Beach Blondes: June Dreams, July's Promise, August Magic (Summer) by Katherine Applegate Read Free Book Online

were almost bonding with her cousin over raisin toast and coffee, but then Diana had pulled away again.
    Summer shrugged. It was impossible to feel bad when the sun was in the sky and the air was warm. She stuck her arms straight out and tilted back her head, soaking up the light, closing her eyes to see the red suffusing her eyelids.
    Something slapped into her left arm.
    “Hey, watch where you’re swinging those!” someone yelled.
    Summer opened her eyes and saw a girl running in place, pumping her arms, sweat staining her spandex top. She had dark curly hair; huge, dark eyes; and a naturally dark complexion. An iPod was strapped to her arm, and headphones rested in her ears.
    “Sorry,” Summer said. “I thought I was alone.”
    “Can’t hear you. You like the sun, huh?” the girl shouted, still running in place.
    “Yes!” Summer yelled.
    “Cool!” The girl ran in circles around Summer. “You’re new, right?”
    Summer turned slowly to keep facing her. “Yes. I just got here yesterday.”
    “Huh?”
    “Yesterday!” Summer said in a louder voice. “I just got here yesterday.”
    “When?”
    “YESTERDAY.”
    “Huh?”
    “I SAID YESTERDAY!” Summer screamed.
    The girl stopped running and broke up laughing. She pulled the earphones from her head. She bent over, hands on her knees, laughing and looking up at Summer with tears in her eyes. “Batteries are dead,” the girl managed to gasp, pointing at the iPod.
    Summer was annoyed for a moment. But then, it was kind of funny. She laughed at the image of herself, screaming at the top of her voice.
    The girl stopped laughing and looked at her quizzically. “You laugh, huh? That’s a good thing.” She pointed a finger at Summer. “I can’t stand people who can’t laugh at themselves. People that take themselves all serious. I’m Marquez.”
    “You’re what?”
    “Marquez. That’s my name. Technically it’s Maria Esmeralda Marquez, but hey, every Cuban-American female on earth is named Maria, right, and there’s no way I’m going to be called Esmeralda, so I go by Marquez.” She extended a damp hand.
    “I’m Summer Smith,” Summer said, shaking her hand.
    “I don’t think so. Summer? ”
    “I’m afraid it’s true.”
    “Yeah? Well, let me ask you, Summer—you think my thighs are too fat?” Marquez turned around so Summer could check all angles.
    “No, not at all,” Summer answered honestly.
    “All right. In that case, why should I be out here running? I hate exercise. What are you doing?”
    Summer shrugged. “I was going to check out the town.”
    Marquez laughed. “That should kill about five minutes.”
    “Plus I have to find a job,” Summer said.
    They set off toward town, walking side by side, with Marquez drying her face on her terry-cloth wristbands. “Job? What kind of job you want? What do you know how to do?”
    “Nothing, really,” Summer admitted.
    “Oh, in that case I know where you can get a job, you poor girl.”
    “Really?” Summer asked eagerly.
    “Yeah, the C ’n’ C is looking for more victims, I mean, waitresses. The Crab ’n’ Conch. Picture this—a restaurant run by the Marines. Except they’re not actually Marines, because then, you know, they’d have to have some decency.”
    “I don’t know how to be a waitress.”
    “That’s okay. They don’t want people who know what they’re doing. They like to get them young and impressionable; you know, so they can mold you into a perfect robot. I know all this because I work there.”
    “You make it sound really fun,” Summer said dryly.
    Marquez grinned. “It’s hateful, but with the tips and all it’s good money. I’ll take you there and introduce you to one of the managers. So, where are you staying?”
    “My aunt and my cousin live here.”
    “Yeah? Who are they? I probably know them. I know everyone. It’s a small island.”
    “My aunt is Mallory Olan, and my cousin’s Diana.”
    Marquez stopped and stared, incredulous.