fiction by raina alidjani

Summer Friend

I smell it, even with the air conditioner blasting in my face. Salty seaweed permeates the sedan as we enter the island. I search for a sign of the upside-down rollercoaster I promised myself I’d go on this year. It’s not in sight, but as we pull into the stucco hotel, I glimpse the familiar pirate on the roof––his sword raised in salute.

This year my aunt is bringing a friend's daughter who is my age named Lucy. Her parents aren’t as far along in their proceedings as mine. Whereas things with my dad have been “ironed out,” hers is still causing trouble–whatever that means.

"She could use a friend who understands," was all Aunt Naomi said, but I knew she was thinking, so could you.

But I have a best friend already. Gigi is spending the summer in a different shore town and has been too busy with her boardwalk job to talk much on the phone. Thus, my summer’s been spent with reruns of Buffy, longing for vacation. As a city kid, I don't get many chances to swim.  I’m a Pisces; water’s my element. Finally, back on the island for our yearly ten-day stint, I can feel it calling to me––even if it is mixed with chlorine and child urine. 

"Go help your aunt with suitcases,” Mom orders. 

"The glimmer twins can't help?" I roll my eyes. 

I call my aunt’s twin girls, Nina and Sasha, the glimmer twins for the glitter they wear during dance recitals. Secretly, I’m jealous of them and their svelte frames, even though they’re only nine.

"She packs a lot," Grandma confirms. 

Before I can retort, my brother wails for toys. That’s my cue to go onto the balcony. I pretend to read but mostly study the teens by the pool. There are three boys with two girls prancing around in string bikinis with a nonchalance I tell myself I’ll emulate. 

 I go inside and eat a pop-tart––impatient for Lucy to arrive.

*

Lucy’s a disappointment. I might be chubby, but Lucy’s a mess. Her hair is short with unflattering bangs. Her shorts are down to her knees. 

"I like to read," she motions towards my book and holds up hers.

"I don't read Judy Bloom." I give a phony smile but guilt nags, so I quickly add, "I hear she's good."

"We don't like to read," Nina says. They borrow my stereo to show the family their latest routine. My eyes catch Lucy's at the end, and we roll them in unison with sly smiles on our faces. 

"Want to go to the pool?" I ask Lucy. She nods enthusiastically. She’s not what I wanted, but she'll do for a summer-only friend.

I watch as she settles on a chair with a dull navy towel before I open the gate to enter. She’s wearing a powder blue tankini, although she could pull off a bikini if she wanted to. If I could pull off a bikini, I would wear one every chance I got. 

"I love your suit,” she says. It is fantastic for a one-piece––gray and sparkly. It was above our budget, but Mom insisted after many tear-filled mall visits. 

"Love yours, too," I lie. "Wanna swim?"

Lucy is skinny-girl oblivious and cannonballs in.  

"What are you waiting for?" she asks as I walk toward the stairs rather than fumbling over the ledge. I go under and open my eyes. The water doesn’t sting, which I take as proof that it’s my element. I swim in a circle around Lucy before popping up.

"Where’d those teens go?" I ask.

"What teens?"

"Never mind," I say, embarrassed for noticing their absence. 

We play Marco Polo, and when my family arrives, we dive for rings with Nina and Sasha. Mom and Aunt Naomi throw them in. With no teens around the pool, I’m not embarrassed. 

*

We go to the boardwalk and get henna tattoos. My brother gets a pirate hook. Mine is an elegant lotus flower. Lucy gets a peace sign, and the twins get matching hearts. We come across a bookstore, and I beg Mom for a book about Cape May ghosts. We'll go to dinner in Cape May at the end of our trip, and I want to know about its spooky history.

"What’s it with you and ghosts?" she asks, clicking her tongue.

My aunt insists she pay and practically rips it from Mom’s hand. It’s something she does a lot these days. I don’t mind who pays for it, I’m just happy to have it, but the redness spreading across Mom’s face causes me to bite my lip.

Later, I sit on the balcony reading. I am in the middle of a story when Lucy opens the door, making me jump.

"You don’t knock?" 

"Your mom told me it was fine.” She sits and picks up the book. “You like ghosts?"

"I like anything supernatural. My family would kill me if they knew. My friend, Gigi, and I are going to become witches."

She laughs, and I frown. "Why are you laughing?"

