Page 24 of Summer's Echo
The drive was a blur because I slept through most of it. The familiar clamor of Sadie and Eazy in the back didn’t even register. I’d grown used to their noise, so it was easy to block out once I slipped on my headphones and let my thoughts wander about Summer. I should’ve asked Brooke for Summer’s number before I left, but that would’ve seemed too thirsty…desperate. Maybe I could ask Maxell since they knew some of the same people. A dull ache settled in stomach. I was going to drive myself crazy.
When we finally pulled into the garage, I blinked awake, stretching as the headlights illuminated our two-story colonial home in the northern suburb of St. Louis. I’d only been in this house a few weeks before I’d left for camp, but I didn’t expect it to look so different. My mother’s magical green thumb had been at work while I was gone. Vibrant flowers lined the front yard, and a new set of patio furniture was neatly arranged below the picture window. Seasonal decorative touches like a wreath on the door and an entry rug with the letter “A” on it gave the house warmth it didn’t have before.
Stepping into the foyer, the changes were even more noticeable. The once sterile white walls were painted with warm hues of gray and peppered with family portraits and colorful paintings from Nigeria.Maybe this place canfeel like home. I climbed the steps two at a time, eager to finally crash in my room. The moment I pushed open the door, the changes my mother had made were perfect. I eyed the fresh shade of blue paint on the walls, and framed posters of my favorite Chicago sports teams hung perfectly. New linens covered my queen-sized bed, and the faint scent of fresh laundry filled the air. To my delight, a sleek new computer was sitting on my desk.
I dropped my bag on the floor and sprawled across the bed, too tired to admire the details further. I’m sure I would admire the rest of the features later. Right now, I needed to draw, to lose myself in the lines and sketches, which always seemed to help me clear my head. I would play around with my new computer later. Reaching into my backpack, I pulled out the black spiral notebook that was practically bursting with sketches I’d filled it with over the past eight weeks. Our hideaway was the place I’d sketched the most. Most of my and Summer’s time in our sacred spot was spent wrapped into quiet moments—only the sound of our pencils scratching against paper. She always sketched with ease, her talent effortless, while I preferred the precision of computer-aided design to bring my ideas to life. As I flipped through the pages, I let my mind drift between then and now, the moments I’d captured—trees stretching toward the sky, the waves on the lake on a windy day, campers discovering new things, and Summer. Every angle of her beauty was splattered on these pages.
As I turned another page, a white envelope slipped out and landed softly on the mattress. Frowning, I picked it up and turned it over. A single letter “E” was scrawled across the front in neat yet swirly handwriting. My breathing was sporadic as I ran my thumb over the ink, knowing it was her…praying it was her. The envelope wasn’t sealed, so I opened the flap and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. Unfolding it, I scanned the words. It was her. For a second, I wondered how she’d pulled this off, then it hit me. Last night, she’d insisted that her sneakers needed to go in my backpack while we watched a movie in the amphitheater.
Echo-ho-ho!Ha!
I bet you’re laughing. Anyway…I can’tbelieve the summer is already over, and I’m backhome—well, technically on a bus headed to Orlando formy family reunion! I am already missing the Creative Crewand the crazy fun we had. Thank you again forbeing an amazing partner in crime.
Honestly, I didn’texpect—or even want—to make new friends my lastyear at camp, but I did…you. On those crazydays when I thought I would lose my shit, youalways made me laugh… and reminded me to breathe. So,thank you for being you and for making this summerone I’ll never forget.
Until we meet again!
Summera.k.a. Sunshine a.k.a. Sun
P.S.Just in case you want to meet again, my numberis 923-0001.
And just like that, she was here again, as if her voice whispered to me through every curve of the letters on the page.
“Yes,” I shouted, pumping a fist in the air like I’d won a prize.
