Read Online The Summer I Learned to Fly by Dana Reinhardt - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Dana Reinhardt
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finally decided to boil. I spun around with a wooden spoon in my hand.
“Is that why you came here tonight? To lecture me about how to take care of my own pet?”
“No, I came here tonight because I like you.”
Were there any sayings about watching a pot of water already boiling? Because that was what I did. I turned my back to Emmett and stared at the water. I stirred the pasta. It had only a minute more to cook. Not nearly enough time to regain my composure.
“I like you too,” I said in a smaller voice than I’dintended. I meant it, but I wasn’t sure I sounded like I did. I was wandering into unfamiliar territory.
At school, with my classmates and friends, I had to decode the hidden meaning of words, to search for what Ms. Bethel in our English class called intentionality . There was what people said, and then there was what they were thinking. Take that first lunch at Antonio’s when Georgia said Shut up , when what she really meant was Say more .
One thing I knew for sure was that boys never came out and told girls they liked them, and girls certainly never told this to the boys.
“Good,” he said. “I’m glad we got that settled.”
I drained the pasta and grated the cheese over it. I slid the plate in front of him. For some reason I felt totally at ease. Even my sheep pajamas seemed less a crime against humanity.
“So will you blow off work and spend the day with me tomorrow?”
“Of course,” I said.
“All right!” He put up his hand for a high five and then caught my hand midslap and squeezed it tight. It was friendly. It lasted only a second. And it was the single most romantic moment of my life.
the stolen child
Emmett left only minutes before Mom returned. I felt like I’d dodged a bullet, though I wasn’t sure exactly what the bullet was. Beyond unlocking the door, I hadn’t done anything wrong, and anyway, I assumed the unlocking-the-door rule pertained to people I didn’t know.
I knew Emmett Crane. Even if there were still things I didn’t know about him, those were mere details. I knew him.
When I heard the front door open and Mom’s footsteps on the stairs I flipped off my bedroom light. I wasn’t in bed yet, and I hadn’t brushed my teeth or washed my face, but I didn’t want to make small talk about balancing ledgers or what I had or hadn’t watched on TV, and I certainly didn’t want to talk about silver cars. I didn’t want to break the magic spell of my night. This night belonged to me.
Just as she reached the top of the stairs I made a dive formy bed—the early decision to change into those awful pajamas came back to save me—and my head hit the pillow just as my door creaked open.
“Birdie?”
I played statue.
She stood there adjusting to the darkness of my room. She was looking for the shape of me. Making sure that I was still there.
“Love you madly,” she whispered.
Emmett showed up at eleven the next day. I watched from my bedroom window, and when I saw him round the corner I raced down the stairs and undid the lock.
I’d dressed all wrong. There he stood in long surf shorts, flip-flops, and a tank top, and I was wearing jeans and sneakers and a hooded sweatshirt. Mom was a big believer in air-conditioning. I had no idea how warm it was out in the real world.
He lifted his sunglasses and checked me out. His look said it all. I ran back upstairs to change.
“To be fair,” I called from my bedroom, “you didn’t say where we were going.”
“I’m pretty sure I didn’t say anything about going skiing,” he called back. “Or ice fishing.”
I put a bathing suit on under a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. I hadn’t been anywhere near the beach all summer. It was a crime. I loved the beach, though there wasn’t much fun in going alone.
I checked myself in the mirror. I was pasty. I missed thegirl with the raw peeling nose from summers before Mom started the shop, when she’d take me and a few towels, a bucket and shovel, and a
“Is that why you came here tonight? To lecture me about how to take care of my own pet?”
“No, I came here tonight because I like you.”
Were there any sayings about watching a pot of water already boiling? Because that was what I did. I turned my back to Emmett and stared at the water. I stirred the pasta. It had only a minute more to cook. Not nearly enough time to regain my composure.
“I like you too,” I said in a smaller voice than I’dintended. I meant it, but I wasn’t sure I sounded like I did. I was wandering into unfamiliar territory.
At school, with my classmates and friends, I had to decode the hidden meaning of words, to search for what Ms. Bethel in our English class called intentionality . There was what people said, and then there was what they were thinking. Take that first lunch at Antonio’s when Georgia said Shut up , when what she really meant was Say more .
One thing I knew for sure was that boys never came out and told girls they liked them, and girls certainly never told this to the boys.
“Good,” he said. “I’m glad we got that settled.”
I drained the pasta and grated the cheese over it. I slid the plate in front of him. For some reason I felt totally at ease. Even my sheep pajamas seemed less a crime against humanity.
“So will you blow off work and spend the day with me tomorrow?”
“Of course,” I said.
“All right!” He put up his hand for a high five and then caught my hand midslap and squeezed it tight. It was friendly. It lasted only a second. And it was the single most romantic moment of my life.
the stolen child
Emmett left only minutes before Mom returned. I felt like I’d dodged a bullet, though I wasn’t sure exactly what the bullet was. Beyond unlocking the door, I hadn’t done anything wrong, and anyway, I assumed the unlocking-the-door rule pertained to people I didn’t know.
I knew Emmett Crane. Even if there were still things I didn’t know about him, those were mere details. I knew him.
When I heard the front door open and Mom’s footsteps on the stairs I flipped off my bedroom light. I wasn’t in bed yet, and I hadn’t brushed my teeth or washed my face, but I didn’t want to make small talk about balancing ledgers or what I had or hadn’t watched on TV, and I certainly didn’t want to talk about silver cars. I didn’t want to break the magic spell of my night. This night belonged to me.
Just as she reached the top of the stairs I made a dive formy bed—the early decision to change into those awful pajamas came back to save me—and my head hit the pillow just as my door creaked open.
“Birdie?”
I played statue.
She stood there adjusting to the darkness of my room. She was looking for the shape of me. Making sure that I was still there.
“Love you madly,” she whispered.
Emmett showed up at eleven the next day. I watched from my bedroom window, and when I saw him round the corner I raced down the stairs and undid the lock.
I’d dressed all wrong. There he stood in long surf shorts, flip-flops, and a tank top, and I was wearing jeans and sneakers and a hooded sweatshirt. Mom was a big believer in air-conditioning. I had no idea how warm it was out in the real world.
He lifted his sunglasses and checked me out. His look said it all. I ran back upstairs to change.
“To be fair,” I called from my bedroom, “you didn’t say where we were going.”
“I’m pretty sure I didn’t say anything about going skiing,” he called back. “Or ice fishing.”
I put a bathing suit on under a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. I hadn’t been anywhere near the beach all summer. It was a crime. I loved the beach, though there wasn’t much fun in going alone.
I checked myself in the mirror. I was pasty. I missed thegirl with the raw peeling nose from summers before Mom started the shop, when she’d take me and a few towels, a bucket and shovel, and a
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