Eternal Spring YA short story collection

The Vanishing Spring by Carey Corp

“Well?”

The blonde, whose name was Paxton—or maybe Payton—interrupted his pity party. She thrust her ultra-glossy lower lip at him in full on pout mode. Clearly, she expected more attentiveness from the Quimby pool boy. “Are ya coming, or not?”

“Not.” Ty knew that he was just another accoutrement to these girls. A piece of hot Latin arm candy. He might as well be dead on the inside, for all they cared. He’d give anything to meet a genuine girl, one with real relationship potential. Maybe in the next lifetime…

Provoked by his rudeness, five surgically perfected faces puckered into a singular expression of dismay. So he added, “I mean, no, thank you. I’m just going to chill for a while—enjoy the sunshine.”

“Whatever.” Blondie was clearly “out.” As she circumnavigated a precarious spin in her brand-new stilettos, one of the brunettes in her entourage stepped forward. It appeared that Blondie had competition for the final word.

The brunette, Alayna,—or possibly Aylana—arched her brow in a manner that could only be described as très supercilious. “Don’t sit too long by the Vanishing Spring,” she chirped with a smirk. “We’d be totally bummed if you ended up like Eleanor Quimby.”

“Who’s that?” Apart from the logical connection of sharing a last name with Quimby Acres, Ty had no clue who she was talking about.

“You haven’t heard the story of Eleanor Quimby?” Scandalized by Ty’s ignorance, she paused until he confirmed her accusation with a twist of his head. As gleeful as a reality TV junkie in the throes of watching someone’s private humiliation become public spectacle, she continued, “Quimby Acres used to be a farm. Back in eighteen seventy-two, seventeen-year-old Eleanor Quimby threw herself into this very pond to escape being married off to an old man. Eyewitnesses saw Eleanor tumble into the water, but by the time they got to her, she was gone.

“Everyone assumed she drowned. They tried to dredge the pond for her body, but they never reached the bottom. That’s how they figured out the pond was a spring. Some think Eleanor was swept away by an underground river. Others believe she’s down there, still. Waiting.”

Ty suppressed an eye roll at the girl’s excessive dramatics—no wonder she hadn’t gotten the lead in the fall play. “Waiting for what?”

“For you!” The brunette’s bespangled hand shot forward and grabbed Ty’s shoulders. He flinched while the audience cackled in delight. Apparently, it was an old joke and he was its newest victim.

Regaining his composure, he leveled his gaze at the gaggle of pampered, urban princesses. “I think I’ll live dangerously and take my chances.”

“C’est la vie,” she giggled.

Not to be outdone, the blonde turned back, her eyes holding a slightly different invitation for Ty than the one that fell from her lips. “Drake’s parent just left for Paris. He’s throwing an epic party tonight. Meet me there? Ten o’clock?”

Whether because he wanted them to leave, or because he couldn’t face another dismal night watching Discovery Channel with Helga, he said, “Sure. I’ll stop by.”

Clearly the victor, if only in her own vacant mind, the blonde flashed her dark-haired friend a satisfied smile that declared “Game on!” and ordered, “Let’s go, Biatches.”

As the Quimby girls sashayed away, Ty picked up a small, white stone and plunked it into the spring. Small ripples danced across the previously smooth surface as the rock sank into the bottomless depths. Maybe it would come out on the other side of the world. In China.