Learning to Swim by Annie Cosby Read Free Book Online Page A

couldn’t ascertain who it was my mom was so thrilled to see.
    When she shrieked for me to “gussy up and come downstairs,” I had a fairly good guess.
    She nearly pushed me out the door when he invited me to join him and his friends for a bonfire on the beach.
    Outside on the boardwalk, my mom probably watching from the window (but me too embarrassed to check), the twilight air was filled with awkwardness. I stumbled along next to him as he loped down the walkway. It was annoyingly close to a swagger.
    I noticed with disdain that the collar to his polo shirt was popped again. It couldn’t be an accident. But it was hard not to notice the way his muscled arms nearly popped out of the sleeves, as well.
    I felt like I was obliged to say something, but he seemed perfectly at ease, his hands in his pockets, occasionally throwing me a smile.
    “Am I dressed okay?” I finally asked, just to break the silence. In my jeans and t-shirt, I could only imagine his tiny girl friends in bikinis and whatever apparel was the standard for beach bonfires.
    He grinned at me. “Yeah, you look great.”
    Despite my determination to despise this boy, I blushed profusely. Damn cheeks!
    As expected, the first girl I saw—who just so happened to be Blondie—was in a tiny jean skirt and a highlighter yellow bikini top. There were sunglasses on her head despite the fact that it was nearly dark. And she was bounding up to me like an eager Labrador puppy.
    Well, that part was certainly unexpected.
    “Oh my god, Cora, how are you? What’s up?”
    “Hi,” I said stupidly.
    “You remember Josie?” Owen said. “And Louisa?” The bimbo was right behind her.
    I nodded and hoped to God he wouldn’t leave me alone with them.
    He didn’t. Instead, he took my hand. My hand! He grabbed it like this was normal and led me deeper into the group, introducing me to more people, all the while clutching my hand in his. I didn’t hear a single name he said, because the throbbing sound of his hand clutching mine was drowning the entire world out. Or maybe that was my heart.
    It was just the way I’d imagined Josh Watson would hold my hand. Only he never had. But I didn’t want this Owen to hold my hand. Did I?
    “I’m so glad you came out tonight,” Blondie was saying as she trailed behind us. “We’re really excited to have somebody new here.”
    “Yeah, Cora, we’re going to go shopping tomorrow, do you wanna come?” the bimbo asked.
    “Oh my god, yes!” Blondie exclaimed as if this was the most genius idea of the century.
    “Cora, this is my buddy Sean,” Owen pulled gently on my hand to steer my attention away from the girls.
    A boy behind the alleged Sean came forward, veering so sharply, I assumed he was drunk. “Well if it isn’t Cora Manchester!” In the light of the fire I recognized him as the formerly reticent Huston boy.
    “You remember Benjamin?” Owen said.
    “Miss Manchester, we met the other day.” He was slurring heavily, but leering in a way that produced in me a faint urge to punch him in the stomach.
    “Yeah, I remember,” I said.
    The Huston kid laughed. For some reason I despised his lime green popped collar more than Owen’s. “And why exactly, Miss Manchester, did you fail to mention previously that Fullington Factory is owned and operated by none other than a Mr. Frank Manchester?”
    I rolled my eyes. Well that explained the bimbo and Blondie simpering at my feet.
    “Fullington Factory? The rainbow shoelace place?” the boy named Sean said incredulously. “Your dad owns it?”
    “Isn’t that, like, awesome?” the bimbo said.
    Sean and the Huston boy guffawed.
    “Why is it Fullington Factory? Who are the Fullingtons? Is it from your mother’s side of the family?” I may have imagined it, but in all the hubbub, Owen looked genuinely interested in a conversation. An actual conversation. But then something occurred to the bimbo.
    “Oh-migod! Do you get, like, a new pair of shoes every