Say River Country!

“I see you’re feeling better,” someone says. Shielding my eyes, I find the source of the voice lying on a long towel on a lounge chair in a really cute red bikini. “I was over there when they pulled you out of the water. It was a bit scary, I gotta say. Glad you’re okay, though.”

She sort of looks like Dina in that sandy-blond-hair way, but a tad older and with feathered hair. She opens a little door in her music player, flips a cassette tape around, closes it, and presses down the play button. Then she puts big foamy headphones over her ears and closes her eyes against the sun. I take a quick pic of her, too.

I sit in the grass bordering the sandy tanning area. Think, Haley. What do you do? A good plan would be to Google symptoms of seizures again. Back when I had my first one in March, I read somewhere that people sometimes experience time-travel hallucinations during one. This could be one. Yet it’s all so real. These chairs, that loglike garbage can right over there, that water tower that says RIVER COUNTRY, the people having a good time. How can any of this be a dream? But I can’t research anything, because according to Jason, it’s 1982, so there’re no computers, that I know of, much less Google.

Next plan . . .

I watch Jason inside the rental booth. Look at him. He’s already forgotten about me as he hands out tickets and towels. Given a different haircut and a better pair of shorts, that dude would make the perfect summer fling in real time. He’s sweet, even though I exasperated the heck out of him. But there’s no point in flinging with him, because I have to find my way out of this hallucinogenic episode of Doctor Who.

But how do I do that? Find my way back home?

Jason catches me staring at him. Embarrassed, I look away. A moment later my gaze finds its way to him again. He’s writing something on a clipboard. He turns it around, and I’m a little surprised when I see that it’s for me. In permanent marker, he wrote: “Medics on their way. Wait there.” Is that how they did it before texting? How cute!

I nod, but the thing is, I can’t wait for the medics. How will I explain where I came from?

“He’s a bit the loner type, but cute,” Red Bikini Girl says. She taps her feet to the music. “I’m partial to Jake, his older brother, but Jason’s nineteen. Perfect for you.”

“Oh, I don’t really . . .” Whoa. Nineteen? Nice.

“Honey, girls have been swooning left and right since he started working here last month, yet he hasn’t dated a single one of them. You’ve gotten the most attention out of any girl here. That makes you the pick of the litter.”

What makes her think he’d want to date me? He can hardly stand me!

A second later a guy appears next to us, oiled and shiny, brandishing two big cups of soda—one for her, one for himself. He looks a little young for her, judging from his skinny body type, if I could only get a look at his face.

She looks up, surprised, and takes the drinks. “Oh, thanks, Oscar. You didn’t have to do that.”

Oscar? Funny, that’s my dad’s name.

“This is my friend, uh . . .” Bikini Girl waits for me to give her my name.

“Haley.”

“Oscar, this is Haley.”

The guy sits on the lounge chair next to her, and . . . no . . . way. I see the familiar, sunny-eyed smile I’ve known all my life, minus thirty pounds, the gray hair, and, apparently, the ability to recognize me. You have got to be kidding me!

Deep breaths, Haley.

Dad? Paternal parental? No way! No friggin’ way!

Immediately, I feel like he’s going to yell at me for not answering his texts. My instinct is to turn around and run. But then I remember—1982. My dad has never even seen me before! He can’t possibly know who I am.

“Hey, Haley. Nice to meet you.” As soon as I hear his voice, his identity is confirmed. Oh my God, Dad! He smiles a smile I adore, have always adored, and does a little what’s up nod.

Someone taps my shoulder lightly. “Miss, are you the one needing medical attention?” Which is great, because staring at my dad as a teen right here in front of me, I just about have another seizure.

About the Author

Michelle Dalton is the author of Fifteenth Summer, Sixteenth Summer, and the Sixteenth Summer series. Married to her high school sweetheart, Michelle loves baking, walking her dog, Lola, and reading on the beach.

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Also by Michelle Dalton

Fifteenth Summer

Sixteenth Summer

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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Cover designed by Jessica Handelman

The text of this book was set in Berling.

Manufactured in the United States of America

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Library of Congress Control Number 2013051004

ISBN 978-1-4814-0701-4 (hc)

ISBN 978-1-4814-0700-7 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-4814-0702-1 (eBook)