

**Our Denim Days #1**

_The Summer We Believed_

By Shel Delisle

This book is a work of fiction.  Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part or in any form.

First edition by Something Else Publishing paperback edition July 2016

Copyright © 2016 Shel Delisle

**DEDICATION**

_For anyone who has fallen for their best friend._

**Prologue**

If I told you true love was like your favorite pair of jeans, would you believe me? Three summers spent with Duncan convinced me of that. This is the story of our denim days.

**DAY ONE**

**Melody**

"Melody, did Duncan arrive yet?" Mom unpacked a two-week supply of Greek yogurt and stacked them next to three cans of Deep Woods Off on the ugly Formica countertop. Dad gave me a sideways glance to see how I'd answer.

I shrugged, pretending to have no idea, but in fact Duncan arrived seven minutes ago, helped his family unpack the car, and since then has sent me two text messages. After graduation, in a moment of utter weakness, I'd leaked to Mom how I felt about Duncan. I was pretty sure she'd shared that news with Dad based on his inquiring look. It'd become incredibly awkward having a guy as your best friend when everyone kept watching to see if it would blossom into something more.

"I saw them pull in about five minutes ago." Dad inventoried his baking items. He usually made from scratch brownies, a pie or two, and cinnamon rolls when we were up here. I may have inherited my auburn hair and coloring from Mom, but I inherited my sweet tooth and pudge from Dad.

_Seven._ I peeked at my phone. _Now, eight._

"Why don't you go see if they could use your help? Dad and I can manage."

 I put the last bag of Sun Chips into the pantry. "After I finish dusting everything. You know how it grosses me out." For some reason I wanted to delay seeing him. I wasn't sure how I acted around him anymore.

Dusting provided a legit excuse.

Duncan knew only too well dust gave me the heebie-jeebies, ever since Mom dragged me to a pedicure party where the hostess was pimping lotions and sugar scrubs. The company rep said that ninety percent of dust was from dried skin cells, and that by using their lotions we'd have cleaner homes. It might have scarred me permanently.

I grabbed the Pledge and a few old rags and quickly worked my way around the den, dining room, and Mom and Dad's room. In the doorway to my room, armed with the weapons of dust destruction, waves of nostalgia washed over me. The old chenille bedspread that had been Nana's. Her old pine bureau, still topped with a Hummel dish she used for bobby pins. How many mornings up here had I climbed under those covers to snuggle up to her lilac powdery scent? How was it possible that this room, this place, felt more like home than home did?

I was more than half-way done when Duncan knocked on the backdoor. "Can Melody come out to play?" he joked with Mom. It was the same thing he'd asked since we were four.

"Of course she can, but you'll probably have to wait until she's done fixating on dust. Why don't you see if you can convince her?"

I heard the creak of the rusty screen-door hinges, the clomp of Duncan's footsteps across the worn oak floors, and him saying, "I got those Mr. B." Then his reflection appeared in my bureau mirror holding my suitcase and duffle. Since graduation, he'd played with different facial hair—today he was sporting longer sideburns and a soul patch. Other than that, Duncan's looks hadn't changed much since we were kids. His features had grown more angular, but he still had denim blue eyes and a long nose over full lips. I stared at those lips, which grinned at me in the mirror. One butterfly appeared in my stomach.

"Are you ignoring me?" he asked.

"Only until the dust is gone," I said without turning around. I was afraid if I faced him the butterfly might have babies. I was afraid he would know it. He knew me better than anyone.

The family lore is that my mom met Duncan's mom in a Lamaze class. They delivered within a day of each other, shared a bottle of wine when Duncan was finally weaned from breastfeeding, and signed up for Mommy and Me classes at the Y. Basically, Duncan and I have been together since before birth, but we've been _playing_ together for almost seventeen years.

He came to stand over my shoulder, a full head taller than me, to watch me dust the old pine dresser. The butterfly returned with a few companions. Duncan inched forward, close, and rested the bottom of his chin on the top of my head. _Such a flirt!_ It meant nothing for Duncan. "Do you think it's possible for dead skin to morph into a zombie? Like if all the skin cells fused together?" he teased while making his monster face in the mirror.

I turned around and whacked him with my dust rag, aware of how close we were. "Don't get weird. I just don't want to breathe this in while I'm sleeping. Bet you wouldn't either."

"Okay, okay." He held his hands up in surrender. "When you're done sterilizing want to go for a quick ride on the Jet Ski before dinner? Dad's grilling tonight. I think your mom already said _yes_ , so you're stuck with me."

Being _stuck_ with Duncan was the story of my life. So far it'd been a good story, even if hadn't been a fairy tale.

"I'll meet you at the dock in ten minutes."

I'd much rather kayak or even take the Sunfish out for a sail, but Duncan liked the speed of the Jet Ski and I'd take him any way I could get him. Besides, it was almost dinnertime, so the ride would be short. Thank God. Most of the ten minutes was spent debating between my old one-piece and the new two-piece. I'd been dieting since the graduation parties, so I went with the new suit and headed out the kitchen door.

Our two lake houses shared one long gravel driveway. The dock, while officially on our property, was used primarily by the Wilde's. They owned the Jet Ski, two kayaks, and the Sunfish. Our houses were set back into a little cove, not really part of the main lake. Look to the right, and the water opened onto the biggest part of the lake. Directly across from the dock was a stand of pine trees that gave me the feeling of wilderness. The cottage to the left of ours had been vacant for years. The sun was shining, the air was crisp, the scent of pine lingered in the air. This cove felt like our private paradise. A bare-chested Duncan was hunched over the Jet Ski, making paradise all that much better.

"Cute suit." He eyed my sporty two-piece with boy shorts. "Ready?"

I blushed, secretly thrilled that he noticed. "Not too fast," I said, meaning the ride, and looked into his dark blue eyes.

Duncan's dad hauled the gas grill out of the shed and into the yard. "You better get going, Duncan, if you want to get a ride in before dinner."

Duncan's jaw pulsed as he gritted his teeth. _What now?_  His relationship with his father was fragile at best, but his fuming expression told me there was a new kink. He might not tell me now, but he would, eventually.

He untied the last knot, straddled the Jet Ski, and said, "Hop on." I slipped my arms loosely around his waist and _whoa!_ The feel of his bare skin. My chest to his back. My breath was caught in my chest. The butterflies from earlier decided to have a family reunion. I couldn't think straight. Maybe the Jet Ski wasn't such a bad idea.

At first, Duncan drove at a normal speed—one that I could stand—but when we rounded the point and got out of his Dad's sight, he told me _hold on_ and took off.

"Slow down!" I yelled, unsure if he heard me or if the wind carried my words away from us.  I clasped him tighter and peeked over his shoulder once or twice to keep an eye on where we were headed.

He raced alongside a bright yellow boat and waved his right arm in a circle. The old guy captaining it gave us a thumbs up. Duncan circled the ski around and headed straight for his huge wake.

"Don't! _No!_ "

We flew into the air. I laid my cheek against his back and braced for impact.

_Thud._

He did it three more times. _Thud, thud, thud_. Each time my heart leapt into my throat.

Finally—thank God—Duncan had his fill of scaring me to death and we putt-putted back to camp. Once I was on solid ground, I smacked him on the chest. "You jerk! You know I don't like to go fast." Tears welled in my eyes, and I looked at my shaky feet, feeling stupid for being afraid.

"Mel . . . I'm sorry." His blue eyes pulled me in and then his albatross arms pulled me into a warm, damp embrace until I stopped shaking. _You're forgiven_. "It's just . . . my dad . . . he's such an asshole," he whispered into my hair.

I was right. Something was up with the most combative father-son duo ever.

"We fought on the way here, and . . .  there's something we need to talk about."

I leaned back without completely letting go and stared into those perfect, perfect eyes. "You and your dad?"

Duncan shook his head. "No. Me and you."

"Okay. So let's talk."

"See, Dad—"

"Duncan! Melody!" His mom shouted. "Dinner. Two minutes."

Duncan rolled his eyes at me. "After dinner, okay?"

"Okay."

"I mean it. _Right_ after dinner."

_His look. Those eyes.  _

Duncan truly has the most incredible eyes. Not only is the color take-your-breath-away beautiful, but he has these thick upper and lower lashes like that freaky Alex from _A Clockwork Orange_.  I'd always loved his eyes, and told him endlessly how I wished they were mine, but in the here and now, it had become difficult to hold his gaze. I think I stopped looking into them at prom.

I'd always avoided dances, but Duncan had gone to his first one in Kindergarten. Okay, so that's an exaggeration, but girls always asked him and he always went. This past year, he just wouldn't let me _not_ go to prom. "It's your Senior year. It's a rite of passage." Blah, blah, blah.

"I don't have a date."

"Jackson is in love with you. He'd take you in a minute."

Duncan wasn't an option. The beautiful Carina McQueen had claimed him as her date in October. So, I buckled under his relentless pressure.

All night it felt like my heart was being squeezed in a vise. When she held his hand, or laughed at something he said, I literally felt the pain in my chest. The slow dances were a killer. Carina might have been feeling the same way. Duncan danced with practically every girl there. Heck, he'd practically dated every girl there.

"Is something wrong?" Duncan asked me when it was my turn near the end of the night.

_I can't stand seeing you with her. Or anyone else._ "Isn't this whole thing lame? We should've just binge-watched _Breaking Bad_."

 "Yeah," he agreed with me, because that's what your best friend is supposed to do.

But I knew he loved prom. The prince of our Senior class. The time spent with Carina. Because best friends know how you feel, even when it hurts them.

Things fizzled with Carina pretty quickly after graduation. Duncan wasn't exactly heart broken. "She was boring," he told me.

"No kidding. I could've told you that in October when you agreed to go with her."

I'd been torn about wanting more than friendship with Duncan for a long, long time. But I knew he was a hit-and-run kind of guy. He would get infatuated, and then it'd be over. Carina, an exception, had lasted longer than most. The truth was, I wasn't even sure I was Duncan's type, which was thinner and more attractive than I was. If that wasn't enough to confuse me, he was my best friend. I relied on him for . . . well, everything.

Since the split from Carina, I'd spent a lot of days wondering if I should say anything. _What if telling him how I felt ended our friendship? But, what if we could be something more?_   I still hadn't figured out the right answer.

All the way back to the house I wondered what was up. He'd said, _we need to talk_. What if he was feeling it too? In my room, I threw a cover-up over my swimsuit and almost ran over my mom while heading out the door.

"Wouldn't you be more comfortable in that cute sun dress?"

"Not really."

"Well don't go to dinner in your wet suit." The look on her face told me she meant business. "Once the sun goes down you're going to catch a chill."

She was right about that. I glanced out the front window and the sun was just above the tree line.  "Okay, I'll be right back."

In my room, I gave the sundress the once over. It was cute, but would make me look like I was trying too hard. I pulled out my week-old Levi's, still stiff and not quite as faded as I'd like, but there was only one way to get truly, melded-to-your-form-comfortable in them—wear them. I stepped into my new jet blue denim. _Should I tell Duncan how I'm feeling? If we're having a heart to heart?_ I pulled on my favorite white tee and grabbed my wubbie, a favorite well-worn sweater, so faded the red had grown pink.

"Better?" I asked as I headed out the door.

"Much better."

The picnic table was partially set with a stack of paper plates and a wire silverware holder that held plastic instead of metal spoons, forks and knives, so Duncan and I helped his mom bring out all the food that would support the main attraction—Mr. Morrison's burgers. We moved buns and ketchup and pickles and mustard and potato salad while Duncan's mom handed my Dad a bottle of red wine and a stack of red, plastic cups. _Maybe I should wait and see what Duncan wants to talk about first._ I struggled to stay focused on what I was doing

"No beer tonight?" Dad asked as he worked the corkscrew into the bottle wedged against his bulging belly.

"Oh you can have beer later, but Alex wanted to have a toast first," Duncan's mom said as Dad poured four glasses. "Pour two more," she added.

"But they're not twenty-one yet."

Duncan's mom put her hands on her hips. "Are you telling me you didn't drink alcohol at eighteen?"

Mom laughed. "Not in front of my parents."

"Well, I'd rather have them drink in front of me than behind my back."

"What about Cody?" Dad asked.

Cody was Duncan's younger brother who would be starting high school next year. He looked like a miniature version of Duncan, a good six inches shorter, but other than that, exactly like I remember Duncan looking four years ago.

Mrs. Morrison shrugged and held her fingers a half an inch apart.

"All right!" Cody said.

My mom made a disapproving face and Mrs. Morrison shrugged again. "What?" she said to my mom. "It's a special occasion."

I glanced at Duncan to see what was going on, but he wouldn't meet my eyes as he took a half-filled cup from my dad, stared at its contents, and then took a sip.

Mr. Morrison set a platter of burgers on the table, Dad handed me my wine, and we all took our places at the table, the parents at one end, Duncan, Cody and I at the other. Mr. Morrison raised his glass and we all followed his lead. Cody raised his cup so high he was practically standing. "You all have been our closest friends for eighteen years and that's why we wanted you to be the first to know."

_The first to know what? Oh my, God, were they having another baby? Is that what the big talk was going to be about?_

"Alex's been promoted," Duncan's mom blurts. "To Executive Veep of Operations."

_Thank you, Lord. That's much better news._

"That's wonderful. Congratulations, Alex," Mom said, then sipped her wine. _ _

"Thanks, it's a big step up and one I've wanted for years, but that's not all the news. They're moving me to the corporate office. It couldn't come at a better time with Cody starting high school and Duncan starting college."

Mom's face screwed up like she was about to cry. She took a big gulp of her wine. "I can't believe you didn't say anything," she whispered to Duncan's mom.

As Duncan's mom mouthed, "I'm sorry," Dad asked, "Isn't the corporate office in Florida?"

_Florida—that's so far away._ _This must be what Duncan wants to talk about_. Cody chugged his half-inch of wine and Duncan's jaw clenched, his eyes locked on his empty plate. This was horrible news for my mom. She was losing her best friend. Plus, it sucked big time for Cody. Starting at a new high school where he wouldn't know one soul. He and Duncan were so close, and with Duncan at the U they would hardly ever see each other.

"Palm Beach. They've given us use of a corporate condo until we can find our dream house."

The sun had sunk below the line of their roof and the breeze off the lake kicked up. I was happy I'd brought my wubbie and slipped it on.

"When are you moving?" Mom whispered, then seemed to remember her manners. "I'll help you pack. It's such a big job."

"We're using the second half of our vacation."

_Oh, no._ They were leaving early. _This_ is what he wanted to talk about. "Can't Duncan stay with us?" I asked. "I mean, we'll be heading to the U in September." The lake house had a spare room that we never used. I'd dust it for him. And we had a guest room at home that rarely got used.

Duncan looked over at me, his eyes completely empty. His thick lashes almost made him look like he had sad, dark circles from a lack of sleep.

"Duncan's going to have to come with us," his mom said. "FAU starts a week after we get there."

_Wha—_ "FAU?"

Duncan's face turned red and his mom said, "Only for a semester or two until he can get into one of the bigger Florida colleges."

