A Summer of Sundays (3 page)

The boys stepped aside as I twisted the key in the lock, then barreled forward, almost knocking me off my feet when they heard the click of the bolt.

They scrambled through the house, running from room to room, racing up the stairs and then flying back down again. They swarmed around me.

“I bet I could jump out of the window in the big bedroom and land in the tree outside.”

“No way!”

“There are bathrooms everywhere.”

“And-and-and one of them has a huge bathtub!”

“It looks like someone pooped in the toilet upstairs!”

“Really? I wanna see!”

“Gross, CJ,” I said. The three of them giggled and raced back upstairs to look at the toilet again.

I set the keys on a small table by the front door and looked around. The house was fully furnished with
things that looked like they were for a much fancier family. One with six less kids and no pets. The sound of smashing porcelain came from upstairs. I cringed, hoping that Super Glue worked on whatever it had been.

My parents walked right by me, followed by my sisters, who were already dragging their suitcases inside.

“We get first dibs on rooms, right, Mom?”

“And you told me that if there’s enough, then I get my own room, since I’m the oldest.”

“Yeah, right. That isn’t fair. I need a place to put my sewing machine, so I should have my own room.”

Mom sighed. “All right, just a minute. Let’s look in the all the rooms first, and then we’ll decide who goes where.”

Dad started walking through the house like he did when he had just finished building a new one back home. He let me go with him a few times to look before the owners moved in. I always stood beside him as he examined the crown moldings and trim, running his hand along the seams of all the joints.

“How does it look, Dad?” I asked, walking up next to him. He was staring up at a ceiling fan.

He turned to me and smiled, letting his hand rest on my head. “It’s nice. I think we’ll—” he started, but was cut off by CJ, Bo, and Henry thundering into the room, knocking him back onto the couch and then piling on top of him, screaming about the bathrooms again and the poop in the toilet.

My stomach twisted.

I used to add myself to the pile, my laughter mixing in with my brothers’ and my dad’s. But one evening last fall, my aunt stopped me just after I launched off the floor. She was visiting from California and didn’t have any kids. She spent most of her time at our house rubbing her temples and hiding in my dad’s office, where she slept. We were in the living room, and I lay down on top of my brothers, who were sprawled on top of my dad. “Will you get up, Sunday?” she said. I felt heat fill my cheeks.

“Aren’t you a little old to be doing that kind of thing? I mean, really, it’s … it’s … well, you’re just too old.”

And maybe I was. I didn’t feel too old.

But I did feel stuck.

Stuck in the middle of being too old, but still too young. The middle of the middle of the middle.

I turned from the giggly screeches and went to find my sisters and Mom. I knew I wasn’t going to get my own room, so I was curious to see who I’d be bunking with.

I knew I wouldn’t be rooming with Henry, who would sleep in Mom and Dad’s room since he sometimes still wet the bed or woke up with nightmares.

And May would get her own room just because she seemed to be able to get just about anything she wanted.

So I figured I would either be with CJ and Bo or Emma.
I couldn’t decide which would be better. CJ snored, and Bo slept as light as a feather. But I shared with Emma at home, and she chattered away in her sleep.

I found my sisters in a bright, cheery room with pale yellow walls, a single bed, a bunk bed, and windows that faced the park. A bathroom was attached to one side.

“But there aren’t enough rooms, May, and I am not sleeping with CJ and Bo just so you can have your own.”

“Fine. I’ll share this one with you.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Silence hung between them.

Mom came in. “Have you two come to an agreement?”

Emma rolled her suitcase to the bed next to the bathroom. “Yeah. Me and May are in here.”

Mom wiped her hands on her jeans. “Well, it looks like that’s settled. You two get unpacked.” She turned and jumped at the sight of me. “Oh, Sunday, I didn’t realize you were there. Do you know where Butters is? I don’t want her wandering over to the library or pooping in other people’s yards.”

“Pooping? Who’s pooping?” CJ called from below.

“Poop, poop, poop,” Bo and Henry crowed.

“Don’t keep yelling ‘poop,’ ” Mom called down.

I stifled a giggle as CJ whispered “poop,” then grinned up at Mom mischievously. “Well, you said not to yell it.”

She rolled her eyes, but I could tell she was trying not to smile. “So, have you seen Butters, Sunday?”

I sighed. The only time someone remembered my name was when they needed help. “Not since we got here. Should I go find her?”

“Please.” Mom sighed, swiping her forehead. “Thanks.”

Butters was outside snuffling the bushes that bordered the porch. She was a basset hound, long like a sausage with floppy ears that felt like velvet, and sad brown eyes. Though she was technically everyone’s dog, I taught her all her tricks, and she always found her way to the foot of my bed at night. Hopefully she’d find me tonight.

“Come on in, Butters,” I called to her. I grabbed my own suitcase from the back of the packed van and lugged it behind me. Butters snuffled and padded after me, her long ears dragging on the ground and her little claws tapping on the wood. I left her sniffing around the house, her nose glued to the floor and her tail wagging as I went up the stairs to find out where I was going to be sleeping.

The hallway was empty and quiet except for the muffled voices coming from behind each of the closed doors.

Remembering the bunk bed, I knocked at May and Emma’s door. I didn’t like painting my nails and didn’t really care what my hair looked like as long as it was out of the way, but the thought of talking about boys or
friends made my insides flutter. Maybe I could tell them about Robo, the boy I liked. I knocked again.

“Who is it?” Emma’s voice was right up against the wood, but she didn’t open it.

“Me, Sunday,” I yelled.

The door opened a crack. “What do you want?”

I tried to push my way inside, but she held the door firmly. “I thought I could take the top or bottom bunk.”

