Bea
It’s the night before the first day of summer vacation, and instead of celebrating with my best friend with our favorite sweets and a movie marathon, I’m hiding.
Yep, hiding.
I can’t be inside because my mom and dad are in there and they’re still in the place where they want to ask a million questions about why Katherine and I aren’t best friends anymore. They want to tell me “it’s reasonable to be upset” but “it’s time to get over it.”
I’m never getting over it.
I slipped out the backdoor when no one was looking, which was also a mistake. My neighbor Carter Haines is in the middle of a party. His parties, as the ChattySnap photos will declare for the next week, are always “lit” or “epic.”
I wouldn’t know. I’d never been invited or would have any desire to be.
I climb the stairs of the guest house in the backyard. At the top, there’s a small deck on the roof. It’s a workaround to the fact we don’t have an ocean view. There are soft cushiony chairs and if I try hard enough, I can smell the salty air and hear the waves of the ocean—well, some nights I can. Tonight, all I hear is the thump, thump of music and the scent of stale cigarettes wafting over the fence.
I see the shape of the person smoking—recognizable, even in the dark. Tall as the fence, with broad shoulders and sun-bleached hair. The red-glow from his cigarette follows him across the path toward the pool. A girl’s giggle floats through the air.
Carter Haines had parties for three reasons. To smoke and drink, to hook up with girls, and to make his father mad.
Looks like he’s accomplishing all three tonight.
I feel like a voyeur as I watch him extinguish his cigarette. He’s not supposed to smoke—it’ll ruin his training (or so his father yells so loudly that we can hear him across the yards.) And I do drag my eyes away as he and his girl of the night hop in the pool. My cheeks heat at the thought of them—him—breaking all the rules.
Just like Katherine—who’d gone after what she wanted, despite how it affected our friendship.
Maybe, like she said the last time we spoke, I’m the one with the problem. The hang-ups and too many rules. The anxious thump in my heart tells me otherwise, that rules are good. That Carter Haines is going to pay for this party in the morning, when his father comes home and sees the mess, when that girl starts to text, asking why he hasn’t called, when he swims his first lap in the clear, blue pool and his chest hurts from the smoke.
When Katherine is dumped by my brother.
I’ll be the one that did it all right, that followed the rules.
I’m also the one that’s all alone.
Chapter 2
Bea
One of the perks of growing up in the gated community in Ocean Grove is access to the Cliffside Golf and Athletic Club. The pristine, green, rolling hills of the golf course are famous and shown on TV each summer in one of the most famous and competitive tournaments in the country. Presidents fly in to play above the rocky, Pacific shoreline.
That’s The Club that the world knows, I realize, as I hand out tiny cups of orange fish-shaped crackers to a group of first- and second-graders. The public doesn’t see minions, like me, by design. We blend in with our pale blue collared shirts and boxy tan shorts that hit squarely above the knee in a terribly unflattering way.
“After we have snack,” Maria, my co-counselor, says, “we’ll head to the pool.”
The twelve kids seem pleased by that announcement. I just keep looking at the clock, mounted on the pavilion wall, counting the minutes until this dreadful day is over. It’s day one out of twenty-five.
Getting a job as a day-camp counselor at The Club seemed like a dream come true three months ago. Months ago, Katherine and I had applied together, despite having little interest in working with kids. We were both just ecstatic that we’d be working together. We hung out together 24/7 anyway. Why not get paid to do it? When The Club came to our school’s summer job fair, we were one of a handful of students to actually get an interview and then secure a job. I’m sure it didn’t hurt that my twin brother, Atticus, put in a good word for us. It’s his second year working as a caddy. With Atticus here, that meant Katherine and I would have a little more parental freedom. Everyone loves handsome, outgoing, straight-A student Atticus. He’s the perfect son, brother, and friend.
Or at least, that’s what I thought. Until he betrayed me.
“I can stay back and clean up this mess,” Maria says, pushing her sleek, straight, black hair over her shoulder. “Do you want to go ahead and take them to the changing rooms?”
“I can, if you’re okay cleaning up alone.” I feel bad leaving her behind. Katherine and I would have done it together. Except, of course, Katherine isn’t here. Well, she isn’t here with me. My eyes shift across the pool deck to my former best friend sitting in the lifeguard chair in one of those two-piece red bikinis with “Lifeguard” stamped between her boobs.
Traitor.
She looks over and our eyes meet and her lips lift in a cautious smile. I glance away fast, hating the fact that after all these months it still hurts so bad.
“Yeah, it’ll just take a minute and they’re getting antsy.”
I don’t argue. Maria worked as a counselor last year, so she definitely can take the lead. She just finished her freshman year at the university, and I think had hopes of not working with the day camp again this year. Unfortunately for all of us, things changed.
I call for the kids to line up and walk them over to the pool-house. I then send the boys in one side of the dressing room and the girls in the other. “Don’t make a mess,” I tell them. “I’ll be right out here if you need something, okay?”
I wish I could have hidden in the dressing room with them. Not just because the sunlight makes my pale skin seem even paler, but because out on the pool deck, I’m forced to share the same space with Katherine. Something I’d vowed never to do after March 26th.
That was the day my best friend did the unthinkable. The ultimate, terrible betrayal.
She hooked up with my brother.
Once the kids are in the pool, Maria and I sit under the shady pavilion. We obviously can’t leave, but since there are two guards on duty we don’t have to watch the kids as closely during free-swim.
Katherine sits in the chair that overlooks the water, like some kind of queen on a throne. I guess it makes sense. She’s royalty now. Atticus Clarke’s girlfriend. Her skin is already tan and I can see highlights forming in her light brown hair. It makes me want to barf.
