Always Summer Read online

  Table of Contents

  Always Summer

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  From the Author

  Always Summer

  Criss Copp

  Kindle Edition

  Copyright 2012 by C.E. Copp

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes without the express written consent of the author; with the exception of the use of short excerpts quoted in reviews of this ebook.

  Dedication

  For my incredible family:

  Mum, Dad, Chris, Pippa, Tallowyn, Patrick, Emily, Holly and Sharlene...

  For giving me the space and encouragement to follow through with seeing one of my stories in print... finally!

  Chapter 1

  Sally.

  Beautiful...

  She was simply the most beautiful thing I had ever laid my eyes on... she owned me... my heart, my breath and my life. Summer giggled as I sprayed her hair with the glitter hairspray.

  “That tastes funny!” Summer spat, then grinned, showing the gap where her two front teeth had once been, but had recently been pushed out by a barely emerging new set of teeth.

  “So, close your mouth and stop trying to eat it!” I laughed back at her, giving her a light slap on her bottom.

  A cheeky grin spread across her face and she gave me ‘that look’; a look that melted my insides every time.

  Summer is my sister, she’s six. At ten years old, I am four years older than her, but I might as well be twenty years older than her. She’s mine; has been mine since our crack whore mother walked back in the door of our dilapidated, two bedroom, dive of an apartment; after leaving me alone for a week to fend for myself. I named her, I dressed her, I fed her, I begged for money for her, and I stole for her. All her needs have always and will always be taken care of by me, while our ‘mother’ takes care of herself with her disgusting men, booze and drugs.

  Purple suits her. Mrs. Prince, one floor down, collects material. All sorts of material, and she has been doing it since material was practically invented, I mean she’s got to be like a hundred years old. She’s got to have hoarded bear skins and stuff like that too, from a time before material was invented, but I don’t like to dig too far into her stash. Mrs. Prince doesn’t tolerate children very well, but she seems to tolerate me, and of course Summer. She lent me the material... but even though I have cut it and molded it to fit Summer; so she can participate in her Halloween parade at school, looking like a fairy, albeit a ragged, torn fairy; the material still has to be returned later. The makeup that I lifted from Marjorie, our ‘mother’, needs returning too, before she wakes for the day and notices it missing.

  “Twirl for me chicken.” I ask Summer. She twirls.

  The dust specks fly through the air, accompanied by the sparkles from the hairspray. They are caught twinkling in their merry dance by the slip of morning sunshine, which darts in through the gap in the torn and yellowed curtains, hanging from above the dirty window in our room. I stand up on the bed and pull the curtains aside, in order to allow in more sunshine to highlight my giggling little girl, as she shimmies and jumps around on the floor, twisting and twirling and giggling.

  “Magic!” she squeals, “Look Sal... look at the magic floating around me!”

  I can’t help but feel an intense warmth burn me in my chest. Summer slows down, and quietly moves her hand through the dust and sparkles, letting them bump and move against her touch. I sit on the bed and watch her, enthralled by my girl. She looks up through her long lashes and grins, but stays silent, as do I. She begins to grab handfuls of the ‘magic’, and shuffles over to me. She reaches out and begins to plaster my face and neck with her hands. I don’t move.

  “What are you doing, Chicken?” I ask quietly, and without any other movement.

  “Giving you the magic,” she whispers. She goes back to grab more, returning to rake her little hands through my hair. Luckily I have already brushed it this morning; otherwise it may have caused me to flinch when she hit a snag.

  Again and again, she returns to grab more magic, and gives it to me. I let her. We have so little joy in our lives, except for each other, that it would be heartbreaking to deny her gift for me.

  When Summer has finished, she puts her hands on either side of my face and kisses my eyes. Leaning back to look at me, she nods her head before crawling into my lap and putting my arms around her for me.

  I don’t want to move, but neither do I want to stay in the apartment any longer than I absolutely have to.

  “Scoot up Summer; I want to have another look at you before breakfast.” I tell her.

  Summer sits up at first and looks me dead in the eyes from close range, forehead to forehead, and then she decides to remove herself entirely from my lap to stand in front of me, like a mannequin in a shop window, displaying an outfit.

  Her hair is a mousy light brown, long and straight. Although right now it is teased beyond belief, and sticking up everywhere. Her eyes are a light hazel, almost a golden brown like honey, with flecks of sea green, and there is a beautiful dark ring on the edge of the color, bordering up against the white. Her skin is pale, and a smattering of freckles span across her nose. The pink and purple shades I have used on her eyes make her look ethereal... she looks amazing.

  “You look like you belong in the movies.” I say, smiling and poking her on the nose before leading her out to the kitchen to prepare her something to eat.

  “That’s because you made me up.” She answers, skipping along, although quietly, since she too knows not to be loud at home – not to draw attention to herself.

