THE LAST SUMMER OF YOU AND ME PDF
The Last Summer (of You and Me) Ann Brashares RIVERHEAD BOOKS New York Praise for. The Last Summer (of You and Me) A People magazine pick for a . From the New York Times-bestselling author of The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants Ann Brashares comes her first adult novel In the town of Waterby. Personal Review: The Last Summer (of You and Me) by Ann. Brashares. I LOVED THIS BOOK. I've seen the Sisterhood movie and when I picked up the book, it.
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Get Instant Access to The Last Summer: Of You And Me By Ann Brashares #ced98b. EBOOK EPUB KINDLE PDF. Brashares KINDLE PDF EBOOK EPUB. Get Instant Access to The Last Summer: Of You And Me By Ann Brashares #ced98b. The Last Summer (of You and Me) is a novel by Ann Brashares. Her first novel for adults, and . Print/export. Create a book · Download as PDF · Printable version .
May 06, Pages. Jul 05, Pages.
Petite, tenacious Riley is a tomboy and a lifeguard, always ready for a midnight swim, a gale-force sail, or a barefoot sprint down the beach. Beautiful Alice is lithe, gentle, a reader and a thinker, and worshipful of her older sister. And every summer growing up, in the big house that overshadowed their humble one, there was Paul, a friend as important to both girls as the place itself, who has now finally returned to the island after three years away.
But his return marks a season of tremendous change, and when a simmering attraction, a serious illness, and a deep secret all collide, the three friends are launched into an unfamiliar adult world, a world from which their summer haven can no longer protect them. With warmth, humor, and wisdom, Brashares makes us feel the excruciating joys and pangs of love—both platonic and romantic. She reminds us of the strength and sting of friendship, the great ache of loss, and the complicated weight of family loyalty.
She lives in New York City with her family. Visit AnnBrashares. During a swim, Riley misses an important opportunity to receive a heart transplant. While the rest of her family is upset over this, Riley insists that they stay out of her business, saying that she can take care of herself. Meanwhile, Paul, studying philosophy at NYU, is constantly thinking about Alice and his feelings towards her.
The Last Summer (of You and Me)
Still unaware of Riley's condition, he is bitter and angry towards Alice. He even attends an old island acquaintance's wedding with a beautiful date to spite her. Riley finally tells Paul of her medical problems, admitting that she isn't entirely sure she wants a heart transplant. He donates the money to Bellevue Hospital , where his wealthy but wild-living father died long ago.
One night back in the city, Alice returns from work to find Riley has died. The funeral is held and Alice and her parents go to Fire Island to spread her ashes. Alice volunteers to tend to the beach house, as the family has decided to sell it. Paul turns up one day, discovering his house has been sold to a new family whose children Alice babysits each morning. She sat back down on the bench, crossing her arms and her legs and bowing her head.
It was a small village on a small island with customs and rules all its own. There were no cars and—in the old days, at least—nobody locked their house.
Even at the yacht club. Even at parties. There was a community pride in having feet tough enough to withstand the splintering boardwalks.
You just shut up about it. Every kid knew that. Eventually they disappeared; she was never quite sure where they went. You saw the people as they came and went and waited.
You also saw their stuff piled on the dock until they loaded it onto their wagon and rolled it home. You knew what kind of toilet paper they bought. You knew that the people with the Fairway bags and the paper products were getting off here in Waterby or in Saltaire. The people getting off in the town of Kismet always had beer. Cars were conveyors of privacy. Without them, you lived a lot more of your life out in the open.
Where you went, who you went with. Who you waited for at the ferry dock. Who you brushed your hair for. You were exposed here, but you were also safe.
The carlessness of the place had always appealed to certain utopian types, even shallow ones. The ferry put an extra emphasis on coming and going.
Adults went back and forth all the time, but there had been many summers when Alice and Riley had come and gone only once. They came with their pale skin, haircuts meant to last the summer, their tender feet, and their shyness. They left with brown, freckled, bitten skin; tangly hair; foot bottoms thick like tires; and familiarity verging on rudeness.
She remembered the hellos, and she remembered the good-byes even more. End-of-summer tradition dictated that whoever was last to leave the island saluted departing friends by jumping into the water as the good-bye ferry pulled away.
Now she heard the boat grinding up behind her. She loosened her arms and pressed her hands against the wood.
She heard the slapping of the wake against the pilings as the boat came around. She untucked one leg and bounced her free heel on the plank in front of her. She would have rather done the leaving than the getting left, but that was never the way it happened.
For some reason it was always Alice who waited and Alice who dove in. A space capsule. It sent you and your fellow canvas-bag travelers through a wormhole, the same one every time.
The thick feeling of the air began when you stepped onto the ferry. The stickiness over every surface. He could picture her anchoring various things in her mouth as she braided her hair. Now his hair was long.
In truth, this lighthouse set his standard for all others, and the others looked stout and dumpy by comparison. You loved what you knew. She would be there. If she was still Alice, she would be there. If she did come, it would mean something also. Now the sweeter, older coast of the island emerged, coughed up by the bay in time for his arrival. He discerned the wide, curling arm of the dock. He knew Riley would be the same. By the letters she wrote him, he could tell she would look and sound the same.
But the idea of a twenty-one-year-old Alice scared him. Would their parents be there? Could he contend with the whole bunch of them on such a narrow tatter of land stuck out here between the ocean and the bay? He unstuck himself from the bench, stretched his legs.
The Last Summer (of You and Me)
Without quite giving himself the go-ahead, he started scanning the faces. The older ones were most familiar. The tricky doubles player with the comb-over—what was his name? The club pro, Don Rontano, with the starched polo shirt, collar upturned, who got on so well with the lonely ladies. The children were impossible to identify, and the bodies between old and young he feared to scrutinize. Would her hair have gotten as dark as that?
Could her shape have changed into that? No and no, obviously. But what could make Alice not come?
He scanned the small cluster again, resenting the spasmodic activity of his eyeballs. What if she were different now? As the ferry pulled around the hook of the dock, the sitting girl stood. Her hair blew around her face, obscuring it.Would this be him?
He even attends an old island acquaintance's wedding with a beautiful date to spite her. A space capsule. She would be there. She felt his head loosening on his neck, giving in to her hands, trusting her.
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