Over It (The Kiss Off #2) (10 page)

Everyone was laughing and peering toward the shore. I puffed up my chest and looked around the group with a smarmy smile.

“Go on then, show us this new, designer bikini,” Mads said. “Where’d you get it from?”

“Target,” I said and they all laughed some more. It
was
pretty cute. It was my favorite bikini so of course I’d brought it. I’d bought it two summers ago when rainbow stripes were all the rage (at least to me they were) and not only that, there were silver stars speckled all over it.

I opened my arms wide to give everyone a good look, and, with my back to the ocean, I had no idea that the biggest wave of the day was coming for me.

Kind of ruined the moment a bit.

It crashed two or three feet above my head and I rolled uncontrollably under the water for a few seconds; I know I was upside down at one point because my feet found air. Finally I came up again, rubbing my eyes and blowing water out of my burning nose. A piece of seaweed stuck to my shoulder and I hurled it away, accidently right toward an oncoming body boarder. He stared at me, wide–eyed, as he sailed past.

Yes, I’d thrown seaweed at him but that reaction seemed a little extreme.

There were a couple of gasps and someone cleared their throat. I turned around to face my friends again and Hamish covered his eyes.

“Poppy!” Mads squealed.

Gordo quickly turned away and gave Lyle a shove to the shoulder. Gave him a shove to stop him from staring at my chest.

I glanced down at my rainbow bikini top and… oh my God…

It. Was. Gone.

My eyes practically bugged from my head, my shoulders clenched and I slapped my arms across my torso.

Gone, it was gone, that freaking wave had stolen my bikini!

“Where is it? Can anybody see it?” I shrieked. They all started jogging awkwardly through the water and diving, but they all came up empty.

I stared in horror at the beach. The junior high girls were standing up, looking excited. They were laughing about something and looking in my direction.

Just. Great. While everyone else got closer to shore, hoping to spot it as soon as it washed up on the sand, I strode deeper, further from the beach, further from all those stupid, prying eyes.

“You okay?” Gordo said. He backed into the ocean after me, deeper into the water.

“Not really,” I said, ducking low in the water so that I was covered up to my neck. I kept my arms firmly clamped over my chest.

“I get that.”

“What are you doing?” I asked as he stopped moving about six feet in front of me.

“I thought you might need a human shield.”

My heart exploded with relief. “You thought right.”

“Uh–oh…” he said.

“What?”

He pointed to the beach where a half–man, half–bear (judging by the amount of hair on him) stood in the shallows, hollering and laughing. He held up something brightly colored and spun it around his head in glee.

“Noooooo,” I said.

The man spotted Mads, Hamish and one of the Himbos as they charged out of the water toward him.

He bolted.

With my favorite bikini top.

Before they were even out of the water he was disappearing through the dunes and down the path toward the camp site, but my friends were like dogs on the hunt and ran after him.

I swore. I swore like a sailor and Gordo commented that he was learning a few new words. It just made me swear some more.

“What do I do now?” I said. “I can’t believe this. I
can’t
believe it. I can’t get out of the water like this! Wave.” I rode the wave up and over the other side, arms clamped against my chest and watched as Gordo did the same – rode the wave, I mean. With his back to the ocean, he was likely to get pummelled if I didn’t say anything; it was the least I could do for my human shield.

“Chill out, for a bit,” Gordo said. “Your friends have got your back. Enjoy the sunshine. Let’s talk about something else and distract you. Unless this is weird and you want me to go?”

“Don’t leave me!” I eyed nearby swimmers who were oblivious to my debacle and coming ever closer as they enjoyed their morning dip. I floated my way closer to Gordo’s back. The next wave caught me off–guard and I panicked as it started to lift me up again. I was close enough already. I dug my toes into the sand to try and stop it happening but I couldn’t; the wave carried me closer again, I flapped my arms about in the water, trying to keep me back but I rammed into Gordo’s back, nearly knocking him off his feet.