What she was saying did not compute. It sounded like Duncan wouldn't be going to the U with me, but I knew that couldn't be. We'd planned this since elementary. He'd even joked about trying out to be mascot, so that he could dress up as a gopher for all the football games. His bedspread was maroon and gold. He owned seven Gopher T-shirts. He would never go along with that. _Would he?_ "Duncan?"

"We need to talk, Mel."

 My throat clamped shut and my world tilted. And I hadn't even taken a sip of the red wine. _Get out of here before you lose it_. I banged my ankle on the bench trying to free myself from the picnic table and ran for our back door.

"Melody!" my mom yelled.

"Leave her," my dad said.

_This_ was the talk. _I can't talk to him_. I heard my dad say, "Not right now, Duncan." _Is he following me?_ A part of me hoped so, and the other part didn't.

The door banged shut behind me and the inside of the lake house had already darkened. I didn't bother turning on any lights, but headed straight for my room and slowly curled up on the bed like my body was horribly bruised. In a way, it was. But my heart was the only part of me that had been pummeled. The ache in my chest swelled and I pulled my pillow to my stomach and let the first sob escape. Hot tears came fast.

_How could I live without my best friend? Would I ever have the chance to tell him how I felt?_

**DAY TWO**

**Duncan**

I'd already been back from my morning run for over an hour, and still hadn't seen any sign of Mel. Usually we ran together. She must've been totally pissed off.

But the whole thing was ridiculous. It wasn't my fault that my dad was being a total douche.

I walked across the Brickendon's yard to her bedroom window. It was open and through the screen, I could see a lump on the bed that was no doubt Melody. The covers completely covered her head. I rapped on the glass part of the window. "Wake up, Mel. You can't avoid me until we leave." I managed to sound confident, even if I wasn't 100%.

The longest Mel had ever stayed mad at me was nine days when we were in the seventh grade. I'd told my friend, Jackson, how I'd accidentally seen Mel in her bra. I guess I thought it made me seem cool.

"What cup size is she?" Jackson wanted to know.

"Cup size?"

"You know: A, B, C, or D?" Jackson's hands moved further and further away from his chest as he recited the alphabet.

"B, or maybe C," I answered like someone who knew his way around bra sizes. I had no clue about them in seventh grade, but what a ridiculous answer—Mel's really small up top.

Almost as ridiculous as not talking to me about my Dad's betrayal.

At any rate, Jackson let on what I'd said, which in turn pissed off Mel, and I had to suffer through nine days of total silence even after I gave her Baby Ruth candy bars, her favorite, and not all that easy to find.

I still could not believe I'd convinced her to go to prom with him. Talk about irony.

"Mel, I know you're awake." The lump didn't budge.

Okay, if flattery won't work, let's try guilt. "You skipped out on our run. This is the first time we missed a day in three months." Still no movement. Time for truth. "It's not my fault, Mel. I don't want to go to Florida. You know how I feel about the U."

_And you._

Mel pulled the covers down to just under her chin. Her eyes were practically swollen shut. Her long auburn hair, usually pulled back or braided, was fanned out across the pillow. It looked pretty spectacular.

"What happened to your eyes?" I asked.

"I cried all night, you asshole. What did you think? That I was attacked by north country mosquitos?"

Oh, yeah. She was pissed.

"I considered it. There was that special report on deadly nocturnal 'squito bites last week. Did you get lucky? Did they get your chest?"

Mel snorted a laugh and threw the covers back. She was still wearing her jeans and that faded red sweater from last night. I hated that sweater. She spread her arms wide. "What do you think?"

"I think you should take off that ugly sweater. I can't tell what you look like with it on."

Melody waggled her finger at me, and tried to look earnest. "Do not insult the wubbie. It's forbidden."

I grinned at her. "Sorry. I forgot that rule."

She smiled back. "Okay. You're forgiven." Then her expression turned serious. "But I'm still mad that you didn't tell me. Why did you keep it from me?"

"I just found out on the ride up here." Which was the longest four hours of my life. "Then, I tried to, but—"

"Before that, Duncan. You could have told me before the Jet Ski ride. You could have sent me a text when you found out."

She was right. I could've, but I hadn't figured out _how_ I wanted to tell Mel. I hadn't even figured out how I felt about the news. I was pissed, of course. And I didn't want to move. That goes without saying. But I didn't want to whine about things. I wanted to have a plan of action, a way to fix things. Maybe I was chickenshit for not pulling her into my dilemma right away. It sucked. Or rather, I sucked for letting my dad do the dirty work.

"Not a text. It was too important. That's why I said _right after dinner_. I knew when my mom broke out the wine where this was headed. I didn't want you to get the news like that."

Mel rubbed her chin twice. I knew from past experience that meant she was really listening. That she understood my point of view.

"I feel stupid standing at your bedroom window. Can you come out to play?"

Mel laughed. "Okay, but no Jet Ski today."

"Deal. If you make me pancakes."

"No way. Pancakes get me a lot more than no Jet Ski."

"What do they get you?"

Melody grinned, but her smile didn't reach her swollen eyes. "I don't know. Give me some time to come up with something good."

"You suck at negotiation. You gotta have something in mind before you start making deals."

She lifted her chin in fake defiance. "I might suck at negotiation, but I make killer pancakes, so be nice."

I'd do practically anything for a plate of Mel's pancakes and we both knew it. Being nice was easy. But the thing I really wanted to do—the thing she wanted me to do—stay in Minnesota, well, I just didn't know how to make that happen.

**DAY TWO**

**Melody**

I forgave Duncan when he said, "I know you're awake." Yeah, I was a marshmallow when it came to staying angry with him, but that didn't mean I wanted him to see my blubber-damaged face. At least he made the bee joke to keep it light.

In the middle of the night, sometime between sobbing and sniveling, I'd decided I wouldn't tell Duncan how I felt. Maybe when we're old and gray and still friends, I'll be able to tell him that the summer after high school, I kinda fell in love with him for a little while, and we'll laugh about how silly that seems. But, for the time being, I was going to bury those thoughts and spend every possible moment with my best friend before he deserted me for palm trees and pretty girls in bikinis.

_Grrrr...I knew how much he'd love girls in bikinis._ Keep my feelings to myself—that I could do, but I couldn't make them disappear. After we completed our pancake negotiation, I told Duncan to come in, then brushed my teeth, splashed water on my face, and ran a brush through my tousled hair and pulled it into an elastic.  I considered changing clothes, since I'd slept in them, but it didn't make sense to put clean ones on a body in need of a shower. Screw him, he'd have to learn to love my wubbie.

Duncan stood outside the kitchen door, shifting from one foot to the other.

"My parents would have let you in."

"I don't think they're here. The Explorer is gone."

_Huh?_ Stuck to the fridge with a magnet that read, _When life gives you lemons, make a gin and tonic!_ was a note from my mom saying they'd gone to the fruit stand.

"Where are they?" Duncan asked.

I pointed at the magnet. "They went to buy lemons." Not exactly accurate—it was more likely that they'd come home with berries for one of Dad's pies, but I knew it would get a laugh out of Duncan. "Ready for some killer 'cakes?" I knew he was. Duncan loved pancakes more than anything, me included.

He closed his eyes and smiled all blissed out.

While I mixed up the batter and heated the griddle, Duncan sat at the table and filled me in on the drive here. "So, the minute we get on the Interstate, Dad announces he has big news and he figures the ride is a good opportunity to talk about it. More likely he knew we were captives for the next four hours. Anyway, then he drops the bomb: his job, the move. Like you, I figured I was still going to the U, so I was pretty calm about things. I mean, I didn't love that they'd be so far away, and I thought it sucked for Cody, but I figured I'd see them during the holidays."

I nodded as I ladled batter onto the griddle.

"I stayed quiet while Cody went crazy, and then Dad said, 'You're taking this well, Duncan. I can tell you've matured. I thought you'd be more upset about the U.' I asked what he meant and when he explained I went crazy."

"What do you mean crazy?"

"Yelling and shit. Mom started yelling for me to stop yelling. 'Your dad is driving. We don't need an accident on top of everything else right now.'" Duncan did a pretty good imitation of his mom. "That's when I knew she wasn't completely happy about things."

Dad had taught me timing and temperature were everything with pancakes. When they bubbled on top, I flipped them, admiring the perfect golden brown. My stomach growled. I hadn't realized how hungry I was, but I'd missed out on Mr. Wilde's burgers last night. "Hey, can you get the syrup and butter?"

Duncan got up and grabbed silverware, too.  He handed me two plates for the pancakes, poured two glasses of OJ, and then stood by me at the counter, watching me finish breakfast. "So, for the next hour Cody and I tried to convince him not to take the job. We got nowhere. I spent the rest of the drive trying to sort out the best way to tell you."

I figured he was exaggerating. No way did he think about me for that long, but it was nice that he said it.  I dished four pancakes onto Duncan's plate and gave myself one. Duncan took a bite and closed his eyes again, those thick lashes resting on his cheeks. "They're perfect... like you. Someday you'll make a lucky guy very happy."

_Can't that guy be you?_ "You're a dork. I'm not perfect." Neither were the pancakes, but they were close.

Duncan stared at me, his deep blue eyes soft, and a little sad. A twinkle appeared. It could only mean one thing—a poke was coming. "You're right. You're not perfect. That sweater's gotta go."

**DAY TWO**

**Duncan**

We'd barely finished breakfast when Cody showed up at the door. "Dad needs you to come help him clean out the shed. He said we're taking some of the stuff to Florida."

"Tell him I'll be there in a little while. I'm talking with Mel and she made me breakfast."

"I'm not your messenger boy."

"No, you're Dad's messenger boy." I felt bad as soon as I said that. It wasn't Cody's fault that Dad had made a decision that was ruining my life. "Sorry. Look, tell him I have to help her do the dishes. It'd be rude not to."

"All right, but he's not in a good mood."

"It's fine," Mel said, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ears. "I got it." She picked up my plate and headed to the sink. "Want me to come help when I'm done?"

Cody took off and I stood to leave. "Nah. After lunch, let's go sailing." Mel liked that better than almost anything. Almost as much as I liked her pancakes.

She arched one eyebrow at me and it disappeared underneath her bangs. "Is your dad going to be okay with that?"

"I don't plan on wasting my last week up here in the shed." I headed out the screen door. "See ya. Wouldn't want to be ya." It was a stupid thing to say, but it was one of our inside jokes, like me asking her to come out and play.

As I walked toward the shed, I heard Mel yell through the screen. "I know, 'cause then you'd have to wear the wubbie." I grinned to myself.

In the shed, we sorted things into _Stay_ , _Go_ , and _Florida_ piles out on the lawn. Mostly we avoided speaking to each other. About halfway into the shed I found some old pup tents and put them in the _Stay_ pile.

"Those should go," Dad said.

I ignored him and kept sorting.

"I know you don't understand how I made this decision, Duncan."

_Here it comes._ A lecture and he's not talking about the pup tents.

"When you have a family of your own, you'll understand. This promotion will change the way we live."

_No kidding._

"It's not just about the job. It's a lot more money." He tossed an old, moldy life jacket into the _Go_ pile.

"I don't understand why I can't go to the U."

 "I told you. They made tuition from an employee fund available to us—to you."

"At FAU, but Mom said I'll be applying to other schools because it'll give me a better chance for acceptance to med school."

"We still need to figure that out. There's plenty of time for that."

It sounded more and more like I had no say in this. I pulled a set of horseshoes from the back of a shelf. _Do they even play horseshoes in Florida?_ I added them to the _Stay_ pile.

Cody held up a new-in-the-box set of barbeque tools.

"Yeah, those are good to go to Florida," Dad said.

Too bad I couldn't throw myself into a pile.

Mel showed up at the shed about two o'clock. "I'm here to help," she said in a cheerful voice. I knew from experience she only used that voice around my Dad, and pain-in-the-ass teachers. She was wearing an old pair of jean shorts, the bottom frayed where she cut them off, and a highlighter green tank. She'd braided her hair into one long braid that hung down in front, almost to her waist, and was wearing a pair of her Dad's suede work gloves.

Mel was pretty, really pretty, in a natural sort of way. Her perfect skin was dotted by a few cute freckles, and unlike a lot of other girls, she looked exactly the same in the morning as she did at parties. I knew that from our early morning runs. Today was an exception with her swollen eyes, but normally she looked...normal. Even with all that going for her, she was sort of invisible to guys. I think it was because she dressed down, wore that horrendous sweater, and hid her body because she thought she was fat. But today, she looked fantastic.

"You don't need to help, Mel. It's grimy in here," Dad said.

"Ignore him," Cody said. "We want to be done with this."

Mel stood there, her hands on her hips, feet planted. "I plan on staying. Duncan promised to take me sailing this afternoon and I have my heart set on it. So, what can I do?" She clapped her hands together like she couldn't wait to get started.

I almost laughed out loud at her bad acting.

Dad grimaced and looked at his watch. "I didn't realize how late it was. Go ahead, take off, but we're going to finish tomorrow."

Cody walked by us as we headed to the shore and whispered, "Thanks, Mel." Then he ran for the end of the dock and cannonballed into the water.

"The gloves were a nice touch."

She smiled. "I thought so."

"But, that top's too nice. The sweater would've been more convincing."

"Nope. If your dad took me up on my offer, I could've have ruined it."

"Not possible," I teased, and she smacked me on the arm.

The Sunfish was beached next to the dock. Mel raised the mast while I took a quick dunk in the lake to cool off. I offered to do it, but ever since I'd taught her how to get the boat ready, it was something she enjoyed doing. Like it made her independent, or competent, or a worthy sailing partner. She climbed in and I pushed us off from shore, swinging my leg over the side and taking a seat across from her. We glided out slowly at first, but the breeze picked up the further we got from shore. We started really moving once we got out of the cove.

Mel perched on the edge, dangling her fingers in the water as the boat skimmed along. A few hairs had come free from her braid, and they blew in a crazy random way around her face. It was quiet, except for the shushing sound of the water and every so often the ring of the metal grommet banging against the mast. If ever there was a perfect moment—one that I'd like to freeze in my memory—this was it. Better than yesterday's Jet Ski ride, for sure. Even though I missed Mel hanging on to me for her life.

She smiled at me, brushed some of the fly-aways from her face, and asked, "Where's FAU?"

"Boca Raton."

Mel shrugged, like that meant _nada_ to her. It didn't to me either. We'd been to Orlando a few years ago, but other than that, Florida was the state shaped like a dick, with a lot of sunshine and no winter.

"Your mom said it started a week after you move, so why are you leaving here early?"

"Classes start August tenth. Before that I have to take care of registration. Mom called because I've already missed the deadline."

"Classes start in August?" Mel asked as if she was horrified. "It's still summer."

"I know. If we wouldn't have delayed vacation this year..." I let that thought trail off. Usually we were up here for fourth of July, but this year we'd postponed for a week. Dad's promotion had pushed it back. At the time, I just thought he had a business trip to Florida, but now I knew better. Only one week up here felt like a rip-off. It used to be that our moms brought us up here for a month before the dads came for two weeks. When Mel's mom went back to work two years ago, we shortened our vacation to two weeks. It wouldn't have felt the same without Mel, and Cody and I might've killed each other without her as the referee.

"I've never even heard of FAU," Mel said into the wind, which made me think she was talking to herself.

