Lauren's Beach Crush (5 page)

Chrissy laughed and gently cut Lauren off. “Okay, I promise to think about it. In support of your plan. And in support of you. But like I said, my heart belongs to Justin! You should know what that's like. It would be like me asking you to stop having a crush on Charlie.”

“Never!” Lauren cried.

“See?” said Chrissy laughing.

Still, Lauren was happy that Chrissy promised to think about it. She thought about the Fourth of July barbecue and how much fun all four of them would have, and sighed happily. “I just can't help it. I took a quiz in my magazine—it says I'm a ‘hopeless romantic.' ”

Chrissy laughed again and shook her head. “That sounds about right.”

Lauren linked her arm in Chrissy's as they headed up the wooden boardwalk and exited the beach. “This is going to be an awesome vacation,” she said. “I can just tell. Tomorrow, we can initiate Operation Cell Phone.” And then Lauren added silently to herself
and Operation Get Chrissy to Forget Justin and Fall for Frank!

“SO I'VE BEEN DOING SOME STUDYING,” SAID LAUREN
the next morning as the girls packed their beach bags up in Lauren's room.

“Studying?” asked Chrissy, bewildered. “Did you tackle that math packet already?”

“Not for school,” laughed Lauren. “Studying up on sports. I've been reading the sports section of the paper practically every day since last summer. And I have a how-to book on Frisbee, so I now know how to throw, sort of. I have determined that Charlie has to be either a Mets or a Yankees fan, because he's from New York, so I studied both teams. See, the Mets are in the National League, and the Yankees are in the American League, so it's a fifty-fifty shot which team he roots for. And also I found this on my parents' book shelf.” She held up a thick book for Chrissy to see.

“
Moby-Dick
?” asked Chrissy, puzzled.

“Yep. Last summer I saw Charlie reading some really big book at the beach. So I know he's an intellectual. I figured this would impress him.”

Chrissy stopped rolling up her towel and looked at Lauren. “Why do you need to pretend? I mean, you're already smart. And you love baseball. But I happen to know you're a hardcore Yankees fan. And don't you love reading mysteries? What's wrong with that?”

“Fun mystery books don't send the same message as nineteenth-century novels,” Lauren explained patiently. “And I like baseball but I don't know a lot about any other sports. And guys talk sports with one another. Talking about sports will be my icebreaker. You totally need to have one of those. Charlie will be impressed by my knowledge of baseball and Frisbee and it will give us something to talk about.”

“Oh . . . kay,” said Chrissy, drawing the word out slowly.

“Do you want to see my flowchart?”

“Oh yeah, your flowchart,” said Chrissy. “You mentioned something about that before.”

Lauren pulled the card out from under a pile of magazines on the bedside table and showed it to Chrissy. “It's my plan. My plan to start a real conversation with
him, plus give him my number at the same time. It's foolproof. I've got every possible angle covered.”

Chrissy glanced down at it. Her eyes flickered over the card as she read it. She smiled and handed it back to Lauren, but didn't say anything.

It was a bright, sunny day, warm but not sweltering—perfect beach weather. They walked through town and headed toward Crane's Beach, where they'd seen the boys the previous afternoon.

It was much more crowded, but Lauren spotted Charlie almost at once. It was as though her eyes were drawn to him by an unseen power. He was with his friends again, but this time they were playing what appeared to be an intense game of badminton. Today he wore black swim trunks instead of the red ones he'd had on yesterday. Was he still wearing Chrissy's Band-Aid? She couldn't see, but she secretly hoped he had changed it and was wearing a new one.

“There they are,” said Lauren to Chrissy, gesturing with a quick jerk of her chin.

Chrissy turned to see the boys, just as Charlie laid out horizontally, the arm with the racket stretched to its limit, and thwacked the birdie back over the net before landing face down in the sand.

“Oof,” said Chrissy, wincing, as she and Lauren watched Charlie pick himself up and dust the sand from his front. “That just didn't seem worth it.”

“He's really into sports,” said Lauren, shaking her head admiringly. “Come on. Let's pretend we haven't seen them and spread our blanket near theirs. I think I know which towels are theirs. I made a note of them from last summer.”

