The Summer of Naked Swim Parties Read Online Free

Allen’s plastic label maker and stuck below the corresponding knob.
    “Rock and roll is over here.” Jamie waved her hand up and down a wall of records, then suddenly shoved it in her jeans pocket. It had looked floppy and strange to her—like someone else’s hand.
    “Help me choose something,” Joseph said. He put his palm on the small of Jamie’s back and lead her over one step so that they were standing together in front of the floor-to-ceiling shelves of rock and roll.
    “What do you like?” His voice was slow and hushed.
    “I dunno,” she said. And she really didn’t know. Jamie’s parents chose the music; they chose what to play and when to play it. She had never thought to choose music for herself—as if she had no right to fill the air with something she  in particular wanted to hear. And when Jamie’s friends were over, they chose the music.
    “Tammy loves Frampton Comes Alive!,” Jamie said.
    “Nah,” Joseph said, “you can’t understand a word he’s saying.”
    “Debbie always puts on Jethro Tull, but I think it’s kinda boring.”
    “How about Wild Cherry.” Joseph pulled the record off the shelf and smiled at the cover.
    “Cool photo,” he said, and he looked at Jamie so she’d look down at the picture of glassy red lips holding a dripping cherry. The stem came out the corner of the mouth and made a line that ran off the edge of the album. Jamie felt a jolt of panic. She was reminded of the time a year ago when Tammy’s older brother had been packing to leave for college. He had called Jamie into his room as she was walking by to use the bathroom. Once she was standing near him at his desk, he had opened a drawer, pulled out a Playboy magazine, and unfurled the centerfold while staring intently at Jamie.
    “What do you think?” Tammy’s brother had said, and Jamie had just shrugged her shoulders and hurried out of the room. She didn’t know what she thought, all she knew was that Tammy’s brother’s intentions were beyond her understanding—they took place in a world where she didn’t know how things operated or what the rules were. And now, Jamie was standing on the border of that world again, this time with Joseph, who was the cutest boy she’d ever seen in person, but who scared her nonetheless.
    “I like maraschino cherries,” Jamie said, trying to rein the focus into her world, “but my mom won’t let me eat them because she says they cause cancer.” 
    “One won’t kill you.” Joseph slipped the record out of its jacket and held it perpendicular to his flat palms.
    “That’s how my dad holds the records,” Jamie said.
    “You don’t want to get grease or fingerprints on it,” Joseph said. “Oh, get that House of Honey record, too.” Jamie pulled House of Honey out of the jacket and handed it to Joseph, who sandwiched it between his hands with Wild Cherry. He slowly lowered the records, piercing the tiny eyeholes with the silver prong that stood up from the center of the turntable. When he turned on the power, House of Honey dropped down, leaving Wild Cherry hovering above like a spaceship. The music started and in her head Jamie heard her mother singing along as she always did.
    She was a sweet, sweet lady with big blue eyes . . .
    “Now, who should we let listen?” Joseph asked, and he turned to face the panel of knobs.
    “Pool,” Jamie said.
    “Pool,” Joseph said, turning the knob.
    “Kitchen,” Jamie said.
    “Kitchen.”
    “Living room?”
    “Okay, living room.”
    “Uh . . . I guess that’s it.”
    “What about the bedrooms?”
    “No one’s in the bedrooms.”
    “Let’s put the music on in your room.” Joseph turned the knob that rested above the piece of red plastic tape with JAMIE BED popping out in white.
    “Jamie bed,” Joseph said. The word bed seemed porno-graphic when Joseph said it. Jamie felt as if he were talking about her sexual anatomy rather than simply the place where she slept.

    “It’s my bedroom,” Jamie