Not Our Summer by Casie Bazay (best ebook reader for ubuntu .TXT) 📕

Mom gives RaeLynn a blank look. Maybe she’d never realized her dad had this adventurous side. Or wannabe adventurous side anyway.

“When are the reservations for the mule ride?” I ask.

Mr. Sisco thumbs through a few more papers and then pauses, scanning through the page. “Next weekend actually.” He lets out an uncomfortable chuckle. “Mr. Walker certainly wasn’t expecting to make it as long as he did.”

“I can’t go next weekend!” Becka practically yells. “We have another playoff game!”

RaeLynn’s face falls, and she pats Becka on the back.

A smile creeps across my face. I’m feeling better about this already. “That date works just fine for me.”

CHAPTER 5BECKA

I SPEED WALK AHEAD OF EVERYONE, IGNORING THE receptionist’s pleasant farewell as I push open the front door. Mr. Sisco’s words replay in my mind, making me want to scream. This whole ordeal makes me want to scream. Missing what might be the final game of my senior year for this first trip with K. J.? I can’t even process the idea right now.

My goal is to escape to the Jeep so I don’t have to speak another word to my cousin or aunt, but, of course, it’s locked. Luckily, Mom’s not far behind. I barely get my door shut before I let out a strangled groan of frustration. “Why?” I yell at the dash. “Why do I have to do these things?”

Mom starts the engine, then sinks back into her seat with a sigh. “Because it’s what your grandpa wanted. It’s his last wish. The least you and K. J. can do is honor it.”

“Really?” I turn to glare at her. “You and Jackie can hardly stand to be in the same room together. That’s the most time you’ve spent with her in… what? Forever?” Mom gives me that stop-while-you’re-ahead look. But this time, I can’t. This isn’t fair. Any of it. “This whole thing is stupid. And all so you can pay off some bills? You and Tim have plenty of money. Can’t you just pay them off yourself?”

Mom’s face hardens and her a hand flies up like it has a mind of its own. Instinctively, I wince, but nothing happens. When I open my eyes, her hand is resting in her lap and she’s staring straight ahead.

“You don’t know anything about how the adult world works, Becka. Those bills—Ricky’s bills—they’re like a daily reminder of what I’ve lost. They’ve been hanging over my head for four years. Four years! Do you even know what that’s like?” She sucks in her cheeks and shakes her head. “Of course you don’t. You have no idea what it’s like to owe money to anyone. You’ve never even had a job.”

My insides retract into a tight ball. How could she say that to me? “You’ve never let me work, remember? You told me to focus on school and soccer instead.”

She doesn’t respond because she knows it’s true. I wouldn’t be sitting on top of a full scholarship if it weren’t, but she’s also acting like I don’t know what it’s like to lose someone I love. I lost Ricky, too. He was my brother. It hurt more than anything. At least Grandpa had a chance to live his life. Ricky was only nine.

Thick gray clouds hover over the skyline in the distance. It looks like another spring thunderstorm will be here soon. Mom shifts the Jeep into reverse and then exits the parking lot. We drive in silence for a long while, and I let the sadness I feel simmer back into anger. When my mom made me go to counseling after Ricky’s death, I pretended to move past the anger phase of the grief process, but the truth is, I never did. I just learned to get better at hiding it. My counselor always told me, “The only way out is through,” but I didn’t want out. Leaving my anger behind meant being okay with Ricky’s death. And I most certainly was not.

I clench my hands in my lap. I wouldn’t be in this position if it weren’t for my mom and her sister and their problems. Now, my entire summer is flushed down the toilet—filled with doing these ridiculous tasks with K. J. “The spawn of the devil,” Mom used to call her, though she hasn’t used that phrase in a while. She’s been different since she married Tim. Calmer, for sure. Now, she pretends like she doesn’t even have a sister.

“I’m sorry,” Mom says after a few minutes. “I’m sorry you’re having to pay for Jackie’s mistakes. But you might as well make the best of it. There’s not much else we can do, right?”

I don’t answer.

We pass by my old middle school and the appliance store where Ricky’s dad—my former stepdad—used to work. He still might, for all I know. I haven’t seen him in years.

“And it will be nice for you to have all that extra money,” Mom continues. “You could use it to get a nice apartment after your freshman year. Or you could buy a new car? How about that?”

“The lawyer said it had to go for college stuff,” I mumble.

“I bet we could work a car into that somehow. I mean you’ll need transportation to drive back home from Fayetteville.”

“I already have a car, Mom.” I don’t add that I wasn’t planning on coming home all that often anyway.

“Then that money will be yours to decide what to do with.”

We hit a pothole and the Jeep bounces, reminding me of our median-jumping adventure on the way here. I glance down at the stain on my shirt. I can’t believe I had to sit through the entire meeting looking like this. How humiliating. Just thinking of what K. J. said makes my face burn all over again.

“I still can’t figure out how Dad managed to save up all that money,” Mom says, distracting me.

“He invested apparently.” In what, I have no idea. “Plus, he never had to buy gas. And he never