There was a good space on the far side of the boys' towels, closer to the water, and the girls spread out their blanket, studiously avoiding looking in the boys' direction.

“Has he seen us?” asked Lauren through the side of her mouth.

“I don't think so,” said Chrissy.

“Well, guess I'll get some reading done, then,” said Lauren with a sigh. She settled back on her side of the blanket, propped her head against her tote bag, and opened up
Moby-Dick
.

“How is it?” asked Chrissy a few minutes later, turning a page of her paperback.

Lauren shifted uncomfortably. The truth was, she'd read the same line over and over again and was having a hard time focusing. “It's okay. But the book is so heavy,
I can't really hold it up to read for very long without my arms starting to ache . . . ” She was dying to start the novel she packed. Her English teacher had recommended it and it seemed so good. But, she reminded herself, she needed to stay on plan. On the Plan. And the Plan called for
Moby-Dick
.

“Psst! They're coming!” hissed Chrissy.

Lauren's heart gave a wallop inside her chest. She clutched the book tighter and raised it up to her face, hoping Charlie would see the title and realize how smart she was. He'd probably already read it, and maybe he would want to discuss it with her over strawberry frappés next week.

Out of the corner of her eye (thank goodness for sunglasses, which made it easy to be discreet while spying), Lauren saw the boys arrive at their towels. “Are you ready for Operation Cell Phone?” Lauren whispered to Chrissy.

“Yes, sir,” said Chrissy.

“Let's review,” said Lauren. “What happens first?”

“You sit up. You reach casually into your bag. Then you start to freak out a little bit,” said Chrissy. “You pull everything out of your bag. I sit up and start helping you look for whatever is missing. Then you oh-so-casually
pretend you see the guys sitting near us. You walk over. You ask Charlie if he has a cell phone you can borrow to call yours, because you think it might be buried somewhere in all our stuff. The rest is . . . future history.”

“Exactly,” said Lauren. “Commence phase one now.”

“Um, but there's one small problem,” said Chrissy.

“What?”

“Looks like the guys are heading into the water for a swim.”

Lauren darted a glance sideways. Chrissy was right! The guys were heading to the water. She groaned softly. “What is with boys these days?” she demanded. “Don't they ever sit still?” She pondered. She visualized her flowchart. What should she do now? Plan, she thought to herself. A plan was contingent on one thing happening, then another. They were swimming now. So what would happen after they swam? Then she had it.

“Let's go to the snack bar,” said Lauren. “Chances are when they get out of the water they'll be thirsty.”

“Good plan,” agreed Chrissy.

The snack bar was small, with just six weather-beaten tables near it. But it served hot dogs, hamburgers, and fries, as well as a wide variety of drinks and ice-cream
bars. There were six stools at the shady Formica counter, and two friendly, older teenage guys working behind it. Only two of the stools were taken, by a father and his tiny daughter, who was eating a drippy Popsicle. Chrissy and Lauren took the two middle seats, leaving empty ones on either side. They ordered lemonades.

“How long do you think we should wait for them?” asked Chrissy after they'd been sitting about ten minutes, drinking their lemonades very slowly. The father and daughter left, leaving them the only ones at the counter. Two families showed up, pulled two tables together, and sat down. Chrissy sighed and looked around.

“Five more minutes?” suggested Lauren. “They have to be thirsty after all that badminton, right? I mean—” She stopped, swiveling back around to face the counter. “They're coming!” she hissed. “Quick! Start talking sports!”

“Sports?” Chrissy hissed back. “I don't know anything about—”

“So, how 'bout that off-season trade by the Knicks, huh?” said Lauren loudly. She felt someone approach the counter on her other side. “Why would they ever give up such a quality point guard for a mediocre small forward?”

“Hey!” said a boy's voice at Lauren's left elbow. She jumped. And turned.

It was Frank.

“I disagree. He's a shoot-first point guard, and that's not what we need right now,” said Frank.

“What?” said Lauren. Was he talking to her? Oh! Oh no! He was talking sports back to her! Where was Charlie? Had he even heard what she'd said? “Oh,” she said, flustered. “Um . . . yeah, well, that's debatable.”