Lucy turns serious. "Tell me about it.”

We still need two more elements—Air and Earth—to become a full magic circle, so I decide to let her in. Lucy could be Earth since she’s so plain. 

“Want to try a spell?”

She shrugs. 

I tiptoe into the room where everyone is sleeping and grab the spell book hidden in my backpack. 

"How about a love spell?" I wonder if she's kissed a boy. I doubt it.

"I guess so," she looks hesitant, but I push forward.

I pull a shoelace from my brother’s sneakers. It's not silk, as called for, but it’ll do.

"Concentrate," I command. When we've repeated the incantation six times and tied six knots in the shoelace; it calls for the lace to be burned.

"Will it work if we don't do it?" she asks, suddenly earnest.

“I can’t ruin his shoelace.”

"It’s not real anyway.” She wrinkles her nose at the whole thing.

My annoyance returns. Lucy isn’t one of us. 

*

After getting ice cream, Lucy and I are allowed to hang outside. With nowhere better to go, we stand on the back porch when suddenly a laser from the hotel across the street zigzags over us. 

"Laser wars," we both say, taking out ours. Every kid on the island has a laser.

A battle ensues. It's two against one, and the perpetrator gives up.

"Can I come there?" A male voice asks.

We look at each other in shock until Lucy yells, "Sure!"

We watch in silence as he crosses the street. He is lanky with shaved hair and buck teeth. Not what I pictured.

"I'm John.” His hands are in his pockets.

"Tiffany and Lucy," I rush in.

"Wanna go to the beach?" he asks. 

We both nod, although we’re not allowed. We walk to the water and sit on the wet sand.

"How old are you?" I ask.

"Sixteen. You guys?"

"Fifteen," I say before Lucy can tell the truth––we’re twelve.

"What music do you like?"

"Spice Girls are my favorite," I say before realizing the answer is wrong.

 “Red Hot Chili Peppers," she says. 

"Sweet," he brightens, and they discuss the band.

"I like them," I chime in. I’m barely acknowledged. I feel betrayed by the sea churning before me, refusing to lend me its power. 

"Where do you go to school?" he asks Lucy.

She responds about her large suburban school, and he doesn’t ask me about mine.

He continues to ask Lucy questions. I zone out, staring into the Atlantic. I am grateful when we spot the headlights of a patrol car.

"Scatter,” he says. We run towards the street. They’re faster than me, and I’m out of breath.

"Wanna take a walk, Lucy?" John asks.

My face heats in embarrassment at the exclusion.

"It’s too late for a walk," Lucy says. "Tomorrow. "

I walk ahead of them back to the hotel and say, "I'm going to sleep," without looking back.  

The night replays long after I close my eyes.

*

The twin's father arrives. He has a few days off from his important job. I listen to my grandmother and Mother discussing how he barely has time for his family while we eat our Eggos. 

*

By the pool, Lucy whips out a powder blue fuzzy journal. 

"What’re you writing?" I ask.

"Journals are private," she says matter-of-factly.

"Not to friends."

"Not true.” 

I roll my eyes and return to my book.

"John is coming to the pool," she announces suddenly.

"What?" I shoot up, forgetting my belly rolls. "When did he say that?"

"After you ran off."

"Did you ask my aunt if it’s okay?"

She’s nonplussed by my coldness and walks over to Aunt Naomi. She and the twins are sitting on the pool's edge. My Aunt smiles, probably thinking it's cute Lucy has an admirer. 

I should’ve done the spell for myself. 

John sits next to Lucy. They start to chat, and I can't even hear them. He pulls out his discman and leans close so they can both hear the music.

"Want to swim?" I ask. He shakes his head no, and so does she. Traitor.

This time I jump in—not even caring about the group of teenagers I’ve been admiring. No one is paying attention to me, I think, as I swim underwater to the other side of the pool. 

To my chagrin, I find I am wrong. My family is staring.  

"That's good exercise," Mom says from under her wide-brimmed hat. 

I dip back under, wanting to remain there.

*

The night in Cape May comes.

"She put her mind to it," Grandma says when I announce the book is complete.

"Tell us a ghost story," Sasha begs, and I oblige, enjoying their squirming.

I wear a floral embroidered shift and white two-inch heels. Lucy wears bell-bottom jeans and a simple striped T-shirt. She may have gotten the guy, but she still has no style. 

