Waves of Summer

By Stephanie Brooke

Can one summer change your life?

When her sister passes away in a tragic drunk driving accident, eighteen-year-old Summer Mason is sent to spend her summer with her busybody grandparents in Maui. In order to escape her trauma, Summer throws herself into t

• Language: English
• Publisher: Three Sisters Publishing
• Release date: Jun 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9798988125303

Stephanie Brooke

Stephanie Brooke has a B.A. in Communication and loves getting lost in a good book. She is obsessed with her rescue mutts, chocolate, and Disney.

Book preview

Chapter 1

EACH TIME I AWOKE, I remembered my sister was dead. Then I wished I was back asleep. When this happened at home it was one thing, but this time, I was on an airplane, so I had turbulence for an added effect. My body was slick from sweat—my fingers locked around either side of the armrests.

The middle-aged woman sitting next to me stared with concern. I was faintly aware of her voice, but my hearing waned in order to focus on breathing at a socially acceptable pace.

Nodding as if I had given her an answer, she waved her arm dramatically to get the attention of the nearest flight attendant. This assured the few heads that weren’t turned in my direction now were.

I forced a smile, feeling my heartbeat slow, as the flight attendant handed me a cup of water.

I drank greedily, washing away the grogginess. I wished I was back in the blissful ignorance only sleep could provide.

My seatmate laid a comforting hand on top of my strained one. You look better. I see the color coming back to your cheeks already. Her voice was soft and comforting.

She smiled so reassuringly I almost smiled back. But my eyes snagged on the postcard tucked in the netting of the seat in front of her. A sunny beach, complete with palm trees, mocked me. Aloha from Maui! It read in large loopy letters.

I scoffed at the picturesque scene.

If Mom and Dad would’ve paid as much attention to me as they did my sister, they would know I didn’t care for the beach. Or swimming. Or even warm weather.

The thought popped into my mind before I could think better. Before I could stop it. Even though I hadn’t said it aloud, as if anyone on the plane knew me or my situation anyway, I looked around in case someone had somehow heard. If a stranger were to appear and scold me, slap me across the face, I would have gladly accepted it. It’s what I would deserve.

Shame broiled inside of me. It made my stomach curdle when I had thoughts like this. Sometimes the shame was so strong it made me throw up. Neither my body nor my mind was kind to me in this new state of unending grief that was now my life.

The lady blinked at me expectantly.

I forced a smile before nodding once and looking forward, signaling an end to her concern.

Ever since Autumn’s passing a month ago, everything felt like a chore to get through—even little interactions like this.

A chill shot through my core, causing my insides to shiver. I was the only one on the plane wearing a jacket. Some passengers were even fanning themselves. I was always cold these days. It was like my body had frozen over along with my sister’s.

I knew by the way my clothes fit, by the double-takes from people who hadn’t seen me since the accident, that I had lost a substantial amount of weight. It wasn’t intentional. I couldn’t help it. I just didn’t feel hunger like I used to. I had to rely on others to remind me I had to eat three meals a day.

Forget snacking or doing anything active; I didn’t have the will or energy for that anymore. I could only hope my body remembered how to survive instinctually someday, when the cool numbness of grief wore off.

If it’d ever wear off.

I still couldn’t believe it most days. I still expected her to come barging through the front door, talking on her phone, or playing her music annoyingly loud.

The world was quiet without Autie.

I glared at the scenic brochure, imagining Autumn frolicking into the bright turquoise water.

My older sister’s smile and personality were as bright and warm as the summer sun, yet I was the one who was named Summer. It was a running joke to anyone who knew us that our parents had gotten our names mixed up. I definitely preferred the fall season and would’ve gladly swapped names. While people gravitated towards Autumn’s light, I preferred to be kept in cool solitude. I embodied the sleepy fall season as much as Autie was the epitome of summer fun.

Those who weren’t friends with Autumn chose not to be out of either jealousy or intimidation. It was usually a mix of the two. She had even scared off some guys because of her athletic abilities.

It wasn’t fair to be all three, one of my friends had told me once, to be beautiful, smart, and athletic.

Yet, Autumn was—the definition of a triple threat. And people either loved or hated her for it.

I, on the other hand, was known as Autumn’s little sister. As much as I despised it, by dropping her name I’d gotten job references, free fast food, Starbucks, even dates with guys I knew who would have never taken a second glance at me otherwise.

Though it hurt to know the only reason I got most things in life was because of my sister, I wasn’t too proud to turn any of it down. I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t too shy to talk to guys, too self-conscious to talk myself up in job interviews. Who would go through the nerve-wracking interview process when you could just take over your sister’s shifts?

