The Summer of Letting Go by Gae Polisner Page A

I forgot that my friends were waiting and that I’ll see them Monday morning. Then I start walking as fast as I can, away from all of it, back toward Lisette, where it’s safe.
    Except that nothing feels safe anymore.

sixteen
    â€œBeans, where’d you go? You scared me half to death.”
    Lisette’s combing her hair on the blanket, not looking all that scared. I drop down next to her. The walk back has calmed me a little, too, so at least my mind isn’t spiraling out of control.
    I couldn’t have been gone that long. Lisette’s hair is still wet from the ocean, and Alex and Jared are still skimboarding in the surf.
    She rakes the comb through the salt-encrusted knots. I take it from her and work at the hard-to-reach spots in back.
    â€œSorry,” I say, trying to decide what information to impart. “I just went for a walk and lost track. Went farther than I meant to.”
    I don’t know why I don’t tell her about Mrs. Schyler and Frankie Sky. It’s right there on my tongue, but then I keep it curled up instead. Maybe I just don’t want her to think I’m too weird—or worse, that I’m losing it, like my mother.
    Lisette takes the comb from me and puts some shine conditioner in her hair. We sit for a while in silence, watching Alex and Jared crash in on their boards at the shore.
    â€œSo what do you think of Alex’s bubblehead friend?” Lisette asks finally, nodding toward the surf.
    â€œHe’s okay.” I scrape at the sand with a shell. “I’m not really one to say.”
    â€œCut it out, Beans,” she says. “And, by the way, my boyfriend says you’re cute, so you don’t have to just take my word for it.”
    I lift my eyes, surprised, and open my mouth to ask, but she says, “What? I keep telling you that, Frankie, you just won’t believe me.” She squeezes my bare arm, and I gently move it away, hoping she doesn’t feel the goose bumps that appeared at the thought of what Bradley said.
    For a few minutes, I don’t say anything or ask anything else. Because at this moment, everything feels normal between us. I soak it all in and let it wash over me, along with what Bradley said, while the sun bakes down warm and happy and cooks all the harder questions away.
    â€¢ • •
    By late afternoon, we’re starving and decide to drive to a local seafood shack to get some burgers and fried clams, agreeing we’ll head back to the beach after to see if we can catch some early fireworks. The Fourth isn’t until tomorrow, but there’s usually stuff going off all weekend.
    I call Mom to tell her we’re having dinner at the mall and going to a movie with Alex and his friend after. She doesn’t question me, even though I don’t know the last time I went out like this for hours on end. Maybe she trusts Lisette and Alex, or maybe these are the freedoms that come with being almost sixteen.
    Or maybe she doesn’t care where I am.
    â€œWhere’s Dad?” I ask, mostly as an afterthought as she’s about to hang up the phone.
    â€œNot sure.” She pauses as if she’s just now considered it herself. “He went out to run errands a few hours ago. I guess he hasn’t come back yet.” It’s Saturday evening, and Dad’s out running errands? My mind goes to Mrs. Merrill’s driveway. I wonder if her car is parked there.
    â€œOkay, then,” I say. “Have a good night. I love you.”
    â€œOkay, Francesca.” The phone clicks, and she’s gone.
    â€¢ • •
    By the time we get back to the beach, the sky is a deep plum and the air has begun to erupt with the whiz and pop of early fireworks. Alex drops us at the steps to the dunes, says he and Jared will be back in a few, and returns twenty minutes later with two shopping bags full of soda, cookies, and a six-pack of beer.
    Alex is almost legal and usually pretty