We’ve barely spoken, and I’m ready to be rid of her.

"John went home," she informs in the car. 

"Are you boyfriend, girlfriend?" I whisper.

"Ew," she replies, with a head shake.

Liar. Why would she keep him to herself otherwise? I knew I was a fool for hoping to return to school after having been kissed.

As we pass the Victorian mansions, my mother asks, "Did you read about any of these houses?"

"They all look alike," I say with more bite than intended. 

At dinner, I hope everyone notices my silence. 

"I bet Lucy is excited to see her family," my aunt says.

"I am, but I had so much fun with Tiffany." I roll my eyes at her false affection. 

"Make sure to exchange addresses and write," Mom points with her fork.

Lucy nods at me. I smile weakly.

As my uncle insists on paying, Lucy goes to the bathroom, leaving her purse with the journal peeking out. The glimmer twins are arguing, and my brother cries with exhaustion. With no one paying attention, I put the book in my bag.

On the ride home, I prepare myself for being found out, but Lucy never seems to notice it’s missing. We hug goodbye and promise to write. In the morning, she’s gone. 

*

When I am home and back in my Pepto-Bismol pink room, I pull out the journal. If Lucy confirms their love, at least I can tell Gigi I performed a successful spell.

"Damnit,” I sigh under my breath so that neither my grandmom nor my mother can hear the profanity while they work in the laundry room next door, erasing the sand and sweat from our clothing to prepare us for the fall.

The journal is locked. I sneak to the kitchen and grab a pair of scissors, but they are no match for the metal.

*

When the first day of school arrives, I am ready. I spent the night before decorating my baby blue JanSport backpack with iron-on decals, and my long skirt and matching tank top from Delia’s are hanging up in my closet, ironed to perfection, just like my hair. 

Gigi just returned from the beach the day before, so we haven’t had a chance to catch up, and I nearly jog to the bus stop with excitement. When she comes into view, I screech to a halt, and my mouth hangs open. Her hair is bright blonde. As blonde as Christina Aguilera’s, and against her tan skin, with a bit of midriff showing, she looks like she could be a pop star. My heart sinks, and suddenly, I feel foolish for feeling pretty. 

I walk the rest of the way, and she doesn’t look up once to search for me. 

“Gigi,” I said awkwardly, trying to sound as enthusiastic as I felt moments before. “I love your new hair.”

“I know, right.” She flips it over her shoulder. “I am so ready for eighth grade. Your outfit is adorbs.”

“Thanks,” I smile, feeling more comfortable already. Regardless of her newfound coolness, Gigi is still my best friend. “I can’t wait to tell you all about the summer.”

“Me neither,” she nearly squeals, “but you first.”

I tell her all about the spell and get through meeting John before the bus pulls up in front of us. I keep talking as we board, although every other person is suddenly interested in saying hello—especially the guys. Gigi is barely paying attention to me, as she waves to her adoring fans. My face heats with frustration. 

“Anyway,” I say when we’re nestled away in our seats, “I am pretty sure the spell worked. John and Lucy spent a lot of time together.”

“Pretty sure?” She raises an eyebrow. 

“Well, she was being totally weird about it and wouldn’t tell me, but I did something bad.”

“What?” Gigi is suddenly on the edge of her seat.

“I stole her journal. I can’t get in it yet, but when I do, I know I’ll have the proof I need that the spell worked. We can really be witches.”

“Oh,” Gigi sits back in her seat and looks out the window. 

“How about your summer?” I want to regain her attention. 

She bites her lip and motions for me to come in closer. 

When I do, she whispers, “I kissed three boys. See, we don’t need any spells. We’re enough. No more witch nonsense.”

She points between the two of us as if we are still the same as we were when we left seventh grade. A summer has come and gone and changed one of us more than the other.

My heart sinks for the second time, and it’s not even 8 a.m. 

*

At lunch, a girl named Sarah sits with us. She doesn’t even ask. She just sits and opens up her lunch, pulling out a salad with no dressing. She also has bleached blonde hair and a midriff on display.

“Hello, Sarah,” I say with a smirk on my face as I look over at Gigi. Surely, she finds this to be as much of an intrusion as I do.

