She glowed at his attention. “Mrs. Wilson said I should work on my portfolio this summer.”
Jo snorted. “Who wants to draw at the beach?”
“You’re going to the beach?” Trey asked.
“We’re on our vacation,” Beth explained.
Not a real vacation. Not like other families who went to Disney World. “Just for the day,” Amy said.
“Momma said we all deserved a day off,” Beth said.
“She wanted us out of the house,” said Meg.
“Out of her hair,” Jo said.
Amy didn’t say anything. She heard Meg and Jo talking to each other in low tones late at night, when they thought she was sleeping. Since Daddy’s deployment, Bethie’s stomachaches were back. Momma thought this trip to the beach would make her feel better.
Trey leaned against the side of the car. “Sounds like fun. Maybe I could come, too.”
Totally casual. Cool. That was Trey. But something in his eyes reminded Amy of their mother. Like he was on the outside, looking in.
She glanced at her sisters. It sucked that their father was away again. And Momma, since moving them all out to the farm, seemed to be busy all the time. But at least both their parents were still alive. It couldn’t be easy for Trey, living alone with his grandfather.
“Of course you can come!” Jo said. Meg raised her eyebrows. “What? We packed enough food.”
“He doesn’t have a swimsuit,” Amy said.
Trey grinned. “We can go skinny-dipping.”
Jo socked him in the arm.
He held up his hands in an I-come-in-peace gesture. “Kidding. I’ll swim in my shorts.”
“You can share my towel,” Beth said.
“Don’t you have to tell your grandfather where you’re going?” Meg asked.
“He won’t care.”
Meg, looking remarkably like Momma, leveled a look at him.
“Fine.” Amy watched as Trey fished his phone—the new flip kind—from his pocket. Even Meg wasn’t getting her own phone yet. Not until she went away to college next month. “Why should I pay for another line when we live under the same roof?” their mother said.
Trey left a message for his grandfather and tucked the phone away. “All set.” He reached for the front door on the passenger side.
“Shotgun,” Jo called.
“You can sit in back with us,” Beth said to Trey. “I’ll take the middle.”
“I’ll sit in the middle,” Amy said. “You get carsick.” Besides, that way she could sit next to Trey.
In the car, their legs almost touched. Trey’s knees were big and knobby, his thighs dusted with dark hair. He smelled different from her sisters. Good different. On the hour-long drive, she let herself imagine what it would be like if it were just the two of them going to the beach together; if she were older, sixteen or seventeen, and he was her boyfriend.
“Your face is red,” Meg said to Amy as they unloaded the car. “Do you feel all right?”
Amy nodded. The sun beat down on the parking lot, baking the asphalt and the top of her head. Cars shimmered in the heat. But beyond the short line of beachgoers at the public restroom, past the puddles on the concrete by the outdoor showers, a splintery walkway cut over the dunes. Sea oats bowed and waved their plumes in the breeze from the water. The wind lifted Amy’s hair, cooling her hot cheeks.
Beth sighed. “Smell the ocean!”
