1. Day One
“It's hot,” I say to Dylan. I mean it too. It is hot.
My father sent us to pick up some drinks from the local supermarket half an hour ago. Sitting in our hotel room's air conditioning at the time of the request, we foolishly left still wearing jeans.
Big mistake.
We're on our way back now. I'm with little Dylan Morris. Well, he's not so little now. We're both sixteen and we've—how can I put it— 'grown' quite a lot since we saw each other last year.
Our fathers are best friends. We live in different states but every summer our families meet in the middle for a five day vacation. Every year we stay in the same small resort by the sea. The place is a dump. Seriously, it's falling apart, but our parents love it for some unknown reason.
My mom once told me this is where my sister was conceived. Gross!
Every year we rent the largest of the resort apartments. The Blue Lagoon , as it's called. A four bedroom with a kitchen and lounge room that both families cram into each year.
Every year I have to put up with little Dylan Morris.
OK, it's true, this year I do think he's starting to look cute. But that's it. Nothing more. He's just not a boy anymore. He's not a man either. He's somewhere in the middle, I guess.
All right, all right, I admit it. When I saw him get out of the car earlier for a split second I did think he looked hot. But I've had time to think about it, and I've concluded I should definitely not let my thoughts drift in that direction. After all, we're talking about Dylan here.
We walk back onto the resort property and see my little sister and his little brother racing past us.
“ Where're you guys going?” I call out.
“ To daddy,” she calls back.
“ Tell him we'll be right up.”
Between the walk to the shop and back, we've been under the sun for close to 30 minutes. That's a long time in the summer heat when you're wearing thick jeans. I'm already sweating pretty badly when Dylan grabs me and pulls me into some kind of maintenance room. He's always done things like this. Always playing the fool. I protest, but I still let him have his immature fun. He may have grown over the past year. Dare I say, he's even started to look a little sexy . . . but he's still a goof ball, that's for sure.
“Quit it,” I say.
“ Make me,” he replies.
It's hot and I'm half delirious so I decide to do just that. He wasn't expecting me to spin out of his grip. He tried to grab me, but I'm too quick. I bounce behind him again, and this time I slam backwards into the door. It slams shut.
Something about the way it clicked worries me.
Dylan grabs the handle. He starts shaking it madly, but it's locked.
He turns and stares at me like this is my fault.
“ You idiot!” I say to him. I push him out of the way and try the handle myself, but it's hopeless. To make matters worse the room has no windows, and the heating system for the entire hotel is humming away behind us. Thankfully the light works. As I stare at the giant heating system I realize for the first time just how hot it is in the room. I mean, it is uncontrollably hot. The temperature's not the problem, it's the humidity. It's out-of-control.
Dylan starts banging on the door. “We're trapped!” he says.
“Calm down.” I look around the room and find some newspaper and a felt tip marker lying there. I take the paper and write in large letters: 'WE'RE INSIDE – HELP!'
I show it to Dylan. He nods. “Good idea.”
I slip our SOS under the door.
“ OK, listen,” I say, “we need to stay calm. It's so hot in here that we just might die of heat stroke!” I'm joking, it's not that bad. But don't be mistaken, it is bad. Already my entire body is covered in sweat and Dylan's is, too.
Ten minutes pass by and nobody comes to rescue us. I expected my father to already be here. I'm his little princess and when I'm in distress he's always there for me. I wonder what's taking him so long.
I exhale heavily.
Dylan shakes his
“It's hot,” I say to Dylan. I mean it too. It is hot.
My father sent us to pick up some drinks from the local supermarket half an hour ago. Sitting in our hotel room's air conditioning at the time of the request, we foolishly left still wearing jeans.
Big mistake.
We're on our way back now. I'm with little Dylan Morris. Well, he's not so little now. We're both sixteen and we've—how can I put it— 'grown' quite a lot since we saw each other last year.
Our fathers are best friends. We live in different states but every summer our families meet in the middle for a five day vacation. Every year we stay in the same small resort by the sea. The place is a dump. Seriously, it's falling apart, but our parents love it for some unknown reason.
My mom once told me this is where my sister was conceived. Gross!
Every year we rent the largest of the resort apartments. The Blue Lagoon , as it's called. A four bedroom with a kitchen and lounge room that both families cram into each year.
Every year I have to put up with little Dylan Morris.
OK, it's true, this year I do think he's starting to look cute. But that's it. Nothing more. He's just not a boy anymore. He's not a man either. He's somewhere in the middle, I guess.
All right, all right, I admit it. When I saw him get out of the car earlier for a split second I did think he looked hot. But I've had time to think about it, and I've concluded I should definitely not let my thoughts drift in that direction. After all, we're talking about Dylan here.
We walk back onto the resort property and see my little sister and his little brother racing past us.
“ Where're you guys going?” I call out.
“ To daddy,” she calls back.
“ Tell him we'll be right up.”
Between the walk to the shop and back, we've been under the sun for close to 30 minutes. That's a long time in the summer heat when you're wearing thick jeans. I'm already sweating pretty badly when Dylan grabs me and pulls me into some kind of maintenance room. He's always done things like this. Always playing the fool. I protest, but I still let him have his immature fun. He may have grown over the past year. Dare I say, he's even started to look a little sexy . . . but he's still a goof ball, that's for sure.
“Quit it,” I say.
“ Make me,” he replies.
It's hot and I'm half delirious so I decide to do just that. He wasn't expecting me to spin out of his grip. He tried to grab me, but I'm too quick. I bounce behind him again, and this time I slam backwards into the door. It slams shut.
Something about the way it clicked worries me.
Dylan grabs the handle. He starts shaking it madly, but it's locked.
He turns and stares at me like this is my fault.
“ You idiot!” I say to him. I push him out of the way and try the handle myself, but it's hopeless. To make matters worse the room has no windows, and the heating system for the entire hotel is humming away behind us. Thankfully the light works. As I stare at the giant heating system I realize for the first time just how hot it is in the room. I mean, it is uncontrollably hot. The temperature's not the problem, it's the humidity. It's out-of-control.
Dylan starts banging on the door. “We're trapped!” he says.
“Calm down.” I look around the room and find some newspaper and a felt tip marker lying there. I take the paper and write in large letters: 'WE'RE INSIDE – HELP!'
I show it to Dylan. He nods. “Good idea.”
I slip our SOS under the door.
“ OK, listen,” I say, “we need to stay calm. It's so hot in here that we just might die of heat stroke!” I'm joking, it's not that bad. But don't be mistaken, it is bad. Already my entire body is covered in sweat and Dylan's is, too.
Ten minutes pass by and nobody comes to rescue us. I expected my father to already be here. I'm his little princess and when I'm in distress he's always there for me. I wonder what's taking him so long.
I exhale heavily.
Dylan shakes his
Similar Books