May stepped to the door and opened it a little wider. “Sorry, Sunday,” she said, in a tone that she only used when she didn’t really mean it. “Can you find a different place to sleep? Three’s too many in a small room like this one.”

“But me and Emma share a room back home. And there’s an extra bed.”

May smiled at me like I was a little girl. “I know, but I just don’t think it’ll work. Besides, Emma and I are closer in age, and well, you understand. Right?”

I felt my cheeks burn. “Yeah. Of course.”

“Thanks,” May said. “I knew you would. Now, come on, Emma, I’ll paint your nails and then you can do mine.”

The door closed.

Eleven-almost-twelve obviously did not let me into my older sisters’ circle of friendship. I’d be staying with Bo and CJ. It wouldn’t be too bad. I’d just change in the bathroom and put cotton in my ears to keep out CJ’s snoring.
The worst part would be trying to hide my flashlight when I read at night. Bo’d always be asking me to read to him or bothering me about turning the light off.

I heard giggling and scuffling coming from behind another door and rapped hard.

Bo flung it open and smiled. “Hi, Sunday,” he said. “Look! Me and CJ get to sleep in this bed and watch.” He dashed to the queen-sized bed, where CJ already sat. They nodded at each other and each drew a dark blue curtain together until it met in the middle and I couldn’t see either of them. “Insta-fort!” came his muffled reply.

“Cool, guys.”

I could tell they were in heaven.

Smiling, I glanced around the room. No other bed.

Bo poked his head out from behind the curtain. “Hey, where are you going to sleep, Sunday?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“You could sleep in here if you want,” he offered, wiping his nose on the fabric.

“Thanks, but—”

“No she can’t,” CJ said from behind the curtain. “She’s too old and there isn’t enough room. Besides, she’ll probably tell on us if we jump on the bed, or she’ll talk on the phone to some boy all night.”

My smile disappeared. I’d never once told on them for jumping on the bed, and I’d never had a phone
conversation longer than fifteen minutes with anyone, let alone a boy. I grabbed a small pillow off a chair and threw it where I thought he sat behind the curtain.

“Ouch, Sunday,” he squealed. “I’m gonna tell Mom.”

“Really? Who’s the tattletale now? And that didn’t hurt. Besides, I wasn’t going to sleep in here anyway. You snore louder than a rhinoceros. I just wanted to see your room.”

CJ was silent. I started for the door.

“You’re not too old, Sunday,” Bo called after me. “You’re just … just Sunday.”

Part of me thought it was a sweet thing for him to say. That I still belonged … at least with him. But another part of me cringed.

Just Sunday.

That’s exactly what I didn’t want to be. Just Sunday was the one left behind at the gas station.

Just Sunday blended into the background.

I pasted on a small smile and forced myself to whisper a halfhearted “Thanks, Bo” before I shut the door. The giggling started back up immediately. Standing in the empty hallway, I looked at the closed doors.

I didn’t belong in any of them.

Still, I needed to find somewhere to sleep. That’s when I remembered the little round window I’d seen when we first pulled up. The one where an attic should be.

The door at the top of the stairs looked like all the
others in the house except for the large brass knob. I twisted it and found a dark stairway leading up. The air was mustier than in the hallway, but the smell made the dark space above me seem more enticing—maybe even magical. The thought of finding an old wardrobe like the one Lucy went through into Narnia filled me with excitement. The stairs creaked with each step. At the top, I found a light switch and flipped it on. There was a bed, neatly made, a fan that whirred when I plugged it in, and fine dust covering an old beat-up trunk where clothes peeked out from the lid.

A small bookshelf against one wall held two rows of worn books. After glancing at the spines, I pulled out a paperback copy of
The Secret Garden
, fanning out the yellowed pages before turning back to face the room.

The room was perfect and I had it all to myself.

Setting my suitcase down and placing the book on the nightstand, I bounced on the bed a few times and then went to the little window, pushing the pane open to let the air blow in. My eyes were level with the tops of the trees. Our van was below, and Dad was emptying the small trailer onto the driveway. A squirrel looked on and chattered as birds swooped from one tree to the next. Beyond, I could see the library, the crazily mowed lawn, and the tops of the buildings in town.

And then I looked across the field and saw a house.

It was off to the right, old looking, maybe even condemned. The door opened and a man walked out, placed his hands on his hips, and stared in our direction. He had thick white hair and seemed too big for the small porch.

He stood just like that for a few seconds, then turned and walked back inside. Curtains fell across two windows, and I could almost hear his door lock.

Our next-door neighbor. I guessed that was what he was even though there was a pretty big field separating us. Well, he didn’t have to worry about me snooping around. Maybe CJ, but not me. I had plans for this summer.

It was going to be a summer of Sunday’s.

LATER
that evening, after all that remained were the bits of pizza crust that lay scattered on our plates, Dad asked if anyone wanted to walk over to the library with him. “We won’t do anything tonight, but I’d like to see how many of the new light fixtures still need bulbs.”

CJ, Bo, and I volunteered.

The sky had darkened to a deep and eerie blue, giving the trees, our house, and the library thick black shadows.

“I bet the library is haunted,” CJ whispered low.

Bo squeezed my hand tighter. “Really? Should we go back?”

“It’s not haunted. CJ’s just trying to scare you.” But I stepped closer to Dad, just in case.

The stone steps were shrouded in darkness. “Just wait at the bottom of the stairs for a minute while I turn on the outside light,” Dad said. “We don’t need anyone tripping and falling.”

He walked up, unlocked the door, and slipped into the blackness of the building.

My heart sped up as the door closed. I glanced back at the house, keeping my eyes glued on the light pouring out through the windows. Mom stood at the sink in the kitchen. May chattered on her cell phone up in her room. My small round window was black.

A twig snapped and I whirled around.

“What was that?” Bo whispered. He leaned against me.