All Last Summer: Love on Summer Break, #1

Chapter One

Experiences of Summer List

Trip to Brazil Countdown: 1 day!

Meet and bond with host family

Meet and bond with Matt’s host family

Go on one student excursion trip per week

Art museum with Matt

Open air market

Historical sites tour

Reggae café (See TourScout rankings list)

1 pic Instagram a day/trip

There had to be a logical explanation. The very thing about to ruin my carefully orchestrated social life played out in front of me and I couldn’t think of a single thing to stop it.

It’s not what you think. Matt, my boyfriend, sprung from his buddy’s couch, his tanned hands moving in front of him and into his hair. The longish, messy brown hair I loved running my fingers through. His hands kept moving—in front of him, around, everywhere. Everywhere except back on the body of the girl beside him.

Lila. Matt stepped toward me as though approaching a frightened woodland creature. You weren’t supposed to be here tonight.

Of course, I wasn’t supposed to be here. I was supposed to be packing. In less than twenty-four hours we were boarding a plane to Brazil for a summer student exchange trip. Together.

I’d been impulsive, which I should have known would only lead to trouble. Surprising my boyfriend by showing up to an impromptu house party went strictly against my planned-out agenda. My personality was Type A of the bolded, capital A variety. Packing for an eight-week summer abroad trip required multiple packing lists and down-to-the-last-minute run throughs.

Think, Lila. Think. There had to be a reason for Matt…entwining himself with this girl. Maybe he was mere moments from telling her he was committed in a solid eight-month relationship. After all, I’d done everything according to plan. We were Matt and Lila. Freaking Matt and Lila.

The girl on the couch, with honey blond hair and pale freckled skin, had the nerve to yawn. She didn’t go to our school or I’d recognize her. Matt looked back at her, whispering.

The girl adjusted her gauzy blue top. Matt, just tell her.

Just tell her. Tell her—me—a thing that apparently had already been decided? Memories of Matt flashed through my mind. Smiling at each other in Algebra 2. Holding hands after his swim meet. Registering for summer study abroad. The early Spring night after hearing the news my grandmother passed away, when he took me to his old elementary school playground and let me cry while my parents sorted out the details at home.

My vision grew crisp, like a photo sharpened to fine lines. I sucked in a breath, letting the rage flutter back. Tell. Me. A statement, not a question.

A flash of silver came from his pocket. His swim team medal, hanging from a blue and gold ribbon. He swung it back and forth. The metal glinted from the glow of a nearby lit fireplace. Well, wasn’t this just cozy.

It’s this thing I meant to talk to you about, he stammered. So much was happening, you know, with the team and the trip. And you, losing your grandmother. I couldn’t—I didn’t want to bother you.

I’d wanted to escape my house. It was why I’d been looking forward to the trip for so long. A whole summer away from home. Out of the country, with the guy I loved. What could be better?

Matt twirled the swim medal in some sort of nervous tic. It’s just, the time was never right.

The girl stood and scoffed. I’m Meghan. Matt and I, we’re together. She completed the declaration by hooking her arm through Matt’s, the space between them swallowed up like a black hole. Since the trip planning meet-up.

The trip planning meet-up two months ago. Students from five area high schools joined together for a summer exchange program training. I’d missed it because of my grandmother’s funeral. I’d had to attend a second make-up session without Matt.

My blood turned to lava and flooded my face with heat.

This couldn’t be happening. I turned to the door for escape and horror struck again.

We had a crowd. Witnesses to my humiliation.

Everything I’d worked toward was disintegrating. My instincts screamed run, cry, run, cry, but I couldn’t.

I’d devoted myself to Matt. Devoted.

Meghan and I, we thought you wouldn’t understand, Matt said finally.

Meghan and I. He said it so easily, as if used to the pairing. "This was supposed to be our trip. If you didn’t want—" To be with me was too hard to say, I couldn’t. You should have talked to me.

Matt scowled. You were the one pushing me away. If you were paying attention, you would have understood.

I—what?

He shrugged off my astonishment. Look, the good thing is, we’ll be in different parts of Salvador on the trip.

Salvador was the Brazilian city we’d be calling home in the next twenty-four hours. He said this all while hooked into Meghan’s arm. With his free hand, he let the swim medal dangle from his fingers, swinging in a lazy figure eight.

