The Lost Summer by Kathryn Williams Read Free Book Online Page A

with carrot oil. I felt dumpy. Somewhere in my mind I knew I wasn’t. But that part of my mind was being suffocated by the part that had eaten four pieces of bacon at breakfast.
    â€œHola,” Winn said lazily, her eyes closed behind her sunglasses.
    As I dropped my towel, I was acutely aware of Winn’s taut stomach. I was tall with legs I could admit were better than average and a butt that wasn’t too bad either. So I had that going for me. But I loathed the doughnut of pudge that bulged around my belly button, and the muffin top my friends and mother swore they couldn’t see, but which I could actually feel spilling over my jeans. I was my own bakery display.
    Quickly, I spread my towel next to Winn’s and lay down so that the doughnut melted into the rest of my stomach. If only I could lie like this all summer.
    Winn raised herself on her elbows and glanced over at me. “Ugh, I hate you. You’re so tan,” she said before collapsing back on her towel.
    â€œUh, thanks,” I said. Normally I shrugged off compliments, but this one was true. Another perk of babysitting for the Stanleys. “So, which group has swimming first?”
    â€œThe Sharks,” Sarah answered.
    I was glad. Katie Bell was a Shark.
    Content, I soaked in the sun until the peaceful calm of the lake was broken by the sound of the bugle announcing first activity.
    Soon the Sharks were lined up at the edge of the dock. We stood from our towels and waited as the girls counted off—a safety precaution—before stepping onto the grayed wood.
    â€œOkay.” Winn clapped once, the sound echoing on the water, and grinned broadly. “Y’all know the drill!” She climbed the rusted rungs of the lifeguard stand and blew a shrill blast on her whistle.
    Every camper, every summer, had to take a swimming test before she could participate in any water activities. From the end of the dock by the lifeguard stand to the floating dock and back was not exactly a marathon. The test was almost silly, especially for the older girls, but required.
    The Sharks dropped their towels and shorts and stood, toes curled over the edge of the dock, contemplating the freezing water below them. A few dove straight in, emerging with ear-piercing shrieks. Two girls, Amanda and Molly, held hands and unleashed a massive duel cannonball that sprayed those of us on the dock. As soon as they were in, they all started toward the floating dock.
    All except Katie Bell, who shuffled over and plopped down next to me.
    â€œSo how’s your first activity as a counselor?” she asked, pulling her knees under her chin.
    â€œGood. You missed a spot.” I wiped a smear of sunblock from her jawline. Katie Bell had to apply SPF 50 about six times a day at camp.
    â€œI see they entrusted you with a whistle. That must be terribly exciting.” She nodded at the cheap plastic thing in my hand.
    I swung the whistle around my finger. “It saves lives.”
    â€œSafety first.”
    I laughed, surprised as always at how easily Katie Bell and I could pick up where we left off. We’d even made that exact promise to each other one summer. We were sitting on her bottom bunk, it was raining outside, and we were contemplating becoming blood sisters, but neither of us wanted to prick ourselves, so we settled on a long string of promises instead.
    I wouldn’t have been lying if I said I liked my friends at home. They were nice, and we were mostly into the same things. But they weren’t the kind you trusted with the most sensitive bits of your self. I’d learned that as I’d watched them pull away after my father left, and come back only when they felt it was safe again. When we headed to college, I knew we’d lose touch.
    I didn’t see that happening with Katie Bell. We sat side by side on the dock in comfortable silence, watching the Sharks splash spastically across the lake. The sun felt like warm hands