Pulled Under (Sixteenth Summer) (24 page)

“No,” Ben says. “Surf Sisters isn’t protected.” He unzips his backpack and pulls out a large file. “But Steady Eddie’s Surf School is.”

He hands the file to the attorney and continues. “Part of my job this summer was turning old paper files into digital ones. I had to scan thousands of documents that the Parks and Recreation Department has accumulated. Among those files were contracts for Steady Eddie’s Surf School to teach surfing and water safety to the summer campers. These contracts go back more than twenty years before Mickey and Mo founded Surf Sisters. The address on all of those contracts is his house, which I believe is the building we are standing in right now.”

I look over and see Mickey and Mo are on the verge of tears.

“Even to this day, Steady Eddie’s Surf School is listed in the contracts. That means that the same business has been operating out of the same building for more than fifty years, which more than meets the standards of the law.”

Mo is the first one to reach him. She wraps her arms around him and gives him a huge hug. Mickey is right behind.

“How did you do this?” Mo asks.

Ben shrugs his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what made you come up with all of this?”

“That’s easy,” he says. “Izzy loves you . . . and I love Izzy.”

T
he full moon hangs over the ocean and floods its light across the waves. I walk down the pier and try to think of what I can possibly say to Ben. He has just given me the most amazing summer of my life, and tonight I’m going to have to say good-bye to him. Technically, I’ll say good-bye tomorrow at the airport. But there will be people there and a plane to catch. This will be the real good-bye. Just the two of us on
our pier
.

I look ahead and see that he is already waiting. His back is turned to me as he sits on the end of the pier, and even though he is only a silhouette in the moonlight, I know every inch of him.

Wordlessly, I sit down next to him and take his hand.

He turns to me and starts to talk, but I press my finger against his lips so I can speak first.

“I’ve thought about it, and even though people say that long distance doesn’t work, I’m not about to let you walk away forever. We can video chat and call and write. Certainly you’ll come down and visit your uncle, and I’m already saving up money to fly to Wisconsin. You can show me Madison just like I showed you Pearl Beach. And we’re only a couple years away from college. For all we know, we might end up at the same school.”

He shakes his head ever so slightly, and I feel my heart sink.

“I don’t think that will work.”

“Why not?”

He reaches over and touches my cheek with his hand. “It turns out that my mother wasn’t exactly honest with me.”

“How do you mean?”

“When she told me that she wanted me to spend the summer down here to protect me from all the arguments, that wasn’t the only reason she wanted me to come here.”

“What was the other reason?”

“She wanted me to see if I liked it here,” he says. “She’s planning on moving back to Pearl Beach to start a new life after the divorce is final. The only question is whether she’s going to do it now or after I graduate from high school.”

“When did you find out?”

“Tonight at dinner. She flew down to surprise me and talk to me about it. If we decide to stay, she’s going to start looking for a new job.”

My heart races.

“How will she decide?”

“She told me that it’s my decision,” he says. “She knows it’s hard to move in the middle of high school. And all of my life is up there. . . . Well, almost all of it.”

“Don’t move here because of me,” I say.

“What?”

“It’s not fair to you and it’s not fair to me,” I say. “I would love for you to live here. But if you move here because of me, then anytime that something goes wrong, it will be my fault. You’ll end up resenting me. If you really love me like I love you, then we’ll figure out a way to make the distance work. But if you move here, it has to be because you think that this is home.”

“I know,” he says. “I came to the same conclusion. Which is hard because you’re a big part of everything that’s here. I’ve spent the last hour debating back and forth, trying to figure out the right thing to do.”

“Good,” I say.

He stands up and looks out over the water. I stand up next to him.

“Actually,” he says, “I spent fifty minutes of it trying to figure out the right thing to do . . . and ten trying to figure out how to tell you.”

That sounds ominous, but oddly I feel strong enough to hear it, even if it means he’s heading home. He turns so that he’s looking right at me and his back is toward the ocean.

“Okay,” I say. “I’m ready. Whatever it is.”

