Read Online Three Day Summer by Sarvenaz Tash - Free Book Online Page B

chivalry but come on.” I push his hand back toward him. “What kind of a nurse would I be if I deprived my patient of food when he’s about to pass out from hunger?”
    â€œI thought you said you were a candy striper?” Michael grins.
    â€œOh, fine. Rub it in.” I stare pointedly at the orange. “This candy striper is medically ordering you to eat.”
    Michael carefully peels off one orange section and plops it in his mouth. He can’t help but close his eyes as the juice hits his taste buds. A slow, savoring smile creeps stealthily through his peach fuzz.
    Until there’s a rumble and his eyes immediately pop open and go to my stomach. “See? I told you . . . ,” he starts.
    There is another loud rumble and we both look up, knowing full well it isn’t either of our stomachs this time.
    A big fat raindrop plops down right on my nose, followed by one more. Until, suddenly, it’s like there’s a tear in the sky and a deluge has been unleashed upon O little town of Bethel.
    I hear a collective squawk as people try to take shelter. Some are burrowing into sleeping bags or putting newspapers over their heads. A few enterprising individuals had the foresight to bring umbrellas and are popping them open now. There is a mass exodus toward some trees on the far side of the field.
    But for most people, there is simply nowhere to go.
    â€œHopefully it’ll pass soon,” I hear the pregnant girl with the oranges say placidly as she remains on her blanket, absentmindedly rubbing her belly.
    I look down at my once white dress, which is basically now completely transparent. Hastily, I take my red-and-white apron from my arm and put it on, though not before I spy Michael getting a good long look. Within moments, the individual stripes are indiscernible; it just looks like one soggy pink mess. I guess I’m giving the people behind me a show since the apron doesn’t cover my back. But then I look around at the many, many other young women wearing white shirts, a lot of them braless, and figure they’ll have better things to stare at than me.
    Though when I look up again at Michael, he doesn’t seem to have figured this out yet, his eyes only on me. A sly grin he can’t seem to hide fast enough appears through his stubble again. I clear my throat, making a mental note to keep only my front to him at all times.
    I realize then that the music hasn’t stopped for even a moment; the man on stage keeps picking out his intricate tune despite the world turning into a waterfall around him. I watch him in awe.
    It’s minutes later that I even think to look at my watch. It’s still working despite the water. Ten thirty. My curfew is eleven. I really should go.
    I look up at Michael, who is drenched, his own shirt sticking tightly to every definition in his lean body. He’s staring raptly at the stage.
    I touch his arm gently. “I think I have to go home,” I say.
    â€œOh,” he says, not able to hide the disappointment in his voice. “Of course. Yes. It’s horrible out here.”
    â€œAre you going to be okay?”
    â€œOh, totally. I didn’t really mean horrible. I mean, it’s just some rain. It’s actually wonderful.” He gestures toward the stage. “I wouldn’t miss this for anything.”
    â€œRight,” I say, trying to figure out how exactly to say good-bye. I mean, once I do, I’ll probably never see him again.
    A man with a megaphone is walking around repeating, “The flat blue acid is poison. Don’t take the flat blue acid.”
    A look of panic steals into Michael’s eyes. “Wait, did I . . .” He trails off.
    â€œIt wasn’t blue,” I say. “I don’t think.”
    â€œOh. Okay.” He smiles at me but his eyes remain worried.
    I look at the tall, soaking-wet boy in front of me, who suddenly looks so much smaller and more helpless than he has