"I don't plan on staying there," I told Mel. "I thought about it a lot in the shed. Unfortunately, I don't have any other options right now, but I'm going to get a job, and earn enough to allow me to go to the U next year. I'll be over eighteen then, and there's no way he can stop me."

"Why won't he let you go now?"

"Money."

"But he just got a promotion."

"I know, but the company is giving us something from a tuition fund, and he said real estate is more expensive in Florida."

"So why are you leaving at all?"

"I'm not leaving...permanently. He's leaving."

The wind changed direction suddenly and we ducked as the sail swung around.

Mel nodded. "I couldn't stop thinking about it after you left this morning. I feel bad for Cody."

"I think he's going to be okay. There's a part of him that's excited about living in Florida. You should've heard all the questions he had this morning in the shed. _How far will we be from the beach? Are there tennis courts close to the condo? What's the mascot of the school where I'll be going?_ You know, important stuff like that."

 Mel laughed. "And were the answers satisfactory?"

"The condo has their own courts, so what do you think?"

"He has his priorities. They're different than yours."

We'd reached the area near the marina, the golf course, and the Arrowhead Inn. Man, was I ever going to miss their booyah festival. Maybe if I earned enough, I'd be able to come for a week next summer. If it didn't take everything I had just to get me to the U. I made a promise to myself then. _If I get back here next summer, I'll save enough to ask Mel out to dinner at the Arrowhead Inn_. Not for booyah, but for dinner in the formal dining room with twinkly lights and blackberry cobbler. She'd like that. Until then, I'd have to find other ways to make sure she wouldn't forget me when I moved away.

"Want the reins?" I asked.

Mel nodded and we carefully switched spots as I handed her the control lines.

"Can we not talk about the move anymore? At least for today?"

"Sure," Mel agreed.

It made me happy to talk random stuff with her—TV shows, friends from our graduating class, Mel's dreams to travel and all the places she'd go.

"If you could sail anywhere?"

"Easy. The Greek Isles."

She sailed us around until the sun began to collapse into the horizon, and even though I didn't want to go back, it was time to head in.

Back at the shore, as we beached the Sunfish, I got what was quite possibly the best idea _ever_. Certainly, Mel would love it. "You know what we should do?"

"What?"

"When I was cleaning out the shed, I found those purple pup tents. Remember?"

Mel grinned at me. "Shut up."

"And the walkie talkies."

Mel's mouth fell open. She looked cute when she was stunned. "You did not."

"Yep."

"Do they still work?"

"I don't know. They need batteries. But who cares. We could buy new ones. So, do you want to camp out tonight?"

"I want to camp out every night."

"If you say so. But that might get you kicked out of the U."

She lightly smacked my arm.

**DAY TWO**

**Melody**

After our visit to Gustaf's General Store to pick up batteries, Duncan got a screwdriver to take the backs off the walkie talkies. He popped in the new Duracells and depressed the call button. There was a familiar hiss, which made his eyes light up. "Alpha Camp to Bravo camp. Come in Mel," he said like the consummate dork that he is.

"I think you need to have batteries in both. And I'm sitting next to you, in case you hadn't noticed."

He fixed mine and then told me to go to my yard. I went and stood ten feet away and he kept motioning for me to back up. Finally, I got suspicious and looked over just in time to realize he was going to back me right into the lake. When I stopped and held my ground, he gave me the thumbs up. He did his army ranger impression and I depressed my call button. "It works!"

His static voice came back at me. "You're supposed to say _Roger._ "

Duncan had explained to me that _Roger_ was the only appropriate response the first and only time we camped out during the summer between third and fourth grade. Mrs. Wilde bought each of us our own pup tent at Costco. "Wouldn't it be cute!" His parents helped us pitch the tents, which basically meant they just unfolded them so they could pop up, about ten yards from the house under a large evergreen.  Mrs. Wilde had given us trail mix for sustenance and so that we'd feel like we were roughing it. My mom had supplied the walkie talkies for safety and security. She wasn't as gung-ho about this idea as Duncan's mom.

We hung out in my tent, then moved to his, while our parents sat in Adirondack chairs and drank beer. The real fun didn't begin until they tucked each of us into our sleeping bags and went inside for the night. We'd said goodnight on the walkie talkies. I was drowsy and slipping off when something that sounded like a ghost hooted in the darkness. My eyes flew open and I made sure I didn't move a muscle. Then came the crackle and hiss of the walkie talkie. "Come in Mel. Are you awake?"

I didn't answer right away, because what if the ghost was trying to trick me into divulging my location?

Crackle. "Melody. This is Duncan. Do you copy?"

At that moment the ghost hooted again and it sounded like it was in the tree directly above us.

"Don't worry. I'll save you," came through the speaker. _Geez, did Duncan not know how to stay quiet and hidden?_

Seconds later he charged through the door of my tent, belly flopped onto my sleeping bag, and wrapped his arms around me. "Don't be scared. I'm here now."

At the time I thought he was incredibly brave.

As we huddled together, Duncan whispered a make-believe story to me. "There was a beautiful princess with red brown hair."

"It's called auburn," I'd told him.

"Don't interrupt. It's rude." The ghost howled and Duncan held me tighter. "A ghost lived outside her castle and one day a prince came to rescue her—"

_Whooo, hoo, ooh  _

"Ready to make a run for it?" Duncan asked.

We'd grabbed our sleeping bags, bolted for the screen door, and woke his parents with all our crash-boom-bang. His dad explained it was a baby screech owl, not a ghost, but we refused to go back to the tents. I vaguely remember Duncan boosting me to his spot on the top bunk while Cody slept on the lower. I was asleep before he laid out his sleeping bag on the floor, but in the morning, when I woke, that's where Duncan had camped.

All in all, our camp out wasn't a raging success, but it was one of my favorite Duncan memories.

When Duncan popped up the tent under the stars (and the same evergreen), it gave off a musty smell. The purple had faded to a bluish lavender in some spots, but other than that they were practically new.  "This is going to be great." His grin almost convinced me.

"As I recall, last time, things didn't go well."

"Only proves you have a faulty memory. It was only the best camp out ever."

I leaned closer to my pup tent and sniffed. "These really need to be dusted."

"Mel, Mel, Mel." He shook his head and paused for dramatic effect. "Mel."

"What?"

"Okay. Dust 'em."

Dusting didn't work. I had to _bring it_ with a heavy duty scrub. During the cleanse by flashlight, Duncan busied himself pulling together other essentials.  Finally, we settled in outside the door of each of our tents, cross-legged. This idea felt silly, but any time spent with Duncan was okay by me.

He handed me a large Ziploc. "What's this?"

"Trail mix."

 I shone my flashlight on the bag. "It's just peanut M & Ms and raisins."

"What are your favorite parts of trail mix?"

"Peanuts, raisins and chocolate."

"So I eliminated all the superfluous stuff."

Only Duncan could get away with saying _superfluous._ Most kids would get teased, but if Duncan said a word like that everyone would start using it. _Classes are superfluous_. _Homework is superfluous._ Duncan was definitely not superfluous.

We passed the bag back and forth, munching, and our conversation hopped from politics to the best bands of all time, to which restaurant made the best booyah. We agreed and we didn't, but none of it mattered.

The trail mix was long gone and a battalion of mosquitos had arrived when we decided to turn in. I laughed as Duncan got into his tent. His toes stuck out the door. "Stop. You're not that tall."

"Almost. Come see."

I looked in, and with the pillow at the opposite end, he was at the limit of the tent. He either needed to scrunch his head closer to the back wall or curl up. "You'd better pull your feet in, so you can zip the door."

He did. I zipped him in, and then climbed into my own sleeping bag, only to be bit one minute later by a mosquito. And then bit again.

And again.

And again.

And, believe it or not, again.

Finally, I turned on my flashlight, saw the hole in the side of my tent, and reached for my walkie talkie. "Duncan? Are you still awake?"

"Roger."

"No, just Mel. I'm going to head home. Sorry."

I heard rustling coming from his tent. "Why?"

"Mosquitos have broken in. It's the deadly nocturnal variety you mentioned."

"Don't go. Come to my tent. No mosquitos here, and I won't bite."

_I probably wouldn't mind if you did._ While I wasn't sure Duncan's camping idea was the best ever, I didn't want to leave. So I scooped up my sleeping bag and headed to his tent. Once inside, it was crowded, even though it was billed as a two-man tent. Duncan spooned me, holding me tight like he did nine years ago. He whispered in my ear, "Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess with red brown hair."

I grinned to myself and didn't interrupt him.

"She lived in a _small_ purple castle."

I laughed.

"There were vampires living outside her castle and one day they got inside. It wasn't their fault they wanted to drink her blood. She was just too sweet."

I laughed again. "I don't think anyone has ever called me sweet."

"Don't interrupt. It's rude. Besides, who said this story was about you?"

I turned my head to catch his eye, which had the ever-present gleam. "Sorry, I just assumed. Who is it about?"

"A princess named Belle, who is very beautiful but insists on wearing an ugly, faded sweater."

"Hey!" I wagged my finger at him.

"It's not about you or your stinking wubbie. Belle's sweatshirt is blue. Now, may I continue?"

"Yes... please."

"So one day a knight in shining armor shows up to rid the palace of the vampires."

"I thought it was a prince."

"And I thought we'd already covered interruptions," he teased. "Who's telling this story anyway?"

"You are."

"Right. So if I say it's a knight in shining armor—"

_Can you be my knight in shining armor, Duncan? Always?_

**DAY THREE**

**Duncan**

I woke to the steady drizzle of rain on the roof of the tent. Up here, that kind of rain could last all day. I slipped my arm from under Mel's head as gently as I could. We'd fallen asleep, Mel first, after the knight rescued the beautiful Belle with Deep Woods Off. Unfortunately, I'd forgotten to bring any from the lake house. When I first woke, I'd laid there, breathing in her vanilla and brown sugar scent. I'd never been sure if it was her lotion, or shampoo, or just the way she smelled, but it always reminded me of warm cookies baking. Sometimes I'd find a reason to stick my head in her hair or by her neck just to get a whiff. It might've been the best smell ever.

Finally, I propped myself up on my elbow and watched Mel sleep. Not in the creepy, stalker way. She almost looked like a beautiful princess—what's that one that sleeps? I had a sudden urge to kiss her awake, but didn't, because...creepy stalker guy.

She stirred and rubbed her eyes. "Is that rain?"

"Your powers of deduction are astounding."

It was too early for her to have a comeback, so she slapped my thigh.

"We should run. You missed yesterday," I told her. Every year for the last three, Mel and I ran first thing in the morning. We started the routine up here, the summer before our Sophomore year, when Mel refused to get into a swimsuit, which made everything that we normally did awkward. One day after paddling around, I'd wanted to go for a swim.

"Let me think about it."

"What is there to think about? We paddled, we're sweaty. Doesn't the lake look inviting?"

"I'm too fat for a swimsuit." The words had boiled out of her.

"Mel." If you'd asked me, I wouldn't have ever called Mel fat. She was a chubby kid, and rounder than a lot of the girls at school, plus she didn't really worry about make-up, hair, and fashion stuff. Even so, I never thought she should lose weight or do anything to change her looks. And, I never considered that she might not like the way she looked.

"I am. I know you're my friend and you won't say it, but I know what the mirror says. And the mirror says I should _not_ get within a hundred yards of a swimsuit. At least not one that I would wear. Not under any circumstances. I've gained five pounds since last summer."

I let it go. We'd skipped the lake and I let her kick my ass in a game of Yahtzee, but I convinced her that we should go for a run the next morning. She was up for it, so first thing the next day we'd run the mile and a half, mostly uphill, to Gustaf's. Once there, we got a bottle of water, drank it at the dilapidated picnic table, and ran back. We ran for the rest of our vacation, and then continued to do it once we got home. Sometimes, early on, I had to guilt her into it, but after a while it became routine, then habit. Mel grew leaner, and it was hard for me to remember that chubby version of her. I hated to run in the rain, but she'd missed yesterday.

 Mel rolled her eyes at the roof of the pup tent. I imagined her silently cursing the weather. "Give me a sec to change and get my running shoes."

Mom walked by the screen door as we took turns crawling out of the tent. She took one step backwards, faced us, and planted her hands on her hips.

I held up don't-shoot hands. "Mel got a mosquito infestation. It was an innocent rescue."

 "Haven't you ever heard of _Off_?" she asked as she held the screen door open for us.

I had. Unfortunately, the knight was better at planning than me. "Nothing happened."

"Fine. All the same, maybe we could avoid mentioning this to Kathleen. I'm sure this isn't what she had in mind when she agreed to the camp out."

"Okay, okay, I get it. We're going for a run." With one hand I grabbed my wallet, and with the other, I grabbed Mel's hand to pull her out the door.

**DAY THREE**

**Melody**

The steady drizzle totally sucked as we ran up the hill, escorted by the scent of wet pine on our way to Gustaf's.

"At least when you get to Florida you won't have to deal with weather like this. It's sunny there," I huffed as we ran.

"I bet they get plenty of rain. It's pretty green in all the pictures."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Car," Duncan said, and with a burst of speed, veered in front of me to get over to the shoulder. I moved right, too, the mud squishing up over the top of my cross-trainers. After the car passed we shifted back onto the pavement, and ran in silence the rest of the way to the ancient general store.  The parking lot cleared enough space, holding back the tops of the trees, and made it easy to see there was not a single break in the gray clouds that hung low overhead. This weather had settled in and was bound to last all day. The old, wooden screen door creaked and the bell overhead tinkled as Duncan held the door open for me.

As always, Gustaf stood immense and imposing behind the counter. I'd told Duncan once that it must've been someone from Gustaf's family tree that had started the Minnesota legend about Paul Bunyon.

"Two drowned rats," he said as a greeting, with a grimace that was his way of smiling. If you didn't know him, he'd be a pretty scary guy, but he was only teasing us. I think.

I headed for the cooler at the back of the store—the most modern thing in Gustaf's—to grab two waters, while Duncan made small talk with the Viking. "We're moving. Can you believe it?"

"Where?"

"Florida."

"Uff-dah. Too hot there."

I set the bottled waters on the rugged wooden counter so that he could ring us up. A wooden barrel filled with penny candy sat off to the side.

His bushy gray eyebrows lifted. "What about your pretty friend? She is going, too?"

I shook my head _._

"That's too bad," he said.

_It was. It really, really was_.

Outside, I checked the bench of the picnic table before I sat, to make sure there were no large splinters sticking up to jab me. The seat was wet, soaking the back of my sweatpants.

Duncan opened his water bottle and gulped half of it before he said, "He's right. You could come, too."

"To Florida?"

"You've always wanted to travel, and you'd have my family as a safety net. Your mom would be a lot easier to convince than my dad. Then we wouldn't have to..."

 Duncan had temporarily lost his mind. I couldn't just up and move away like that. No way.

"Think about it," he said.

And so on our run down the hill, I thought. I thought about going to the U without Duncan—depressing. I thought about running every day without Duncan—insurmountable. I thought about his offer to move to Florida with them—crazy. His Dad would never go for it, and neither would my mom.

Duncan was right about one thing. I wanted to get out of Minnesota and see other things. In fact, you could even call me a little obsessed with it. I think, no I'm sure...it started in seventh grade Geography when we had to pull a country out of a hat and make a scrapbook like we'd traveled there. I'd been disappointed to pull Canada.