“So,” Maria says, stretching her legs out. “Is there a reason you’re shooting daggers at that girl over there?”
I blink and look at my co-counselor. Maria is a small girl with dark, curious eyes and the shiniest hair. I don’t know much about her.
“We used to be friends,” I say, which is the understatement of the year. Best friends. The yin to my yang. The peanut butter to my jelly. Sisters, really. “But we’re not anymore.”
“Oh,” her eyes widen a little. “Gotcha.”
“You went to Ocean Grove High?” I ask, trying to make conversation.
“I did. Graduated last year.”
I lean forward. “Do you know Dean Turner?”
She laughs. “Actually, kind of. We had a few classes together before he left school for good. Do you watch Avondale?”
“Religiously,” I admit. It used to be something Katherine and I did together. The show is so crazy that it’s addictive. We’d known Dean Turner lived in Ocean Grove and the two of us spent days wandering around the beaches and shops, hoping to get a look at him in person. He’s gorgeous. And dating the supermodel Lucy Harrington. They’re like, one of those fairy-tale couples. I can’t help but ask, “What’s he like?”
“Nice. Focused. It’s not really a surprise he’s doing so well.” She shifts her focus over my shoulder and I glance back, realizing who she’s looking at.
I make a sound of disgust.
“What?” she asks. “You know him?”
“Carter Haines?” I say, checking out the second lifeguard.
“Yeah. He’s hot.”
I fight rolling my eyes. “He’s my next-door neighbor.”
“Oh, are you friends?” I see the interest in her eyes. It’s the same interest every girl has that crosses his path. It’s understandable. Even I can admit Carter is handsome with his strong swimmer’s body, year-round tanned skin and light brown hair streaked with blond from so much time in the sun. But his personality and penchant for trouble? That’s a big, fat, nope.
“No way.” I look away from him. “He swims and plays water polo with my brother. They’re kind of frenemies, I guess.”
“I wish a guy like that lived next door to me,” she laments, still watching him. He’s now standing near a cluster of girls sunbathing by the deep end. He’s wearing a cocky grin and has his ridiculously built chest puffed out. Like he needs to accentuate it.
“You really don’t. He’s throwing parties all the time, and constantly fighting with his dad.” I lean over and say quietly, “Once, the cops showed up at three a.m. and dropped him off.”
Maria only looks more intrigued. “So he’s a troublemaker.”
“Capital T.”
We both look back over at him again. He’s now actively talking to one of the girls in a turquoise bikini. She’s gorgeous, of course, with classic California blonde hair, eyes that match her swim suit and perfect white teeth.
I wonder briefly if she’s the girl from the night before.
Over the noises of the pool, the kids playing, the springs of the diving board, the music coming from the snack bar, two voices rise above the rest. I sigh and stand, totally unsurprised that Evan Kuperson and Slade Lowery are fighting over a water gun.
“I’ll take care of it,” I say, heading across the pool deck. I cut through lounge chairs, gossiping moms, and discarded flip-flops to reach the boys. They’re in a full-out tug-of-war with the plastic gun by the time I reach them.
“Guys!” I say, walking up. The kids are both about ten. Not big, but also not small. They struggle over the gun. “What’s going on?”
“I had it first!”
“He took it from me!”
“It’s…mine!”
They grunt and strain against one another. I hear the shrill sound of the lifeguard whistle cut through the air. Great. The last thing I need is Katherine to get involved.
“Boys, we’re not fighting over toys. Hand it over and go find something else to do.”
They ignore me completely.
“Listen,” I say, trying to figure out how to handle this. I’m not exactly great with kids. Katherine’s the one with two younger siblings. I make an attempt to grab the gun. “Stop fighting.”
Suddenly I’m in the middle of the struggle, determined to get the gun away. I get ahold of it and sense someone walking up behind me. The two boys look up and fear crosses their face. Perfect. Katherine to the rescue. A hand touches my shoulder and I see a flash of red and like a bull on stampede, I snap.
“Seriously? You think I can’t handle this on my own? A fight with two kids? Just like everything else the last three months, I can do this job without you. What part of 'back off' don’t you understand?” I shout, yanking hard on the gun. The kids look at me with stunned expressions and let go at the same time I pull back, causing me to go flying.
I stumble back, hitting something hard in the process, way harder than Katherine’s skinny body, but a brick wall couldn’t stop me from careening back at full force.
The landing is cold, wet, and I smack something hard with the gun in my hand.
“Ow,” a voice says, muttering a string of low curses. My eyes pop open not just at the language, because it’s definitely not Katherine. It’s a boy.
“Are you okay?” I say, realizing I can touch. I stand, drenched head to toe, and one look at the person I’d just taken out creates a pool of dread in my belly.
Carter Haines.
The Carter Haines I’d just told Maria about. The one that’s the star of the swim team, with the wingspan that can rival Michael Phelps. The one that moved in next door at age thirteen with a bad attitude, anger issues, and a reputation. Not just with girls, but with the law and often with the administration at school.
Carter Haines, the other lifeguard this summer, who I just slammed into and knocked into the water and now has a giant bruise on his supermodel face.
That Carter Haines.
The one that never, ever acknowledges me because I’m just too low on the social scale to even exist in his orbit.
“Sorry?” I say, knowing my face is a thousand shades of red. As red as his shorts that peek out of the water at his very tanned and toned waistline.
He scowls in reply, grabbing the gun out of the water and climbing out in a single, swift movement, giving me a view of his broad shoulders. My eyes linger on the jagged scar across his lower back. Water pours off his body and he storms off, passing Katherine, who of course has to nose her way into this.
She walks to the edge of the pool and asks, “Are you okay?”
I blink back hot, humiliated tears at and can’t stop myself from replying, “Like you care,” and swim off in the other direction
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