He has a strange look on his face, and it takes me a moment to realize that he’s slowly falling backward. By the time I do, I reach out to grab him, but it’s too late. He plummets toward the water fifteen feet below and lands with a big splash.

I let out a surprised squeal as I look down at him. “What on earth are you doing?”

“First of all, it’s not on earth, it’s in the sea,” he calls up. “And it’s just what all good loggerheads do. I’m following the moonlight into the ocean.”

I look down and see that smile, that amazing smile, as he looks up at me from the dark water.

“What’s your decision?”

“You’re going to have to come down here to find out.”

“How’s the water?”

“How do you think it is? It’s awfslome!”

I empty my pockets, take off my sandals, and without so much as a second thought, I jump. I feel a charge rush through my body, and I close my eyes to brace for the impact, ready to splash into the water and see where the current takes me.

Her future first love lives in the past.

Lose yourself in this totally awesome sneak peek of

by Gaby Triana.

M
iss? Miss, are you okay?”

I cough water. My tongue hurts.

“I think she’s waking up.”

“Don’t crowd her. Give her room.”

All around me I hear water rushing, kids screeching, and people talking in hushed tones. Except for this one guy who sounds like he’s in charge. “She’s coming to.”

My eyes hurt. My head hurts. I’m outdoors. I know the sun is out because I see orangey red behind my eyelids. I’m lying on sand, I think.

“Miss, can you hear me? Are your parents here?”

I can hear you. My parents wouldn’t be here together.

“Just give her a minute.”

A different voice, a woman’s. “Did she slide with you? How come you didn’t see her, Becky, for goodness’ sake!”

“Mommy, she was already there when I slid down the slide,” a little girl cries. “I fell right on top of her!”

“Ma’am”—the guy in charge is talking again—“she couldn’t have slid with her. The lifeguard up there makes each person wait until the person ahead of them passes the orange flag. Then they can slide.” I crack my eyelids open to peek at him. “My guess is she fainted when she entered the water.” He’s crouched on his knees hovering over me, but he’s talking to people around him. He has black hair and a white tank top. And a mustache. Like, an actual mustache.

“It might’ve been a seizure.” Another guy’s voice, somewhere behind my head.

“But she wasn’t on the slide, I’m telling you!” the little girl continues to argue with her mother. Her blond pigtails are dripping wet, and she has a pink one-piece on. “She wasn’t ahead of me in line!”

“Ow. My tongue hurts.” I bit it.

The people around me—I see them now, there’re like ten or more of them—are all watching me, though it’s hard to see their faces with the sun shining directly above them. “She’s opening her eyes. She’s talking.”

“Told you it was a seizure,” that guy says again. This makes the tank top guy in charge come closer, taking up my whole view. He looks like a lifeguard.

“Miss, don’t move. You passed out in the water. Now you’re on the beach. Just tell me your name so I can find your folks.”

“I found you in the water,” the blond girl says, crouching close to my face, “or else you might’ve
died
.”

Thank you
, I say, or think I say. I don’t even know where I am. What is this place? Where’s Mom? Or am I with Dad today? Is this camp? I can’t even think of my name. I can’t talk. I have to get up. “Ow.”

“You sure you want to do that?” A whistle around his neck dangles above my face. He turns his attention back to the people standing around us. “It’s common following a seizure for the victim to be confused.” He turns to me. “Are you confused?”

Right now, I’m more irritated by his questions than anything. I want a place to lie down that’s not in front of a bunch of people in weird bathing suits. I sit up, trying to get onto my feet. The crowd makes room for me. The upside-down lifeguard offers his hand. “Here, let me help you.”

I look at this tanned hand a moment, then take it. He pulls me easily to my feet. He’s wearing shorts that are a little on the short side. The lifeguard steadies me, then lifts a walkie-talkie to his mouth. “This is Jake at RC. We need a medic unit, pronto. Over.” He attaches it to his waistband and holds my arms as a reply crackles through the speakers. Jake says, “You need me to carry you?”

