Welcome to Dog Beach (22 page)

The next morning, everything seems clearer. I'm
not sure why. It's one of those rare mornings when I hop out of bed feeling refreshed and rejuvenated.

I step outside the way I always do first thing in the morning. In the city, you can't just go outside for a second. It's a whole process—going down the hallway, into the elevator, down to the lobby, and outside.

But here I can walk straight out the back door and breathe in the ocean air, still in my pajamas. I never take that for granted. Today, though, the air seems fresher than usual. Maybe it was the talk with Mr. Brookfield, or maybe it was that Bennett stopped by and seemed to actually care about what was happening with Micayla and me. But the combination of everything has given me a whole new outlook.

My mom is in the kitchen making pancakes, and my dad
used our juicer for fresh-squeezed orange juice. I'm not sure what it is, but everything seems delightful.

And as I'm sitting down at the table, eating my mom's famous made-from-scratch pancakes with maple butter on the side, it occurs to me. It's like an epiphany, but an epiphany that's been there the whole time, just waiting for me to realize it.

It's so simple, really. But I know why I've been so mixed up about everything. Because I've been keeping all these confusing feelings to myself. The same way that Mr. Brookfield never really told anyone how much he missed the movies, how he never told anyone that the Scream was a big part of his life.

I need to tell Micayla that the whole year-rounder thing feels like a big change. But the person the change will affect the most is Micayla, not me. And that I'll always be here for her if she wants to talk. And if she doesn't want to talk, that's okay too.

I need to get up the courage and tell Bennett myself how I'm feeling.

And probably the first thing I need to do is be honest with Amber about Marilyn Monroe and Mornings. I'll never feel okay with everything until I fess up about what happened.

After I finish my pancakes, I run upstairs to change into shorts and a T-shirt. But I pack a bathing suit and a towel just in case I find time for a swim later in the day. I really doubt it will happen, since I still have to make up with Micayla,
and that could take a while. But on Seagate you should never leave home without a bathing suit. Micayla and I used to swim at least once a day. And then things got busy with the dogs and weird between us. And everything felt different.

Different isn't always bad, though. It's comfortable when things stay the same, but comfortable can also mean boring, and different can also mean exciting. It's all in the way you look at it. Plus, it's not all black and white. Different doesn't have to be totally different; it can be just a little bit different. Like with Calvin and Claire coming this summer. It was still Seagate, just Seagate with a couple additions.

The new days can still be a little bit like the old days, I think, as long as you make room for new traditions too.

I stop at Claire's first to tell her about my plan to talk to Amber. I'm not going to force her to come too, but I want to let her know what I'm doing.

I knock on the door a few times, but no one answers. Finally I decide just to go in. It makes sense that they didn't hear the knocking, because Claire and Mr. Brookfield are sitting on the living room couch listening to the Scream.

“Good morning!” Mr. Brookfield says, all cheerful. “Are you hungry? We have fresh-baked muffins.”

“I just had pancakes,” I tell them. “But thank you.”

Claire pats the couch, so I sit down next to her, and for the next few minutes we just keep listening to the Scream over and over, like we do at our pizza parties. Only this time, there's no talking over it. We're just sitting here quietly.

Mr. Brookfield stops the recording. “Now you're awake, right, Claire?”

She nods. “We started a new morning tradition,” she tells me. “We listen to the Scream together. It really wakes us up.”

“Yeah. I can imagine.”

“It's like a wake-up call to get up from sleeping, and also a wake-up call to start the day and do something extreme,” Claire says. “I can't really explain it. So we listen to the Scream, and then we scream!”

“I like it. I think that's really cool.”

“Thank you,” Mr. Brookfield says. “It's a way to appreciate something old and make it new at the same time.” He winks at me.

If I knew how to wink, I would wink back. I hope he knows how much our conversations have changed the way I think about things.

“We have to go tell Amber what happened,” I say to Claire. “I can't live with the guilt.”

“But MM is fine.” Claire widens her eyes at me like I'm a crazy person, and I get the sense that she wants me to keep quiet and not talk about the incident anymore in front of her grandfather. “It wasn't that big of a deal. And Beverly is old; she'll forget about it.”

“You know how you just say what's on your mind?” I remind Claire. “Well, I'm trying to be more like that.”

There's a moment where we just look at each other. Then Claire nods slowly, all proud of herself. “Well, when you say
it like that, I guess I'm in. I'll be down in a minute.”

She runs up the stairs, and I sit on Mr. Brookfield's couch and look at his collection of tiny director's chairs.

“Feeling any better about things?” he asks me, picking up his mug of steaming coffee.

I shrug. “Maybe a little bit. I'm going to think about the Scream wake-up call. Maybe I need something like that in my life too.”

“You can join us anytime,” he says. “It's done wonders for my little Claire.”

He's right about that. When I think about Claire at the beginning of the summer and of her now, she seems like a completely different person. Her surly, angry personality has been washed away.

She's still honest—she says whatever's on her mind, even if it's rude or embarrassing. But her attitude has changed.

Maybe the Seagate air was a remedy for her grumpiness, or maybe it was quality time with her grandfather. I'm not sure. But the new Claire is way better than the old Claire. I guess that's an example of change being a really good thing.

Claire and I walk over to Marilyn Monroe's house totally silently. I wonder if she's as nervous as I am.

“Hi, girls, you here to get Mari?” Amber asks, greeting us at the door. She's in yoga pants, with some kind of workout video on the TV behind her. “You're early. Didn't we say noon?”

“Yeah. We, um, I mean, I wanted to talk to you for a second,” I tell her.

“Sure. Come in.”

