Free The Boys of Summer by C.J. Duggan

My
mangy, chipped, dishpan hands?
    Ellie didn’t get past Stan who was still
shaking her hand in a way that threatened to dislocate her
shoulder.
    “Come on, Chris, can we keep them?” whined
Stan.
    Ellie laughed and looked at Chris with the
same forlorn plea in her eyes.
    “I think the girls have better things to do
than hang out with a bunch of derelicts like us.”
    The truth was, Ellie’s dad would be waiting
down the road to take us to our childhood bedrooms for us to curl
up in our jammies in bed. It had been a long day, and I had felt
exhausted, but I was suddenly wide awake, standing next to
Toby.
    Chris opened the front door, as if the matter
was non-negotiable. This was obviously a boys-only gathering.
    “Eleven am start, ladies.”
    With that, we were ushered outside and the
door closed behind us. Standing in muted darkness, only small
slithers of light streamed beyond the cracks of the window blind,
the echoes of muffled laughter sounding from inside.
    We started the trek down the hill towards the
brake lights of Ellie’s dad’s car when Ellie asked, “So what do you
think of Stan?”
    I laughed. How things could change in an
instant with Ellie.
    I didn’t answer. Instead, in the relative
privacy of the nighttime track, I said, “That’s funny, because I
was just going to ask what you thought of Toby.”
    ***
    Ellie had threatened that she wanted to know
all the details of this Toby crush the next day, as we couldn’t
exactly get into the details with Ellie’s dad in the front seat. It
was hysterical watching Ellie desperate to ask, but biting her lips
together in front of her dad. Dads were a girl-talk-free zone.
    After I had showered the sweat, grease and
smoke away, I removed the remnants of my poor, melted French
polish. I thought back to Toby’s expression as he shook my hand. It
was subtle, but obvious, that something had run through his
mind.
    It bothered me. I’m pretty sure my hand
wasn’t clammy or gross. The nails, it had to be my nails. I
cringed, I didn’t want to even think about it.
    Before I slipped into a coma for the night, I
dragged myself from my bed to my desk for my nightly ritual: to
check my email.
     
    To: tessmcgee
    Toby Morrison eh?? You little Minx! Talk
about must have made a good impression?
    I want to know everything!!! I have a plan.
Operation Toby?? (Don’t stress just an idea)
    ME first, which sounds better? Operation
Sean? Or Operation Stan?
    Decisions! Decisions!
    Sender: ellieparker
     
    To: ellieparker
    Go to bed! Talk tomorrow. NO OPERATION TOBY!
Do I make myself clear??
    GOOD NIGHT!!
    P.S Operation Stan!! I like his dance
moves
    Sender: tessmcgee
     
    I was set for bed when I saw an email from
Adam.
     
    To: tessmcgee
    Do you still love me???
    How did you go tonight? I spoke to Chris, he
said you smashed it! I take it he is not referring to a plate and
assume you did well? Go you!! I knew you would do good. That is why
I hand picked you, you know?
    Seriously Tess, that’s really great. I better
go, Nan’s telling me Matlock is on. Oh goody!
    Sender: Adam I can jump puddles
Henderson.
     
    To: Adam I can jump puddles Henderson
    How can I stay mad at you? I don’t want to
run the risk of your feelings being as delicate as your bones.
    And I will have you know I did totally smash
it!
    In the kitchen!!!
    I think it’s just as well you hurt yourself,
because I have found my calling in life. I am the Messiah of dish
pigs!
    Don’t cry for me though. It kills me to admit
this, but I didn’t totally hate it. But if you repeat that I will
just deny it.
    Enjoy Matlock!!
    Sender: tessmcgee

Chapter Seven
    The Sunday lunchtime shift was dead. It was
like a graveyard shift at best.
    But why wouldn’t it be? Everyone was lake
bound and enjoying themselves. My heart ached as I looked out
through the windowpane of the poolroom, which was, incidentally, my
job for the afternoon: to clean off drunken blow fish marks from
Saturday night.
    “I don’t remember reading