"How did I get the only country where I've already been?" I'd complained to Duncan.

"So, just do another country," he'd said.

"Mr. Blah will probably fail me for that."

"Not if you explain why you did it."

I ignored Duncan's advice, started the scrapbook on Canada, and realized that I'd really only seen Thunder Bay, which was just over the border in Ontario. The rest of Canada was freakin' huge, and I wanted to go to Toronto, and Quebec City, and Nova Scotia and Vancouver and the Canadian Rockies and maybe even the Yukon. The scrapbook was supposed to be twenty pages, but mine ended up at fifty. I didn't stop with that assignment either. At home, I had a collection of over fifty scrapbooks. _If_ I ever made it someplace else, I knew what I'd want to see, what I'd want to do, but actually doing it was a big _if,_ because as much as I wanted the adventure of travel it scared me. In some ways it was exactly how I felt about Duncan. It must be some kind of defect to want something so badly and then to be afraid to go for it.

So, as I ran I daydreamed about Florida a little. Mostly, though, I thought about how bad it sucked that I'd come to rely so heavily on Duncan, that I didn't even have a girlfriend to talk to about this. Oh sure, there were girls in our group that I hung out with, and some of them would be going to the U with me next year. But I'd never talked to any of them about stuff like this, only Duncan. When you need to talk about what's going on with your best friend, who do you turn to? Not him. And not them. Of that, I was sure.

At the bottom of the hill, we usually sprinted. Duncan would let me have a head start as we rounded the last curve along the paved road and turned into our long, shared gravel driveway. Most days he caught me before I touched the front step.  Today, soaked, and worn out from our cramped pup-tent snooze, I couldn't even muster the energy to do that. We jogged the homestretch.

"So?" he asked, like he expected me to say yes.

"So, I need a shower." I stared at the ground. I didn't want him peering in my eyes, trying to figure out my inner most thoughts.

"Okay." There was hurt in his voice. "We gonna hang out?"

I looked up at him. At those deep blue eyes, his thick lashes stuck together, and darker than ever from the rain. All I could read there was worry. "Of course." I couldn't believe he didn't know that. What was happening to us?

**DAY THREE**

**Duncan**

I told Mel if we were going to have to spend the day inside, her house was friendlier than mine right now, and she agreed. After my shower, I quickly combed my hair and dug through the chest of drawers for my gray hoodie. Cody was sprawled on the bottom bunk, on his iPhone. He laughed.

"What?" I asked.

"I put a picture of us cleaning the shed on Instagram."

"Thanks. That'll work wonders for my rep."

"Kelly Watteau said _Good to see this. I thought your brother had been kidnapped. He's kinda been missing. Tell him I said hey._ "

"Kelly Watteau, huh?"

"The one and only."

I pulled on a pair of Levi's and nudged Cody's knees out of the way so I could sit on the bottom bunk to lace my shoes.  "Tell her I'm fine."

"Tell her yourself."

I picked up my phone, then stopped. Did I need to chat with Kelly Watteau right now? Before the news about move the answer would've been _yes._ How else could I keep my rep intact? Did I want to? _Not really_. I slipped my phone into the hoodie pocket. "You want to come with?"

"What are we going to do all day?"

"I dunno. The weather is shitty. TV, movies, board games?"

"Thrills."

"Do whatever you want. I just thought it was better than hanging in this room all day."

"It is." Cody dragged himself off the bottom bunk, ran his fingers through his hair, and slipped his feet into a pair of rubber Crocs. He grabbed my U sweatshirt off the back of the chair and we headed for the door. "Going to Mel's," I called to Mom.

"Have fun," echoed from the kitchen.

At Mel's back porch I knocked on the screen door. "Can we come in to play?" I yelled.

Mel was on the couch, already wrapped in her wubbie. She shook her head like, _that was stupid_ , which it was, but I liked to say it. I'd said it practically my whole life, and had no intention of stopping just because we turned eighteen.

"Cody wants to know what our plans are for today," I said as I stepped through the door.

 "Yahtzee?" she asked hopefully. The box was already on the sofa near her feet. She picked it up.

"If you insist."

"Oh, I do."

"Seriously? Do we have to play that first? How about Carmen San Diego? You love that game with all your wanderlust."

The Yahtzee box positioned in front of her chest, Mel stood her ground, unmovable. Like one of the mountains in the Iron Range. "I love the dream of travel better than the game. I kick ass at Yahtzee."

"Never mind. Let's play."

Mel won the first two games, but I was having better throws in this one. The rain showed no signs of letting up. In fact, it was raining harder now than when we went for our run. I tried not to think about the move, but it kept pestering me, like a Northwood's mosquito that lands and drifts away before you can swat it.

Thinking about the move was depressing.

Thinking about only four and half more days at the lake was depressing.

Thinking about life without Mel was depressing.

"Depression bites," I said.

"It does," Mel agreed, and then completed a Yahtzee on her second roll.

"How do you do that?"

Mel gave me an _I dunno_ shrug, and asked, "What made you think of that?"

"Because you always get Yahtzees on your second roll, and if I get them at all, it takes three."

"Not that. You said _depression bites_. Is it the rain?"

I looked at Mel's flawless skin, pinked up from the sun she got during yesterday's sail. She cocked her head while waiting for me to answer. "Yeah, it's probably just the rain," I said. "Either that or the way you always beat me at Yahtzee."

We switched to Scrabble, then Uno, and then watched two movies on Netflix—one picked by Cody, one by Mel. I wasn't really into either of them, so I spent the time on Instagram, and chatting with Jackson, Mandy, Brigitte, Michael and Piper.

Not to mention the one and only Kelly Watteau.

The movie ended and Mel asked, "Is it really that interesting?"

"Why don't you ever go on Instagram?"

Mel shrugged. "Not into it."

"Why?"

"Leave Mel alone, you moron." Cody always had a unique way of deflecting my questions. "Put your phone down; let's play another game."

I looked at my timeline once more, liking and commenting on a few more followers before we dove into another marathon game session.

**DAY FOUR**

**Melody**

Yesterday afternoon dragged by, but every minute with Duncan was a minute with Duncan that I wouldn't have in another four days. The thought crowded my brain and my heart. Between that and the rain I felt claustrophobic.

We'd fought and I wished I could rewind and start the afternoon over, but the real events played on a loop in my mind—the games we played, the movies we watched, Duncan spending . time on Instagram with his adoring fans. Then, Mom suggested we play Pictionary, which was okay. Mom teamed up with me and we won, mostly because she's good at little sketches, but I think Cody was sick of losing or something. He started ranking on Duncan's drawings and then he kind of jumped on him. Cody and Duncan do that all the time, wrestle around like puppies. Usually one gets nipped, most often Cody, and leaves, which was exactly what happened after their roughhousing session.

Until then, everything was maybe not a-okay, but at least normal. Then, out of the blue, Duncan asked my mom, "Don't you think Mel should come to Florida with me? She's always wanted to travel and to work in travel. The travel industry is huge in Florida."

Mom looked at me, confused, but not nearly as confused as me. "It's late in the game, we'd probably have to hustle to get her enrolled and she might have to miss the fall semester, but I guess that would be okay if that's what Mel really wants to do."

Duncan looked at me, a satisfied expression on his face. "I don't want to go to Florida, Duncan. I want you to stay here."

His expression fell. "You know I would love to go to the U. All our friends will be there. You'll be there. I bleed crimson and gold. It's not gonna happen. We talked about the scholarship money. My dad's mind is made up."

"You could ask your dad to co-sign a loan," Mom suggested.

"Right! Then it won't cost him anything."

"He won't agree to that."

"You haven't even tried."

"And your Mom said _okay_ to Florida. Just think—palm trees, sandy beaches, tropical drinks..."

Mel's mom shook her head at me.

"Virgin tropical drinks," I amended.

"Why can't you understand? I. Don't. Want. To. Go. To. Florida."

Duncan leaned backwards like I'd taken a swing at him. "But that's where I'll be." His voice was small and hurt.

"Just man-up and ask your dad about the loan." Mom's eyes flew open and I knew I'd gone too far, but I didn't apologize, because...I suck at apologies and he shouldn't have blindsided me by asking _my_ mom about _my_ future.

Duncan got up slowly and thanked my mom for putting up with him and Cody all day, then left.

How did things unravel so fast? Where was the rewind button?

That I'd fought with Duncan depressed me. It was made worse by the countdown until he left. Magnified by the rain. The thought of another day of Netflix made me want to climb the walls, yet the weather refused to cooperate. The downpour was steady and relentless. I was ready to face a pup tent filled with mosquitos if it meant I didn't have to spend another day inside. I tried to immerse myself in travel plans, but even that wasn't working as a distraction.

Duncan knocked at the screen door and I looked up from my spot on the couch, where I was trying to focus on reading about the Gasparilla Pirate Festival in Tampa on my phone. He didn't ask if _I could come out to play_ , but instead asked, "Can I come in?"

"You don't even need to ask."

The door squeaked open and slammed shut on its own.

He sat at the other end of the couch, and I bookmarked the site and added it to a folder of things to see and do in Florida. I'd decided that would be my next travel scrapbook. Mom walked into the room and did a quick about-face.

Finally, Duncan said, "The weather sucks." Followed by: "What are you doing?"

 "I'm working on a finding things for a Florida scrapbook."

"Does that mean you're thinking about coming?"

"It means I'll know what we should do when I come to visit you." I didn't add "at some undetermined point in the future." I closed out the site I was looking at and set my phone on the coffee table.

"We can't be fighting, Mel. I leave in four days."

My heart cramped when he said that. Worse than my calves do when I forget to stretch before a run. It felt like real pain, so I pressed my hand against my chest.

"Are you okay?" Duncan scooted closer.

"I don't know." I paused. "I hate that we fought. I shouldn't have yelled at you. I get why you think I should come to Florida. I do. But when I make a change like that it's gonna have to be small steps. You know I don't like the Jet Ski. Changing my plans like that feels that the fastest Jet Ski ride ever. Like a Jet Ski with wings. It scares the shit out of me."

"You'd be fine."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

Duncan moved next to me and took my hand. "I believe in you."

I rubbed my forehead and willed myself not to cry. Why couldn't I make myself get on the flying Jet Ski?

Duncan squeezed my hand gently. "I talked to my dad about the loan."

"Really?!" The cramp in my heart eased.

"He won't sign. Look, Mel. You've known him as long as I have. You know he's a control freak."

_He was._ But I hoped he'd loosen his hold now that Duncan was an adult. "What if my mom co-signed?"

"Do you think she'd do that? Because I'm uncomfortable even asking. And I don't think she'd drive a wedge into her relationship with my mom."

"I could ask."

"Right. No." Duncan picked up my phone, tapped in the password, and opened up an amateur surgery game that he'd played ever since Operation had gone kaput. He swiped his finger across the screen, playing at open heart surgery. Maybe if he got good enough he could fix mine. It was definitely breaking.

I looked at the rain drizzling down the outside of the windows, unrelenting. "We'll figure it out," I said. "Are we going to run?"

"Can we skip it?"

It wasn't like Duncan to skip. He must've been more depressed than me. "Of course we can. Why don't you pick a movie? Cody and I picked yesterday's," I suggested in a wave of sympathy.

Duncan seemed grateful to be rummaging through the cupboard with the DVDs, like the distraction was better than wallowing in melancholy or self pity. He methodically sorted the DVDS into four stacks.

"What's with the piles?"

Duncan pointed to tallest. "These are the rejects." Then the second tallest, "These I would like," then third, "chick flicks for you." Finally, he pointed to the pile with only three in it. "We both would like these."

I was skeptical that Duncan had found something we'd both enjoy. Generally speaking, our taste in movies and TV shows was really different. I sorta became obsessed with _Breaking Bad_ , but that was me moving closer to his style.  "What's that?" I asked.

"The Toy Story movies. All three of them."

"Awww...I loved those. I haven't seen them in years."

**DAY FOUR**

**Duncan**

I didn't remember how great the Toy Story movies were. Mel and I had watched them all back in middle school, maybe sixth grade. Re-watching the first two was _the_ perfect pick for our rainy day activity. Mel said we were like Buzz and Woody.

"Which one am I?"

"You're definitely Buzz."

"Am not."

"Are to."

"Why do you get to be Woody? Buzz's rocket isn't working on all its thrusters." _Besides_ , I thought to myself, _Woody's got a bigger circle of friends._

"I don't think he's dumb. He's a dreamer. You're a dreamer. That's why. Woody is more realistic. Sometimes cynical. Don't tell me you don't see the resemblance."

"Oh, and here I was thinking it was because you had a snake in your boot."

Mel grinned. "Well yeah, there's that too."

Anyway, our banter carried on like this while we watched. That was one of my favorite things about Mel. She'd talk with me about whatever random subject I'd bring up, and I'd do the same for her.

By the time we got to the third movie I wasn't sure she still wanted to watch.

She shrugged. "Let's watch the beginning. If it's no good we'll figure out something else to do."

The third one definitely wasn't my favorite when we'd watched them before, but I'd completely forgotten what it was about. Maybe I didn't pay close attention because it seemed so far off when we watched it the first time. But, when I realized Andy was packing up to go to college, my throat clamped shut. I looked at Mel and her cheeks were even pinker than yesterday, and there was no way she'd caught one ray of sunshine with the non-stop rain. She looked away, refusing to meet my eyes.

Thankfully, the movie veered off in another direction. Rooting for the toys to escape the daycare and the claw was better, but then we were back to the part about Andy giving away his toys, saying goodbye to Buzz and Mr. Potato Head and Bo Peep . . . and Woody. Mel turned to me, tears glistening in her eyes. "That's what we're doing, y'know?"

"What?"

"We're saying goodbye to pup tents and Yahtzee and these movies. We're being all nostalgic. We're trying to stay kids. I even have to give you away to other people in Florida."

I knew what she was saying, except for the last part. "You're not giving me away. We'll always be friends."

"You don't get it Duncan. You're the fun one, _you're Buzz_ , and I'm... just Mel. You have Cody, but you've always been my brother—"

"Your _twin_ brother."

"Right." Mel's lip quivered, twitching in a way that was half-way comical and half-way the saddest damn thing I'd ever seen. It twitched for what felt like forever, and then she started crying hard. I held out my arms.

She crawled into my lap, curled up and put her head into the crook between my shoulder and neck. "You make friends so easily, then your friends become my friends. After you're in Florida for a while, you'll have new friends, and you'll figure out pretty quick that I'm nothing special," she blubbered.

"That's not going to happen." I rubbed her back and pulled her closer. She was warm, and being cuddled up like this felt like the most natural thing in the world right now.  "When you're _just_ Mel, that's enough."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mrs. B. walk into the room and take a giant step back.

"It's all right," I hollered at her. "Mel attacked me for insulting that ugly red sweatshirt. You probably need to toss it the next time she throws it in the laundry, which judging from the way it looks should be sometime around Winter Break."

Mrs. B. put her hand over her mouth, holding back a laugh.

Mel leaned back to look me in the eyes. She pretended to glare at me with her red-rimmed hazel. "I'll have you know it gets washed all the time. That's why it's so faded." She leaned forward and gave me a peck on the cheek.