Salvador. Summer. Matt. Matt and Meghan. Matt and Meghan and me, a squeaky, rejected third wheel. An uncharted future flashed in my mind. Matt and Meghan wearing matching Brazilian soccer shirts. Historic landmark tours and cultural events—all the activities Matt and I planned to do, and she would be there.

Are you okay? Meghan asked.

I snapped to the present. Meghan had asked. I stared at Matt waiting for him to tell me this was all a joke.

Am I okay? I laughed, though no part of this was funny. He had no idea how deep this betrayal went. Matt was my identity as Matt and Lila. A surge of rage hit me like a gale force wind. How was it supposed to happen, Matt? On the plane? In Brazil, when we’re thousands of miles from home? They stood there, still joined at the arms like a united force against me. Like I was the problem here.

The silver of the medal caught my eye again, dangling from Matt’s fingers. Stupid precious swim medal. For the last two months, I’d been his own personal cheerleader at his swim meets. He’d already been with Meghan by then.

The medal swung back and forth, back and forth. A deep and fierce thing inside reacted for me. I snatched the medal from his hands.

I didn’t think. I aimed.

I chucked that medal right into the fire.

The room exploded in sound. Matt yelped. Meghan gasped. A chorus of Whoa! and No way! came from gawkers in the doorway.

"My medal, it’s burning." Matt grabbed for a fireplace poker and attempted to hook the singed ribbon, only it had already burned through.

Nice shot, me.

Staring at him and his shocked expression, I let my rage have its way. "Have a nice summer."

I took the chaos as my cue to storm out of this house and out of his life. Forever.

I moved past the gawk-squad, some of whom were pushing forward into the room.

At the doorway, my gaze connected with Aidan Pemberton. Pale-skinned, lanky with pointy features, he gawked with the rest of them. Funny, Aidan had been the one who’d told me about this party. Aidan, one of Matt’s dorky friends from childhood who constantly eye-rolled at me, who attempted to thwart my plans with Matt. Aidan, who never showed up to parties like this.

Aidan, who smirked at me.

I shoved past him, past everyone. Hot tears hit my cheeks. Ugly cries were coming and I refused to shed them here. I made it through the front door, out of the house and to the street. Then I ran.

Chapter Two

Today’s list:

Goal: Nobody talk to me

1. Sleep

2. Wake up in an alternate timeline

Someone pounded on my bedroom door.

Lila? We need to talk.

Mom. I loved her, I really did, but at the moment, all I wanted from life was total darkness and a face full of hypoallergenic fluff. I crushed my face back into my pillow.

The door creaked open. It’s well past noon.

Something soft hit me and I rolled toward the wall. I ran my finger against the pale pink wallpaper that had been here when we moved in and was too hard to peel off so on it stayed. If I didn’t get up, then none of last night happened.

Downstairs in ten. That’s an order.

Ten minutes later, I arrived downstairs. My response to the order was Pavlovian. Having military parents did that to a girl. Now retired from active duty, my mom and dad owned a construction company where they managed crews doing small-scale commercial jobs. Basically, they made an occupation out of telling people what to do. You’d think they’d be tired of it on their off hours, but not the case.

My older sister, Lenora, now out of the house in college, spent most of her teen years creatively bending their orders or outright defying them. Me? I was the kid who learned compliance made life easier. Just do the thing. Way less lecturing.

We need to talk about whatever happened, Mom said as she gave the kitchen stove a thorough degreasing.

Dad closed the case over his phone’s screen. Sit.

Because I wasn’t my sister, I did what he asked.

Mom stopped scrubbing. Can you tell us what caused this sudden change? We let you call off the trip. Now it’s time for answers.

I’d really gotten the drop on them when I came home from the party last night and declared I was canceling the trip to Brazil. Dad’s work crew called him Sarge—there was no yelling at a former Sergeant—but I’d talked louder and louder until they heard me. When I’d called the sponsor teacher (at home, at night), and then the airline, and rejected every inbound call from Matt, even from the landline my parents insisted we keep for emergencies, finally they realized I was serious.

