Page 3 of Summer Reading

“Hey, miss!” I turned and saw one of the frat bruhs had my duffel bag by the handle. “Is this yours?”

It was! I had completely forgotten it. I took a few steps toward the guy when I remembered my new friend. I turned back but the crowd was already filling the space between us.

I called back to reader guy, “Sorry, I have to—”

A large family shuffled into the gap, cutting off my words as everyone scrambled for the exit, while avoiding the vomit-contaminated area. I was jostled right into the young man with my bag, and when I glanced back, all I could see of my new friend was the top of his head. He raised his hand and waved over the crowd. I returned it, feeling very unsatisfied by our parting. I hadn’t gotten his name or anything, which did not stop me from hoping I ran into him again.

Martha’s Vineyard was less than one hundred square miles. Surely, I’d see him at some point. Right?

Chapter Two

“Sam, you’re here!” Tony Gale, my dad, stood on the pier and waved at me. At least, I thought it was my dad. The man in question had face hair, specifically a goatee—hello, 1990s!—and was wearing skinny jeans. Skinny jeans! I tried not to stare. I failed.

I returned his wave and skirted around the disembarking crowd to reach him. Before I could say hi, Dad kissed both my cheeks, a custom from his Portuguese upbringing that was as ingrained in him as his love of linguica, and hugged me tight as if proving to himself that I was real. The faint scent of Old Spice aftershave engulfed me—thankfully that hadn’t changed—and I instantly felt as if I were a kid again.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” he said. He grabbed my suitcase, which I’d retrieved from the luggage area on the ferry, while I shouldered my duffel bag and followed him to the car. “How was the ferry ride?”

I gave this low-rent hipster version of my dad side-eyeand thought about the hot reader guy I’d met. I scanned the area, looking for him. No luck.

“Quick,” I said, thinking how I’d have liked more time to talk to my book buddy.

“Good, that’s good,” he said, but he seemed distracted. He stopped beside a tiny two-door convertible that had more rust than paint on it.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“My project car,” he said. “Like it?”

He popped the trunk and stuffed my suitcase inside.

“Project car?” I asked, surveying the wreckage in front of me.

“Yeah, to fix up on weekends,” he said. “I had one like it in my teens, way before you were born. It’s a classic.”

“Is that a euphemism for rust bucket?” I asked.

“No.” He looked mildly offended, which I felt bad about, but seriously, this thing looked like it was held together with duct tape and dental floss. “Wait until you see how she drives, then you’ll understand. Hop in.”

I climbed into the passenger seat, relieved that it was just me and him for the moment, mostly because no one else would fit but also because this was what I’d been hoping for this summer, some Dad-and-me time. After all, neither one of us was getting any younger.

Plus, given my current impoverished circumstances, I was going to have to make an unexpected withdrawalfrom the bank of Gale, which, at the age of twenty-eight, made me feel like such a loser.

“Steph and Tyler would have come to meet you but...” His voice trailed off.

“Where would they sit?” I asked.

Dad smiled.

“It’s okay,” I said. “After your trip, we’ll have the rest of the summer to hang out.”

“I’m glad you see it like that.” He nodded. “We’ll be gone a little over a month, and I really hope you’ll take the time while we’re away to get to know your little brother a bit better.”

Tyler Gale, my half brother, was fourteen years younger than me, so about half my age. He’d arrived in my world when I was fourteen, right on the heels of my parents divorcing, so as you can imagine, his arrival was fraught with a lot of drama. Although I saw Tyler a couple of times a year, mostly on holidays, we were not what I’d call close. In fact, we were more like distant cousins who had nothing in common but tolerated each other for the sake of the family.

My dad was looking at me encouragingly, so I forced a smile and a nod. “Absolutely.”

“Great, that’s great,” he said.

So, he’d gone from a distracted good, that’s good to great, that’s great. Hmm. Something was up with the old man if the skinny jeans, sports car, and goatee wereany indication. Selfishly, I hoped it would not negatively impact my summer at the beach.

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