Fifteenth Summer - By Michelle Dalton Page 0,31

country, right?”

Oh my God, could I be more of a dork?

“We row on the river, actually,” Josh said. “The coxswain is the person who sits in the front and calls the rhythm.”

“Don’t forget, I steer, too!” Tori noted proudly. Then she turned to me. “I admit it. I like being able to shout orders at eight guys. They have no choice but to do my bidding.”

She cackled, before adding, “The coxswain is usually a girl, because you’re not supposed to weigh too much.”

Then I swore she gave me one of those body-scanning looks, her eyes traveling from my neck to my ankles and back again. My curvy five feet six inches were radically different from her tiny, muscular bod. Involuntarily I crossed my arms over my chest.

The awkward silence that ensued seemed to be all Tori needed to assure herself that I was no threat to her. I could almost see the to-do list forming in her head.

1. Wait until Josh ditches the dishrag who doesn’t even know rudimentary terms like “coxswain” and “crew.”

2. Bring Josh his favorite drink (that I just happen to know, being his coxswain and all).

3. Pretend to trip so he can help me to my feet and take note that I’m as light as a feather and I smell like watermelon body wash.

4. Let the spit-swapping ensue!

Clearly she was confident enough about my drippiness to leave me alone with her crush.

“Ooh, I see Hazel and Callan,” she said, waving wildly at two girls. When they saw Tori with Josh (and apparently overlooked me entirely), they giggled and flashed her a thumbs-up. Subtle!

“See you later, Joshie,” Tori said before turning to me. “And nice to meet you . . .”

She looked at me, then back at Josh, waiting for an introduction.

Josh turned even redder. Only then did I realize he’d never asked me my name! And I’d never volunteered it.

“Chelsea,” I said, unable to meet Josh’s eyes. “Chelsea Silver. I’m here for the summer from LA.”

“Awesome! I love LA,” Tori said brightly. “See you around, Chelsea.”

She practically skipped off to her friends, and when she reached them, they collapsed into a fit of giggles.

She couldn’t have been more obvious about her intentions for Josh if she’d licked his face.

I snuck a sulky glance at him. I expected him to be gazing after Tori. How could he not? She was one of those bright-eyed, bubbly, anybody’s-version-of-pretty types who commanded attention.

But instead Josh was looking straight at me. And there seemed to be a new light in his eyes.

“So . . . Chelsea Silver,” he said.

“So . . . Joshie,” I said. “Is that what your friends call you?”

“No!” Josh said, rolling his eyes. “And neither does Tori. I don’t know where that came from.”

Hello? I thought. From her completely obvious crush on you.

I wondered if mine was just as obvious.

“Oh, hey!” Josh said as if he were just remembering something. “Can you hold on a minute?”

“Uh—”

I didn’t have time to respond before he darted toward the refreshments table.

Okay, I thought, insecurity washing over me. I guess he’s just really hungry. Boys are like that, right?

That was the thing about living in a house full of women (and one not-exactly-macho accountant). Boys were a complete mystery to me. My main impression from my friends with brothers and/or boyfriends was that boys were always hungry. And in those rare, satiated moments when they weren’t dreaming about food, they were obsessed with sex.

Which was a step up from middle-school boys, I guess. They’d seemed to devote most of their energy to coming up with new fart or burp jokes.

So when Josh dashed, I didn’t know if “Hold on a minute” meant, “I’ll be right back” or “Nice talking to you. Off to mingle with other cute girls now. Don’t wait up!”

He was taking a long time at the refreshment table, which was pretty much a disaster by then. He poked around the wet napkins, crushed chips, half-empty soft drink bottles, and discarded paper plates.

I scanned the party for my sisters. It was hard to find anybody among the lanterns, but I finally spotted Hannah leaning back against the railing on the other side of the dock. Pressed up really close to her was Liam. He had one arm wrapped around her waist, and he seemed to be aiming his lips for her neck.

Hannah laughed and shoved him away—but not very far away. And she didn’t seem annoyed that this guy was trying to kiss her in front of fifty strangers.

I