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I hugged my shivering knees to my chest, rested my chin on top. It was freezing in the car, just the way Mom liked it. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I rolled the window down to invite a warm breeze in. The air smelled different out here where the ground flattened toward the sea; it was fresher, less polluted by lines of traffic exhaust and city.

Two months ago, I was in my aunt Blair’s room in our apartment, holding my baby cousin Hadley out of the way while Blair packed all her things in boxes. She tried her hardest to stay strong in the face of her boyfriend Josh, but it was no use. Hadley’s father had already chosen drinking over his family. I figured they’d been having problems, since Blair and Hadley moved in to our spare bedroom when school started last year, but Blair finally gave up.

Well, Josh gave up, so Blair had to as well.

That was why we were on the way to visit Blair and Hadley at their new house in Piper Island. For months, there was talk of inheritance from a great aunt I never knew. Chatter about savings accounts. Whispers of something called “child support.” A bunch of adult words I didn’t care about. One day, conversation shifted to “beach house” and “fixer upper,” words that stuck out like yellow dandelions in my front yard. Mom sold it to Blair, pocketed the commission, and sent her on her way.

I wished Mom would do something like that to help us start over too.

Mom was at least crazy enough to let me stay all summer, now that Blair was all settled in. She tried to talk me out of it with murmurs of “dangerous water” and “wet, sticky sand,” but “a bike ride from the ocean” and “sandcastles” from late night calls with Blair won out.

As homesick as I could get sometimes, I knew Blair’s house wouldn’t feel far from home at all.

“We are almost there.” Mom pointed to a Piper Island Welcomes You! sign surrounded by palm trees and other beach plants Raleigh soil wouldn’t dare grow.

I smiled. I’d never felt welcome by anything in my life, but suddenly, a massive sign was greeting me, wispy clouds were waving, and salt air was whipping my hair around. It didn’t make any sense, but it all felt like it was put there for me.

We drove over a bridge, the last stretch of road before we reached the island. I threw my hands in the air, fingernails grazing the top of the car, shouting like I was on a rollercoaster headed straight for open water. The deep blue horizon appeared in the distance, contrasting with the blue sky right above it. Miles of dark ocean pushed away from me. White ribbons sliced toward me, over and over, completing Quinn Kessler’s welcome parade.

Between my squeals, I thought even Mom laughed, despite her blank stare and her white knuckles gripping the steering wheel.

From the downward slope of the bridge, the whole town looked like a chessboard, houses all lined up on a grid. Pine trees, water towers, and businesses peeked out like chess pieces.

As we drove into town, I saw gas stations, mini golf, gift shops, and everything in between, boasting silly names like Seas the Day and Beachy Keen. Most houses were lifted above the ground, with golf carts, grills, and hammocks sleeping beneath them. Families unloaded from long car rides. Bikes zipped across crosswalks. Teens walked in hordes, wearing nothing but bathing suits. Barefoot beachcombers rested on pastel chairs outside an ice cream shop called Sunset Scoop.

Maybe one day I could do the same. I could bike barefoot along the stretch of trees, burn my fair skin into a tan, and eat ice cream before and after dinner. Ice cream for dinner. I could be rule-less. Free, I supposed they called it. I pictured myself there, hoping the sand and salt water was enough to make a new version of me.

“Those kids are going to be so burnt!” Mom said as we turned onto a calmer street.

We pulled up to a small blue house. It could have fit inside a snow globe. The fresh navy paint contrasted with the blinding white railing. I’d never been to a beach town before, but this was exactly what I expected to see planted on that sandy soil.

Blair flailed her arms at us from the porch, Hadley perched on her hip.

Before Mom even stopped the car, I jumped out and ran up to the porch. It wasn’t a long trip, since Blair lived inland enough that her house didn’t have stilts.

“Blair! Hadley!” I wrapped my arms around my aunt’s waist and tickled the bottom of Hadley’s feet. I breathed in the smell of laundry detergent and beach all around us. It was salty and sweet and sour at the same time.

