discovered some of the answers.
I told myself I left you because I was afraid. Afraid of hurting you. Afraid of getting involved when I knew I might have inherited my father’s nightmare, the awful disease that is stealing his life away.
But now I wonder if maybe I wasn’t also afraid of what I was feeling for you, it was so intense and complete. And although I might have been able to handle it, I wasn’t so sure you could. Not when you still had feelings, as you obviously did, for Seth.
On one score, at least, I can stop being afraid. It seems I have some good news and some bad news. The good news: I had the genetic testing done and I’m clean. I won’t get Huntington’s like my dad did. The great gene lottery smiled on me. I don’t know why me and not my brother. I’ve stopped asking, because I never seem to be able to come up with an answer.
Summer closed her eyes. She felt tears coming. Her mascara was supposed to be waterproof, but she couldn’t afford to take the chance. She took a couple of deep breaths.
Someone pounded on the door. “Did you fall in or what?”
“Just a second,” Summer said. Her voice was quavering. She found her place in the letter.
Anyway (and this is the bad news, although I hope you see it differently), I’m going to reappear in your life and further complicate it.
I can’t stop thinking about the feel of your mouth on mine. I can’t stop thinking about the way you felt in my arms. I want to be a writer, so why can’t I find a way to put my feelings about you into words?
I know you said you’re heading down to Crab Claw Key after graduation. I’ll be there, waiting, whether you want me to or not.
I remain hopelessly in love with you.
Austin
Summer took a shuddery breath. She folded up the letter neatly and put the little square into her purse.
“Summer, you okay in there?”
“I’m fine,” Summer called.
She’d thought she had put Austin out of her mind. Well, not out of her mind, exactly. He appeared in her dreams with startling regularity. But out of her heart, at least.
She’d chalked him up as a spring fling, a momentary slip. He’d been a stranger in need of help, a guy about to visit his very sick father and perhaps learn that he too was destined to be very sick. She’d been a good friend.
A good friend who couldn’t seem to stop kissing him.
Seth had found out about them in the worst possible way. He’d seen them together, and he’d made accusations she couldn’t deny.
Eventually, though, he’d forgiven her. She didn’t deserve his forgiveness, but he’d given it willingly. She’d been so grateful to Seth for a second chance to make things work.
Diana, Summer’s cousin, had warned Summer that if she didn’t get her priorities straight, she was going to lose Seth to someone who appreciated how wonderful he was. And Marquez, Summer’s best friend from Florida, had told her the same thing.
They were right, of course. Seth was wonderful.
And if Austin was wonderful, too, in different ways, well, that really wasn’t the point, was it?
With a sigh, Summer unlocked the door and made her way through the crowd.
“Turns out hair spray does not make a good deodorant,” Mindy reported. “My pits are, like, permanently attached to my dress.” She peered doubtfully at Summer. “What’s wrong with you? Someone die?”
“Someone’s not dying, actually,” Summer said.
She captured a place at the crowded mirror.
Her mascara was definitely not waterproof.
3
I Dos and I Don’t Knows
Behind the hotel was an enclosed courtyard with a pool and a Jacuzzi. Seth led Summer to a pair of chairs near the pool. Austin’s letter sat in her dainty little purse like a slowly ticking bomb.
Why did the existence of that note make her want to confess to sins she hadn’t even committed? After all, during spring break Summer had told Seth the truth—that she’d had real feelings for Austin, and that if he hadn’t left so suddenly, she wasn’t sure what she would have done. She’d been honest. Belatedly, but still, that counted for something.
So why did she feel so guilty now, because of a single piece of coffee-stained notebook paper?
Seth glanced around, then cleared his throat. The wide patio was empty. A soft, cool breeze rustled the trees. The moon shimmered on the surface of the turquoise pool.
“It’s not exactly the ocean,” he apologized, “but it’ll have to do.”
“Seth,” Summer asked, “is something wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. As a matter of fact, everything’s perfect. I just want it to stay that way.”
“So do I.”
“Have I told you in the last two minutes how beautiful you are tonight?” Seth whispered.
“You look pretty great yourself. This tux thing is good on you.”
“Maybe I could get a job at a fancy restaurant, wear one all the time.”
“It wouldn’t be the same covered with mustard stains.”
Seth grinned. “I can tell you’re an ex-waitress. You think you’ll work at the Crab ’n’ Conch again when you go back to the Keys?”
“The Cramp ’n’ Croak? I don’t know. It wasn’t exactly fulfilling, but the tips were good.”
Summer sighed. Soon, very soon, she’d be back in Florida for the summer. She couldn’t think about it without recalling Austin’s promise—or was it a threat?
I’ll be there, waiting, whether you want me to or not. I remain hopelessly in love with you.
“Well, if Marquez is working with you at the Cramp,” Seth said, “you’ll have a lot of fun, even if it isn’t the most fulfilling job on earth.”
“We can’t all have big la-di-da internships like certain people.”
Seth smiled. “They can call it an internship all they w
ant. I’m still going to be just another boat grunt.”
“A boat grunt building ultralight racing sailboats,” Summer corrected. “It beats the heck out of asking ‘Do you want fries or coleslaw with that?’ a hundred million times.” She squeezed his hand. “You should be really proud, Seth. They had dozens of applicants for that internship.”
“I know. It’s just that it means I’ll be separated from you for part of the summer. California is so far away.” He gazed off at the pool. Yellow lights glowed beneath the surface like the eyes of great fish. “Before long, you’re going to be back on Crab Claw Key hanging out with Diana and Marquez just like last summer. I can’t imagine not being there with you. And…”
“And?” Summer prompted.
“And I’m not sure I can stand being apart. I know we’ll be going to college together next fall, but still…it seems like such a long time.”
Summer nodded. Three months and then college with Seth. It didn’t seem like such a long time, really. They’d decided on the University of Wisconsin together. Seth wanted to go to college where his father and grandfather had gone. Summer hadn’t felt strongly about a particular school as long as she and Seth could be together. She’d applied to some other colleges, even a difficult liberal arts school down in Florida, but in the end Wisconsin had seemed like a good compromise.
“Three months isn’t so long,” Summer assured him.
Seth’s deep brown eyes were filled with longing and worry. “I just want to know we’ll always be there for each other.”
“Of course we will be, Seth,” Summer whispered. “You know I love you.” And if not so long ago I thought maybe I loved Austin, too…well, that’s over with, she added silently. Forgotten.
Seth nodded. “I also know I almost lost you over spring break.”
“Just because I had feelings for someone else doesn’t mean I’m not totally in love with you.”
“I know that,” Seth said. “People can have feelings for more than one person at a time.”