“Hey, Tiffany,” she replies with a small smile before turning her attention to Gigi. “Are you going to Paul Matterson’s back-to-school party tonight? His parents are on vacation.”

“I was thinking about it. Tiffany, would you want to come?”

“Who’s Paul Matterson?” I am nearly strangling my turkey and cheese sandwich. 

“Just some freshman we hung out with at the beach.”

“Gigi did a little more than hanging out with him,” Sarah winks between bites. 

“Ew, Sarah. You know I don’t like him like that anymore.” Gigi throws a chip playfully in Sarah’s direction. This is all a bit too comfortable for me. I am the only person Gigi is supposed to throw chips at. 

*

At the end of the day, I return home to a pasta dinner and an arsenal of questions about my day. 

“I’m going out,” I inform my grandmother and mother, instead of telling of them how my day was as they’d asked. “Gigi’s new friend Sarah invited us over, and we don’t have any homework yet.”

Mom nods, spooning mush into my brother’s mouth, “I guess that’s okay.” When my grandmother looks at her reproachfully, she sighs and shrugs. “Her Dad is taking her this weekend, so she can’t do anything with her friends then. Might as well get some time with them now.”

As if my day can’t get any worse. I forgot I was going with Dad over the weekend to his house in the suburbs. Gigi will surely forget all about me by the time I get back to school on Monday at this rate. 

 “Lucy wrote you again,” Grandma says, motioning at a letter on the counter. 

This is the second time she wrote, even though I never wrote back to the first letter. Why would I when she acted as if John never happened and talked about a dumb color-by-numbers painting she was working on instead? 

“Can we start having healthier dinners in the future?” I reply, ignoring the letter and stomping off to my room to freshen up. 

*

I meet Gigi and Sarah, and we walk to the party, which is just us and two guys sitting in a basement with a six-pack of Mike’s Hard Lemonade. Nothing like the parties from the movies. 

It’s clear Paul has one intention in having us over––to spend time with Gigi. I sit on a couch next to her with a throw pillow clutched on my lap to hide my belly. She sits next to him. On the loveseat across from us sit Sarah and Paul’s friend Chris, who is chugging the Hard Lemonade while everyone cheers him on.  

“Tiff, the BFF,” Paul calls me, and I am proud that he sees me as Gigi’s number one––not Sarah. It means so much to me that, for a minute, I feel like I belong. Like maybe this year won’t be so bad. After all, Chris isn’t so bad looking, and he doesn’t seem overly enthusiastic about sitting next to Sarah, and even if he does end up liking her, they might have friends they could introduce me to. Plus, Mike’s Hard Lemonade is pretty delicious. 

Just as I am feeling this way, Paul goes in for a kiss, and Gigi doesn’t push him away. Even though she said she didn’t even like him, they are making the sloppiest of kissing noises right next to me. To my horror, Chris shrugs and grabs the back of Sarah’s head, pulling her in as well. I’ve always wanted to go to a make-out party, but not like this.

I set down my drink as gently as I can and make my way toward the door. 

Tears are beginning to sting my eyes when I see something in Sarah’s backpack. It’s the same journal as Lucy's, with a key sticking out of the lock. 

I run home clutching the key, feeling so elated I don’t even feel bad for myself anymore. I am about to find proof for Gigi that the spell worked, and she will realize that no number of boys or hair dye can be more awesome than that.

I sit cross-legged on my bed and stick the key into the lock, and like magic, it’s open. 

The first page is a lame flower drawing. I am disappointed to see how few entries there are. I skim past the description of the boardwalk and the henna tattoos.

When I get to the last entry, I sigh, and a tear falls down my cheek.  

We met this guy, John. He likes good music, but he’s annoying. He keeps coming around, and I hang out with him to be nice. Tiffany has been busy with her book and her family, so I don't have anyone else to hang out with. 

She’s so lucky to have such a nice family and to be so pretty. I hope she invites me back next year and we stay friends.

I run downstairs to grab Lucy’s letter and a piece of blank loose leaf.

Raina Alidjani is a first-generation Iranian-American woman living in Philadelphia, PA, with her husband, toddler son, and tabby cat. She leads recruiting at an advertising agency by day and is a speculative fiction writer by night. Her work seeks to shed light on women's issues and perspectives. Her stories have been published by The Raven Review, Myth & Lore, and the Heartland Society of Women Writers.