Lauren's Beach Crush (11 page)

“Well, maybe you should rethink that,” said Chrissy. “Because Frank is much more interesting than Charlie. Have you really not noticed that Charlie is kind of obnoxious? And not really very interesting? If you think
Frank is so fabulous, you should go out with him!”

Lauren shoved her lip gloss back together and then slammed it down on her dresser. “Okay, maybe we should stop talking about this. I like Charlie. You like Justin. I'll stop trying to make you like Frank, and you will stop saying bad things about Charlie. Deal?”

Chrissy sighed. Hadn't they essentially made this same deal at the beach?

“Deal,” she said finally.

They walked in silence toward Rudy's. Lauren glanced at Chrissy's casual denim shorts, cute black T-shirt, and neon pink flip-flops, and wished she'd gone that route. She felt stupid and overdressed in her skirt and cropped top and wedge sandals. Like she'd made way too much of an effort.

Her mind was a whirl. What if Chrissy was supermad at her? What if Chrissy decided to go back to school and tell all their friends about how Lauren had lied about Charlie, that Lauren was not going out with Charlie, nor had they ever been going out? The humiliation would be unbearable. Lauren wondered if she could transfer schools. Didn't kids do that all the time?

The closer they got to Rudy's, the more upset Lauren
felt. This beach vacation had not turned out at all the way she'd imagined.

And deep down, way deep inside her, a tiny voice whispered:
Charlie is kind of a jerk. And Frank is really sweet.
She tried ignoring the voice . . . but it kept going.
Maybe Chrissy is right about Charlie. Remember how he was kind of a bad sport in volleyball? Remember how uninterested he seemed in talking about anything? Maybe he's uninteresting.

He isn't! She almost said it out loud. The two girls were nearly at Rudy's. Then something Chrissy had said echoed in her mind.
Frank is much more interesting than Charlie.

Frank?

He was, actually. He was totally more interesting than Charlie. And funnier. And nicer. He was the one who offered to look for the phone and who came over to see if she was okay when Chrissy stormed off.

And in a way, Frank was just as cute as Charlie. Not the tall, athletic physique, broad shoulders, perfect hair kind of cute. But the interesting, funny, quirky good looks, I-don't-care-what-people-think confident kind of cute. Plus, he had those adorable freckles.

Wait a minute. Why was she thinking about Frank? Now she was totally and utterly confused. Did she have a crush on Frank? Or was she still in love with Charlie? She started to panic just as they were walking into Rudy's.

Charlie wasn't there. But Frank was, and so were the two Matts and Owen and Cody and Grant and also three little kids—two girls and a boy. They looked like they might be between four and seven years old. What were they doing there?

“Hey!” yelled Frank, waving wildly at the girls from the large table where they were all sitting. “Over here!”

The girls weaved their way through tables of people eating ice cream, toward their table.

“This is my sister and brother, Isabel and Josh, and that's our cousin, Natalie,” said Frank.

“I didn't know you had little brothers and sisters. They're cute,” said Chrissy, ruffling Isabel's dark, curly hair.

“We're not cute!” protested Josh.

“And not little!” added Isabel. Then she smiled up at Lauren. “You're pretty. I like your ballerina skirt.”

Lauren felt herself blush.

“Charlie isn't coming,” said Frank, looking everywhere
but at Lauren. “He had to go somewhere with his family for dinner.”

“That's fine!” said Lauren, way too quickly and eagerly.

“My dad gave me money for all of us to get ice cream,” said Frank, “since I'm taking my little brother and sister along. What can I get for you?”

“Strawberry frappé with whipped?” said Lauren.

“Double-scoop chocolate chunk and coconut?” said Chrissy.

“Coming right up,” said Frank. “If you don't mind watching the little guys.”

“We're not little!” shouted Isabel.

“He didn't mean you, silly,” said Lauren, scooching herself in to sit at their end of the table. She jerked a thumb in the direction of Frank's friends. “He meant them.”

She saw Frank grin before he turned and headed up toward the ice-cream counter.

“I'll go help him carry everything,” said Chrissy, and she followed Frank to the counter.

Lauren's brow furrowed.
Great. What if Chrissy suddenly decides to take my advice, and starts crushing
on Frank,
she worried. She put that thought out of her mind and decided to focus on the kids. She was pretty good with kids and they were generally a lot easier to talk to. “Who wants me to draw a picture of them?” she said to them.

