Hit the Beach (12 page)

Read Hit the Beach Online

Authors: Laura Dower

BOOK: Hit the Beach
3.42Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

And it was a long one.

Her friends were really getting into the blog-writing thing.

08-11

Good-bye Disneyland, Hello Northern California! We’re in Los Gatos finally at my Uncle Ron’s HUGE house. He is still talking about that other house he saw and Dad and Mom are STILL joking about renovating it. Whatever—Dad is always making these big plans that never turn into anything big. I’ll keep you posted if we decide to stay here (LOL—Like that would ever happen—we only just moved away)

SO … tomorrow is the big day when I meet up w/my old friend Julio again. You were right, Lindsay, I’m a teeny bit nervous. Okay, I take that back. I’m TOTALLY nervous. Aimee said it doesn’t have to be a big deal, but I don’t know. Isn’t it? After all, Julio is the one guy I ever really and truly kissed—and we kissed more than once. Well, not that much more, but still, you know what I mean. And it’s only been a year or so but I wonder if he’s changed. He had grown five inches the summer before I went to Far Hills. He could be a giant by now. My friend Paige says he’s definitely cuter than he was.

OK. Yes, yes, YES—I DO FEEL GUILTY. I know I should be thinking about Egg and not some old boyfriend. Well, not that Julio was ever really a boyfriend—but you know what I mean. I never imagined I would feel like this.

Half the reason I feel SO guilty though is b/c Egg has been sending me texts and e-mailing all week. I mean, he knows I’m seeing my old friends so it’s all good, isn’t it? Am I the worst person on the entire planet? FI…aka forget it (and I have to forget it or I’m doomed.)

All my old California BFFs seem exactly the same as when I left here. But I feel like I changed a little. Or maybe I’ve changed a lot? And we played a pickup game of soccer (my old pals and teammates) in the park and I thought I was going to M-E-L-T. It doesn’t seem like it’s that much hotter than Far Hills, but it is. And this morning I checked the Weather Channel and it’s only supposed to get HOTTER out here. Luckily, Uncle Ron has central AC. Whew. But hot out here is bad when it’s dry, which it is right now and that means there could be wildfires. Scary stuff. Chet’s funny though. He says he misses getting fried in all this heat. He’s so happy to be back. His old best friends James and Reynold and he went biking together and he had a blast. He also got a major sunburn. (Meanwhile on the Weather Channel, Maddie, the guy said there’s a hurricane going to hit Florida. Is that TRUE? Aren’t you right on the coast, Maddie? LMK!!!)

Sorry this is such a long, lo-o-ong blog entry but I had a lot to say. Of course I miss you three. Like Maddie always says, life is just way, WAY better knowing you BFFs exist. Peace out!

And I will def. keep you posted on you-know-who. But don’t tell Egg no matter what—you hear me, Aim???!

Madison couldn’t believe Fiona’s blog entry. She had to reread it just to make sure she hadn’t missed something. She wanted to reach right into her computer and grab Fiona and say
“What are you thinking going to see Julio?”
Madison knew that even if Fiona said she didn’t like her old crush anymore, she probably didn’t mean it. It wasn’t because Fiona was lying, exactly. But how could she possibly like Julio
and
Egg at the same time? That was like saying she liked Coke and Pepsi equally. There was no way.

As Madison surfed around TweenBlurt, Stephanie came to the door of Dad’s office, which was ajar. She knocked gently.

“Maddie?” Stephanie whispered. “Oh, I don’t want to disturb you with your files,” she said.

Madison motioned to her to come inside. “I’m disturbable. Wait. Is that a real word?”

“I forgot to tell you that your mom called last night,” Stephanie said, looking forlorn. “I should have said something, but … I was preoccupied. I forgot. No excuses.”

“It’s okay,” Madison said. “I’ll just call her back now.”

Stephanie still looked upset. “She misses you,” Stephanie said, her eyes looking a little bit pink. “She told me to tell you that.”

“Is everything okay, Stephanie?” Madison asked. She quickly thought again about the fight she’d heard the other morning. It was the second argument Dad and Stephanie had had since Madison had arrived.

“Oh, Maddie,” Stephanie shook her head gently. “Don’t worry. I’m just a little emotional these days.”

“Are you sick?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then what’s going on?”

Stephanie plopped herself down on the large club chair near the desk where Dad’s computer was set up. She took Madison’s hand in hers and breathed in deeply.