  Looking in the fridge I see cans of beer, some more that say bourbon, and cask wine. Scooting them aside, up the back I can see the small carton of milk I stole from the gas station around the corner yesterday. I pull it out past the decaying leftovers and booze, and place it in front of Summer. Going into the cupboard, I pull out the cereal that is under the sink behind all the dangerous chemical stuff. Once I have poured cereal in a bowl, and then drenched it in milk, I hand the food to Summer along with the remaining milk in the little carton. She knows to eat all the food and drink all the milk. I, on the other hand, will shove my hand in the cereal and grab a handful of dry breakfast, once the coast is clear and we can leave the apartment undetected.

  Leaving Summer to her breakfast, I make my way to Marjorie’s room quietly; peeking through the slightly ajar door to be sure she is still asleep. Her latest man is there too, and I definitely do not want to disturb him. I don’t even know his name... Marjorie calls him ‘babe’. He’s been slouching here for nearly two weeks. I don’t like the way he smells, looks, or for that matter, glances at my Summer and me. I creep into the room, open the top draw and slowly lower the makeup back inside. I quickly glance at the naked couple. He is right next to me, lying on his back, mouth wide open, a hard penis stands to attention, despite his sleep... yuck! His sandy colored hair is tousled an
d his face is scruffy and bearded with reddish hair. Marjorie is on her stomach. She has blond hair, but it’s fake blond. I know she really does have blond hair, because her pubic hair is blond, but the hair on her head is nearly white, and the roots are dirty in comparison. Of course her blue eyes are closed and her mouth is open in drunken sleep too. I am safe, so I turn to leave.

  “Like what you see?” a gruff voice asks.

  Always on alert, I high-tail it out of there, not looking back; he remains chuckling behind me. The hair on the back of my neck is standing to attention. My stomach churns, and not from hunger, from fear. I reach into my bedroom; grab the two school bags and race back to Summer.

  “Come on, we really have to go!” I urgently tell her.

  To Summer’s credit, she simply leaves her unfinished breakfast, grabs the carton and runs to the door. She knows not to argue or question, no matter how hungry she may be.

  We live in Rochester, in an area known as Lyell Avenue (because Lyell Avenue is the main road running through it) and we go to the elementary school on Plymouth Avenue. We like school... Summer has recently started 1st grade, while I have begun 5th grade. This morning we’ll be a little early if we walk straight to school, and I don’t like to be early, since the mean kids tend to hang around looking for trouble both before and after school. So, we walk the long way to school, talking to each other about what to expect with the day and trying to avoid any unwanted attention. It is pretty easy to blend in around here. I have quite dark mocha colored skin, complimenting my dark brown, curly hair and really dark brown eyes. And although Summer and I don’t look like we are related, there is quite a bit of diversity in this area, so we don’t look wrong either. I like that.

  *

  I get to watch Summer parade in her outfit at school when the parade is held. I haven’t participated myself, never have; but I gain great satisfaction in watching her navigate through the crowd. She has a couple of friends in her class, and they are all talking animatedly and looking excitedly at the other costumes. She is beaming. Her gapped toothy grin is hilarious. I have decided we will stay at the library again today... until it closes.

  *

  We stay at the library often. In fact, the joke between the staff is that we live there. Mrs. Hubert, the librarian, says that we are ‘enlightened’. She is always stashing books she knows I might like away for me to read. But we don’t borrow, we never borrow. We just read and spend time there, leaving our current reads behind the desk for subsequent afternoons. Marjorie wouldn’t know where to find us, and this is good. If I were to start bringing books home and someone discovered them (like her or her whores), then we’d have less places to hide. Not that she cares anyhow.

  *

  “Time to go back chicken.” I tell Summer. I don’t know exactly why I call her chicken, but I like the way it sounds… cute and endearing.

  “Really?” she sighs.

  I sigh too. I don’t want to return either. I am starting to wonder how we can escape and survive the streets, but I know that’s just not going to happen. We are quite literally stuck with what we have, and it sucks!

  I nod at her and smile my biggest and brightest smile. I managed to steal five dollars today from an unsuspecting parent watching their kid in the parade today. They had more than a five dollar note in their purse, but I wasn’t going to push my luck. Besides, I know that most people around here don’t have lots of money.

  “We’ll grab a hotdog on the way home.” I say, luring her from her latest book by waving the note in front of her.

  She likes books, actually, scrap that… she loves books. I think she will be really smart when she grows up. I like books too, but in all honesty, I do the library thing for her; both for her entertainment and her safety. However, the promise of convenient vendor food is too good to pass, so she slams the book closed, rushes to Mrs. Hubert, hands the book to her for safekeeping and shoulders her schoolbag ready.

  “Goodbye Mrs. Hubert… have a good night!” she chimes as she walks towards the door.

  “See you tomorrow, Summer. You too, Sally!” Mrs. Hubert replies with a smile, tucking Summer’s book under her desk.

  *

  We head out, stopping to buy a hotdog each, along with a can of soda. Derek is good like that; five dollars gets us the works and a drink each from his cart. I’m not sure if he can afford to practically hand over his food like that, but he’s a really nice guy. I know not all guys are jerks... just the ones Marjorie brings home.