Girls in general, and Mel specifically, I'd never figure them out. I bad-mouthed the wubbie and got a kiss. Weird. And nice. But weird.

**DAY FIVE**

**Duncan**

When I woke up and the sun was out, _and_ I could still feel an imprint of Mel's lips on my cheek, I knew it was going to be a good day.

All that changed when Dad announced over his plate of Mom's scrambled eggs and ham that we were headed to Grand Portage for the day. "We really need to take in some of Minnesota's scenery. Who knows when we'll see it again?"

_What does that mean?_ "We're coming here next summer, right?" I asked.

A look passed between Mom and Dad. One I didn't like.

"Of course we'll be back here," Mom said. "I'll need some time with Kathleen, and it's always been a home away from home for you boys."

She'd said it with a finality to her tone that made me realize this had already been a point of discussion. While it was great that she sounded certain, I didn't love that it had been in question.

 "Are the B's coming with us today?"

"That's a wonderful idea, Duncan," Mom said as she laid a plate of eggs in front of me and kissed me on the top of my head.

Dad's expression seemed like he didn't agree, but Mom had her hands on her hips and one brow arched in a way that dared him to defy her.

"They've probably made plans of their own, but you can run over after breakfast and see if they want to follow us up there."

Dad caved. It was one for the record books.

I downed my eggs and headed to Mel's porch.   "Can _all_ of you Brickendon's come out to play?" I called through their screen door while they sat having pancakes. I had a moment of breakfast envy.

"All of us?" Mel's mom asked.

I let myself in and launched into my spiel. "The 'rents decided we should take a drive up the scenic highway to High Falls to get in a day of the finer points of the pristine Iron Range. We'd be delighted for you to accompany us." I stopped to take a breath. "My mom, that's Ginny to you, is making her world renowned potato salad. I require your answer post haste, so that she can adjust the amounts in order to accommodate a larger picnic lunch."

Mel's Mom laughed and her Dad said, "If her potato salad is involved, I'm there. Oh, and tell your Mom, I made some brownies this morning."

"I'll be over in a minute to see what else we can bring," Mrs. B added.

As I was leaving I heard Mel giggle.

Her mom said, "I like that boy, but sometimes he's a little odd."

"Yeah. He's great," Mel agreed.

So the 'rents worked out who was bringing what, and I helped load everything into Mel's Explorer and opened the door to climb in. Things were less tense between Mom and Dad, but I'd still rather spend the ride with the B's.

"Duncan. Could you come here for a minute?" Dad asked.

_What now?_ "Sure."

Cody had already gotten into the back seat and was already immersed in a mindless game of Fruit Ninja.

"I wanted this to be a family day. We're going to have some stressful times ahead with the move, and..."

"Okay, Dad. Whatever you say." What's that song? _I fought the law and the law won._ There's really no point in arguing over this. I hate arguing, and it seems like we do so much of it.

"Great. Thanks, Duncan. It means a lot to your mom, too."

 I waved at the B's and climbed into our car and texted Mel: _Family Day_.

_I could've rode with you_ , Mel's response read.

_Yep._

Right before we pulled onto Scenic Byway we stopped for gas, ice and drinks. Cody was fully involved and my phone dinged—a text from Mel.

_Words with Friends?_

_You're better at Yahtzee_

_Right, but I'm always up for a challenge._

My fingers hovered over the keypad. It seemed like she wasn't talking phone games. How was I supposed to respond to that?

Two could play that game. I sent the thumbs-up emoji.

We played an epic game of _Words with Friends_. It was a _Lord of the Rings_ version of the game or maybe a _Stars Wars_ version—long, involved, and we didn't want it to end.

I knew I'd ticked off Dad when he said, "It's called the Scenic Byway for a reason: all the scenery you're missing by having your nose glued to Mel's texts."

Yeah, he was fuming. Not that I cared; he'd pissed me off in the last few days.

"We're not texting. We're playing _Words with Friends_."

It was like I'd poked him with a sharp stick.

"I don't care if you're curing cancer."

I laughed. Not at his _curing cancer_ remark, but at Mel's word – _taradiddle_. She won the round with that one.

I texted, _You cheat. That last one isn't even a word._

_Is too. It means fib. Google it, Sorry Boy._ This was followed by an emoji sticking out its tongue at me. _ _

"I'm not kidding around, Duncan. I'm doing this for you," Dad said, his fuse burned down to within millimeters of explosion.

"I wasn't laughing at what you said, I was laughing at...never mind." I wanted to tell him he wasn't doing this for me. Maybe Mom wanted to do this, or maybe it made him feel like "A Good Dad"—official title, please. The truth was I'd rather spend my last few days here hanging with Mel. _Words with Friends_ , even if we played it daily, was not going to cut it.

I sent Mel one last text. _I gotta stare out the car window and pretend to appreciate nature_.

_Okay_ , she responded. _But don't pretend. Do it for realz_.

So I did.

The display outside my window lived up to the name scenic byway. The road along the northern shore of Lake Superior is twisty turn. I'd bet anything that it's incredible when the leaves have turned, which led me to wonder why we never came up here in the fall. It seemed like we'd missed out on doing something special. About half-way to Grand Portage, we stopped to picnic at Iona Beach. Mom rambled on and on about how she loved the singing pink rocks when she was a girl.

"It's only Rock and Roll," I said.

"No, it's only rock," Cody said.

But Mel laid her hand on my thigh, which definitely got my attention. "Listen. The rocks sing when the waves touch them."

Singing might be a stretch, but they definitely made a tinkling sound, a random sort of music.

After lunch, Mel hopped into our car for the last stretch. My window was on the lake side, so Mel scooted close to me and leaned forward to have a view. I watched, and hoped that Dad would just keep driving, so I could keep inhaling her vanilla and brown sugar scent.

**DAY FIVE**

**Melody**

The last part of the drive, when I rode with Duncan, was the best. I intentionally sat close, pretending that I needed to to get a good view of the lake. He leaned down and whispered in my ear, "Scoot in," then rested his arm along the back of the seat so I could get even closer to his window.

So it was disappointing when we got to the park. I could have stayed in the car watching the north shore of Lake Superior Lake go by without end. Duncan held the door for me, then we all stopped at the office to get a brochure, which showed a short, half-mile hike to the falls. Everyone trudged on ahead while Duncan fell into step next to me, shortening his stride to match mine.  At the footbridge, everyone said they wanted to walk down the trail toward the lake, but Duncan wanted to cross the bridge that went directly over the waterfall.

"Meet us back here in an hour," Duncan's mom suggested.

Duncan's dad looked at his watch. "An hour and a half." Then he led the way down the trail.

I looked at the bridge. It looked like railroad ties bound together. "You're sure that bridge is safe?"

"I haven't heard of anyone going over the falls."

It seemed like he should tell me a princess story to convince me everything would be all right, but he took my hand and we began to walk across. In the middle, there was another couple that looked like a throwback to the seventies, both of them dressed in tie-dye tops, like hippie statues. They were completely mesmerized by the water rushing down and passing beneath them. Tranced-out. Whatever they'd smoked must've been good. Duncan stopped, I thought to check out what held them so rapt. Instead, he handed the guy his phone. "Hey, would you take a picture of us?"

"Sure thing," the guy replied.

Duncan set us up on the opposite side of the narrow bridge. He wrapped his arm around my back, his arm trailing across my waist, his hand resting at the top of my jeans.

"I need to move down to get more of you in the shot."  The guy took a few steps back toward the eastern side of the falls.

Duncan angled us slightly, and for one minute, I felt like the hand rail could give way, sending us both tumbling into the river, sweeping us away.

"Say peace."

"PEEAACCE," we said in unison.

"Hey, your fly's down," Hippie-Guy said. Duncan looked down, and I threw back my head and laughed.

"Yeah, that's a much better picture," Hippie-Guy said as he handed the phone back to Duncan.

Duncan's face had turned bright red. "Uh, thanks, I think."

"No problem, man. That second pic is going to grow on you." Hippie-Guy slipped his arm around Hippie-Girl's waist and she smiled up at him.

Hysterical. I couldn't believe he did that.

When Duncan and I got to the west side of the falls, I said, "Hey, let me see the pictures."

"We have to find a way to get up there." Duncan pointed to a ridge where we could sit and watch the falls. I tried to grab his phone, but Duncan was having none of it. He tucked it into the front pocket of his jeans.

Although I'd like to reach in there, he knew me well enough to know I wouldn't, and so I had to be patient, waiting until just the right moment to strike.  "Party pooper."

We found the ridge, or actually I found the ridge and claimed the perfect spot to sit on the ground, but Duncan hung back while he took his phone out to look at the pictures.

"Now you're just toying with me," I said.

"The guy was right. The second picture's better. Even though I look like a total dork in it, your whole face is lit up laughing."

"C'mon, let me see them," I whined.

He sat down next to me, one hand flat on the ground behind my back, and held the phone out so I could see them. I guess he decided it wasn't worth putting up with my pestering.

"Awww...this one's sweet," I said as I looked at our "Peace" pic. Then, I cracked up. "This one is great! But...I wish you were laughing." I took his phone and aimed the camera him. "Knock, knock."

"Funny." Duncan didn't crack a smile.

"Are you going to play or not? You're supposed to say, 'Who's there?'"

 "Who's there?" he deadpanned.

"Your fly's down!" I pointed the camera at his crotch.

He cracked up and at the last minute I moved to catch his face. If I forget what he looks like after the move, this picture is exactly what I'll need. "There," I said, the satisfaction clear in my voice. "Now I have one, too. Text me those, okay?"

Duncan took the phone from me, and when he saw the picture he smiled.

Today, so far, had been a good one. No, I take that back—a great one. I looked up at the bright blue, cloudless sky. At the unspoiled water rushing by below us. At Duncan. A light breeze lifted a few strands of my hair and blew them across my face. "It's so pretty," I said with a whisper because I didn't want to disturb the moment we were living.

Duncan gave me a funny look. A needy look. The butterfly colony arrived right on cue. He reached out and brushed the flyaway back from my face, barely skimming my cheek. My stomach clamped down in nerves and the butterflies were crowded into a much smaller space. He leaned in. Soft. His lips were on mine. The kiss swept me away like the rapids never could.

**DAY FIVE**

**Duncan**

_I am kissing Mel._

When we stopped, she looked deep into my eyes, like she was trying to figure out what I was thinking.

Which was: _Why did I do that?_

The answers were:

_Because she looked so beautiful._

_Because I wanted to_.

_Because it felt right._

_Because I never have._

All four were true, but I hated myself for the last one. Mel was my closest friend, not one of my many hit-and-runs. The truest answer was that I was confused, but it would spoil everything to say that, so I stayed quiet. Mel hadn't spoken either. Her fingertips lightly brushed her lower lip, like she was unsure if the kiss had really happened. She looked away from me, and from the side angle of her face, I could see she was gnawing the inside of her cheek.

I took my fingers and wove them through hers. We stayed like that until the sun fell below the tops of the trees and we were sitting in shadows.

"We should head back." Mel got up and brushed the dirt and dead leaves from the back of her new jeans. "They're already starting to break in," she said.

Back across the bridge, our photographer and his date had already left. At the cars, I told my dad, "I'll ride back with the Mr. and Mrs. B."

"Okay, but when we get back to the camp, no hanging out. We leave early tomorrow to visit Uncle Glenn and Aunt Bonnie," Dad said.

Ugh. I could only imagine the look on my face. Dad had mentioned tomorrow's visit, but I'd completely forgotten about it. Probably intentionally.

"Mel's welcome to join us," Mom said.

I looked at Mel and shrugged. There was a long drive back to figure it out.

In the car, after we'd ridden for awhile, I leaned over and whispered in her ear, "You don't have to go." God knows I didn't want to go. "It's probably better if you don't. That way you can rescue me by text."

 "Okay," she agreed, but her voice didn't sound as though it was.

The sun had gone down and it was dark in the car. I let my fingers creep across the seat to find her hand and squeeze it.

**DAY SIX**

**Melody**

_Poor Duncan._ He left more than an hour ago.

I'd only met his Aunt, Uncle and cousins twice before. Once when they came up to the lake for a day when we were still in elementary school. That time didn't make much of an impression on me. Then, two years ago, I rode down to Duluth with them for Duncan's annual visit.

"I don't understand why you only visit them once a year," I'd said to him when he invited me that time. "Minneapolis isn't that far from Duluth."

"Once you meet them, you will."

After the visit, I knew why. They were hard people to love.

_Poor me. What'll I do for a whole day?_ I could've gone with them if I pushed a little, but I'd said, _okay_ , when Duncan suggested I stay. The reason I agreed? Maybe he regretted kissing me. Maybe he needed some time away.

Still, I wished he was here, because without him around, I couldn't stop dwelling on that kiss. Sometimes that was nice, other times I tortured myself by asking _what was that, anyway?_ Did he get caught up in the perfection of the moment? Sure, Duncan had kissed a lot of girls. That being the understatement of the century. He'd given me a friendly peck before too. But never a kiss like that. Soft and—what was that the passed between us? It definitely wasn't brotherly.

_Love?_

Did he slip up and forget it was _me_? Just Mel. His best friend-slash-twin. That must be it. It was the only explanation—the only possible one—for something so extraordinarily out of character.

I shouldn't be thinking there was any more to it than that. I _really_ shouldn't think it meant he feels about me like I feel about him. But he held my hand on the way home.

_Stop it! Don't be ridiculous_.

I slipped in my earbuds and hit shuffle on my iPod. _Let's see what the universe wants me to hear._ The new release by Izzy was the first song, and I cranked the volume. Love all his songs except that one about travel. That one was vacuum-cleaner sucky.

The music played on, and every random song spoke to how I was feeling about Duncan, about his move, about us. When "Carry this Picture" played, my eyes stung, thinking about the photos we took yesterday. _I was so lost, but now, I believe._ I blinked fast, one-two-three times, to hold back the tears. While the song played, I googled the distance between the U and Florida Atlantic. Almost two thousand miles. Could he get any further away?

There was a sharp rap on the door as the song ended, and Mom inched in until she could edge herself onto the corner of my bed. I tugged one of the earbuds out.

"We haven't seen much of you today. Everything okay?" Mom pushed her bangs, which were the exact same shade as my hair, out of her eyes.

I shrugged. There was nothing to say.

"I saw Duncan holding your hand on the way home last night. Anything you want to talk about?"

I used the blinking trick again, but this time one teardrop betrayed me – _traitor!_ –and leaked out. I tried to brush it away nonchalantly with my fingertips.

"Honestly, I'm not trying to pry, but Duncan's your best friend, and I figure this is probably one of those times when he's not the right person to talk to."

There was no one to talk to. If it were _any_ thing other than Duncan, there'd be someone. The girls we hung out with were great, but they'd all been in love with Duncan at one point or another, whether that was sixth grade or last year. Not the most comforting shoulders to cry on. Besides, talking about your best friend-slash-crush felt like betraying him.

I shut my eyes and sighed. "He kissed me yesterday." I said it so softly I wasn't sure she heard me, but when I opened my eyes her mouth was frozen into an O.

Finally, she made the sound that went with the look. "Oh...Mel. I don't know what to say."