Madison wasn’t sure she wanted to hear this. Her head began to spin, like the Tilt-a-whirl carnival ride. What was Stephanie going to say? Were things not working out in the marriage to Dad? Was someone really sick of somebody? Was Stephanie sick of Madison?

“It’s my job,” Stephanie said plainly. “I got cut.”

“You mean fired?” Madison asked.

Stephanie nodded. “After all those years in the same place … it hit me hard, that’s all. Sometimes mornings are hardest. I don’t know why. Because I don’t have a job to go to—maybe that’s it.”

“Wow, losing your job, what a drag,” Madison said, trying her hardest to sound comforting. “Is Dad okay about it?”

“Your father is always okay when it comes to me,” Stephanie said. “It’s just that … well … we had plans, and this changes things.”

“What kind of plans? Changes what?”

Stephanie paused. “I should really let your father speak to you about all of this,” she said in her steadiest, calmest voice.

“Okay,” Madison replied, not sure what all the secrecy was about.

Stephanie kissed Madison on the top of the head and walked out of the room. She looked just as distressed as when she had first come in, but Madison told herself not to worry. Stephanie was good at taking care of herself. She’d get over those blues.

After Stephanie left, Madison remembered she owed Mom a phone call. She picked up the receiver and dialed Far Hills.

Mom picked up on the second ring.

“Hello, Mom?”

“Maddie? Where are you? I called but then I didn’t hear back from you and—”

“Sorry, Mom,” Madison assured her. “Nothing to worry about. I was just super busy with camp and all. Then Stephanie told me you called. …”

“I heard on the TV that there’s a major hurricane bearing down on the Atlantic. They think it may hit Florida. Have you heard anything more?”

“Not more than that,” Madison said.

“Okay, then things aren’t as bad as I thought,” Mom said.

“They’re not bad at all, Mom,” Madison said. “I made new friends. I even sort of like someone: this boy named Will.”

“What happened to Hart?”

“I still like Hart, of course,” Madison explained. “But …”

Mom started to laugh. “Okay, you don’t have to tell me everything. Shouldn’t you be at camp right now?”

“We’re leaving in a little while,” Madison said.

“Oh, honey bear. I’m sorry for overreacting. I guess I just miss you too much.”

“That’s okay, Mom,” Madison agreed. “I miss you too much, too.”

They both giggled.

“What’s on the agenda for today’s camp session?” Mom asked.

“Someone’s coming to lecture us about turtles. Then on Friday we’re going on a pontoon. We’re learning how to bird-watch. And next week it’s all about the turtle nests and—”

“Wow, I’m impressed,” Mom said.

Madison spied the digital clock in the office. It was time to go.

“It’s getting late. I’ll call you again soon,” Madison said quickly.

“Or E me,” Mom reminded her. “You can always E me.”

Madison hung up the phone, powered down Dad’s computer, and shut off the light in the room. She grabbed her orange bag and headed for Stephanie’s car. When she got there, it was clear that Stephanie had powdered her nose and around her eyes. She looked a lot less puffy.

The drive over to the ELC was long. Traffic on the one access road to the center was blocked for nearly a half hour. At nine o’clock, when Madison was supposed to be lining up for camp activities, she still sat in the air-conditioned SUV.

Madison hoped she wasn’t too late for the start of the camp day. It had taken her awhile to get used to the place.

Now that she liked it, she didn’t want to miss a thing.

Chapter 12

W
HEN EVERYONE HAD GATHERED
together in the Seahorse Auditorium, Leonard stood up at the microphone and introduced the morning’s special guest.

Her name was Myrtle Shelly, which was just right for someone who wore a sweater with a large turtle-shell insignia on the front, turtle-shaped earrings, a charm bracelet decorated with miniature turtles, and shoes with bright green, clip-on turtles. Madison guessed that Myrtle must have been at least seventy years old. She’d been watching turtle nesting habits along the coastline for decades. But alongside all the turtle trinkets, there was something about Myrtle that seemed …
familiar
. Madison couldn’t put her finger on it.

Before the presentation, Logan and Teeny started whispering. Madison wanted in on the joke, but she could barely hear them. Ann was in the way. She sat between Madison and the other members of the group like a roadblock.

“When I woke up this morning, I was so glad to see it was not raining hard again, weren’t you?” Ann asked.

“I guess,” Madison said, trying to avoid any kind of real conversation. She couldn’t believe that the second she arrived at camp for the day she had ended up paired up with Ann again. How had that happened?

“I talked to Will on the phone last night,” Ann said in a low voice.

“Oh,” Madison turned to her, eyes wide. “That’s nice.”