Amber turns off the workout DVD and sits with us on the couch. Hudson's toys are thrown all around the room. Marilyn Monroe is sleeping under the kitchen table, and I know how much she values her naps. It would be nice to pet her right now, but I don't want to wake her up.

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you this last night,” I start. “But Marilyn Monroe sort of broke into Mornings yesterday, and Beverly's really mad about it, and you probably can't ever go back there with Marilyn Monroe again. We probably shouldn't have taken her there, but we thought it would be a special treat. I used to do it all the time with my dog, Danish. Anyway, I guess she was so excited, she just stormed in and hopped up onto an old lady's lap and then ripped the tablecloth off. Well, maybe that was my fault, because it happened when I tried to take her off the lady's lap. Actually, maybe it's all my fault, because I shouldn't have taken her there in the first place.”

“I see.” Amber pauses to think for a minute, looking a little bit confused. But then after a long moment she starts laughing. Really laughing. Claire cracks up next. And then I start laughing too. When one of us laughs, we both laugh. Usually uncontrollably.

“My Mari wants what she wants. She's an independent woman,” Amber says. “I'm disappointed she stormed in, but I'm glad you told me.”

“I'm really sorry,” I say again.

“Me too,” Claire adds.

“I know, and I appreciate that.” Amber smiles. “We all make mistakes. Once, I left my son behind at the yoga studio. He was napping in the back room, and I just left without him.” She shakes her head like she can't believe how dumb she was. “I never told my husband,” she whispers.

“I'm trying to be more honest,” I tell her. “And not hide my feelings so much.”

Claire nudges me with her arm and gives me a look that says I'm talking too much and Amber doesn't want to hear this.

I guess there's a balance, and I haven't found it yet.

But we sit and talk with Amber for a little while longer, and she tells us that she still gets in fights with her friends. I'm not sure if that's supposed to make us feel better or worse, but it's interesting to hear about.

We end up taking Marilyn Monroe a little early and then going to pick up Oscar and Atticus. Bennett and Calvin are picking up the others today.

“That was easier than I thought,” Claire says.

“You didn't say anything!”

“Yeah, I mean, easier for you.” She grins. “So your next project is …?”

“Micayla. I have to fix things with Micayla,” I say. “Let's take the dogs and stop at her house. You can wait outside. I can't have you laughing and distracting me.”

“Fair enough,” Claire says. “My laugh is pretty powerful.”
She bursts into some weird Wicked Witch of the West laugh, and we both crack up again.

Maybe Claire changed. Or maybe I changed. Or maybe we both did. Regardless, I don't know how it's possible that I ever hated her.

On the walk to Micayla's, my head is full of ideas.
Ideas about what I'm going to say to her to make things right, ideas about how I'll eventually talk to Bennett. And an idea for Mr. Brookfield too. Claire and Mr. Brookfield's new morning Scream tradition made me think of it, and I want to tell Claire, but I'm worried she'll think it's dumb. And she's not afraid to tell me when she thinks something's dumb.

We're friends now, but I'm still a little scared of her. That makes sense, though. I don't think people could ever change completely, if we'd even want them to.

“I just timed it,” she says, breaking me out of my thoughts.

“Timed what?”

Claire looks at me, but I don't meet her gaze. “The amount of time you've been silent. One minute, eight seconds. Something must be on your mind. So spill.”

I don't say anything right away.

“Oh Lordy,” she groans. “Not again. I thought you were done with being keep-things-to-yourself Remy. I thought you were going to speak your mind now!”

I laugh. “Okay. Promise you'll have an open mind?”

“Suuuuure,” she says, sounding reluctant.

“Well, do you know about Seagate Halloween?” I ask.

“Remy, it's only August.”

I nod. “Yeah, I know. But Seagate Halloween is Labor Day weekend. It's a huge tradition. There's a big parade and people dress up and then we eat all the candy we can. That's it. No trick-or-treating or anything.”

“So it's basically a big costume party?” Claire asks.

“Yeah. But the best costume party you've ever been to.”

Claire bends down to clean up after Oscar. “So what's your idea?”

“Well, here's the thing. For all the past years, we did Seagate Halloween exactly the same. Same costumes, same traditions, everything the same. And that was kind of what made it so awesome.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, I've realized that things can't always stay the same. We're forced to change. And I think we can make a new addition to Seagate Halloween!”

“Oh-kay.” Claire looks nearly ready to roll her eyes. I need to get to the point.

“Here's the idea: Your grandpa starts the parade with
his scream. We make a little introduction and tell everyone who he is, and then he screams! I thought about adding the Scream to the Sandcastle Contest, but this makes way more sense.”

“Go on.”

“He and I had this whole talk about bringing your past into your present but not too much and not dwelling on it and all that.” I start speed-talking, a little afraid Claire will shoot down my idea before I say it all. “And I think this is exactly in that spirit! Old things and new traditions! And it's Halloween, so a scream fits!”

I hold my breath and wait to hear what she'll say.

“I like it,” Claire says. “It'll be like he's a celebrity finally.”

“Good. As long as you're on board, we can make it happen!”

“Well, I don't know about that. But okay.” She pauses for a second. “I have an idea to add to your idea. Ready?”

I nod.

“Y'know how every Sunday on Seagate they show movies on the lawn behind the stadium?”

“Uh-huh.”

“So maybe in the weeks leading up to Seagate Halloween, they can show scary movies, the ones with my grandpa's scream.” She looks at me, and I swear this must be the most excited I've seen her since the day she showed me her new jeans. “And then people can hear it, and they'll recognize it at the parade. And then they'll realize that he really is famous!”