_Me either._

She crept around the side of the bed to position herself closer to me. "Actually, I take that back. I do have something to say." She smoothed a wrinkle near my knee before speaking again. "You've had feelings for him for a while, right?"

I nodded.

"And I'd be very surprised if he didn't have feelings for you."

"I'd be surprised if he _did_ ," I interrupted.

"Honey, don't say that. You're pretty spectacular, and Duncan would have to be pretty stupid to miss it."

I rolled my eyes. Clearly that fell under the heading of Mom-speak.

"At any rate, what I wanted to say was I understand how you're feeling right now. I really do. I'm sad for you and sad for me, too. I'm losing Ginny." Mom's face looked like she might join me a cry-fest. I hadn't thought much about how her life would change when they moved. No, strike that. I hadn't thought about it at all. Sometimes, I was so incredibly self-centered.

Mom swallowed hard, then continued. "I know in here," Mom laid her palm on her heart, "that we'll stay friends. I expect you and Duncan will too. But... college is a time in life for new experiences. It would have been—even if Duncan wasn't moving. In fact, I'd been planning on having this talk with you all along. Even before we got the news about the move. Even before... he kissed you." She laid her palm on my knee. It was warm, and vaguely annoying.

"I don't understand what you're saying to me."

"You don't understand? Or you don't _want_ to understand?"

I pressed my lips together to avoid yelling at her, _I don't understand anything_.

"What I'm saying is that your relationship with Duncan was bound to change. We don't know how it would've changed if you were still going to the U together, but it would've. And with his move, it will change. And we still don't know how."

"Is that all?" I asked.

Mom hesitated before saying, "He won't be that far way, and—"

"Two thousand miles seems far to me." I was angry at Mom, and Duncan's dad. Angry at the world. I just wished she'd leave me alone.

"Is that how far it is? Did you look it up?"

"Yep."

Mom gave me a half-laugh and shook her head. "I didn't realize. Yes, that sounds far, but everything is so much closer with the internet and phones."

"It's not the same—texting or Face Time." Because I can't rest my head on his shoulder, or hold his hand. I can't kiss Duncan by phone.

"I know that, Honey."

I fiddled with the dial on my iPod, glanced over at my nightstand and said, "I need to dust again."

Mom pulled me close for a hug. It wasn't quite as annoying this time around. I met her eyes. "I've been thinking about telling him how I feel."

Mom swallowed hard. "Why?"

"Because he's leaving..."

Mom gave me a corner-of-the-eye, sideways look.

"...I mean moving."

"Exactly."

"I might not get the chance to tell him." Mom watched me. I knew she had something to say, and I wished she'd take a little less time. "What? Just say it."

"Under a different set of circumstances—like if Duncan was still going to the U with you—I'd say, 'Bravo. I'm glad you found the courage to put your feelings out there even if you might get hurt.'"

"You wouldn't say that now?"

"What do you want him to do about it? Is there anything to be gained?" She hesitated. "Would you be saying it for him or you?"

_For me._ "So, you think it's a bad idea?"

Mom nodded. "Yes. Sorry, I know you didn't want to hear that."

And there it was. I knew it wasn't a good idea, and Mom confirmed it. My shoulders dropped, the anger I'd been feeling washed away by an overwhelming sadness. In less than forty-eight hours my life would change forever. If I took my Mom's advice there was nothing I could do to stop it or slow it down.

**DAY SIX**

**Duncan**

We walked into the dungeon that was my Aunt's and Uncle's house. Every heavy curtain was drawn, not one light turned on in the parlor, as my Aunt called it, or the dining room. A small, dirty glow emanated from the kitchen, the only light in the house. After I brought Mel the first time, she asked if they were vampires. It was actually much worse. Vampires were at least exciting.

Uncle Glenn closed the door behind us, blocking out the last of the daylight, sealing the door to my prison. "You made good time. Your Aunt's in the kitchen getting lunch together."

Mom handed him a box of cupcakes we'd picked up on the way here. "We brought dessert. I know Bonnie likes red velvet."

Without a _thank you,_ my Uncle took the box and strolled away from us. He was thin and wiry and somehow always created that feeling you get when the Jack-in-the-Box has been wound for the last time, right before it pops and startles you. He dropped the box onto the dining room table with a thump. "Red velvet. _Your_ favorite," he said to my aunt.

Aunt Bonnie scurried into the room, like the browbeaten woman she was, carrying a plate of finger sandwiches. She gave my mom and dad a quick peck on each cheek, then called us to the table. She'd made deviled ham sandwiches on white bread with the crusts cut off. Each sandwich was cut into four triangles. She got fancy like that for company.  My cousins charged to the table, grabbing sandwiches before they'd landed in their seats.

Uncle Glenn was my dad's older brother. I'd never thought they were much alike, but I was so pissed at my dad about the move I could actually see a few similarities that day. My uncle's flaws were the same as my Dad's. But my uncle's were under a microscope that magnified them by a hundred. Dad pinched pennies, but at least we were allowed electricity.

"Did you remember to bring their presents?" Aunt Bonnie asked my cousins.

Both of them, their mouths filled with deviled ham, shook their heads.

"Well, after your done eating—"

Uncle Glenn hitched the waistband on his too-loose jeans before sitting at the head of the table. "Get 'em _now."_ I looked over at Cody because he hung out with our cousins more than I did, but his eyes were glued to that damned, deviled-ham triangle. Kyle and Kevin practically tripped over each other trying to head back to their room. It would've been comical if it hadn't been so pathetic.

One more way my dad was like his brother: he expected immediate action from Cody and me, even if it didn't come with the threat of a wallop.

Poor Mel. When she visited this branch of my family tree two summers ago, she hadn't been prepared at all. Looking back, I probably should've warned her about their dark house, and crappy food, and the fact that my Uncle would probably smack one of my cousins before the day was through, but I wasn't really sure how to broach the subject. I'd said something along the lines of _we're not close_. When she'd asked me _why_ , I didn't elaborate. Too embarrassed, I guess.

I didn't blame her for skipping out today. If I could've stayed back at the lake, I would've. And the worst part of this visit? After today, I'd only have one more day with Mel before we had to say our goodbyes.

Kyle and Kevin came back from their rooms with a tube of sunscreen for each of us.

As they handed it to us, my Aunt Bonnie said, "Its SPF 70. I read the sun is a lot stronger there."

My Uncle clapped his hand on my Aunt's shoulder. For a minute they looked like that painting, _American Gothic_. "We don't want you to get skin cancer, now." The expression on his face seemed like pride.

Oddly, I was touched. They'd never given me a gift before, and they were worried about my health. "Thank you," I said, staring at Cody, waiting for him to say something.

"Yeah, thanks," he finally added.

"This was very thoughtful of you."  Mom smiled at Aunt Bonnie, Uncle Glenn and the boys.

Dad said nothing, just examined his tube, and then laid it by his plate.

I dug into a wedge of deviled ham. I definitely needed the sustenance to get me through an afternoon of fun-filled activities.

As the meal was winding down, while Aunt Bonnie served the cupcakes, Uncle Glenn asked, "So what are you going to do about the lake house?"

Dad pushed himself back from the table and folded his arms in front of his chest. "We're still talking about that." He tipped his chin across the table at Mom.

What is there to talk about?

Uncle Glenn said, "I don't know what there is to talk about. It doesn't make a whole lot of sense for you to keep a piece of property when you're half-way around the world. You hardly used it when you were living in Minneapolis."

That much was true. I never understood why we didn't spend more time up here.

"Now, if you lived in Duluth..." Uncle Glenn allowed that thought to trail off.

Mom cleared her throat, and using her most assertive tone said, "It's where the boys have spent every summer vacation. I don't plan on giving that up just yet."

Uncle Glenn took a mouthful of his red velvet, his mouth seesawing while he swallowed the piece. "Well Ginny, all I can say is when you get ready to unload it, I'll be happy to take it off your hands. For a fair price."

**DAY SEVEN**

**Duncan**

After our run, Mel and I sat on her porch arguing about what to do on our last day together.

 "C'mon. Everyone I'll meet in Florida will be perfectly bronzed. I need to lose some of my Yeti look. Besides, after a day with my relatives, I crave sunlight." I was in hard sell mode. Mel wanted to drive down the lake to play a round of mini-golf, mostly because she always beat my butt, but I'd spent a lot of time in cars the past two days and had just come back from Duluth.

"Are they still cave-dwellers?" she asked.

"My eyes hurt when we left their house for the car. It was like when you've had your eyes dilated at the doctor's office. And it was already dusk, so you know how bad it had to be." I laid both hands on her shoulders and tugged to pull her a little closer. She gazed up at my face. "Please don't deny me," I teased. "I need a tan."

"All right. I'll change."

_Finally._ "You won't regret this," I yelled as she retreated to her bedroom to put her suit on.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." She laughed at my b.s., and closed her bedroom door behind her.

When she came out her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail instead of her usual braid, but that wasn't the most surprising thing. I couldn't believe how much skin was showing. Mel's swimsuits were usually as modest as her Wubbie, and this one... wasn't.

"Whoa! Good thing my sunscreen is SPF 70." I waved the tube in her general direction. "You're showing parts of you that have never seen the sun." That wasn't absolutely true. My mom had a picture of us at two in a yellow, inflatable wading pool and Mel was topless. She was so chunky back then, her boobs might've been bigger than they were now.

Mel moved her beach towel in front of her waist and slipped into her flips. I stood up and grabbed my towel, then reached for hers. "Here, let me carry that for you." It was the least I could do for her.

And me.

**DAY SEVEN**

**Melody**

I handed Duncan my towel even though it made me feel so...exposed.

He followed me down the wood dock, the supports squeaking under the weight of our footsteps. The second perfect day in a row. Duncan laid our towels side by side under another cloudless blue sky. A slight breeze swirled around us. I had to admit it was a perfect day to nap in the sun and turned around to tell Duncan I approved of his choice. His eye were lowered, those long lashes of his most visible. He raised his eyes to meet mine, and blushed. Was he looking at... _me_?

"Huh?" he grunted.

Flustered, I said, "I... _uh_...forgot what I was going to say," and reached for his sunscreen. I dabbed a little on my nose and cheeks, then spread a layer on my chest and stomach. My legs already had a base tan. I held the tube out to Duncan.

He shook his head. "I'm gonna brave it for a while, but I can get your back and shoulders for you. Turn around."

I scooted on my butt, while he squeezed a little white goo onto his fingers.

"I'll have you know this sunscreen was a gift from my cousins, and because I love you, I'm willing to share."

_He...loves...me?_ Wait a sec! Is that _twins-love_ or _love-love_ , because he shouldn't carelessly toss a word like that around. I glanced over my shoulder at him. "Seriously? They gave you sunscreen?"

"They don't want me to get cancer."

I laughed. "That's a good thing, right?"

"Yeah. Now turn around so that I can get you protected."

When his fingers touched my shoulder, I inhaled sharply, then held my breath.

"Cold?" he asked.

"A little."

He gently rubbed it into both shoulders and then started on my upper back. _He's killing me_. The butterflies punched their time cards and went to work. As he applied more sunscreen, he spoke in his storyteller voice. "Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess with reddish-brown hair."

I smirked.

"The sun wanted to touch her skin, but it would hurt her because she was so fair. So a _handsome_ —"

"Incredibly handsome or plain ole vanilla handsome?" I asked with a grin.

"Incredibly, but don't interrupt—"

_It's rude._

"—it's rude."

"Sorry."

"S'okay, I forgive you. Anyway... back to the story. So this incredibly handsome prince unselfishly shared his SPF 70—"

I laughed. "Sorry. I couldn't help it."

Duncan stopped rubbing. "Really Mel, you're ruining the story."

"I won't say another word if you rub my back some more."

"Promise?"

I turned to look at him and made a zip-my-lips motion.

Duncan put a little more lotion on his hands and went back to rubbing. "Where was I?"

Right shoulder blade. Oh, he means the story. I was tempted to remind him, but didn't want to push my luck.

"Oh yes... the incredibly handsome prince was sharing his sunscreen, which allowed the beautiful princess to be touched by the sun, but not hurt by its strength." Duncan stopped rubbing and storytelling. "There, you're all set."

"Thanks." But really I'm not _all set_ , because he didn't finish the story and I want to know if they live happily ever after.

**DAY SEVEN**

**Duncan**

That morning we hung out on the dock for a couple hours. I laid on my stomach and pretended to doze off, because putting the sunscreen on Mel had gotten me... _uh_...a little worked up. The boner was a real bummer; I'd wanted to get a little sun on my face. Afterwards, Mel wanted to take the kayaks out. We paddled around while the sun slipped behind low, dark clouds.

"We better head back," I said, playing the protective prince again. The skies opened up before we could make it back, and even though we paddled like a couple maniacs, we got drenched anyway. Our only speck of good luck was that the rain stopped as quickly as it started. In a bad news-good news-bad news turn of events, the wind picked up and was coming directly out of the north, which made paddling quite a feat.

"I'm freezing," Mel complained. "Just look at these goose bumps."

"God, Mel, they're almost as big as your chest." The joke passed my lips before the filter kicked in. That was the old Duncan-Mel friendship, and I wasn't sure what the borders were on what we were becoming. It felt wrong to tease her like that. "Sorry," I mumbled. "I'm freezing too. Let's head in." At the shore, I dragged my kayak up onto the grass and flipped it over to drain. Mel was struggling with hers since it had gotten heavier with the water in the bottom so I went to help.

"Want to take a walk up to the point?" I asked as I hauled her kayak. Video games or a movie with Cody were pretty far down the list of fun stuff to do today. The absolute last thing on the list was doing anything _without_ Mel.

"Sure, let me go change."

"Meet you back here in five."

I jogged across the yard, and opened the screen door only to find mom and dad seated at opposite ends of the couch. Mom's arms were crossed in front of her chest, her lips pressed into a slash. _Oops! I interrupted a battle over something_. "Hey!" I gave them a lame half-wave. "Just getting changed."

 In my room, I put on a pair of jeans and a hoodie. Through the tissue-paper-thin walls, the fight resumed; I could make out tone if not the topic. My phone sat on the desk, a message from Jackson displayed on the screen— _Just heard. Call me_.

_Great_. This didn't make my list of fun stuff either, but maybe I could keep it short. I grabbed the phone and headed for the door when I overheard a piece of their _discussion._

"What if we don't like Florida?" Mom asked.

"What's not to like? It's paradise."

"C'mon, you don't believe those real estate brochures any more than I do. I'm serious."

"Do you really think you'll yearn for the Twin Cities?"

Mom hesitated. "I might."

"Look, Ginny, we've talked about this for years. We agreed that if I ever had the chance for this job we'd go. I remember you saying I should jump at it."

"I know I did, but I never thought it would actually happen."

Dad didn't respond, but the screen door slammed. That had to hurt. Even I knew how long he'd wanted that job. I froze in my spot. If I walked out now, Mom would know I heard their fight. But Mel was waiting for me. I stuck my head out of my door.

"It's fine, Duncan. The coast is clear."

"I'm sorry. I couldn't help it."

"I don't mind. You boys probably should've been part of that discussion anyway."

That would've been nice. And different. "So is there a chance we won't go?"