“He called me to find out what was going on at camp today. He thought we were supposed to bring show-and-tell things. I guess he figured I would know what we were doing.”

“I guess,” Madison said. “Um … We should really try to pay attention now, right?” Madison pointed in the direction of the lectern.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, sure,” Ann said.

Myrtle stood up at the lectern.

“Hello, my dears,” she said, her voice deep and strong. She didn’t need a microphone. She walked around the stage as she spoke. “Before I start to tell you all my turtle tales, I want to clarify one thing that I’ve been clarifying for years: my name, Myrtle Shelly, does
indeed
sound like turtle shells. You didn’t hear wrong. And I didn’t plan it that way, but it’s been good fun all these years, so enjoy it. Now that we’ve gotten that settled …”

The crowd of campers applauded; some giggled. Myrtle showed the first slide. It was a picture of a beach overrun with turtles.

Madison felt Ann lean in.

“So, did
you
have a good night last night?” Ann whispered.

“Huh?” Madison couldn’t disguise the annoyance in her voice.

“Did. You. Have. A. Good. Night?” Ann repeated, emphasizing every single word.

“Shouldn’t we be paying attention?” Madison asked curtly. She leaned on her opposite elbow and sighed.

“Okay, I get it,” Ann said. “You don’t want to talk.”

“No, I just want to listen,” Madison said, quietly indicating the stage. “Don’t you?”

Ann turned the opposite way. She was pouting a little bit; Madison could tell.

Up on stage, Myrtle wasn’t saying much to start. She let the photos do the talking.

Thankfully, Ann finally focused on the presentation, too.

Clicking through a sequence of slides, Myrtle rattled off each turtle fact with a dramatic flourish. She started every sentence with a flamboyant, “And did
you
know …?” and ended every sentence with a joke. Madison laughed at most of them. Her dad would have loved them all.

“Did you know that Ridley, the smallest sea turtle, weighs about a hundred pounds, but the leatherback weighs almost thirteen hundred pounds? Now, that’s a lot of turtle soup!”

The campers laughed, too, happy to learn as much as possible about the turtles before the following week. That was when all six groups would head for the beach to see
actual
hatchlings appear from the turtle nests dotting the coast. It would be the payoff camp experience, after two weeks of hard work.

“Now,” Myrtle explained in her croaky voice, “the Indian River coast is home to many different breeds of nesting turtles. We try to be as welcoming and protecting as possible.”

Madison took it all in. One day, she hoped to be able to be as smart as Myrtle was, standing up in front of other people, able to share her knowledge of animals and the environment and … to make a difference. She thought back to her plane ride down to Florida, about sitting next to Walton, who called himself Wally. She remembered one of the many important things Wally had said:
If you just stop
a
nd listen, you can change the world, you know.

Up on the screen behind Myrtle and the lectern, a slide flashed showing a large turtle with a dark, rubbery-looking shell.

“This is the leatherback turtle,” Myrtle explained. “It’s the most active of all sea turtles. It dives thousands of feet into the water …”

“Remember that scene from
Finding Nemo
?” Madison heard Teeny whisper to Logan. He went on to recall the scene in the animated movie in which a large group of turtles traveled through the ocean.


Dude
,” Logan grunted back, imitating one of the turtles from the movie.

Both boys laughed. Madison laughed to herself, too. Logan was funny; almost as funny as Egg. Madison wondered what Egg was doing just then. Was he swimming at the pool with—
sigh
—Hart? Madison still pined for her BFFs a little, but she realized that the Egrets were good friends to have around, too.

Even Ann.

“The turtle you are looking at now,” Myrtle continued, pointing to the screen and trying to get everyone’s attention, “is the green turtle. There have been sightings of up to fifteen hundred nests each year, although most nest on islands in the Caribbean Ocean. Many years ago, I had the good fortune to witness one of the green turtles’ nests with my husband, Walton, a researcher and writer …”

All at once, the sound of ten dozen pinball machines went off inside Madison’s head. How could she have been so dumb? This was Myrtle, the same Myrtle that Walton, the man from the plane, had told her about. Duh! This was
the
Myrtle. Madison had always believed that coincidences were very good luck, but this was a doozy. How could it have taken her so long to see the connection?

Other books

Dead Letter by Benjamin Descovich
Hawk Moon by Gorman, Ed
Primary Target (1999) by Weber, Joe - Dalton, Sullivan 01
Letters to Penthouse XXXIV by Penthouse International
Every Little Kiss by Kim Amos