Read The Last Summer at Chelsea Beach for Free Online

down-at-heels, the paint peeling and woodwork worn. “It’s been in my family for generations,” Mrs. Connally said, seeming to notice. “It’s a lot to keep up, but I couldn’t bear to sell it.”
    “We live in South Philadelphia back home,” Jack offered between bites.
    “We do, too, I think. Fifth and Porter,” I said, repeating the location I’d heard from Aunt Bess.
    “That’s the Jewish neighborhood,” Liam observed.
    “Liam, mind your manners,” his mother cautioned.
    “Is it true that Jews don’t believe in Jesus?” Robbie asked. I nodded. His eyes widened with disbelief. “We’re Catholic.”
    “Sort of,” Charlie corrected. “Dad is, and we go to church sometimes. But Mom is a Quaker.”
    “What’s that?”
    “It’s just a different kind of church,” Mrs. Connally replied. “And we Quakers are pacifists, which means we don’t believe in fighting or war.” Still not fully understanding, I made a note to look up the words later.
    “Is that why you don’t want America to help stop Germany?” Charlie asked his mother. His voice was rich and resonant. “Because you’re a pacifist?”
    “Partly, I suppose. Mostly it’s because I have four sons.” My heart sank. I had heard such talk at the drugstore and among Aunt Bess’s friends. Back in Italy, I’d just assumed that the Americans would come and help stop the Germans, that it was only a matter of time. How could they not? But here people spoke of the war as though it were unreal, a book or movie, or simply someone else’s problem.
    “We live about ten blocks from you,” Jack said. I turned to him, grateful for the return to an easier subject.
    “You’ll attend high school in the fall?” Mrs. Connally asked me.
    “Ugh, only Mom would ruin a perfectly good lunch with the S word.” Liam ducked as his mother swiped at him playfully, then tried to wipe mustard from the corner of his mouth.
    “At South Philadelphia High School, I think.”
    “It’s called Southern,” Liam corrected disdainfully.
    “Us, too,” Jack chimed in. “Charlie’s gonna be quarterback of the football team.”
    Charlie shrugged and waved his hand. “We don’t know that yet.”
    “Naw, unless Tommy Thompson decides to stroll down from Eagles’ practice and try out, I think you’re in like Flynn.” I smiled, trying to look as if I understood.
    When the food was gone, I stood to help Mrs. Connally clear the plates, then returned to the table. She passed each of us a miniature Hershey’s bar. I stared in disbelief. Aunt Bess’s idea of a treat were the cookies she’d brought from the kosher bakery in the city, dry even before they had gone stale. I had not had chocolate since coming to America. “Thank you.” I tore off the paper and popped the whole thing in my mouth. Sugar rushed through me, heating my blood.
    “You kids go on back outside while I clean up and unpack a bit more.” The boys pushed back their chairs from the table and started for the door.
    Outside, Robbie held a baseball bat he had pulled from one of the boxes. “Wanna play?”
    “She’s a girl,” Liam sneered derisively.
    I bristled. What was his problem? “Sure.” In truth I’d never played before, but I wasn’t about to admit it to him. The bat I took from Robbie felt strange and cumbersome in my hands.
    “Here.” Charlie walked over and adjusted my hands, his fingers pressing warm on my own. Jack threw the ball in my direction, soft and slow. I swung and then released, putting all of my weight behind the movement as the bat made contact with the ball. It sailed high into the yard on the far side of the Connally house and there was a sudden crash, followed by the sound of shattering glass.
    I dropped the bat. Everyone froze. “Uh-oh,” Robbie said. His jaw dropped.
    A man came around the fence angrily holding the ball. “Who broke my car window?”
    I hesitated, trembling. “I did,” a voice behind me said. I turned, surprised to see Liam stepping