Summer Afternoons

1. The Day of the Arrival

It was the last night of spring.

I woke up in the middle of the night and walked over to the window. Outside, an unusual wind was blowing, full of a strange electricity that made the air buzz. It felt like, somehow, it was already sensing summer's arrival. The street was empty. The tree branches brushed against each other, and moths traced little circles under the streetlights. Far off, in the pine forest rising to the east, coyotes howled as they hunted in the night. The rest was just silence—a peaceful, graveyard calm across the whole neighborhood. I remember standing at the window for a long while, not moving, letting myself get hypnotized by the secret darkness of the night, trying to lock that moment into my memory.

"Goodbye, spring. It was nice while it lasted, but tomorrow a new chapter begins."

I went back to bed, tangled myself in the sheets, and slept nervously. The next morning the sun woke me up like a flash of lightning. I opened my eyes like I'd been asleep my whole life and jumped out of bed. I got dressed as fast as I could. In the hallway, Lucas—my little brother—was blocking the way, standing in front of the bathroom door. He was seven, short, dark-haired, with a face full of pimples.

"Violeta's been in the bathroom for over ten minutes and I'm about to pee myself," he said, desperate, hands clutching his crotch.

"So what?" I snapped. "She can stay locked in there all day for all I care. Didn't you hear? It's summer now!"

I left him standing there like a clueless little kid and went downstairs, pulling off the most epic jump I'd ever managed. It was my moment, and I was beyond excited. Downstairs, Mom was making pancakes on the stove. She had already set out three glasses of juice on the table, shining in the morning light coming through the window. I ran past her and hugged her from behind, then dashed straight toward the yard, but she twisted around fast and caught me by the left ear, her fingers like iron tongs.

"Not so fast, ninja... Where do you think you're going?"

"Outside, Mom, to the yard, to throw myself on the grass and jump into the pool! It's summer!... Oh."

"Nope, kiddo. You're going nowhere. You're gonna sit here with me like the good, obedient boy you are."

"But Mom... Ow, that hurts."

She spun me around like a construction crane and dragged me to the table, forcing me into the seat at the head. I swear she nearly tore my ear off.

"You're hurting me, Mom."

"Oh, I'm hurting you? You're the one who's a pain, you little pest."

Once she let go, she got right in my face.

"What did I tell you yesterday, huh? Already forgot? No leaving the house, Gus. You're grounded."

Mom had that twisted look she always got when she was about to let me have it. I feared for my life and put on a sad little voice.

"But Mom, I just wanna go out to the garden..."

"No garden, no porch, no nothing that isn't inside this house. You're spending this summer grounded, smarty-pants. And next year, you'll learn to get good grades, or you won't see the light of day again. Your call."

She was clearly exaggerating. No mom is that evil.

I looked away, disappointed. Mom turned back to making breakfast. I glanced toward the patio door, where sunlight was sneaking in around the edges. For a second, I could taste happiness just a few steps away... but I couldn't reach it. A sweet kind of torture. Part of me was crushed, but I knew the punishment wouldn't last more than a few days—just until Mom cooled off and let me loose. But I wanted to be free now, right that second; I'd been dreaming of summer all year long, and instead of feeling awesome, I felt miserable.

"You gotta stay positive, son." That's what my dad used to say before games, when he could see I was scared, legs shaking, afraid of the other team—all of them taller and stronger than my friends and me. "If you go in all negative, you're handing them the win before the game even starts."

And of course, Dad was right. I had to stay positive. I didn't have much choice.

The radio started playing some music, and Mom sang and danced along. A few minutes later, the little pest Lucas and my sister Violeta showed up—her brown hair in braids, wearing a red dress that matched her sneakers.

She gave me a smack on the back of the head and sat next to me.

"So, what's it like being a prisoner in your own house?"

She knew exactly what was going on and was enjoying it more than the start of summer itself. Witch.

"And you?" I snapped back. "What's it like being an annoying little brat?"

She looked at me like she was about to kill me and flipped me off, like that was supposed to hurt my feelings. The little pest laughed like he was in on it, so I threw the first thing I could find at his face. The dishcloth hit him like a rock.

"Moooom!" he whined, like any good little pest would, but Mom was too busy singing and dancing to pay attention to his whining.

I stayed quiet while they went on and on about how much fun they were going to have that afternoon playing at the lake in the park. It was like they were doing it just to make me jealous. Mom talked about all the family trips we were going to take over the summer, which I'd have to go on whether I liked it or not. Go together, do whatever they said, no freedom at all.

"Ugh, kill me now..."

Dad called saying he'd left an important envelope from a client in his office, so Mom rushed out to bring it to him at work. Violeta—two years older than me and third-in-command at home after Mom and Dad—made sure I followed my punishment to the letter and banned me from going into the yard. So I went straight to my room to avoid her bossy attitude. I locked myself in and spent my time rereading some comic books I'd already read like a hundred times.

"I just gotta hold out for a week, and then everything'll be perfect."

I fell asleep.

I dreamed I was some kind of squirrel, climbing trees and leaping through the air to glide through the skies. From up high, I could see the whole neighborhood: the wide sidewalks, the tall fir trees lining the street, the white porches, and the even whiter houses with brown roofs and freshly cut lawns. The mailboxes out front looked like rockets ready for takeoff, so I climbed into one, like any good space-squirrel would, and planned to launch myself into the stars.

Then I heard the engine.

It wasn't a dream. It was real. I went to the window and saw a truck. It was big, like the one in that movie Duel, only it wasn't black and scary—it was white. On the side there was a logo with some packed-up boxes and the words:
"Fast and Safe, Anywhere in the World – Prieto Movers."

"New neighbors?"

Two workers climbed down from the front cab and opened the trailer doors. They unloaded furniture, couches, boxes wrapped in plastic. They set everything down on the sidewalk, right across the street from my house. Then a car pulled up. It was gray and fancy—not like ours—and out stepped two grownups, a couple around my parents' age. Then the back door opened.

The first time I saw her, it was from behind. She wore a white dress that matched the brightness of the blazing day. The filtered light through the trees cast glowing patterns on her skin. She had on a delicate white hat with a ribbon, and she took it off. She was blonde, about my height—maybe older than me, I don't know. She turned to look around the neighborhood, the trees, the sidewalks, the yards, and then at the house right in front of her—mine. Then she saw me. Her brown eyes met mine. The wind blew and made the curtain by my window flutter. It felt like a dream—slow and vivid. She barely reacted when she saw me, if she even saw anything from that far away. But I did see her: her freckles, her pale skin, her shy smile. She turned and slowly followed her parents and the real estate folks into the house.

I must've looked like an idiot, standing there frozen at the window, eyes locked on her. But I couldn't help it. Something had cast a spell on me—for better or worse. I was still too young to know what was going on.

But I felt it inside.

Summer had arrived.