I don’t want to go anymore. Yes, Matt is part of it. All of it. He’s a jerk and I can’t handle being in another country with him.

I left out the part about barbecuing his swim medal.

Dad picked at a coffee mug ring on the worn kitchen table. I want to ask you a question. Did that boy hurt you?

I snapped my head up. "No. I mean, not like, physically."

Dad’s shoulders relaxed at my confirmation that Matt only hurt me emotionally. Which was a messed-up realization.

There was a Meghan, I blurted.

Oh, honey. Mom circled in and put her arms around me. I’m so sorry.

Dad squinted. I’m going to need a translator.

Another girl, Eric. Matt and another girl.

Dad closed his eyes and slow-nodded. I told you the girls shouldn’t date until they’re thirty.

Lila. She ignored Dad. You should have told us you were having problems with Matt. Maybe we could have prevented this.

"We weren’t having problems." Even if we had been, the list of things I’d rather do than discuss my breakup with my parents included but was not limited to:

Collecting random doggy dook from the park with those flimsy plastic bags

dental surgery

dental surgery without pain numbing

trying on swimsuits at a Walmart (don’t ask)

Dad stood and filled his Michigan State Spartans mug from the mostly-functional Keurig. What I don’t get is why you’re the one sacrificing the trip. This punk gets to go to Brazil and you don’t? He should stay.

My mouth dried out. I couldn’t get on that plane, Dad. Despite the packing lists and my fully indexed trip itinerary, after seeing Matt with another girl, it was as if every one of those plans self-deleted, lost forever on a crashed hard drive.

Dad muttered about responsibility and following through on commitments. I should go over there and give that boy and his parents a piece of my mind. Ridiculous.

Time will heal. Mom squeezed my shoulder and gave Dad a look I interpreted as, Take it down a notch, Sarge. I know it doesn’t feel that way yet, but it will.

Dad sat back down. Speaking of time, let’s talk about money.

Because time was money, he always said.

The biggest Oh Crap moment I’d had after all the canceling was the realization I was out the trip money. All of it. I canceled the day before the plane left, a full two weeks past any hope of even a partial refund. My pillow became my best friend, smooshed over my head, once Dad started yelling at the travel abroad program people over the phone this morning. No refunds. We’d all signed the papers agreeing to the terms.

Mom said something to Dad in a low tone. Dad grumbled, shaking his head. Fine. He looked to me again. I wish I understood why you were throwing this trip away.

I was equally as surprised. I never gave up on a plan. Except this plan, this trip to Brazil, had all been Matt’s idea. A whole summer without Matt had seemed like an eternity, so I decided to go on the trip he’d signed onto. I took Spanish, a similar foundation to Portuguese, and with tutoring sessions twice a week, I’d brushed up enough to qualify for the trip.

The truth lay bare in front of me. I’d simply been tagging along.

That realization hurt almost more than the betrayal.

I stood in the middle of my bedroom, absorbing the enormity of what happened. I was Lila of the House of Vaughn, the Cast-Off, Goddess of Unusual Outbursts, Lenora’s Forgettable Sister, the Dumped One, and That Girl Who Hangs Out With Natalie—You Know the Natalie with Cute Hair.

I sank to the floor by my abandoned pillow and reached for my notebook. I paged backward to my semester level goal lists. New year’s resolutions were for suckers. I had life plans in stages—daily, semester, yearly, long term, epic long term. The answer to why my plans were failing had to be in here somewhere. The failure was in the execution. I’d missed something.

The original list. Where this all began. I slipped an old notebook from the shelf above my desk. From freshman year.

Social Life Boot Camp

Goal: to make lasting friends and connections

1. Find a best friend

2. Get invited to a sleepover

3. Be part of a known clique

4. Share clothes with bestie

5. First kiss

6. Boyfriend

7. Homecoming dance date

8. Prom

It all seemed so simple then. I would acclimate myself socially through rigorous planning and strategy.

My head hurt. I had no answers. I chucked the notebook and reached for my phone. Scrolling through celebrity pics on Instagram, my feed landed on an unexpected photo. The elevator cables severed and dropped me in full freefall to the bottom. Matt. Matt and Meghan. Standing by the airport gate. Flight times overhead, pointing and smiling.