Though I couldn’t be more different than Autumn, her influence was so powerful that she had everyone convinced I was half as cool as her just by sharing DNA. In fact, if it wasn’t for our last name, people wouldn’t believe we were sisters at all.

While Autie was tall, slender, and brunette like Dad, I took after Mom and was blonde, short, and curvy. While she was social and succeeded in any sport she tried, I went spent my time indoors working on my latest article for the school paper and updating my poetry blog—the only way I felt comfortable expressing myself.

My eye caught a picture of a blue car in the magazine my neighbor was flipping through.

My breath hitched.

Just breathe. In...out. In...out.

Our small hometown in Northern California publicly mourned for over a month after the accident, painting the town blue in support of drunk driving awareness. I couldn’t go anywhere without seeing blue balloons tied to business fronts, blue ribbons hanging from trees, my classmates running in blue shirts.

The local police were currently working with my parents on making an educational video on the dangers of drunk driving to be shown in schools, featuring actual clips of my sister, who would be the martyr for years to come.

Even in death, Autie was popular, while I remained in her shadow, known by association.

A sharp pain seized my stomach.

Another horrible thought.

Sorry, Autie.

Since she died, I no longer gained the approval of girls and interest of guys. Instead, I was bombarded by sympathy and too many questions I didn’t want to answer. I was vague, detached, and even downright cold to people at times.

But I didn’t care. I was aware of these things. But it was better than the alternative: accepting I’d never see my sister’s ponytail whoosh through the door on her way to cheer practice. Or listen to her vent about the latest drama in her friend group. We’d never again go on spur-of-the-moment shopping trips or spend a lazy day at the lake.

And though I’d been told numerous times she wasn’t coming back and had seen the mangled car myself...it didn’t seem real. It especially didn’t seem real if I didn’t talk about it.

And so, I didn’t.

I hadn’t even cried.

My parents were so concerned about my lack of tears that when I refused to go to therapy, I took them up on the other option they gave me: to spend the summer with my grandparents in Maui. They said a new setting might help me cope. What they didn’t say was that it might help to be away from them.

As much as my parents and I love each other, I was no Autumn. I was always much harder to read, less willing to go with the flow or take risks. And they didn’t know what to do with me— especially now.

So, here I was on my way to paradise, the easier choice than living with my parents’ constant urging to open up to some stranger.

I sighed.

The only thing that would help me cope would be bringing Autumn back from the dead. And last I checked, that was only possible for Jesus. A time machine would do but that hasn’t been invented yet.

Though my parents raised us in the Christian faith, over the years we’d attended church less and less. Now the only time we went was every other Christmas Eve. I always got the sense they went just to stop Grandma’s nagging about it.

But after the accident, I couldn’t see any of us stepping into a church again. Why would God allow a good, young person to die unnecessarily? What good could come from a death like that? What reason could possibly justify it?

Attention please, the pilot’s voice buzzed from overhead jolting me from my internal dialogue, remain in your seats as we prepare for landing. It is a beautiful evening in Maui. Aloha!

I groaned, not caring who heard my frustration. Though it was drowned out by clapping and sounds of excitement. Most people were here for family vacations, honeymoons—something fun and happy.

But for me, this was the result of my parents’ ultimatum. Mom and Dad figured I’d have a good cry session, bond with my grandparents I barely knew, and come back home ready to get on with my life.

I flipped the brochure around, hiding the sunshiney beach, before disembarking the plane.

Aloha, indeed.

Chapter 2

MY PHONE PINGED AS I finally exited the plane and stepped into the musty, coconut-scented air of Kahului Airport. My frizzy hair went flat, bogged down by the humidity. A layer of shine coated my skin, which somehow made me even colder.

I made my way out of the throng of hurried passengers to check my phone. This airport wasn’t like the modern, sterile-white, high-ceilinged one in Sacramento. This airport was decorated in browns and wooden arches, scattered with large, leafy plants.

After I texted Mom and Dad I had landed safely, my screen lit up with Grandma Joan’s name.

I huffed. Typical.

Grandpa Oscar had retired from dentistry five years ago, but he still had volunteer obligations at their church. So, when Grandma said working, she meant practicing with the worship band, for whom he played keyboard. Besides church, golf, and socializing, I wasn’t sure what else my grandparents did.

My Mom’s parents had been a source of contention within our family since the beginning. From what Autie and I gathered over time, they did not approve of Dad because he didn’t come from money or have an impressive career path.

It probably didn’t help that he got Mom pregnant right out of high school. But if anyone asked Mom, she wouldn’t hesitate to say having Autumn was the best thing that ever happened to her. I came along three years later and could only assume she felt the same about me. I figured getting less attention than my sister was just a natural side effect of not being the prized child.

My grandparents seemed to make less and less of an effort to visit as the years went on,