Poison Ink Read Free Page A

Thankfully, the humidity that had lingered through much of the summer was gone, and there was a breeze off the lake. Sammi loved the waterfall noise of the leaves rustling on the trees.
    Worried about the sun, she dragged her chair into the shade, putting distance between herself and her mother. Wrapped up in her book, Mom didn’t even seem to notice. Most everyone at the lake had slathered himself with sun-block and was enjoying the fry time. Sammi preferred the shade, preferred to be out of the spotlight. Her guitar brought her plenty of attention, but she did not seek it. If people wandered over, drawn by a shared love of music, they were welcome. But guys who just wanted to flirt with the cute blond girl in cutoffs and a bikini top could ogle her from a distance.
    “Play something else,” a voice said.
    Sammi looked up. A guy stood just at the edge of the shade, dark hair and sleek, muscled body dripping from the water. He pushed a hand through his hair, shedding water, and smiled.
    Cute. Very cute.
    “What do you want to hear?”
    He shrugged. “Whatever you feel like playing.”
    Good answer, Sammi thought.
    Her fingers danced along the frets as she picked out the opening notes of Amanda Marshall’s “Love Is My Witness.” Keeping her voice low, not wanting to put on a show for the whole lake, she started to sing.
    His smile brightened. Sammi felt warm, even in the shade. Even with the breeze.
    Curious, a few other guys and two girls, apparently all friends, wandered over to listen. They kept back from the shade, remaining in the sun, arms thrown over one another. One of the guys twisted around, tripping his buddy, and tossed him on the ground. They laughed and started to wrestle.
    Sammi couldn’t help rolling her eyes. She stopped singing, but her fingers kept playing the song.
    “What’s your name?” Cute Boy asked.
    She switched tunes, playing a bluesy little run. “My mother always told me not to talk to strangers.”
    “I’m Adam.”
    With a look of shock, she put her fingers over the strings to halt the music. “You’re kidding. My name’s Eve.”
    He blinked and for a second almost believed her. Then Sammi smiled and he knew she had been playing with him. Irritation and disappointment flashed in his eyes before he could hide them.
    “Sorry. Couldn’t resist,” she said. Her fingers moved on the guitar as if of their own accord, jumping through the rhythm of a song by the Shins. “I’m Sammi.”
    “You don’t look like a Sammi.”
    “My parents are the only people who’ve called me Samantha and survived.”
    “Teachers?”
    Sammi gave him a dark look. “Their graves litter the Merrimack Valley.”
    Adam grinned. Oh, she liked that grin.
    “Pull up some shade, Adam.”
    He sat beside her on the sand and they talked while she played, running through tunes from Maia Sharp, Bonnie Raitt, the Strokes, Jason Mraz, and Keane. She sang a little, talked a little, people came by and watched, asked her questions about the music, about her playing, wondered if she ever played for money. As soon as she had a license she planned to head down to Cambridge and start doing the street corner thing. T stations were a possibility, too, but she hated the idea of being down in the subway with the trains rumbling by. On the street, with the people, that’d be nice. Bookstores and cafés, too. But she was too young to play in bars.
    Adam turned out to be eighteen and had a car of his own, a junk heap that had gone from his father to his two older sisters before ending up with him. But it ran.
    “You feel like hanging out tonight? We could hit a movie. Or there’s this party these guys I know are having. End-of-summer bash.”
    A tremor went through Sammi. Guys flirted with her all the time, but not guys like Adam. Her opinion of teenage boys had not changed, but spending an hour or two talking to him had shaken it, that was for sure. He hadn’t used her music just as an introduction to talk to her. He