Just like that, I was out of the picture. Replaced.

I clicked my phone off. In the space in front of me, Matt and Meghan materialized, wrapped around each other. I blinked and their outline lingered like scattered white spots from a flash bulb.

I texted Natalie.

Me: Parents are super pissed.

The little dots indicating she was typing back flickered on the screen.

Natalie: How are you? I’m so sorry I wasn’t there with you last night.

Me: I’m OK. Just…shocked, I guess.

Natalie: I can’t believe he’s with that other girl. Who else knew?

Good question. Meghan was out there in the open with Matt at a party with our classmates. What did Matt think would happen when people saw them together?

Me: I wonder if his old friends knew. They never liked me.

Aidan Pemberton, smirking in the hall. His other buddies, Mason and Dan, used to join in, bagging on Matt for turning into a popular Bro. Matt always shrugged it off with a laugh. It’s not like that, he’d say.

I spent the rest of the day feeling sorry for myself and falling asleep at a time when old folks usually ate dinner.

The next day, I woke feeling like I’d slept twenty minutes instead of nearly half a day. My parents were long gone to the construction company office by now. I settled in on the couch in our family room and booted up our streaming service on the big TV. One high point of not going to Brazil meant I finally had time to catch up on my favorite sci-fi shows. I’d been dying to finish The Expanse, but with finals and softball, I’d let the episodes sit unwatched in the queue. I had no one to talk to about the show anyway.

Okay, I deliberately didn’t talk to my friends about sci-fi shows. Before moving to Ginsburg freshman year, I spent my free time reading my parents’ Terry Pratchett novels and taking online courses on topics that interested me. For fun, not for grades. I lived for school clubs—junior robotics, quiz bowl, aviary club (that’s bird watching). Making friends never came as easily to me as it had for my sister Lenora. She had charm and charisma. At each school, the inevitable would happen. I would try to make friends, but eventually get branded a dork and ignored. My very existence repelled sleepover invitations. I defaulted to loner status. Every time.

When my parents retired from the military to start their construction business in Ginsburg, Mom’s hometown, my list making took a deliberate turn. Why not study what it took to be popular? Add those items to a list, make a plan, and have the life I wanted.

Aligning with Natalie turned me from an awkward, not-intentionally-anti-social-but-not-exactly-social transfer student to the semi-popular incoming senior I was today.

None of which happened by accident.

I hit continue on the episode and willed myself to get lost in Captain Holden’s stupidly adorable eyes and Naomi’s fearless resolve. Only my mind kept drifting to the party. To Meghan in the gauzy blue top. To Matt’s deer-in-headlights expression. Tossing his medal into the fire—that would cost me. I’d be branded a jealous ex. And I had no idea how to recover.

At seven that night, the familiar sound of tires crunching over gravel sounded outside, punctuated by the automatic garage door grinding open. A flurry of sounds traveled in from the kitchen until Mom peeked into the family room. She audibly sighed. It could have been my blanket hut with pillow support beams. Or how I’d drank her last LaCroix.

A voice squawked on speaker from Dad’s battered work phone. Yeah, I hear ya. He stopped in the doorway. I have to go to the Raintree site. Jim’s clocking overtime already.

Mom swiped the empty cans from the coffee table. I told you that job was understaffed.

He’s the only guy I’ve got right now who can tile. Dad’s voice rose as they talked shop.

I turned up the volume to hear the show better. The fate of the universe hung in the hands of a chosen few!

A newspaper landed on the coffee table in front of me. Dad hovered over it, blocking the TV. Time to start with the Want Ads.

I paused the TV—I had to have misheard. What? An honest-to-goodness print newspaper. People looked for jobs in those? I can take a look online at some jobs, I guess.

There’s no guess here, Lila. You owe us the trip money.

Mom sat in the chair across from the couch. We decided it’s only fair for you to pay back the money for the trip since you canceled so suddenly. It’s a lot of money to waste.

Of course it was a lot of money. I hated to waste it too. I really did. I’ll use some of my savings—

That’s for college, Mom cut in. You will not touch a single cent in the savings account your family contributed to for your education. Absolutely not. This is money you need to earn and pay back.

I stared at them. "But you didn’t ask me to pay for