Sundry Days Read Free

mine, tied under the chin with a big brim to keep out the sun. But her ponytail sticks out. She’s got on a beach coverall that’s also like mine, except hers is green, the color of grass.  Mine is blue.  Everyone wears a coverall at the beach, even Mama.  It’s for sun protection. And modesty.
    Rebekah hugs my mom, and says hi to my fathers and Simon. The adults get settled on the blankets and Simon starts digging in the sand.
    Then Rebekah and I go into the water.  We don’t swim.  We just splash around and duck into the waves and talk.
    When Rebekah’s hair is dry it almost sparkles in the sun, like parts of it are on fire.  It’s a color that’s hard to describe. Brown that’s been mixed with orange and red and gold.  When it’s wet, though, it just looks brown.
    I notice that Rebekah is starting to grow breasts. I can see the shape of them when her coverall gets wet. They’re not that big, but they’re definitely there.  I’m careful not to look at them.
    “I’m glad we came today,” she says.  “My dads have been driving me crazy, and it’s really boring at home.”
    Rebekah has just two fathers, no brothers, and her mother hasn’t lived with the family since she was a little girl.  One of her fathers, Uncle John, is the brother of Papa Ryan.
    “You don’t know what it’s like, David, being a girl.  I hardly ever had anyone to play with when I was little, and now I have no one to talk to, and no friends.  I haven’t been to an actual school, with actual people, since sixth grade.”
    Rebekah gets taught at home by her dads.
    “I hate school,” I say.  Which isn’t exactly true, but I think maybe it will make her feel better.
    “Yeah, but at least you get to go to the rec center for sports.  I miss doing that.  Do you want to race?”
    We swim from a point where we’re both treading water because it’s over our heads, to the shore. I get there first. Then we decide to race on the sand.
    Rebekah’s a runner, like me.  She’s actually pretty fast.
    We run from the shore to the grassy area, and back again. There aren’t many people at this part of the beach today except our families. Then we splash around in the waves again and see who can float on their back the longest.  After a while, we dry off, sit on the sand where Simon is digging, and we help him build a tower.
    “Rebekah is growing so fast,” my mother says to Rebekah’s dads.  No one says anything about how fast I’m growing.
    “Yeah, she’s growing up too fast,” says Uncle Danny. 
    Sometimes I try to listen to what the adults are saying.  But it’s usually not that interesting.  They talk about work, and people they know, and town stuff.
    We eat lunch, and then three of the dads start playing catch, while Mama and Uncle John take Simon into the water. He’s a little afraid of going under, I think.  He can’t swim yet. But Uncle John and Mama each take one of his hands and jump him over the waves, which he likes.
    Mama and Uncle John seem different when they’re together, happier or something.  Rebekah notices it too.
    Rebekah and I keep digging in the sand by ourselves for a while, building things.
    “Am I the only girl you know?” she asks.  “As a friend, I mean.”
    “There are two girls in my class,” I say.  I don’t remind Rebekah that I’m only in fifth grade. “But they’re not really my friends,” I add.
    “Hey,” I ask her, “do you know why girls stop going to regular school after sixth grade?”  I never really thought much about it before, but now it occurs to me that it’s kind of strange girls get taught at home after sixth grade.
    “It’s just the way it is,” she says. “Because of puberty.”
    “Oh, yeah,” I nod my head, trying to act like I understand, which I don’t really.  Not that I don’t know about puberty.  My dads have talked to me about how my body is going to change in a few years.  I know how girls are different.  I know about sex.
    I just