From Me to You [Complete]

22

When the rest of our group returns from the beach, Robert and Andy come to Ann's room to get me to see if I'm still alive. They heard about what happened with Marc and Alice from Michael, and agree with him that it was quite hilarious. After they convince me to leave the room, I help hang wet bathing suits and towels on the clothes line, gorge on delicate hors d'oeuvres Alice somehow manages to make –in her own delicate condition– and assist with dinner preparations. I feel sort of dazed throughout all of it, potentially because of the sun, lack of water and fainting. I wonder if I should tell my parents, or at least my siblings, about what happened.

"Jean, can you go get my pie from the oven?" Alice asks across the table. I'm not the only one who is surprised –when did she have the chance to make that?

"Yum," Jean replies, getting up from the table and walking through the open screen doorway –am I going to get eaten by mosquitoes all night because that door is open all the time? I don't know if I can manage to eat anything else, even if it is pie –the embarrassing encounter before dinner and my spinning head aren't helping.

"Amanda, you've been awfully quiet tonight," Marc says, turning to me. I decide I will keep the brain whirling to myself, smiling a little shakily, but politely, and averting my eyes to the trees just over his shoulder –it's impossible not to think about what happened earlier while looking at him.

"Oh, Marc, it's probably the sun, look how red she is," Alice says, shaking her head slightly. I don't mention that my blush stems from my intimate encounter with her and Marc.

My mother looks at me sceptically. She knows me well –too well, if she can see through this fake façade. "Why don't you tell Alice and Marc about entering that poetry contest," she suggests.

Alice and Marc both look impressed. I can't help feeling at least a little bit proud myself, but there is still a gnawing feeling in my stomach about being put on the spot. I knew that I would have to talk to them at some point, but I had avoided it for so long!

"Well," I begin, managing to push the embarrassing scene out of my head for a few delightful seconds, "the contest is run by our local newspaper. And there are a few conditions that the applicants need in order to enter."

"Such as?" Michael asks. I'd almost forgotten he was there –at least he knows how to get my attention back to him. I glance over at him quickly, noting his quirky smile, and then turn my attention back to his parents.

"Some of the rules are generic. Like being in high school, font size, etc.," I say. "But mainly you have to submit five poems that each take a unique stance on one central topic."

"So what topic did you write about?" Alice asks.

"A museum, actually." I pause, feeling some pride in my voice. "There's just so much to explore."

"That's very interesting," Alice says, and I appreciate her enthusiasm. "Good for you."

"You should send them over a copy when we're back home," my father suggests.

"Sure," I agree, although technically Michael has a version of those poems somewhere, since I sent them in a letter before I applied.

"So do you get a plaque or something if you win?" Robert asks. He doesn't sound so much interested as hoping this will end the conversation.

"Oh, the winner gets $250, a certificate and a little article in the paper with their published poems."

"Hey, cool," Michael says. "I didn't know that."

"Oh, sorry," I say, feeling kind of bad that I must have left that out in my letter on this topic. He smiles, so I know he's okay.

Alice frowns, watching Michael, her brow furrowed, "If only I can get Michael to do something like that."

"Don't count on it," I say. "I mean, he's not much of a writer." I move my leg out of the way under the table just in time for him to kick my chair. He sucks in his breath and glares jokingly at me across the table, and I grin back, hoping he knows that I do value his writing.

Justthen, Jean comes out the door holding a delicious smelling apple pie in floweryoven mitts –they don't look half bad on him either. I suddenly feel ravenous andgrateful for more food. I don't even realize my head has stopped spinning.