The first Summer

“What’s that one called?”

I shifted on the grass so my body was facing Summer. She was on her back, eyes fixed on the constellation above our heads. The starlight seemed drawn to her, like she was their long-lost family, and they had finally found her.

I understood how the stars felt. We may have only met this year, but even at 16, I could sense how rare our friendship was. From the day our paths crossed, we were inseparable. We brought out the flaws in each other, looked them dead in the eye, and held them tight.

“Scorpius,” I whispered. Not because there was anyone to disturb, what with our being in a field in the middle of nowhere, but because nighttime was sacred. It was when the air was filled with dreams, and the water shone with secrets.

Summer was gone. If the ten years hadn’t been any indication, the unanswered calls, texts and emails were. I still had the torn purple friendship bracelet I’d found in her driveway where a car should have been, the bracelet whose twin hung heavy on my wrist to this day. I remember thinking that it wasn’t like her, to clear out her room and drive off out of the blue. How could someone with such a presence about them drop off the map one day? 

Her phone didn’t register when I tried to find Summer’s location from her apps, neither did her license plate when I questioned a tired-looking police officer with a smudged nametag that read “Hal”.

“She must have ditched her car,” Hal remarked, at which point I laughed in his face before slapping a hand over my mouth in alarm. Without Summer here, I was too open about my feelings.

“Summer would die before she left that car,” I sputtered, trying not to laugh at the poor man again.

“She spent most of the money from her neglected college fund on that thing. The second she got her driver’s license, it was basically a second home for us. No way she would get rid of it.” I insisted.

“Do you have any other explanation, Ma’am?” He countered

“No, but-“ Needless to say, the conversation did not prove much help.

--

Hey guys, Summer here, today I’m going to show you how to apply eyeliner like a pro-

I paused the video and threw my hands down onto the keyboard of my computer in frustration. Mislead once again. Not that I was super convinced Summer had come back from magicland to do makeup tutorials. But still, how many Summers did I have to follow on social media before one of them ended up being her? I was fed up with this whole process. The not knowing, then getting my hopes up, then getting hit with her loss all over again. All I had to show for 9 years of searching was a social media feed packed with people named Summer.

I left my computer open on the table and hurried outside. I needed to flood my lungs with clear air, air that would never know about Summer, never see the way she would spin around with her arms stretched beside her, as though she could grasp the night and wear it like a crown.

I looked up at the stars, imploring them to share their secrets, or at least give me a clue as to how to find Summer. They wouldn't even look at me.

I lay down in the scratchy grass, dry from the heat, and held my breath. I kept my lips sealed until the night blurred into a tapestry of light and dark. I let my mind venture into dangerous territory. Let myself listen to the questions I'd silenced from the moment of their conception when she'd vanished years ago.

Did she even want me to look for her?

Could she have left was to get a clean break from me, and looking for her is a mistake?

What if the reason she can't be found is that she's lying under a bridge somewhere with her wrists cut?

The tears glided down my face and fell into the grass, one by one.

I was prepared to hold my breath until I lost consciousness when I heard something crash inside my house.

Air swarmed my lungs as I gasped and sat up. My legs were shaky but they faithfully carried me to the dining room, where my computer lay on the ground, its screen cracked.