"No. It's too far along for that. If your dad reneged, it would jeopardize his career." Mom shrugged and tried to force a smile. "You should learn from me. Sometimes there's no point in arguing about something that can't be changed."

I nodded.

"I assume you're on your way out?  Where are you off to?" Mom asked.

"Mel and I are gonna take a walk up to the point."

"Okay, but be careful."

 I don't know what Mom thought could possibly happen as we walked along the lake. We'd been doing this by ourselves since we were ten.

"Will do," I said, if only to make her feel like she'd done her job, and then let the screen door swing shut on its hinges behind me.

Mel was waiting for me down by the shore, her new jeans rolled up to mid-calf, barefoot, her toenails an adorable pink shade. She was also wearing her stupid _wubbie_. I made a face at her.

She grinned at me. "Be nice."

"I didn't say a word." I opened my eyes wide in innocence.

"You didn't have to. Look, it's the most comfortable sweater I own."

"It may as well be the only sweater you own," I mumbled under my breath, then laughed when she smacked my arm. I rubbed it, pretending she hurt me, then wagged my phone at her. "Jackson texted me. I gotta give him a call."

Mel made a face.

"I'll put him on speaker." Mel and I cruised along the shore, taking baby steps, as I pulled up his number from my contacts. As the phone rang, I silently hoped he'd be busy. Tomorrow I'd be back home and we could talk then.

"Dude. What's this I hear about a move?" Jackson wasn't big on typical greetings.

"Hey! I gotcha on speaker."

"Who else is there?"

"Mel. We were just getting ready to take a walk."

"You mean the love of my life? Is she still a svelte hottie?"

Most of the time I liked Jackson's lack of a filter. He usually said some pretty funny things, but this grated. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Mel's face grow bright red, though I couldn't tell if she was embarrassed or annoyed. Probably annoyed. "Yeah," I replied.

"Lucky you. Hey, Mel!"

"Hey," she replied. The lack of enthusiasm was probably even apparent to Jackson.

There was a long, awkward pause that stretched out for so long I thought we might've hit a dead spot, but the phone said we were still connected. "You still there?"

"Yeah. So, Dude, is it true? You're moving?"

"One hundred percent. Who'd you hear it from?" This really did have me confused, since I didn't even know until the drive up here.

"There's a _For Sale_ sign in front of your house. Did your dad finally decide to part with some of his cash? I figure you guys are Lake Harriet-bound."

So he didn't know. Not really. He thought we were moving cross-town to a nicer neighborhood. "Actually, we're Boca bound."

"Boca? I never heard of that. Is it a new—"

"It's in Florida."

"Oh." Another long pause. "Dude."

"Listen, I gotta go. Mel's waiting for me." Not totally true since we'd already made our way past the Wilson's dock, but Jackson didn't need to know that. "We're leaving here tomorrow. I should be home by noon. Stop by or something, 'cause I'll be caged in my house... packing."

"Will do. Later, Dude."

"Yeah." I slipped the phone into my back pocket and took Mel by the hand. She smiled up at me.

"He's not that bad, and at least it'll be a person you know at the U next year." My stomach churned as I said this. While I didn't want Mel to be lonely, it was Jackson after all.

"Yeah, but is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Mel asked, and I didn't have an answer.

We walked along in silence for a bit. Every so often I would swing our clasped hands high, like I was five years old or something. It made Mel giggle every time.

Finally she spoke. "When are you leaving?"

"My dad said he wanted to be on the road no later than eight tomorrow morning."

Mel nodded. "I'll be up. But that's not what I meant. When are you leaving for Florida? Before I get back?"

My throat clamped shut, and my heart felt as tight as a fist. "Five days. You won't be back yet, will you?"

 Mel's lips clamped together and almost imperceptibly she moved her head from side to side. "No. We'll still be here." We took a few more steps, and then she said, "I wish we were doing something special today. So far everything has been so... normal."

"Normal's nice for me. Pretty soon nothing will be normal."

She nodded and clasped my hand tighter. "I know. I just meant more memorable."

I knew what she meant.

An idea flashed through my brain. It would be fun. And we hadn't ever done it before, which might make it memorable. "I have an idea. Be ready at dusk." I tried to keep the mischief out of my voice.

"What?" She stopped walking so she could look me in the eye.

"Just be ready. It's a surprise."

**DAY SEVEN**

**Melody**

Duncan's driving was lousy under the best of circumstances, like when I could actually see what was coming next and could anticipate the bumps and bruises. Riding shotgun, blindfolded, was another experience altogether.

I tipped my head to try to see under the scarf he'd borrowed from his mom.

"No peeking," he said.

"Smells like popcorn in here."

"You're imagining things."

I could tell from the way I swayed side-to-side in my seat that whatever road we were on was curvy. From that, I tried to think of where he could be taking me. The only road this crazy-winding led to a bait and tackle shop. _He can't be taking me there?_

Eventually, he slowed, pulling off onto a shoulder, the tires crunching against the gravel.

"Okay, you can take the blindfold off."

I removed it, and up ahead on the right was the Lakeside Drive-In. The marquee proclaimed we'd watch a "What's Eating You?" double feature – _Jaws_ and _Zombieland._ Duncan reached into the backseat, fumbled around, and pulled two grease-dotted brown paper bags of popcorn into the front seat. He handed them to me. "You have a keen sense of smell."

I laughed.

His surprise was cute. And unexpected. And memorable, which is exactly what I wanted. A true Duncan adventure. All afternoon I'd tried to imagine what we'd be doing. I'd considered a Booya tasting, or the round of mini-golf that I'd asked for. But I'd never thought of this old drive-in, a local landmark that I had secretly always wanted to go to. Even these movies were Duncan-esque.

Better yet, it felt sort of like a date. Which made the whole thing pretty much perfect.

Duncan pulled back onto the road. At the gate, he insisted tonight was on him, then he steered the car to an empty row in the middle of a field and shut the engine.

I read the flier they handed to us at the gate. "It says you have to tune the radio to AM 560."

Duncan turned the car back on, fiddled with the knobs, and got sound to go with the animated popcorn and candy bars that were dancing across the huge screen. "We don't need none of that fancy, concession stand popcorn. We brung our own," Duncan said in his best hillbilly voice. He tossed a kernel in his mouth, then pretended like he was aiming for mine. I opened wide, and the kernel hit me on the cheek.

Duncan shrugged. "And now you know why I was cut from the baseball team."

I laughed. He'd never wanted to play, but his dad had been a pitcher, which hadn't left Duncan with any options other than to tryout.

By the time _Jaws_ started, we'd done a fairly good job of demolishing the popcorn, which was a good thing because I probably would have choked on a kernel. Every time that music started, I held my breath. When the shark popped out of the water, I nearly jumped into Duncan's lap. It didn't even matter that the shark looked fake. "You'll never get me to go swimming at night," I told him as the credits rolled.

"At night? You can't be serious. I'm moving to shark territory. I can't even imagine swimming in broad daylight."

The reminder that he'd be half-way across the continental U.S. in less than a week was like the burnt, half-popped kernels left over in my brown bag, deeply unsatisfying and hard to swallow. I picked a few out, then tossed them back and crumpled the bag.

"That was a buzzkill, wasn't it?"

I shrugged. "A little."

"Do you want to go?"

I shook my head and kissed his cheek, feeling the sting of surfacing tears. Sheer willpower held them back. I didn't want to spoil our last night.

Fortunately, _Zombieland_ lightened the mood. It was as if the essence of Duncan had been directly channeled into a movie—fast-paced, exciting, and quirky-funny. I was sorry to see the movie end for more than one reason.

"We can get a twirl cone on the way back if you want," Duncan said as he put the car in drive. "Wait, the engine's not on?" He put the car back into park and twisted the key in the ignition. The overhead light came on and dimmed, accompanied by the slow groan of a battery. It wasn't completely dead, but may as well have been.

Duncan jumped from the car and flagged down another couple pulling out. "Hey, I could use a jump."

"Bummer. I don't have cables," the guy said through his open window.

Duncan tried three more cars, without any luck, and by then the lot had emptied. The screen blacked out, the lights at the perimeter shut off, the marquis went dark. The only light left was a small glow from the concession stand. A shadowy figure emerged from a side door and started to walk toward us.

Creepy. I was pretty sure it wasn't a zombie, but at the same time, felt weirdly relieved that I was in better shape than a few years ago. I could run if we needed to.

"I can't let you kids stay here," the shape said. "It's against the rules."

 "My battery died," Duncan explained.

"That's some stank-ass luck. I'd give you a jump, but my cables are in my other truck."

"I have AAA," I said to Duncan. A part of me didn't even want to offer this. Maybe this was the Universe's way of keeping Duncan around indefinitely.

"Missy, that's probably a fine idea in Minneapolis or Duluth, but around here you'd be waiting 'til Sunday. Don't you have someone you could call?"

I knew Duncan wouldn't want to call his dad, and if I called mine, word would get back. We both stayed mum.

"All right. I get it," the drive-in guy said. "Listen, I live about fifteen, twenty minutes from here. I'll go home and get my cables. You two sit tight."

"Okay. Thanks," Duncan said.

"But I gotta shut down the concession stand. If my brother-in-law drives by and sees I left the power on, I'll be out of a job."

"Wouldn't want that to happen," Duncan replied, jamming his hands into his pockets, mirroring the posture of the manager.

The figure ambled off, then shut down the concession stand before climbing into his truck and driving away. Once he made it around the curve, his headlights disappeared, and we were plunged into near total darkness.

Duncan sat on the hood of the car. I got out to join him, and leaned against the bumper, while wondering if this was the best _or worst_ predicament we'd ever gotten into.

Like always, Duncan was on the same wavelength. "He's gonna come back, right?"

I brushed my hair back from my face. "I don't even care if he does. It's beautiful tonight."

Duncan lay back on the hood. He patted the spot next to him and said, "Yeah. The stars are crazy. And no moon."

I boosted myself up onto his dusty hood, feet balanced on the bumper, and eased myself down next to him, angling my head to the side so I could see his profile. "I'm the moon," I said.

"Mel." I could hear the frustration in his voice. "Don't say stuff like that about yourself. You're not invisible."

"It's true," I said. Even I could hear the pain in my voice. "But what I meant was that you're like the sun. Think about how things were in school. All those planets circling around, with you holding it all together. I just reflected your light, like the moon. And when you're gone...I wonder if all the planets will just drift away."

 "That's your version of the Universe, not mine."

 We both watched the sky in silence.

"You know," he said without looking back at me, "I'm glad I kissed you yesterday. At first I thought it was a huge mistake, but I'd never forgive myself if I'd moved away without even trying it."

_What does that mean? Why a mistake? Trying it?_ It made me feel like the kiss was an experiment for him.

He tilted his head toward me and leaned in, kissing me softly on the lips. He pulled away, and then moved his mouth to my cheek, nose, eyes, brow, kissing lightly. He scooted closer and drew me into his arms, kissing my neck and a spot just below my shoulder. I could barely breathe, and he was moving so fast there was no way to kiss back. Finally, he stopped, his face hovering an inch above mine. I couldn't read his expression, though whether it was the lack of light, or that he had conflicting emotions, I couldn't have said.

" _Trying_ out some different spots to see if you like one better than another?" I teased, but the sting came through in my voice.

"Shut up, Mel." And he kissed me, deep and urgent. Like I'd never been kissed before _. This is what all the fuss is about._ His hands rested on the waist band of my jeans. He looped his fingers through the belt loops on one side, and used them to pull me closer. His other hand slid up under my top to rest on the bare skin of my waist. _Does he feel my mini muffin?_  I recoiled.

"What's wrong?" Duncan asked, his lips still so close they brushed mine as he spoke.

"Not too fast," I said, mirroring my request from our Jet Ski ride.

"As slow as you want," he said, his hand inching higher.

His hand was warm, but that didn't explain the burn in my skin. My top crept up, exposing my stomach to the summer-night chill. I inhaled sharply. He traced his finger along the bottom edge of my bra while kissing the side of my neck. I'd daydreamed about something like this, but the reality was way more intense. Every sweep of his fingers caught me off-guard. I muzzled his neck and kissed the hollow in the _V_ of his shirt. Time unfolded and then telescoped. I had no idea how long we'd been kissing.

Duncan slid his hand under my bra. I laid my hand on top of his, wanting never to move again.

"You're beautiful," he said.

We sounded like we'd just finished one of our runs, we were both panting so hard. I pressed against him.

"God, Mel."

Headlights suddenly swept across our car. We pulled apart quickly and I smoothed my top. Drive-in guy was back with the cables.

Damn.

**DAY SEVEN**

**Duncan**

Drive-in guy connected the cables and the engine roared to life.

"You probably had the radio on with your running lights and that wore the battery down. You should be fine." He released the rod that held the hood up and let it slam shut.

"Thanks." I held a ten-dollar bill out to him, but he waved me off.

"It's on the house." He smacked the roof and we drove off.

On the way back, Mel was quieter than normal and I didn't talk much either. I was lost in thoughts like:

_That was fantastic._

_Better than any other hook-up._

_It's Mel—that wasn't a hook-up._

_I leave tomorrow._

_This boner is killing me._

_Mel's practically a sister._

_Is this like incest?_

_Am I sick?_

_A sexual deviant?_

I assumed Mel was having some thoughts of her own.

When we pulled into the long, shared driveway, the headlights illuminated Mom and Mel's mom, both in their bathrobes, sitting in Adirondack chairs, each holding a glass of wine.

"Thank God you're back, we were starting to worry," Mom said.

"And had to break into the wine."

They laughed together.

I shuffled from foot to foot, pushing gravel with the toe of my Nike's.  "The battery died and the guy from the drive-in offered to help, but he had to run home to get the cables."

Mom raised one brow, skeptical. "You could have called."

"I thought it would stress out Dad."

Mom took a sip of wine and said, "He's sound asleep, but I was just lying here, so I came out to watch for you. Kathleen was already out here."

Mel's mom got up from the chair and walked over to Mel, then draped her arm around Mel's shoulder. "As long as you're both safe," she said more to Mel than to me. "It gave us a chance to reminisce, and we pretty much killed this bottle of Merlot." She gave the bottle a little tip back and forth, then pretend-jogged over to my mom and poured the rest into her empty glass. It was more than a few drops, but not much more.

"I think I have another bottle inside. C'mon, we never finished talking about when Colleen's husband dug up their backyard."

My mom laughed hysterically. "How he thought he could DIY an in-ground pool, I'll never understand."

They hardly knew we were there as they headed into Mel's house. A moment later, the light went on in the kitchen.

I took over mom's chair and Mel was poised half-on-half-off of the arm.

"C'mere." I pulled her into my lap. Her body warmed me from the cool breeze coming off the lake. She'd braided her hair again tonight, like she always did. I kissed a spot behind her ear and tugged at the elastic.

"What are you doing?"

"Once there was a princess with reddish-brown hair and she kept it tied up, like her hair was a prisoner."

Mel laughed.

"A prince came along to rescue it." I slowly unbraided her long hair.

"Not a knight this time?"

"Ssshh." I finished unbraiding her hair and shifted so that I could fluff it around her face. It hung in loose waves. "That's better." I leaned in and kissed her again. There was no way we could go back to where we were at the drive-in, not with our moms a few feet away.