Blair pulled me in. “We’re going to have so much fun this summer! I made a list of cool things for us to do. You can add more if I missed anything. It’s on the counter inside.”

“As long as Mom lets me.”

Blair leaned in closer, holding Hadley tighter, and whispered with a wink, “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

I smiled in return, but I wasn’t sure it was genuine. Mom would be upset if I did things without her permission. She saw the world with thorn-colored glasses and it was my job to keep from getting pricked. My friends at school told me to ask for forgiveness instead of permission, but forgiveness was never my strong suit. Lying gave my soul a slimy feeling.

“Hi, Jen!” Blair shouted to Mom.

Mom lugged my suitcase up the stairs. “Quinn, you need to start pulling your weight if you expect me to let you stay here. And don’t you ever get out of a moving vehicle. I could have run you over.”

“I’m sorry.” I looked at my toes, which I’d painted purple last night.

“Can’t you ever just let her be excited?” Blair grabbed the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. “Sorry. I’m very glad you’re letting her stay.”

Suddenly the air felt muggy from more than the June beach weather. I looked between them and the thick air. They looked at each other all weird but said nothing more about it. Sisters.

“I promise I’ll take very good care of her.” Blair stroked my hair and goosebumps whispered down my spine. She kept calm to show Mom she was capable of taking care of me. Being only twenty-four, twelve years younger than my mom, Blair always had to prove herself. She was never smart enough, never responsible enough, never good enough. Older sisters.

I looked over at Hadley’s smile and chubby legs, which were evidence to me that she got enough food and sleep to be okay. That was all parenting was, anyway—keeping your kid alive—so both my mom and Blair had done a good job. I would never tell her that, though. Or about how excited I was to spend the summer with Blair.

Mom handed Blair a typed list of rules I wasn’t sure I wanted to follow. I didn’t want to be in bed by eight, or eat the whole food pyramid with every meal, or ride a bike with knee pads on. This was a summer vacation. It was meant for sleepless nights and ice cream for dinner. That’s what I’d always read about summer.

When they finished talking, I hugged Mom goodbye. I promised I’d be safe. I promised to call her as much as I could. I promised not to walk around in just my bathing suit like those silly kids. I promised to look both ways, reapply my sunscreen, and wear a helmet when I rode a bike. That, at least, I could agree with.

I waved until Mom’s car was out of sight. Blair held the screen door open with her hip, smiling. The cool air welcomed me inside. Finally summer could begin.

The house smelled of brand-new paint, Blair, bleach, and some fresh beach candle glowing atop the kitchen table. The furniture stood tall, despite being plucked from different time periods and planets altogether. In case I ever forgot I was at the beach, glossy seashells in a dish, coral bookends, and crisscrossed oars above the TV reminded me of my new home.

My room at the end of the hall shone a golden shade from the sunny side of the house. My bed took up most of the room, dressed in a white comforter with teal seahorses. My white wicker dresser matched the headboard. I couldn’t believe this was for me.

Blair showed me the kitchen stocked with Fruity Pebbles, mandarin oranges, yogurt, Kraft macaroni boxes, orange juice, and all the supplies for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I could certainly work with this.

She took me over to the kitchen island where a pink pen and a single piece of paper—which she called an “itinerary”—waited for us. Blair had already written on it, using hearts as bullet points.

Ice cream at Sunset Scoop.

Watch the sunset.

Go to the candy store.

Read beach books.

Mini golf.

Stargaze.

Watch the sunrise.

Stay up all night.

Have the best summer ever.

“It’s perfect,” I said when she asked what I thought. I didn’t have any of my own ideas to add, so I clicked the pen in and out to fill the silence.

“If you get an itch to add anything, it’ll be up on the fridge for you.” Blair rocked Hadley on her hip. “Now, what do you want to do first?”