The Last Summer of Us by Maggie Harcourt Page A

can’t!”
    â€œHe can, alright? It’s complicated.”
    â€œHow complicated can it be? It’s your life, isn’t it? Don’t you get a say?” I’m indignant for him, I think; he’s so calm. Too calm…or maybe he’s just pretending to be. Steffan, our protector, is protecting us again. He’s already had this conversation, hasn’t he? He’s had it over and over again: just him and his dad, with no one there to speak up for him. No one to make his father see that this isn’t what he wants, but he’ll take what he’s given because it’s easier, and that’s what you do when it’s you against them and there’s no one in your corner.
    His mother would have been in his corner.
    And that’s why he wants to visit her grave. He wants to say goodbye…again.
    Oh, Steffan.
    She baked. It was what she did, Steffan’s mum. She didn’t like cake (or so she said) but she loved baking, and their house always smelled of whatever had just come out of the oven. There was a downside to this: she liked to experiment . She’d order flavours from all over the internet. I’ve still not forgotten her peppermint and rose sponge – it was…unique. Even Steffan turned his nose up at that one, which tells you just how bad it really was. But she was always smiling and laughing, and there was always music in their house and flowers in the garden, even when she was sick. And then she died.
    You never see the really big things coming, do you?
    Jared has gone very quiet. Which is going to make our little expedition fun, isn’t it? He’s giving Steffan the silent treatment. Steffan’s…well, not quite all there. And I’m a shambles. Maybe we should just turn around and give up on the whole thing.
    I don’t even blame him – Jared, I mean. And I don’t think his reaction is just because he’s known Steffan even longer than I have. They started primary school together on the same day and they were in the same class for years, until Steffan went to the school where he’d meet me (and where Jared followed a bit later). They’ve been in and out of each other’s houses since long before I came on the scene, so to Jared, losing Steffan must be like losing part of his past. But there’s more to it than that, and I wonder if it has something to do with Jared’s map.
    The first time I went in Jared’s room, I saw the map on his wall; big enough to take up all the space between his bed and his window, marked with pins and bits of string and pictures torn from magazines. I thought it was kind of weird, but it was Steffan who explained it, of course, as we wandered back down the street that evening in the early autumn sunshine. Apparently, Jared always said that as soon as he was old enough, he was going to leave. Just go. He’d get the cheapest flight he could to the East Coast and work his way across the States until he wound up in California.
    â€œThen what?” I’d asked. Steffan just shrugged and kicked a stone down the pavement.
    â€œI don’t think he’s thought that far ahead. It’s just what he’s always wanted to do.”
    Of course he hadn’t thought ahead. He hadn’t thought about passports or visas or Green Cards or…anything. Because that’s the one thing about Jared that people don’t realize. He’s smart and he’s on the rugby team and he’s good at maths – but he doesn’t just look like one of those old movie stars. He thinks like one too. Even after all the things that have happened with his dad (or maybe because of them), he’s kind of innocent. Sweet. He’s…what do you call it? Naive? That. He’s like the kid who grew up on a farm, wearing dungarees and slinging hay bales… And now he’s got me talking like we’re in an old movie and everyone’s about to break into a song about