  We both wolf down the food. Summer can almost outdo me. But it’s a little cold out tonight, and we are in a hurry to return to the apartment now that we are outside of the library.

  No key is needed for our front door... Marjorie is an idiot... she’s left it unlocked again. Oh and of course, she’s out cold on the lounge room floor... nice! No sign of that asshole though, so I take Summer to the bathroom and lock the door behind us.

  It saves time to share a bath, so we do. I know we are getting too old to be doing this, but right now, I just don’t care. Summer likes to wash my hair, and I like her washing it too. By the time we are finished, the bath looks pretty murky. We definitely needed a bath tonight; at least Summer did, with all that gunk all over her. We hop out and I sniff the towels, looking for the best ones to use. I’ll need to do the laundry this weekend, for Summer and I at least. I never do Marjorie’s or the man whores laundry.

  Opening the door, towels wrapped around our hair, bedclothes on, I check to see if the coast is clear. Summer is behind me, chewing her nails. I pick up the familiar unease that signals the man whore is here. I can’t see him, but I can feel his presence. Looking up and down the hallway, I decide speed is more important than stealth. He could come around the corner at any time.

  Signaling to Summer that we need to run, quiet if possible, to our room; I push her through the door, and proceed to follow.

  We make it inside our room unscathed. I lock the door with the puny little bolt that even I know would snap. It buys us time if anything tries to come through the door though, so I use it all the same.

  We breathe a deep sigh of relief. I smile at her, another evening averted.

  *

  Bang... and another bang, a pounding on the door... I wake up immediately, but still groggy from my sleep. The man whore is smashing his fists up against the door. I want to panic, and I kind of do, but only momentarily. The light thrown through the window from the city outside allows me to see clearly, so I am throwing myself off the bed toward my terrified little Summer, who is holding her dirty unkempt quilt up to her face, and imploring me to tell her what to do. Her bed is the furthest away from the door. The gap below it is miniscule; however, she is still small enough to get under. I gesture wildly for her to do so, and she succeeds with no time to spare, before the asshole breaks through the door and slams the light on.

  I am momentarily blind, and stunned, and he uses this second to his advantage by grabbing my hair at the back of my head, and pulling my face up to his. He is sneering.

  “Are you as juicy as your mother?” he asks.

  I’m terrified; I have no illusions about what he means... I’ve been around Marjorie too long not to understand him entirely. Although this has never happened before, I have been subject to abusive outbursts from her past boyfriends.

  I can’t answer... my mouth won’t work, and I don’t know what to say anyway. I just assume that this is just another thing that I want to get over and done with as soon as possible.

  He grunts, throws me onto my bed face down and starts to tear my pants down. I try to get up, but he pushes me down again. I can’t see what he is doing, but again, I don’t really need to... I just kind of know, and now my panic is at full flight. No, this is NOT something I want to get over and done with as soon as possible... it’s something I don’t want at all to happen, not now, and not ever. So I buck, kick and tumble, but I am up against a very big man, and he is stronger than me... by a lot!

  “A bit of dark
meat...” he laughs at his own vile joke. “An appetizer!” He says. He grabs my hips and jerks my backside up.

  Up until now I hadn’t found my voice, I was choking on my fear... but now, the words tumbled out between sobs.

  “Please, sir... don’t do this.” I plead, tears pouring down my face.

  “What, this?” he said, momentarily before tearing me in half.

  Summer.

  Sal is screaming, like no scream I have ever heard. It chills me right through. I imagine someone will storm through the door and rescue her for sure, but the rescue doesn’t come... and still she is screaming.

  I move to the edge of the bed. I remember the light being off, but the man must have put it on when he entered the room, it is so bright it is burning my eyes.

  I poke my head out, only slightly, just so my face is exposed... and I blink till my eyes adjust. My insides are clenching and I want to vomit up all of Derek’s hotdog.

  My bed is at right angles to Sally’s. She is currently on her chest, her head turned to the side, facing me, and he is pounding against her bottom, which is raised; with his hips while he is focused on the wall.

  I can’t hear her screams as much right now... there is like a piercing monotone screech that is registering in my head. But I can see everything. His penis is stabbing her. And there is blood... lots of blood. I now register that she can see me... and although I can’t hear what she is saying, I can see from her lips that it’s the word ‘no’, over and over. Her eyes are pleading, and she stretches her hand out in a stop signal.

  Sally.

  I am burning... down there... a thousand times worse than any ‘chinese burn’ that Craig Harris has managed to give me over the years. And I feel as though my insides are tearing, he is tearing chunks from me and forcing them inside. I can hear him grunting each time he thrusts forward, and I am dying each and every time that he does. I can also feel something wet slide down my inner thighs. I am still screaming when I see her face through my tears and turmoil. I instantly stop screaming. I am jolting from his movements, but I am mouthing words to her and hoping she can understand.