Not Our Summer Casie Bazay (which ebook reader .TXT) 📖

went out to eat.” Someone could save a lot of money if they never went anywhere, I guess.

Mom seems to consider something. “He must have been a good money manager. Too bad he never passed any of those skills on to his daughters.” She smiles, but within seconds, tears have pooled in her eyes once again. This is about the hundredth time this has happened since he died. “I just can’t believe I’ll never see him again.”

I can’t believe it, either. But I’m even more surprised by this whole plan Grandpa had been hiding up his sleeve. Three hundred and fifty thousand dollars and a list of crazy tasks. Who would have ever guessed?

We’ve only been home a few minutes when an email from Mr. Sisco with details for my first trip pops up on my phone. My cousin’s email address, KJtheDJ16@yahoo.com, is next to mine in the recipient box. What’s that supposed to mean? Wow, K. J., you’re so cool because you’re into music. Who isn’t? Then again, beckaball19@gmail.com isn’t all that original, either. I scroll down to read the rest of the message and decide I should probably get a new email address before college. Something a little more sophisticated.

The email explains that our airline tickets will arrive by mail in a few days and the details of the trip are outlined in an attached itinerary. We’re told what to pack: clothes for both warm and cold weather, a hat, sturdy shoes for hiking and riding. There’s also an online brochure about the Grand Canyon, which I don’t bother to read. With this first task booked so soon, Grandpa really must not have expected to live as long as he did. I wonder what his last days were like. The guy who delivers his groceries every week was the one to find him, and, according to the coroner, he’d been dead for a couple of days. A shiver runs down my spine at the thought. How awful, to die all alone like that.

Guilt consumes me as I recall our last visit with him at Christmas. He was thinner, like Mom said, but I hadn’t thought much about it at the time. I just assumed it was part of getting old. He’d given me the same gift he gave me every year—a box of chocolate-covered cherries and two twenty-dollar bills. “Don’t spend it all at once!” he’d said with a wink. I never had the heart to tell him that even a pair of jeans or shoes cost more than forty dollars. I figured that was a lot of money for him. Boy, was I wrong.

I send the itinerary to the printer and change into my pajamas. Mom and I still haven’t eaten dinner, but for once, I’m not hungry. I’m not even in the mood to listen to music like I usually do. Instead, I crawl into bed and close my eyes, praying for sleep to come.

The next day at school, I’m not sure if I should tell my friends about my weekend plans or not. Part of me is still in denial, hoping it was all just a really bad dream. Another part of me knows better. Lunch trays in hand, Lexi and I make our way toward our usual table near the back of the cafeteria. It’s loud in here, but then again, it’s May. Everyone’s ready for summer. I was too… until now.

In her black Adidas shorts and matching sliders, my best friend looks like she could be on the soccer team, too, but the closest Lexi’s ever gotten to a team sport was two years of Color Guard, which she gave up because it was interfering with her AP homework load.

She steps around an apple core someone’s thrown on the cafeteria floor. “So there’s a new Chris Hemsworth movie coming out this weekend. He’s like this hot, ancient Greek warrior. It looks really good.”

Oops. I’d forgotten about the movie plans we made earlier last week. The ones that already got postponed once because of Grandpa’s funeral. Guess I have no choice but to tell her now. Setting my tray on the table, I take a seat. “Actually, I can’t go this weekend. I’ll be out of town.” My shoulders slouch as I’m forced to come to grips with my new reality all over again. I uncap my bottled water and take a sip, hoping to wash down the bad taste last weekend left in my mouth. No such luck.

“What do you mean you’ll be out of town?” Maddie asks as she takes her place across from us. “What about playoffs?” She unpacks a homemade lunch in matching turquoise Tupperware. I wouldn’t be surprised if her mom still makes her lunch every morning. Not that Maddie isn’t perfectly capable of doing it—that’s just how her mom is. Mrs. Tate also regularly makes Saran-wrapped, after-game snacks for the soccer team—things like Rice Krispie treats, brownies, or those extra-large chocolate chip cookies.

“Yeah, I have this thing…” I say, my voice giving away my listless mood. “I’ll have to miss this game, but hopefully we’ll make it to the next round.”

“What thing?” Lexi and Maddie both ask at the same time.

I take another sip of water and let out a sigh. “My mom and I had to meet with my grandpa’s lawyer yesterday. He left us an inheritance, but I have to complete these, uh… tasks.” I say for lack of a better word. “The first one is this weekend. I have to go to the Grand Canyon.”

“The Grand Canyon?” Maddie’s brow furrows in confusion. “Why would your grandpa want you to go there?”

“We have to do these things that he always wanted to do but never did.”

Lexi’s face lights up. “Oh, wow. I think that’s nice.”

I shake my head. “I don’t think it’s all that nice.”

“So will you and your mom be gone all weekend?” Lexi asks, ignoring my overt lack of enthusiasm.

“My mom’s not going with me, actually.” And here comes the fun