Chapter Twelve
Summer
Senior Year, 2004
Summer break was officially over, and my senior year was in full swing. While I was excited about everything that was ahead, I’d somehow managed to overload myself—again. Between student council, volunteer hours, and the endless assignments from my classes, I was barely keeping my head above water. But to my surprise and relief, Echo had become my steady calm in the chaos, the anchor I didn’t know I needed.
He’d worked his way into my tiny circle of best friends, right alongside Hailee, Trinity, and Brooke. Our playful, flirtatious banter still lingered in the background, but we never crossed that line. Sometimes I wondered how I felt about adding another boy to my ever-growing list of “just friends.” I’d always been the girl who could hang with the guys, talk smack during a game, and hold my own in any debate. Maybe that was the problem—since I acted like one of them, they treated me as such. Echo was no exception.
Although he didn’t attend my school, he only lived about fifteen or twenty minutes away. We were practically inseparable, as my mother liked to remind me.“You act like you can’tgo a single day without talking to that boy,”she’d say, shaking her head with exasperation. And maybe she was right. If we weren’t up talking until ridiculous hours, he was at my house under the pretense of helping me with homework, but he mostly just raiding the fridge like he lived there.
It wasn’t hard for Echo to win my parents over. His charisma was like a magnet, drawing everyone in. My dad had no problem with our friendship; in fact, he’d gained a new buddy to watch football with on Sundays. My mom, however, wasn’t as easily convinced. While she liked Echo, she didn’t love how much time we spent together.
“Are you supposed to be liking this boy?” she’d fuss, arms crossed like she was ready to interrogate me.
My answer was always the same. “No, Mama! He’s just my friend.” But deep down, there were moments when I wasn’t so sure myself.
Echo wasjustmy friend. Okay, sure, we flirted now and then, but it was harmless—like how distant step-cousins might joke around at family reunions. It was the perfect setup for both of us. We got all the fun of a relationship—late-night talks, inside jokes, easy companionship—without the mess. No guessing games, no pressure, no wondering if a kiss was coming. And sex? Yeah, that was never part of the equation.
Not that I could deny it—Echo was cute. Borderline fine. The attraction from camp had dulled—at least, that’s what I told myself. Friendship was easier to hold on to, less risky. Besides, it wasn’t mutual. Echo had a type, and I wasn’t it. He’d moved past the crazy, sexy, cool type and started gravitating toward the slim-thick, light-skinned girls who always looked perfectly put together. Thatwas notme. Girls lined up for him—at school, in his neighborhood, and even mine. But with me? It was always something softer, something safe. Something rated G.
Echo saw me—the version of me that existed beyond perfection, beyond performance. Messy hair, old sweats, scarf tied up for the night—and I never felt self-conscious. With him, I was never too much or not enough. I didn’t have to impress, didn’t have to shrink myself down. He accepted me, no conditions, no judgment. And that feeling? It was a rare kind of freedom for a girl like me.
“Girl, where are you going now?” Mama’s thunderous voice rolled down the hallway as I tried to slip out unnoticed. I sighed, already knowing where this was headed. “Did you finish your paper?” she asked, but didn’t pause to give me time to respond. “I don’t want to hear nothing about you being stressed because you didn’t give yourself enough time, Summer,” she continued, giving me that look that meant she wasn’t playing.
This wasn’t about the paper. This was about Echo. Mama liked him—lovedhim, actually, although she played tough. She was always talking about what a respectful young man he was, always piling extra food on his plate whenever he came over. But no amount of good manners or full plates changed the fact that, in her opinion, he was still a distraction. And maybe she had a point, but I wasn’t about to pretend I hadn’t been handling my responsibilities like I always had.
“Mama, why are you fussing?” I shot back, not really expecting an answer. “I’m going to hang with Echo. I already finished the paper. I just need to print it out, and that’ll take like five minutes.” I rolled my eyes, regretting it immediately.
“Well, you’ve got five minutes right now,” she said, teasing but with an edge that warned me not to push it. “So go finish.”
“But Mama—”
