I plan on being a world traveler someday, mostly for the experience but a little bit for the hats (I'm what my mom calls a "headware connoisseur": I'm not that into fashion, but I do love hats, which give you automatic style anyway. I can't wait to get berets and panamas and sombreros in the countries of their origin.) But I think I'd have to cross a bunch of time zones and ten times as many countries to find a place like Flame Lake. We're the only lake in our chain that has an ordinance against powerboats and you can still see your toes when you're standing in three feet of water. Dad says the lake got its name from a drunk fur trapper who ran a little corn-liquor business on the north shore. His still used to blow up every other month and the fireball would be thrown into the lake. Mom says that's a big lie concocted by the drinkers down at Bardy's Tap -- she says all you have to do is look at a sunset to figure out how the lake got its name. I vote with Mom on this one; some sunsets really do look as if they're setting the lake on fire ... I'd seen enough daytime talk shows and read enough of my mother's magazines to know that my family situation was pretty good, too -- I mean, we all loved one another (well, except for my sister Lin, who we tolerated). Growing up in that house on Flame Lake, it was pretty easy thinking that in the great poker game of life, I was holding a royal flush. I guess I still think that way, I mean Lin says I've got the biggest ego in the Western world. "If you were me, you'd be thrilled too," I tell her. The truth is, I don't feel like me much anymore. Sometimes it's as if I've aged at warp speed and I'm as old as my grandma Ardis, who thinks a cup of hot tea and a new Reader's Digest is a party. Other times I wish I'd never given up my blankie and my pajamas with feet. Lin and I don't share a bedroom, so she doesn't know how many times I've laid in bed, crying myself to sleep, scared that all the trouble that came to us was just a little preview of the main attraction. I try to tell myself that what happened is all over, finissimo, water under the bridge; but how can something you're always reminded of be over? I can't look in a mirror without seeing how lousy things can be -- I've got this row of false teeth and I haven't even been kissed by a boy yet. I mean one I'm not related to. Not that I'd want to. Oh well. At least you can replace teeth, I tell myself. I don't know if you can ever get back what Franny lost. Excerpted from Your Oasis on Flame Lake by Lorna Landvik All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
