It's Not Summer without You Read Free

your makeup too?”
    “No thanks,” I told her. “Close your eyes while I put on my clothes, okay?”
    She rolled her eyes and then closed them. “Belly, you’re such a prude.”
    “I don’t care if I am,” I said, putting on my underwear and my bra. Then I put my Cousins T-shirt on again. “Okay, you can look.”
    Taylor opened her eyes up superwide and she applied her mascara. “I could do your nails,” she offered. “I have three new colors.”
    “Nah, there’s no point.” I held up my hands. My nails were bitten down to the quick.
    Taylor grimaced. “Well, what are you wearing?”
    “This,” I said, hiding my smile. I pointed down at my Cousins T-shirt. I’d worn it so many times it had tiny holes around the neck and it was soft as a blankie. I wished I could wear it to the party.
    “Very funny,” she said, shimmying over to my closet on her knees. She stood up and started rifling around, pushing hangers over to the side, like she didn’t already know every article of clothing I owned by heart. Usually I didn’t mind, but today I felt sort of itchy and bothered by everything.
    I told her, “Don’t worry about it. I’m just going to wear my cutoffs and a tank top.”
    “Belly, people get dressed up for Justin’s parties. You’ve never been so you wouldn’t know, but you can’t just wear your old cutoffs.” Taylor pulled out my white sundress. The last time I’d worn it had been last summer, at that party with Cam. Susannah had told me the dress set me off like a picture frame.
    I got up and took the dress from Taylor and put it back into my closet. “That’s stained,” I said. “I’ll find something else.”
    Taylor sat back down in front of the mirror and said, “Well, then wear that black dress with the little flowers. It makes your boobs look amazing.”
    “It’s uncomfortable; it’s too tight,” I told her.
    “Pretty please?”
    Sighing, I took it off the hanger and put it on. Sometimes it was easier to just give in with Taylor. We’d been friends, best friends, since we were little kids. We’d been best friends so long it was more like a habit, the kind of thing you didn’t really have a say in anymore.
    “See, that looks hot.” She came over and zipped me up. “Now, let’s talk about our plan of action.”
    “What plan of action?”
    “I think you and Cory Wheeler should make out at the party.”
    “Taylor—”
    She lifted her hand. “Just hear me out. Cory’s supernice and he’s supercute. If he worked on his body and got a little definition, he could be, like, Abercrombie hot.”
    I snorted. “Please.”
    “Well, he’s at least as cute as C-word.” She never called him by his name anymore. Now he was just “you-know-who,” or “C-word.”
    “Taylor, quit pushing me. I can’t be over him just because you want me to.”
    “Can’t you at least try?” she wheedled. “Cory could be your rebound. He wouldn’t mind.”
    “If you bring up Cory one more time, I’m not going to the party,” I told her, and I meant it. In fact, I kind of hoped she would bring him up again so I’d have an excuse not to go.
    Her eyes widened. “Okay, okay. Sorry. My lips are sealed.”
    Then she grabbed her makeup bag and sat down on the edge of my bed, and I sat down at her feet. She pulled out a comb and sectioned off my hair. She braided quickly, with fast and sure fingers, and when she was done, she pinned the braid over the crown of my head, to the side. Neither of us spoke while she worked until she said, “I love your hair like this. You look sort of Native American, like a Cherokee princess or something.”
    I started to laugh, but then I stopped myself. Taylor caught my eye in the mirror and said, “It’s okay to laugh, you know. It’s okay for you to have fun.”
    “I know,” I said, but I didn’t.
    Before we left I stopped by my mother’s office. She was sitting at her desk with folders and stacks of papers. Susannah had made my mother executor of her