Contents ( 66)
- Cover
- Books by Valerie Fraser Luesse
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Dedication
- Contents
- Map of Florida
- one
- two
- three
- four
- five
- six
- seven
- eight
- nine
- ten
- eleven
- twelve
- thirteen
- fourteen
- fifteen
- sixteen
- seventeen
- eighteen
- nineteen
- twenty
- twenty-one
- twenty-two
- twenty-three
- twenty-four
- twenty-five
- twenty-six
- twenty-seven
- twenty-eight
- twenty-nine
- thirty
- thirty-one
- thirty-two
- thirty-three
- thirty-four
- thirty-five
- thirty-six
- thirty-seven
- thirty-eight
- thirty-nine
- forty
- forty-one
- forty-two
- forty-three
- forty-four
- forty-five
- forty-six
- forty-seven
- forty-eight
- forty-nine
- fifty
- fifty-one
- Epilogue
- Keep Reading for a Preview of Valerie Luesse’s Next Book!
- Prologue
- one
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Back Ads
- Back Cover
Slowly turning his head toward the window next to his bed, he could see soft rays of morning light streaming through the blinds. The swimming pool, which had buzzed with splashing, squeals, and laughter until midnight, was silent now. It must be early still. The office might not be open yet. Aunt Jack probably wasn’t even awake. What difference did it make anyway? He’d never be able to make it to her, and he was cursing his decision to save a quarter on the telephone.
Gripping the edge of the bed, he gritted his teeth and turned onto his right side. He saw the saddlebag on the floor and remembered what his mother had said—that she had packed what he might need. She was right about the gloves. Right now his hands felt better than just about any other part of his body. Taking another deep breath, he reached for the bag, letting a cry escape as he lifted it onto the bed and rolled onto his back, which only aggravated the sore spot on his rear. As quickly as he could move again, he rolled onto his left side to relieve the pressure, opened the saddlebag, and emptied the contents onto the bed. He could tell just by looking at them who had packed what.
From Aunt Gert: spare inner tubes, possibly illegal bug lotion, his water flask, and one hundred dollars, fifty of which he had given to the family on the beach. He had spent another eight or nine on his motel room and supper.
From his mother: Noxzema, talcum powder, lotion, liniment, Band-Aids, and another hundred dollars in small bills. A piece of masking tape was wrapped around the Noxzema. On it, his mother had written “For saddle sores.” Peyton found a similar label on the talcum powder: “For chafing.”
Now he just had to figure out how to use them when he was too sore to move. Pushing back the covers, he started with the liniment, pouring a little into his hand and massaging it into the opposite shoulder until he could feel the muscles loosening up. That brought at least a little relief. He repeated the liniment rub on the other shoulder. It was like oiling a rusty bike chain.
Peyton could endure some movement in his upper body now. His face, neck, and forearms were sunburned, as were the tops of his thighs. He took his time spreading the cooling lotion onto his red skin.
Now it was time to tackle the painful sore on his backside. He slid off his underwear and then unscrewed the lid on the Noxzema. Scooping out a big dollop, he reached back and gently smeared it where the saddle sore was throbbing. It stung a little at first, but then it cooled and soothed his sore, which wanted padding, Peyton decided. He fished two large Band-Aids out of the box and put one on top of the other, covering the sore on his hip. Looking down at the red rash inside both legs, he reached for the talcum powder and gave it a good shake on his splotchy skin. One application felt so soothing that he decided to give himself another. Just as he raised the tin of powder, he heard a key in the door of his room, and Aunt Jack came bustling in with a tray of food.