Every Last Word Read Free

boys in tight Speedos with solid abs and muscular arms, their skin tanned by the Northern California sun, their bodies lean and solid after three months in the water, but
none of them are anywhere near as flawless as Brandon. Even if I did find one of them remotely attractive, what’s the point now? Summer’s nearly over.
    Cassidy tilts her head to one side, pouting dramatically. She brings her fingertip to my nose and sighs. “What am I going to do without you, Sam?”
    My stomach clenches into a tight fist as she voices a thought that’s been haunting me since the first day of August. Like all my summer friends, Cassidy has never known me outside the
pool. She has no idea who I am when I’m not here, so she doesn’t know how backward she has it.
    “You’ll be fine,” I say, because it’s true. Me? I’m not so sure.
    My psychiatrist nailed it back in June, when I practically floated into her office and announced that I’d taken my last final. She strode over to the minifridge, poured sparkling apple
cider into two plastic champagne flutes, and said, “To the triumphant return of Summer Sam” as we clinked glasses.
    But it’s coming to an end. In two weeks, I’ll be back in school, Cassidy will be in L.A., and Brandon will be at college. I’ll be missing them, along with my early morning
dives into lane number three.
    I’ll be Samantha again. And more than anything, I’ll be missing Sam.

“Y ou look fantastic,” Mom says as I step into the kitchen.
    I’d better. I spent the last hour putting myself together for the first day of school. I left my hair down and ironed it straight. I’m wearing a sheer top over a white camisole,
skinny jeans, and the wedges I begged Mom to buy me. My eyes are lined, my lips defined, and my foundation is effectively masking the stress-induced breakout on my chin.
    “Thank you.” I hug her tight, hoping she knows I’m not thanking her for the compliment alone. It’s for everything she’s done for me this summer. For coming to all
my swim meets and cheering so loudly, she’s hoarse every Sunday night. It’s for all those late-night talks, especially over the last week when Cassidy left for L.A., Brandon went back
to the East Coast, and the first day of school began to loom over me like an ominous storm cloud.
    Mom’s wearing that encouraging smile she always plasters on when she knows I’m nervous. “Stop looking at me like that, please,” I say, fighting the urge to roll my eyes.
“I’m fine. Really.”
    My cell phone chirps and I pull it from my pocket to check the screen. “Alexis wants a ride to school today.”
    “Why?” Mom asks as she fills a bowl with cereal for Paige. “She knows it’s against the law to drive with passengers in your first year.” Of course Alexis knows the
law, she’s just surprised I’m following it since most people don’t.
    I text her back, telling her I can’t give her a ride because if my parents found out, I’d lose my car. I hit SEND and flip the phone around so Mom can read
the screen. She gives an approving nod.
    I shove the phone back in my pocket and hitch my backpack over my shoulder. “Have a good day, sixth grader,” I say to Paige as she spoons a big bite of cereal into her mouth.
    As I head for the garage, I’m still texting back and forth with Alexis, who’s begging me to change my mind. I finally drop the phone into the cup holder as I pull out of the
driveway, ending the discussion without ever telling her the real reason I won’t pick her up today. Or any time in the near future.
    Earlier this month, on my sixteenth birthday, Dad took me to the DMV to get my license, and when we got home a few hours later, there was a used Honda Civic parked in our garage. It was totally
unexpected, and it meant so much more than regular transportation to me. It meant Mom, Dad, and my psychiatrist thought I could handle it.
    I was dying to show off my new car, but Alexis, Kaitlyn, Olivia, and Hailey were