“Me!”

“Me!”

“Me!”

Lauren picked up the cup of crayons from the table and turned over her paper place mat. “Hold still,” she said to Isabel, and began drawing.

Frank and Chrissy returned with their ice cream as she was halfway through drawing Josh.

“You're an awesome artist,” said Frank admiringly. He and Chrissy stared down at the drawing of Isabel that Lauren had already finished.

Chrissy didn't say anything. She took a seat down at the other end of the table and pulled out her cell phone to check her messages for what seemed to Lauren like the hundredth time that day. Lauren watched as Chrissy stared at her phone and appeared to read and then reread a text. Then she quickly closed it up again and shoved the phone into her purse. Lauren tried to make eye contact
with her, but Chrissy looked down at the floor.

“Everything okay?” asked Lauren, taking a delicious sip of strawberry frappé.

Chrissy nodded quickly. She's definitely still upset with me, Lauren thought, a knot forming in her stomach. Luckily, the little kids had plenty of energy to keep the conversation going, and no one seemed to notice the tension between the two girls.

A little while later, they'd finished their ice cream. The girls said good-bye to the group, thanked Frank for treating them, and headed home. “Looks like things worked out, right?” Frank whispered to Lauren, nodding at Chrissy.

“Oh, yeah, everything's fine,” Lauren whispered back. As if.

“See?” said Frank. “Sometimes things just work out.”

Lauren and Chrissy barely said a word as they walked home. Lauren tried striking up a conversation a few times, but Chrissy seemed to be a million miles away. They joined Lauren's parents in the sitting room and watched the end of a long, complicated spy movie of some sort. Then they climbed the stairs, got into bed, and turned out the light.

ON WEDNESDAY, THE GIRLS WENT TO THE BEACH
and tried to act as though everything was normal. But there was definitely tension in the air between them. Lauren grew more and more worried. At dinner, they both made an effort at polite conversation, but Lauren was sure her parents noticed something was wrong. Luckily, they didn't say anything. The four of them watched an old movie together, and then the girls went upstairs and went right to bed. Lauren fell asleep with a lump in her throat.

Thursday morning Lauren was awakened by a cardinal. It sat on the tree branch outside her window singing
prettyprettyprettyprettypretty!
over and over. Sun streamed in through the parted curtains. She closed her eyes again and stretched like a cat, savoring the anticipation of another beach day waiting to happen. And tonight
was the barbecue! It was hard to believe they would have to pack up and go home in two more days.

And then she remembered the fight, and that Chrissy was still mad at her. She realized right then that she had to fix things so they could enjoy the last couple of days of their beach vacation. Chrissy was too important to her—Lauren couldn't let her stay mad. They had to talk things out. She turned to look over at her friend, ready to apologize for everything.

Lauren realized that Chrissy wasn't in her bed and was instantly wide awake.

Two minutes later Lauren charged downstairs and into the kitchen, where her parents were sitting at the table reading the newspaper and drinking their coffee. Lauren was shocked at how calmly they sat there. Why hadn't they called the police? Organized search parties? What if Chrissy was hitchhiking her way back to New York and had been picked up by some crazy person?

“Where's Chrissy?” she asked, panic rising in her throat.

Her mother lowered her coffee cup and gaped at Lauren, still midswallow. Her father, who had just taken a large bite of toast, appeared not to have heard the tone of panic in Lauren's voice. He moved his lower jaw around
like a camel at an oasis, chewing his toast. A maddening three seconds ticked by before her mother finished swallowing her coffee and spoke.

“Oh, she was up early! She left a note that she was going out for a run.”

“And you let her go?”

Her parents both lowered their newspapers and stared at her.

“Honey,” said her dad, “it's not like East Harbor is a high-crime area. You can look at her note. She said she'd run along Crane's beach. There are tons of dog walkers out this early in the morning and virtually no traffic.”

“Is everything okay between you girls?” her mom asked gently. “I sensed trouble in paradise.”

“Everything's fine,” said Lauren. She couldn't look at her mom. She knew her mom didn't believe her. She sighed. “Well, not perfectly fine. We just had a teeny tiny disagreement.”