"Maybe they'll polish off that bottle and pass out. That'd give us some privacy," Mel joked.

  _Does she want what I want?_

 I didn't need an invitation. We kissed a few more times and I started to get amped up again. "Wait," I said when we took a break. "I want you to know how great my vacation was this summer. They're always great, but this year was special."

Mel looked down, and I tipped her chin up to me. "I'm moving away, Mel." She shook her head. "I am. We'll be at different colleges and it will suck not seeing you every day. You're going to meet a lot of people."

"No I won't."

"You will. And some of those people will be guy people. And some of those guy people will want to take you out."

"Yeah right. What's gonna make it any different than it's always been?"

"It will be. So no promises, okay?" I brushed her hair away from her face.

Mel looked away. I could see the gleam of tears in her eyes. "What if I don't have a problem with promises?"

"No promises, Mel." I pulled her close and kissed her on the forehead. "We've never broken one to each other and I couldn't bear it if we started now."

**DAY EIGHT**

**Melody**

After their car was packed to the brim with all their regular vacation stuff, combined with the extra stuff they're taking to Florida, Duncan and I inched toward his car. He leaned his back against his door, wrapped his hands around my waist, and pulled me close. My head rested on his chest, listening to the steady bump of his heart, so different from the thumpity fast rhythm of last night. I was aware that all around us everyone was having tearful goodbyes, aware of his family climbing into their car, and the ker-chunk sound of their doors being closed, aware even that my parents had stepped back to our yard, but I stubbornly refused to give up the hold I had on Duncan.

Fortunately, he could be as pig-headed as me.

"Duncan, we're leaving." His dad turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life.

"I have to go," he said, not going.

"I know." I managed to lift my head from his chest and look into his eyes. "Twelve months is a long time."

"It'll go fast," he said, but I thought he might be trying to reassure himself as much as reassuring me.

"Text me," I said.

"Yep." Our fingers still entwined, he pulled away from me, until even they slipped apart. He opened the door and took his seat next to Cody, then looked out the window at me. Our eyes locked.

His dad put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway. I held his gaze until I couldn't, and stood frozen to my spot watching their car recede. Mom wrapped her arm around my waist and we walked back toward our cottage. I thanked God that she didn't say a word.

Inside, my phone was chiming.

It read: _What's new?_

Then: _You said to text_.

I typed back: _I'm making plans for my vacation next summer._

_Thank you for reading the first installment in the Denim Days series. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! If so, feel free to share it with a friend. This book is lending enabled to make it easy for you to do that._

_Also, reviews ae so important to other readers in helping them choose which books to read. If you do leave a review on-line, please email me atsheldelisle@aol.com and I'll gift a copy of the next book in the series to you as a small token of thanks._

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_And if you're curious about what happens with Mel and Duncan, go ahead and read the excerpt from **The Summer We Stumbled** or purchase it_ _here._

**Denim Days #2**

_The Summer We Stumbled_

**DAY ONE**

**Melody**

This was what happened when Duncan pulled into our driveway at the lake house: a ray of light broke through the clouds overhead to shine on his car, the birds of the forest flocked around his car tweeting like a choir of angels, time moved into slow-mo, and a light breeze blew wisps of hair back from my face.

In my dreams.

Actually, I heard the crunch of his tires and ran to the window to see him pull in. He had a passenger. A female passenger, no less.

I froze. _Why didn't Cody warn me?_   My original plan was to run out the door, throw my arms around his neck and squeal in glee. That didn't seem like an option anymore. Duncan got out of the car, and glanced at the window where I stood. He squinted in the bright light, shielding his eyes from the sun, made a half-wave like he wasn't quite sure if there was anyone there, and walked around to haul luggage from the trunk.

Meanwhile, the girl got out of the car. She was tall—almost as tall as Duncan—and twiggy. Long, skinny limbs on a long, skinny body, with long, skinny jet black hair. A beautiful face, sort of Polynesian looking. She could be a model.

I hadn't heard Mom come up behind me. "So that's Duncan's new friend," she said.

"You knew?"

"Ginny told me yesterday he was bringing a friend. You didn't know?" Mom arched one of her brows.

_Why would I?_

After Duncan's move last summer, we stayed in touch every day for months. Texts. Pictures. Face time. We made plans for when he would be at the U next year. He talked about coming to Minnesota for Spring Break. We joked about how that would be typical Duncan, him heading in the opposite direction from every other college student. But our schedules didn't line up, and those plans fell by the wayside. It wasn't the same as having my best friend with me at all times, but it wasn't horrible either.

In the last couple months of school our communication ebbed. Every text or call was centered around _study, study, study_. I didn't hear from him during finals and left him alone. I knew he was feeling the pressure to ace his classes. Competition for acceptance to medical school was ridiculous. After exams, our communication never went back to normal. Sometimes it would take a day for him to text me back, so we'd only talked a couple times since. I figured he was stressed out waiting for his grades even though he'd told me he'd done well.

One exchange went like this:

ME: _Everything ok?_

HIM: _yep._

ME: _Finals over?_

HIM: _last one this morning._

ME: _Yay!_

HIM: _yay is right_.

HIM: _hey, sorry. gotta run._

ME: _SEE you soon!!_

HIM: _yep_

ME: _Can't wait!_

HIM: _yep_

Sure, I knew something was off. I just didn't think that _something_ would be gorgeous... and my replacement.

Mom draped her arm over my shoulder. "Go say hello."

I didn't move. Tears were trapped behind my eyes, knocking like they wanted out.

"You've been friends with him since you were born, and it's been a year since you saw him. Swallow your hurt and be the bigger person."

_I was the bigger person all right. Did she see how skinny that girl was?_ All of a sudden the five pounds I'd gained freshmen year felt like fifty. I might as well have been Jelly Melly.

I sighed. Mom's expression said she understood how I felt. It said she was sorry and she wished there was a way she could fix it. I hugged her and headed for the door. Before stepping outside, I took one deep breath, threw my shoulders back, and tugged on the bottom of my sweater. _Whatever happens... do... not... cry._   _Whatever happens... do... not... cry._   Do. Not. Cry.

"Hey! Duncan!" I tried to smile.

He dropped his duffle on the driveway and trotted to me, picking me up in a bear hug. I threw my arms around his neck as he swung me around, one tear leaking out despite my mantra. It was how I'd imagined our reunion, except for the beauty queen standing on the other side of the car. As he held me, flashes of the drive-in bombarded my thoughts. Our kisses. His caresses. Finally he put me down. I didn't want to let go.

"Nice shirt," He teased.

"I wore it just for you," I joked back. And actually I had. I knew he'd comment on it, and I'd plan to say something like, "Go ahead, try to get it off me," but you know what they say about the best laid plans.

By then, the beauty queen slunk over to us. No lie, that's how she moved. She looped her arm around Duncan's waist.

Duncan swallowed hard enough to make his Adam's apple bob. "Mel, this is a friend of mine from school—Mina."

Did I hear him right... Mean, ah? "Come again?"

The queen glanced first at Duncan. "Friend? Is that what were calling it?" Before he could respond, she said to me, "Mina. Rhymes with Tina. My mother is a huge fan of Stoker's Dracula. And your name is Mel? Like the old Jewish man who owns a diner?"

I don't know what her name has to do with Dracula, but the vampire tie-in seemed apropos. "Actually, it's Melody. Duncan's never been a fan of anything over two syllables." I winked at Duncan, and hoped he understood I was nervous and just trying to find some common ground, which at the moment was only him.

"I guess it's good my name is Mina, then." She laughed in a tinkling way that could best be described as annoying.

During our exchange, Duncan shifted from one foot to the other, clearly—at least to me—

uncomfortable. She and I were like two cats, backs arched and circling. If I'd been smart enough to know I was out matched, I'd have walked away, but I wasn't quite done. "How did you guys meet?" I resisted the internal compass that made me want to look at Duncan, that made me want to ask _him_ , and I held her eyes instead.

"We sat next to each other in Organic Chemistry this semester."

Her claw delivered a scratch to my heart. He'd known her for months, and he hadn't mentioned her, even when we were still talking every day.

 Her eyes narrowed. She looked ready to pounce. "How about you two? How did you meet?"

Scratch number two. Duncan hadn't told her about me.

Duncan laid his hand on her upper arm, almost like he was holding her back. "I've known Mel forever."

"Yeah, our moms were friends when they were preggers."

"Right," she said. "Now I remember. The fat one."

The scratch on my heart tore open. Time to run away before she could inflict any more damage. I looked at the ground, holding back tears, and turned toward my house. Duncan called to me, "Mel! Hey, wait!"

I stopped in my tracks.

"Mina's been after me the whole way here to get on the Jet Ski. Want to meet us at the dock in ten?"

Let's see. It only holds two passengers and it's not my favorite. "Nah, I'll catch up with you later. Have fun." I tried to keep my voice light. If there was one thing I'd learned during all my fat shaming at school it was that you never let them see how much they could hurt you. It only made it worse.

"Okay. See you later," Duncan said.

"Yeah, later. Nice to meet you," Mina added in a perky voice, as if she'd suddenly remembered her manners.

I wish I could say the same about her.

**DAY ONE**

**Duncan**

By the time I turned onto the road that led to the lake house, my stomach was a mess. I'd avoided telling Mel about Mina at first because... _how do you bring it up?_ I couldn't say, "I met somebody," because that wasn't really true. I'd met Mina on the first day of Organic Chemistry. The truth was a week before finals there was this big party. Mina said we should both get blasted, like a last hurrah before the final grind.  I thought it was a great idea and I went along.

At the party she asked me to dance, and I went along.

She kissed me. And, I went along.

Not that I minded any of this. Mina is drop-dead-stop-a-clock-and-every-other-cliché gorgeous. She's also the most brilliant pre-med candidate in any of my classes. If I hadn't kissed her back, I would've been committed. Back in Minnesota, in the same amount of time, I probably would have fallen in and out of lust four, maybe five, times. Mina was the first girl I'd kissed since moving to Florida.

That still didn't make it any easier to tell Mel.

I meant to. I really did. But every time I'd get icy feet and tell myself _tomorrow_ , then _next time_ , until the gaps between texting or talking to Mel stretched longer and longer. I was a chickenshit. And I hated myself for it.

Seeing Mel had me so worked up I wanted to drive right by the house and keep going. Not very realistic, I know, but worth considering. The thing is I'm such a wimp, I couldn't do that either, and pulled into the driveway.

Mina kinda gasped and said, "Oh my God. It's so charming."

I smiled at her as I got out of the car. "Hope you still think so after a couple days." Mel's bedroom window caught my eye. It seemed like maybe there was a shadow there. I squinted in the bright sunlight. _Was she watching?_

"Are you going to get the bags, Dunc?"

"Yep." I glanced back at the window as I opened the trunk. If that shadow was Mel, I guess I just told her in the most cowardly way possible.

Mel stepped out the door and onto her porch. God, it was good to see her. There was something a little sad in her expression and it made me want to wrap my arms around her and never let go.

"Hey! Duncan!" she said like we'd hung out yesterday.

I ran over, picked her up, and swung her around, burying my head in the crook of her neck, breathing in her vanilla and brown sugar scent. It felt so damn good to be home.

I set her down. "Nice shirt." I was even glad to see the awful wubbie.

"I wore it just for you." She grinned at me. I wanted to hug her again. I wanted to kiss her. Not a friendly brother-sister peck, but the way we'd kissed at the drive-in. With Mina making her way over to us—that wasn't happening.

Mina grabbed me around the waist. I felt like she was claiming me as her property. I took one sec to compose myself, then plowed forward. "Mel, this is a friend of mine from school—Mina."

The intro pissed Mina off. Her voice took on an icy tone I'd heard only a couple times before. "Friend? Is that what were calling it?"

From there, things went downhill.  I think it's fair to call their introduction an unequivocal disaster. I knew it'd be uncomfortable, but never in a million years did I expect it to have that level of suck to it.

I couldn't believe Mina had mentioned Mel's weight. I'd never called Mel fat. When I told Mina about her, I said she'd been pudgy as a kid, but had really slimmed down in the last couple years. I knew Mel was hurting. Shit, it hurt me!

Every year, first thing, Mel and I got out on the lake—a paddle, a sail, a ride. It didn't surprise me when Mel passed on the Jet Ski; she never liked them anyway, but it felt strange to be here and not be bound together.

I picked up the bags and headed for our cabin. Inside, Mom and Cody said hi to Mina, and Cody helped me drop her luggage in the guest room. I still couldn't believe how much she'd brought after I told her how casual we all were.

I handed her the small bag with her shampoo and make-up. "The bathroom we all share is down the hall. It's small, so you'll probably want to keep this in here." Then, I picked up my duffle, and headed to the door.

"Where are you sleeping?" she asked.

I gave her a quizzical look. "Cody and I share a room."

"I like sharing... especially with you." Mina suggested, suggestively.

 "It's bunk beds," Cody said. I wasn't sure what motivated him to chime in, but I had to swallow a laugh.  Leave it to Cody to get to the point. He's a conversational Swiss Army knife.

 "How cute." Mina patted the bed. "Guess I'll stay here."

I grinned at her, wanting to say something about how I knew where to find her, but Cody was hanging so I just said, "I'm gonna change into my board shorts. Meet you at the dock."

I closed her door behind me, and Cody followed me to our room. "Did you see Mel yet?"

"In the driveway. She said _hey_." That didn't even begin to cover what had gone on. I could've used a little of Cody's straight-talk gene. "She looked good," I added.

The thing is she looked better than good. She looked like my childhood, and my high school years, and every memory I had of Minnesota. Old pictures don't really deliver the full Mel-effect. Not even Face Time could capture her. There's an energy in her that rarely makes it past the lens of the camera.

"Is she going jet skiing?" Cody asked.

"No, she... doesn't love it."

Cody grabbed his board shorts, which were hung on a hook on the back of the pine door. "I'm going to ask her to go kayaking."

I wanted to stop him. That was one of the things Mel and I always did together, but I already knew this summer would be different. "Okay. Will you find out if she's still speaking to me?"

"Mel's not stupid." Cody shucked off his jeans and stepped into his board shorts.

Right. I know that. But does Cody mean she'd be stupid to talk to me, or to _not_ talk to me.
_  
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_ _

**Acknowledgments**

With every book there are people who need thanking. For this series I'm indebted to my editor Kristina Miranda, who understood intuitively the kind of story I was trying to tell and also shared  a factoid or two about Minnesota. Thanks to my cover designer Matt Delisle. I asked for something unique and he delivered beyond my expectations.

I need to acknowledge my writing group friends: Kerry O'Malley Cerra, Meredith McArdle, Jill MacKenzie, Ty Shiver and Kristina Miranda. All of them had invaluable input about Melody and Duncan's relationship. Also, thanks to Lory Carpenter, my mom, who has such a strong understanding of romance stories. Her insightful questions put me back on the right track more times than I can count.

Thanks to my boys who support my crazy career choice. And, most importantly, thanks to my hubby, both my best friend and lover, who showed me how easy it is to be both.

**About the Author**

_Shel Delisle is the author of eight books for young adults, including the popular Angel in Training series. She loves to read books that make her laugh and cry and any read that can do both becomes an instant favorite. You can connect with her on-line.      _