For a second he glanced behind him with surprise but quickly looked forward again when discovering I was practically on top of him, arms flapping and boobs doing the same.

“Sorry,” I said, swimming back a few feet, everything below my neck underwater.

“That’s okay,” he said, “was that your titties that just hit-?”

“No!” I said quickly. My face was hot, really hot.

Sometimes I hated my life.

Something brushed against my leg and I screamed and splashed and hopped up and down until I realized it was just a reed or something.

“Look, would it make you more comfortable if ... hell, I’ll just do it.”

I tilted my head in confusion. He leaned forward, made some sort of movements underwater and then turned around and held his board shorts out in front of him. “Is that better?” he asked. “We’re even now.” He grinned.

“No,” I said, backing away some more. I swore, peered around him at the beach and the number of sun lovers that were now staring in our direction. “No–no–no, are you crazy?” I asked. This wasn’t happening. “
Put them back on right now.
”

His smile drooped. “What’s the big-”

“
Now. On
,” I said, “
Put them back on. Now. Right now.
.”

“Come on, it’s funny,” he said. “Isn’t it funny?”

“Poppy!” Mads called out as she hurried through the water, huffing and puffing toward us, my towel draped over her shoulder. Gordo leaned forward again, and it seemed like he was putting his shorts back on.

“Oh thank God,” I said and floated toward Mads.

“Sorry Poppy, we lost him. That cave man was fast.” She held the towel open and I stood up, securing it around myself, I leaned my forehead against her shoulder with relief.

“You’re my hero,” I said, “you couldn’t have brought my tee shirt, though?”

“Oh,” Mads said, “yeah, that probably would have been better.”

The three of us strode out of the water. A crowd had built up. A crowd with cameras and phones. There was some laughter, some mutterings and I closed my eyes for a moment and took a deep breath as I heard my name ripple throughout the crowd.

I refused to look at even one of them.

Hamish appeared on the dunes with all our beach stuff and led the way back to camp.

“Back off,” Mads said, her arms wrapped protectively around me as some onlookers closed in.

“Nothing to see here, people,” Gordo said, “make a path. Stop taking photos. Stop it. Please stop.
Will you just stop
?”

“Gordo
come on
,” I said, hearing the frustration in his voice. The last thing either of us needed was for him to punch someone out and make this whole thing a hundred times worse.

Mads and I power–walked over the dunes, onto the path and toward our camp site. Hamish was already standing in front of my tent with the flap unzipped. Mads and I dived in and I could hear Hamish zipping it back up again before I’d even turned around.

I rummaged in my bag and put on the first tank top I found, then I curled up into a pathetic, humiliated and somewhat traumatized ball on top of my sleeping bag and shoved my pillow over my head.

“Don’t do that,” Mads said gently, “you’ll get it all wet.”

Oh yeah. My hair was a mass of wet salt and sand.

“All this because of one song, huh?” Hamish said from outside, his shadow looming over the tent.

“I know, right?” Mads called out.

I thought it was more the famous boyfriend that did me in. I sat up and pouted. “Is it home time?”

Mads patted my knee. “In hindsight, this was probably a stupid idea,” she said to me. “I mean this is a total celebrity spotting event. Everyone’s on the lookout for them. Celebrity Dirt Dot Com is running a competition for who can take the most photos of different celebrities at Bay Fest.”

“What?” I said. “Since when? Are you serious?”

“Yeah. You tweet and post them on the site’s Facebook wall.”

“Nooooo.” It was going to be a free–for–all. And it would start with me topless in the ocean. “You couldn’t have told me before we got here?”

“I just saw it in my newsfeed this morning.”

I heard footsteps and conversation just outside the tent and a couple more shadows darkened my little sanctuary.

“We couldn’t catch him,” Nikki puffed, “is she okay?”

Hamish’s shadow shook its head and shrugged.