“You're Frank, right?” said Chrissy, smoothly interrupting the awkward moment. Lauren had never felt more grateful to someone in her entire life.

“Yep, I'm Frank,” said Frank. He seemed pleased to be remembered. “Frank Fowler.”

Lauren realized that Charlie was now on Chrissy's other side. She heard Charlie order two hot dogs and a lemonade. He liked lemonade . . . something else they had in common! Frank ordered large fries and a soda. Lauren felt Chrissy nudge her leg under the counter, and knew she had to say something.

“So,” she said, addressing Charlie, turning her back a little to Frank. “I'm reading
Moby-Dick
. It's . . . it's awesome. It's . . . about this whale.” As soon as the
words were out of her mouth she regretted them. Stupid! What a stupid conversation opener! She should have talked sports, but that dumb Frank had thrown her off by responding to her icebreaker. Oh the Plan . . . what was the Plan? The Plan was Operation Cell Phone. So why was she talking about sports already? She knew if she didn't follow the Plan it would be a mess . . .

Charlie leaned forward, past Chrissy, and gave Lauren a quizzical look, raising one eyebrow.

“
Moby-Dick
?” Frank repeated. “My older brother read that in college last year. That's pretty serious for beach reading, no?”

“Oh, well, yeah, but I—”

“Order up!” yelled one of the guys behind the counter. The other one slid Frank's fries and drink to him on Lauren's left, and the first one slid Charlie's hot dogs and lemonade to him on the other side of Chrissy.

“Well, see you guys,” said Frank.

Charlie didn't say anything, but he followed Frank out of the snack area, cramming half a hot dog into his mouth as he walked.

Lauren groaned and slowly lowered her face down to the counter, where she rested her forehead on it. “Why
did I have to talk about
Moby-Dick
?” she moaned.

Chrissy patted her back. “It's okay,” she said. “But I think you should just be yourself from now on.”

Lauren picked her head up and looked at Chrissy. “Myself? Why would an awesome, supersmart guy like Charlie want to hang out with me? I have to show him that there's more to me than meets the eye, and that we have a lot in common. Come on. Let's go try Operation Cell Phone before they go back into the water or start playing some new sport.” She thought she heard Chrissy sigh again. “What?” she asked.

“Nothing,” said Chrissy.

When they got back to their stuff, Lauren walked Chrissy through the plan one more time. “So then I go over there, and I tell them I've lost my phone and ask Charlie if he would mind coming over here to call it. And then I make a flirtatious comment about how now he has my number, and maybe he should call me sometime. Got it?”

“Got it,” said Chrissy. “But you'd better hurry, because they look like they're getting ready to get up again and go swimming or something.”

Lauren scrambled to her feet, readjusting her bathing suit and shaking out her hair so it was just right. “Okay,
here goes,” she said firmly, and turned and marched toward the boys.

“Wait, Laur!” called Chrissy.

But Lauren was almost at the boys' towels. Too late to turn back now. She figured Chrissy was going to give her another pep talk about how she should be herself and not try to talk about topics she knew nothing about. Whatever.

She cleared her throat. “Um, hi, guys,” she said, stopping and looking down at them. The boys had been passing around a bottle of sunblock. Charlie looked up, shielding his eyes from the sun to see her.

“Hey. Karen, right?”

“Um, close. Lauren.” She gulped, trying to steady herself. He had almost remembered her name! Do. Not. Screw. This. Up. “So I have a favor to ask you,” she said, waving her hand. Then she froze, horrified.

She was holding her cell phone in her hand. She'd forgotten to “hide” it before walking over here. That must have been what Chrissy had wanted to say to her. Why hadn't Chrissy tried harder to get her attention! Now what was she going to say? She couldn't exactly ask them to help her find her lost cell phone when there it was in her hand!

“What's up?” asked Charlie.

Think fast. Think fast. “Um, I was wondering if one of you might have . . . might have . . . ” Think. Think. Aha! “—might have a portable radio I could borrow? To check the score of the Yankee game?”

“No, sorry,” said Charlie. “But why don't you just check on your phone? Don't you have internet?”