Page 20 of The Summer We Lie

Mom and I both burst into laughter at his dramatic reaction.

"I told you," I say through my giggles, watching him continue to grimace.

We settle into our meal, the hamburger steaks perfectly seasoned and the potatoes creamy. Looking at Justin's animated face as he describes his latest dinosaur documentary, I feel a pang of how much I'll miss this. Three months suddenly seems so long.

"Hey, you should sell your art online somewhere," I say, changing the subject. "You're really good. You could make a living with it."

Justin shakes his head, cutting another piece of meat. "Nah, it's for fun. I want to be a paleontologist."

"I know," I say, nudging his foot under the table. "But while you're still in school, you could do it. Extra money never hurts."

He considers this for a moment, taking another bite. "I'll think about it," he finally says.

"I'm going to miss you guys this summer," I confess, the reality of tomorrow's departure hitting me. "You better call me a lot."

"We will," Mom promises, reaching across to squeeze my hand.

"Yeah, we can FaceTime," Justin agrees, brightening at the idea of technology.

"Yeah, we can do that," I say, already imagining their faces on my screen while I'm across the country.

After we finish eating and clear the dishes, Mom turns to us. "You guys want to watch a movie?"

"Only if there's ice cream," I say instantly.

At the exact same moment, Justin declares, "Only if I can pick the movie."

Mom laughs, the lines around her eyes crinkling. "Yes and yes," she answers, pulling open the freezer to reveal a half-gallon of vanilla.

We spend the rest of the night watching Annabelle—Justin's latest horror film obsession—and eating ice cream sundaes loaded with chocolate syrup and the last of the crushed peanuts. Justin sits between Mom and me on our worn couch, occasionally hiding his face during the scariest parts even though he's seen the movie three times already. Mom falls asleep before the climax, her head tilted back against the cushions, and I grab the throw blanket to cover her.

It's the perfect last night with them before I leave for the summer—simple, comfortable, and filled with the kind of ordinary love that I'll carry with me across the country.

Chapter Ten

Skye

The morning comes too quickly. The sun slants through my thin curtains as my alarm blares, dragging me from a dream I can't quite remember. I shut it off with a groan and lie there for a moment, reality settling in. Today's the day.

Mom's already in the kitchen when I stumble in, hair a mess, still in my sleep shorts and tank. She's made coffee—the good kind we usually save for weekends—and pushes a steaming mug toward me as I slide onto a stool.

"Sleep okay?" she asks, her own cup cradled between her hands.

"Yeah," I lie. I'd tossed and turned half the night, mind racing with a weird mix of excitement and anxiety about the summer ahead.

We sit in comfortable silence, sipping our coffee. Justin's still asleep—typical teenager on summer break—and the house feels peaceful in the early morning light. Mom doesn't try to fill the quiet with last-minute advice or worries, and I'm grateful for that. She just sits with me, present in these final moments before I leave.

My phone buzzes with a text.

Harper: You ready?

Me: I'm almost ready be out in ten.

Harper: K

"That Harper?" Mom asks, and I nod, downing the last of my coffee before heading upstairs to get ready.

Back in my room, I throw on a pair of cut-off shorts and slip my favorite grey hoodie over my white tank top. The hoodie's seen better days, frayed at the cuffs and softened by countless washes, but it feels like armor—something familiar to take with me. I grab my small overnight bag, double-check that I have my charger, sketchbook, and the emergency cash I've been saving, then head back down to the kitchen.