“Hey, great, you’re back!” someone outside the tent said, and she wandered over. Tall and willowy with super–long legs – it had to be Astrid.

“You guys coming?”

I leaned over to the flap and unzipped it an inch or two, peeking out. Campers were walking in, one big forward–moving crowd. Bay Fest was starting soon.

“First bands start in twenty minutes,” Hamish called to Mads and me from outside. “We going to this thing or what?”

Mads shifted on the tent floor to face me directly. She squeezed my hands, looked me in the eye and said, “Do you want to go home?”

I bit my lip, thinking. Did I? I wanted to see some live music. I wanted to have fun at the beach with my friends. But was it even possible? Stupid Celebrity Dirt Dot Com.

I zipped the flap closed again and crawled back over to my case, throwing clothes and toiletries around the tent, trying to find my perfect first day of epic summer festival outfit. There were thumps and bangs as I tossed hairspray and mousse and my shampoo across the tent.

"What’s going on in there?" I heard Hamish ask.

Astrid laughed uncertainly. "You’d know better than I would."

“Poppy? You okay in there?” Nikki asked.

“I take it we’re going?” Mads asked, amused.

“I’m coming in,” Nikki said.

“Don’t come in!” I yelled, tossing tanks, shorts and underwear across the tent. “I’m changing. Give me five minutes.”

"My Beach House are playing on Stage Four at twelve and if we want a good spot we have to go now," Hamish said.

“If we wanted a good spot we should have queued up hours ago,” I said. “Five minutes. Keep your panties on.” I found what I was looking for, whipped my now damp tank off and got changed.

"He likes My Beach House?" Mads whispered, wrinkling her nose with disapproval.

"Yes," he said from outside, "yes I do."

Mads grimaced and covered her mouth with embarrassment.

"How about you girls?"

"They're okay," Astrid said. "I might go see them too."

“Love them,” Nikki said.

Mads narrowed her eyes and sat up straight. As I hauled my tube top dress over my head, I heard the zipper on the door flap wrenched down. I shrieked, hurriedly pulled the dress down to cover my bikini bottoms as Mads climbed out of the tent.

“Mads what are you – close the freaking flap!”

"I like My Beach House fine,” she said to Hamish, ignoring me. “But I was thinking of going to Steve Mondango on the main stage this morning."

I secured the stretchy chest part in place and stuck my feet into my flip–flops.

"Maybe I'll catch his set tomorrow," Hamish said.

“Nooo, come with me,” Mads said playfully.

“No, come to My Beach House,” Nikki said to Hamish. “They’re going to be epic.”

Oh for the love of Chewbacca.

Finding my sunglasses, handbag and brown floppy hat, I crawled – carefully – back out of the tent, stood up straight and put them on.

"See? I’m ready. How do I look?" I asked. I found a tube of lip balm in the bottom of my bag and swept it over my lips.

"Wow," Astrid said with a smile.

I kind of felt like Wow, too. This was a killer dress, chocolate brown with what looked like paint splotches in pinks, greens, blues and purples dribbling down the front. I not only felt like Wow, but I felt like summer, all memories of the mortification of minutes ago behind me. I ran my fingers through my beach hair and figured it was fine; all the girls would be rocking this look.

“Do you recognize me?” I asked, pushing the sunglasses up the bridge of my nose. Astrid looked confused, but didn’t ask.

"That's so wrong," Hamish said.

I froze. "What?"

"I've never seen you in a dress. Like, ever."

Whatevs. Wait – no –
good
. People wouldn’t be expecting this. I took a deep breath. Then another. I could do this. I glanced surreptitiously around the camp site and the sea of people slowly filing toward the festival. No one looked my way. I could do this. I could blend in. Just because people knew who I was didn’t mean I didn’t have just as much of a right to enjoy live music as the rest of them. I pulled the big floppy hat further down over my face and zipped the tent back up, securing the two zips together with the combination padlock.