Page 82 of Summer Love

“Come on—sirens on!”

Evan rolls his eyes. Dylan spins in a circle, arms wide, and bows to the crowd.

Nineteen and the ego of a movie star.

Sierra’s smile widens.

“And now, the biggest prize of the night. A surfboard from the Walker collection.”

The chatter fades. A log pops, and heat climbs into my cheeks. The fire, probably.

“Number 17!”

Around me, people check their tickets. Slips unfold, murmurs, then the first sighs.

On autopilot, I pull mine out of my back pocket and unfold it: 17. That damn number again. I crush the ticket in my fist.

“Number 17?” Sierra repeats.

Harper looks at my clenched hand.

“It’s you...”

“No.”

Harper stands up and shouts, “Over here!”

Fifty heads turn toward me.

I’m going to kill her.

Sierra beams at me.

“Summer! Come get your board!”

I don’t have a choice. I get up and cross the crowd with everyone watching. My sandals sink into the sand with every step.

Jace is back. He’s standing by the empty rack, the yellow board in his hands.

I stop in front of him. My fingers find my pendant. The little gold wave is cold.

He holds out the board. Our hands brush. He’s already turning away.

“Congratulations,” he says without looking at me.

He walks off as the applause breaks out. The yellow board is heavy against my hip.

I carry it to the yard. No one follows me. The music grows muffled.

The gate creaks when I push it open. The moon lights the yard, the pale walls of the house. I lean the board against the fence.

Don’t turn it over.

I don’t turn it over. The yellow paint is rough, cracked by the salt. The red ribbon trails in the grass.

Two days before the end of everything.

I shut the gate again and head back to the fire.