Summer Nights by Caroline B. Cooney Read Free Book Online Page A

as school. Gary was already at work in his father’s restaurant, his adult life in place, and Gary was evidently pleased.
    Doesn’t he want anything different? Beth thought.
    But Gary didn’t want anything at all, as far as Beth could tell. Days and nights circled round him, and he enjoyed himself and that was his world. Whereas Beth was filled with desperate yearnings and overpowering hopes. “Like what?” Gary used to ask her.
    “Don’t you want adventure?” she would cry. “New places? Different thoughts? New everything, from clothing to telephone numbers? More worlds?”
    Gary wanted a new car. He couldn’t think of anything else he’d replace.
    Beth fixed her hair, setting the impossibly thick red locks in hot rollers, hoping it would keep the planned wave through the evening, but knowing it wouldn’t because of the humidity out on the river. She had let it get very long, and because it was so thick, it just stuck out, like a horse’s mane in the wind. Sometimes Beth loved her hair, and other times she could not believe she actually appeared in public with that tangled mass of hair flying in people’s faces.
    She laced on her sandals—white, with soles so thin she’d be lucky if they lasted the whole night. She didn’t like them after all and ran around trying to find a different pair. “Beth!” shrieked her mother. “Just go. I can’t stand it, you look perfect, now leave!” So she went.
    “Put air in those tires!” shouted her father as she drove off. “They’re too low.”
    She detoured to the garage. Maybe to replace that repulsive guy with the missing teeth, some adorable college boy would have been hired to pump gas, and…
    There wasn’t anybody to pump gas. She had to put air in the tires herself, holding her skirt carefully off the greasy pavement with one hand and trying to get the cap off the tire valve with two fingers so she wouldn’t get oil all over her hands.
    When that was done, she ran into traffic leaving the shopping center. She inched miserably along in the heat. You’d think with a million cars, one of them would be full of teenage boys. But you’d be wrong, Beth thought. Teenage boys do not go to the mall on Saturday afternoon.
    Finally she got to Benjie’s. No handsome boy served her. Two middle-aged women, whose weight indicated they ate entire boxes of the rich, homemade ice cream all day, handed her Con’s order. Beth Rose resolved to have only a tiny taste of ice cream, lest she grow up to resemble these creatures. “You got a cooler?” asked one fat woman.
    “A cooler?” Beth said.
    They looked at her as if they didn’t sell ice cream to people as dumb as her. Ninety degrees and a long, slow drive to Westerly River. “No,” said Beth in a small voice.
    “Better drive fast,” they told her.
    But there was no way to drive medium, let alone fast. Traffic filled the roads. Ahead of Beth a car stalled in the heat and had to be pushed onto the shoulder. The ice cream began to melt.
    Great, thought Beth. People who want ice cream will have to get in my car and lick it off the upholstery.
    She had forgotten to put on her watch. A thin band of pale skin on her wrist showed where it ought to be. Instead it was lying in the bathroom on the shelf. She put the radio on. All her favorite songs got played but nobody mentioned the time. Her right ankle began hurting from being in first gear for so long. The speedometer never went above fifteen.
    At last she neared the river and prepared to make the tricky turn across traffic to the dock parking lots. She could see kids on board the Duet, distant bright shirts and skirts, mingling like flowers in a vase.
    The parking lot was full. She circled the lot a second time. I don’t believe this, Beth thought. What I want in life is romance and what I get is low tires, stalled cars, and full lots.
    The Duet began pulling away from the dock.
    Beth jumped out of the car. “No, no, wait! I have the ice cream! You can’t leave