Twenty Boy Summer by Sarah Ockler

near the house, right?"
    I know Frankie has no intention of staying anywhere near the house or its private, secluded beach and designated middle-aged lifeguard, but I nod. "I go where you go, Frank."
    "Dad and I are going grocery shopping after," Jayne says. "We have to get stuff for the rest of the trip. Don't you want to come?"
    "Let's see," Frankie says, holding her hands out to her sides like Lady Justice. "Walk around in a grocery store for two hours while Dad evaluates the quality of the produce, or hang out on the beach where we can swim, get a tan, and meet -- I mean, swim and get a tan. Tough choice, Mom, but we're gonna have to pass."
    "Thought so," Aunt Jayne says. "Just make a list of anything you want. And make sure you wear sunscreen, and reapply after going in the water. And if you've been out there more than two hours, reapply again. Actually, you shouldn't be out there between twelve and two, so --"
    "Got it covered." Frankie rolls her eyes. "You guys act like I've never been in the sun before."
    "No," Red says, patting her shoulder, "we act like you get burned every time we come out here."
    "Dad, that's not burning. That's getting a base tan."
    Uncle Red shakes his head and smiles. "All right, you girls can wander down to the concessions area if you'd like, but I don't want you going near the alcove. There aren't any lifeguards. Okay?"
    "Okay, Dad," Frankie says.
    "Good." Uncle Red. So loving. So trusting. So naive. "Have fun, my lovelies." After seconds and a few thirds, he pushes his cleared plate away. "Mom and I are heading out soon. Call the cell if you need anything. Otherwise, be back before dinner. Mom wants to cook Chinese."
    Such a normal family breakfast on such a normal family morning. If they had a dog, his name would be Spot, and he'd start barking outside until one of us tossed him a Frisbee.
    After breakfast, we (and by we, I mean Frankie) spend over an hour getting ready to swim in the ocean. She switches between sandals a few times and agonizes over which earrings to wear. Hair and makeup are another discussion -- hair casual and messy like always, or swept back with a classy headband? Waterproof mascara, or just a touch of lip gloss? Serious or playful?
    "Listen," I say, standing ready in my bikini -- which I'm still not used to -- and sarong. "No one is going to notice what you're wearing. They're going to notice you. Everything else is just background noise." I twist my uncombed hair into a loose bun on top of my head.
    "Anna, for your information, nothing you put on your face, hair, or body is just background noise. Speaking of which, why aren't you filming? We need to document these things." She pulls her camera from her backpack and hands it to me.
    I almost laugh, but she isn't joking. Like the boy contest, this is a project for her, carefully planned and executed, recorded start to finish for posterity. Not even her toe rings will be left to chance.
    I keep the camera on her as long as I can, discreetly turning it on and off to spare future audiences from the tedium of Frankie applying lip liner, Frankie blowing her nail polish, Frankie tweezing her eyebrows. I'm about to leave without her when she finally announces she's ready.
    "Thank God," I say, closing the camera and sweeping my journal and two paperbacks into my bag. "Can we please get down to the water now?"
    "Wait!" Frankie shrieks with such immediacy that I almost think there's a scorpion or tarantula on my head. "We still have to do you. "
    "Frank, I've been ready for an hour."
    She laughs. She actually laughs. "Anna, you can't go out like that. Look at your hair !"
    " Please, Frankie. We're going swimming. In the water. Remember?"
    "Don't be lazy about your looks," she says, coming toward me with a comb and a few bobby pins in her mouth. She's one creepy step away from spitting on a tissue and wiping my face with it. "It won't take that long."
    Be strong, Anna. Be strong.
    twelve
    By the time we get to the water, it's