The First Last Day Read Online Free PDF

early-morning diners.
    Soon, Annie strolled over to our booth. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and her eyeliner was painted way past the end of her lid on one side, exactly like in my dream. “What can I get for you two this morning?” she asked.
    When we told her it was our last whole day down the shore, she got a little misty-eyed and sat next to me. “I’m really going to miss you two,” she said. “You remind me of when my Joey was your age.” She gestured toward the grill, where Joey was cooking up orders. “You kids just grow up too fast—soon Joey will be taking over the Ark. It seems like yesterday . . .”
    As her voice trailed off, I looked over at Joey, who wore a hairnet over his short ponytail. He flipped a pancake high into the air. Cringing, I waited for what would happen next.
    Splat!
    The pancake landed on the floor, just like I’d anticipated. Annie smiled. “Maybe it’ll be a little while longer before Joey’s ready to take over.”
    I wasn’t sure if it was the smell of burnt toast or the fact that Annie had said the exact same thing in my dream that made me break out into a cold sweat. But the minute she finished taking our order, I excused myself to go to the bathroom and put water on my face.
    By the time I got back, the food was already on the table. “You’re really just having orange juice?” Kevin said.
    â€œMy stomach’s a little queasy.”
    â€œAre you okay? We can leave if—”
    â€œNo. It’s nothing serious.”
    â€œThat’s good,” Kevin said. “It’d be awful if we had to skip our last day at the shore together.”
    I forced a smile and mumbled, “It sure would.”

CHAPTER 12
    O nce we left Annie’s, we stopped to look at Serena’s sketches. Serena was a college student who paid for some of her tuition by drawing portraits of people on the boardwalk. She had long, strawberry blond hair and freckles that spread across her nose and cheeks like flecks of sand. Every day she wore a different hat. She said it was because the sun gave her even more freckles. But I liked to think it was an artistic statement. That day’s hat was familiar. It was straw with a huge brim that held a bunch of grapes on one side and a banana on the other.
    The little girl sitting across from Serena seemed familiar too. She was about six years old and wore a headband with a red and white polka-dot bow. Her mother pressed the girl’s shoulder down to keep her from getting up from the wooden stool. Apparently, this girl had no interest in preserving that particular moment in a painting.
    While Serena struggled with the portrait, I headed toward her table of artwork for sale. She loved to start drawing before dawn, and her new works were always at the top of the pile. When I spotted the pastel sketch of a dark sky and stars above the ocean waves, I stumbled backward in surprise. I’d already seen that one.
    â€œYou okay?” Serena asked between brushstrokes.
    â€œI’m fine. But when did you draw this?”
    â€œBefore sunrise,” Serena said. “The sky was so clear, and the stars were gorgeous.”
    Kevin stared at me. “Are you sure you’re okay? You just got really pale.”
    â€œI’m sure,” I answered, even though I was more confused than ever. “It’s just the heat.”
    After browsing in Mr. Sidhu’s used book and video store, Kevin and I headed toward the water. Once wepassed the familiar crying toddler, the boys tossing the football, and the sunbathers lying on the beach, we settled into our spot by the pier. A slight fishy smell breezed by as I spread my towel out on the sand and anchored one corner with my backpack.
    â€œHey, guys,” a voice from behind us called. I turned to find Mateo heading toward us. His parents sat under a big beach umbrella, not too far away. “Want to