Lauren lowered herself into a chair. Maybe her dad was right. Maybe Chrissy was just going for a jog. They'd been jogging every few days together. But maybe not. Maybe she'd decided she couldn't spend one more minute with Lauren after the way Lauren had acted, and decided
to try to make her way back to New York. Would Chrissy do something like that?

“Here's her note,” said her mom. “She hasn't been gone very long. I heard her go out about ten minutes before I came downstairs.”

Lauren looked at the note:

Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Silver, I'm going for a run. I'll stick to Crane's Beach. Back soon. Chrissy : )

“Why don't you see if you can catch up to her and talk things out?” suggested her mom. “I bet it would feel really good to clear the air.”

Lauren looked at her mom. Why was her mom always so right? “Good idea. I'll try to catch up with her,” said Lauren, and ran upstairs to change into jogging clothes.

Five minutes later she was jogging toward Crane's Beach. It was a beautiful, breezy morning. She realized today was the Fourth of July. The day of the big barbeque. The only stores open on Main Street were the diner and the coffee shop. But she knew the rest of the stores and restaurants would soon be open too. The Fourth was probably the busiest shopping day of the whole year in this town. In a few hours, Main Street would be thronged with shoppers. She took the steps up toward the beach
two at a time, dashed across the sand toward the water, and stopped. Which way had Chrissy gone? There was a fifty-fifty chance she'd get it right.

She put a hand up to shield her gaze from the sun and looked to the right as far as she could. She saw joggers, dog walkers, a few people strolling and looking for shells and sea glass, but no Chrissy. She looked left. In the far distance, she could see the outcropping of rocks and beyond it, the dock. Wait. Was that a person, sitting on the end of the dock? It was hard to tell if anyone was there, let alone that it was Chrissy, because the sun was shining directly in her eyes. But the pier did seem to be a good spot for brooding. Lauren decided to take the chance and began jogging in that direction.

As she drew closer, she saw that it
was
a person sitting at the end of the pier. A few more steps, and it became clear that the person was Chrissy. Chrissy did not appear to have seen Lauren yet. She sat, dangling her legs over the side of the pier, her arms perched on the rung of the railing, her chin on her arms. She stared out at the ocean.

Chrissy did not turn around as Lauren walked down the pier toward her. Had she heard her? Did she not care? Was she still that mad?

Lauren stopped just behind Chrissy. “Hi,” she said in a small voice.

Chrissy turned. Her eyes were shiny. “Hi,” she said, and then turned back to look at the water.

Lauren sat down gingerly next to Chrissy. The two sat silently, staring out at the water. Lauren watched a bird strut around on a sleek black rock. Overhead, an osprey glided high above the water and then dove straight down, emerging with a silvery, wriggling fish in its talons. The girls watched it fly off.

“Are you still mad?” asked Lauren in a small voice.

“At you? No. I'm not mad.”

Lauren let out a breath of relief. But still, something wasn't right. “I would understand if you were. I'm sorry about being so focused on the Plan and on Charlie. I . . . I really like having you out here this summer. It's been so much fun. I guess sometimes I get so caught up in my plans that I forget to just enjoy things. I realized I've been talking about Charlie all summer and I don't even know much about Justin. So what's he like?”

Chrissy made a choking sound, and Lauren realized she was crying.

“Chrissy? What's the matter?”

Chrissy turned to Lauren, her eyes now brimming with tears. A tear trickled from the corner of her eye down her cheek. “He texted me. Two nights ago. When we were at Rudy's.”

Lauren nodded and waited.

“He said . . . he said he met a girl at the beach. A beach back home. In Malibu. And that they're going out now. He broke up with me.” She put her face down on her arms and sobbed quietly, her shoulders shaking.

Lauren reached out a hand and placed it gently on her back. She patted Chrissy. Then she pulled her hand away. What should she say? It was so hard to know how to respond. If it were a quiz in
Chic Chick
she would have three options. (A) Should she tell her good riddance, that Justin was probably a jerk for not appreciating what a great thing they had? (B) Should she say oh, don't worry, you'll find someone new really soon? Or (C) Should she just be quiet and supportive? Lauren closed her eyes and shook her head back and forth quickly. Chrissy was right. Lauren was starting to look at everything as a multiple choice quiz. She vowed to stop taking any more of those magazine quizzes, and to start doing and saying what felt right.