Maine Squeeze Read Free Page B

didn’t think I would. But after we unloaded their suitcases and bags, as Mom and Dad were hugging me good-bye, this police officer started yelling at us because we were staying in the pickup and drop-off area too long and we were getting in the way of other people. Also, I hadn’t parked quite as close to the curb as a person should, and this hotel shuttle bus was sort of stuck until the driver went up onto the other curb. It was chaotic, to say the least. I was about to be blamed for something.
    Naturally, I burst into tears.
    I think in some weird way that made my parents happy, though, because then they shifted into their “take care of Colleen” mode and suddenly stopped being upset themselves. Mom gave me a tissue (with a teddy bear print, of course) from her purse, and Dad gave me a Lifesaver, and off they went through the doors for their first flight. They just whisked away and left me there with the scowling police officer and a wet face. They’d land in Frankfurt in the morning. I’d wake up at home, without them. It was a bit hard to fathom.
    Good thing my three best friends in the world would be there with me.
    I pulled up in front of Erica’s house and parked. She lived on top of a hill, in a large brick colonial house with a great view of the water. The last time I’d seen Erica was in May, when she came out to the island for her grandfather’s birthday. We usually saw each other every other month or so—either she came up or I went to Portland with my mom and dad to shop, or eat out, or visit their friends.
    Erica was going to the University of New Hampshire in the fall, so she could be close to home. Erica’s parents were a tad overprotective.
    Erica was the sweetest, nicest person in the world. She worked as a hostess at Bobb’s, which was a perfect fit for her. Even when people got angry about waiting too long for a table or were rude to her, she’d just “kill them with kindness,” as the saying goes. She earned a lot of overtime money because she couldn’t say no when others asked her to cover their shifts—great for the money part, but bad because she’d work too many hours and get completely exhausted. (Being too nice occasionally has its downsides. That’s why I try not to go overboard. That, and the fact it doesn’t come naturally to me.)
    â€œLook who’s here!” Erica’s mother cried when she opened the front door. “It’s Colleen Templeton!” She always says this, as if she’s announcing my arrival at a fancy dress ball. Instead, I was standing on their doorstep wearing cut-off khaki shorts, a bright pink tank top, and unlaced sneakers.
    Erica came running to the door and we gave each other a quick hug. After talking to her for a few minutes, we quickly tossed two large duffel bags and a box of Erica’s stuff into the back of the car, grabbed some juice and sodas from the fridge, and were about to be on our way when Mrs. Kuhar caught up to us.
    Erica’s parents were coming up to the island the next weekend, but her mom acted as though Erica was leaving the country when she said good-bye (and I knew what that looked like, having just been through it myself). She gave Erica several instructions on when to call home, how to dress for the changing weather, how to arrange her schedule at Bobb’s so she didn’t get overworked like last summer.... Then Erica and her mother hugged, then her mother hugged me , and eventually we were on the road.
    â€œWe’re on the way!” Erica said, putting down her window and resting her arm on the door as we hit Interstate 295. “Wow, what a nice day, huh?”
    â€œCan you believe we’re really doing this? I mean, we’ve been talking about it since April, and now it’s finally happening.” I took a sip of orange soda. “Isn’t this great? This summer is going to be so amazing.” I reached down to turn up