Summer After Summer

“I’m going to drive these nitwits home,” Charlie said.

“Nitwits, I’ll give you nitwits.” I was itching for a fight.

But instead of taking me on, he laughed. “Get back in the car, Sunshine. You’re going home.”

Did I mention that unreciprocated love sucks?

It took me all of three minutes to get over being mad, and then we continued our group giggle all the way to the river. There’s probably nothing worse than being stuck in a car with a bunch of tipsy teenage girls, but Charlie soldiered on.

“Oh, my God! I’m gonna pee my pants,” Misty exclaimed. She was laughing so hard that tears were pouring down her face. Her comment wasn’t terribly funny, but at the time I thought it was hysterical.

As we drew near my house, Charlie cut the lights and the engine. He didn’t want my daddy to catch us. He’d always had the tendency to be the knight on the white horse, the protector of the young, the weak, the stupid.

We rolled through the gates and stopped under a low-hanging bougainvillea. Fortunately, we were spending the night in the guesthouse so there was at least a fifty-fifty chance we wouldn’t wake up my parents.

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” Misty put her hand over her mouth and lunged for the door.

We all leaned out to watch Misty retch. The fragrant night air suddenly reeked of recycled Lone Star and Pink Pig burgers.

“Oh, crap. I’m puking petals,” Misty squealed as she stared at the disgusting puddle by her feet.

We were so busy watching Misty that we missed the newest arrival. When I heard that voice I knew we were busted.

“What’s going on out here?” It was Bucky—my sanctimonious, pain-in-the-butt brother.

“I’m puking petals,” Misty announced. It was not one of her finer moments.

“Don’t be stupid. That stuff came from the bougainvillea,” he said, pointing to the flowers hovering over us. For some unknown reason, Bunny and I decided that was especially hilarious. The next round of giggles left us rolling in the grass.

Charlie and Bucky were not amused. When I finally got myself under control and glanced up, they were standing over us like a couple of condescending guardian angels.

I still can’t believe I reverted to a grade-school mentality, but I did with a vengeance. I stuck out my tongue and came up with the pithiest comment I could, considering I had a beer-soaked brain.

“And a nanny, nanny, pooh, pooh to you, too.”

It was immature and stupid; however, I did get in the last word.

So there!

Chapter 3

“Oh, my God! I’m dying.” My head was in the toilet so I wasn’t sure anyone heard me. “I’m puking my guts out,” I wailed.

“Here,” Bunny said, handing me a bottle of Coke. “This’ll make you feel better.”

“Nothing will make me feel better.” At least nothing short of a permanent adios, and I wasn’t ready for that. I flopped on the cold linoleum floor. “Why are you so perky?”

Her answering smile was enough to make me want to deck her.

“I didn’t drink that much.”

“Yeah, well.” I was on the verge of coming up with a great answer, really I was, but my brain short-circuited when my tummy did another barrel roll.

“You’d better get well, PDQ. If you back out on going to the party, you’re dead meat,” Bunny threatened.

“Yew!” Why did she have to mention dead meat? Or any kind of meat, for that matter?

It took a six-pack of Cokes and a sleeve of Saltines before I truly thought I could make it through the day. Now I was at Bunny’s house doing what I did best—providing cover for my friend.

“You know your sneaking around is gonna to get us both in trouble,” I griped as Bunny searched the bottom of her closet. “If your parents catch you going out with Charlie when they specifically told you not to, you’ll be grounded for life. And if by some miracle you get out of the house before you’re twenty-one, they’ll never let you see me again.”

Bunny seemed oblivious to my complaints as she continued to look for something. When that girl got focused on a goal, she got focused. And her single-mindedness always seemed to get me in trouble.

“Here it is,” she crowed triumphantly, holding up a Scarlett O’Hara corset, minus the laces.

“What do you mean, here it is?” I was lounging on the bed getting a really bad feeling about this. But I consoled myself with the fact that I was bigger than she was, and I could overpower her if push came to shove.

“I found this in my mother’s closet.” She waved the offending piece of lingerie in my direction. “I know, I know. You don’t wear a bra. But for tonight, you’re gonna be the sex goddess of south Texas. We’re doing a makeover.”

“Like hell,” I snorted. “You’re not about to get me into that thing. It couldn’t be more than a size two and I’m a ten.”

“Size is not a problem. And yes, you are going to wear it. Since we’re leaving from here, you won’t have to sneak past the Baptist brigade.”

She was referring to my parents—pillars of the Baptist church and ardent opponents of anything that smacked of sexy.

“So get this on while I find the dress I have in mind. Just you wait till I get you all dolled up!” She tossed the instrument of torture at me.

Did Bunny really believe I’d strip down and put that thing on? “No way. I’m perfectly happy in my current state.” Unfortunately, my resolve wasn’t nearly as tough as Bunny’s, and eventually I capitulated. Darn it! I needed to work on my backbone.

“Hold your breath. I’ve almost got the hooks done up.” She was pulling and tugging to fasten me into the Merry Widow.

Poor, poor Scarlett. I suspect the infamous Southern belle was a bitch because her corset had restricted the flow of blood to her brain.

“Stay right there while I get this sundress on you,” Bunny instructed, holding up an emerald-green, low-cut dress with spaghetti straps. After she waved the little scrap of material, she turned me away from the mirror.

“I can’t wear your clothes. I’m at least eight inches taller than you are, and I’m at least twenty pounds heavier.”

Now that was something I hated to admit.

“Exactly,” Bunny said smugly as she yanked the dress over my head and somehow managed to get it zipped. She put her hands on her hips and circled me.

“Don’t you dare look in the mirror,” she admonished as she grabbed the stool from her tulle-covered vanity. “Sit there.” She pointed at the bench. “I’m going to do your hair and makeup.”

After she finished working her magic, she stepped back to admire her creation. At best, I usually gave the makeup process a lick and a promise. A little powder, a swipe of mascara and a dab of lipstick, and I called it good. Not tonight.

I could subdue her, I thought as I sat in a fragrant cloud of Aqua Net and Estée Lauder awaiting the verdict. Bunny walked around me humming some inane tune.

“You are gorgeous! Absolutely fan-tab-u-lous. I’ve outdone myself this time.” She broke into an immense smile and turned me around to check my appearance in her cheval mirror.