“Uh, I’m fine. This happens all the time. Thanks,” I say. Actually, I don’t remember this happening ever. I think. Or has it? Yes, once before. In school, right before my exams.

The mustached lifeguard, Jake, taps the younger guy, the one who said I told you so, on the shoulder. “Jason, walk her to a picnic table. See if you can find her folks, and keep an eye out for the medics. I gotta get back to my post, man.”

“Sure thing. Come on.” Jason nods, placing his hand softly against my back. He’s tall, tanned, and wearing a thin gold chain around his neck, and the hairs on his arm shine yellow in the blazing sunlight. Why I notice this above everything else, I do not know. “What’s your name?”

“Haley,” I say, but for a second I’m not sure. Is it? Yeah, that sounds right. Haley . . . Haley . . . “Petersen.” I start heading across the sand. It’s a weird beach. There’s no ocean. Just a lagoon-type thing. Not sure where I’m going. And why don’t I see anyone I know? I look at my guide again. “I take it you’re Jason.”

“Yup, but this isn’t Camp Crystal Lake, so you don’t need to worry.” He laughs softly. I have no idea what he means by that. He must see my blank expression. “Uh, never mind. That was stupid, what I just said. Not everybody’s seen that movie.” He shakes his head, chastising himself.

“It wasn’t stupid. I just . . . I’m not . . . ,” I mumble. Is he talking about
Friday the 13th
? That’s kind of a random thing to tell someone.

“Like I said, never mind.”

I shield my eyes from the sun to scan the beach. Are my parents here? Which one am I with today? Where the hell am I, and why are so many people wearing the same tacky shorts? They’re like running shorts with a white border along the hem and side.

“It’s all right. You’re disoriented. That’s why I shouldn’t be joking with you. So, Haley, any idea where your folks are?”

Folks
. They really like that word around here.

I stop dead on the beach and really search for someone I know. Anyone. I don’t remember coming here, but I couldn’t have come alone, could I? I see green sun umbrellas, tan beach chairs, the old kinds, with plastic straps across the frames, and a lot of kids of all ages standing on a wooden bridge over the water, but no one I recognize. “That water’s really green,” I say.

“It’s from the lake. It’s got bromine in it. You haven’t the faintest idea where your parents are, do you?” He puts his hands on his hips and peers at me, his eyes squinching in the sun so that I can’t tell what color they are. Even
he’s
wearing the same weird shorts. High on the waist. It doesn’t stop him from being cute, though, in a blond, retro-fresh, all-American way.

“Where’d you get those shorts?” I’m sure they must be a uniform. He’s probably embarrassed to be wearing them. I force a smile to show him I’m just teasing.

He looks down at them. “JByrons, I think. What’s wrong with them?”

“J-what?”

His eyebrows crunch together. He examines me from head to toe. “Well, I suppose a girl who dresses like a shipwreck castaway wouldn’t shop there, huh?”

Shipwreck? I look down. I’m wearing the most normal tight white tank and jean shorts ever, artfully ripped at the hem, a little drippy at the moment, maybe, but he talks like he’s never seen clothes before. It would be good if I could find someone a little less clueless to help me.

“Let’s go wait for the medics over there,” he says.

“No. Listen, Jason, I appreciate your help, but I got it all under control. Seriously, this happens all the time.” It doesn’t, but the last thing I need is medical attention when I don’t even know where I am, and I feel fine now. I’ll just call my mom; everything will be fine. Instinctively, I feel my pocket for my phone.

“I insist, Haley. Come on. They’ll just check you out a minute, and you’ll be on your way.”

There it is. I pull out a plastic bag, and—
why
is my phone in a plastic bag? “Sorry, I’m just going to call my—” I freeze, staring at my baggied phone. Now I remember. Dina—a girl named Dina told me to put it in a bag so it wouldn’t get wet. We were going to swim. We were doing a scavenger—

Jason comes up to me and stares at my phone. “What in the world?”

“I know, I don’t usually keep it in a Ziploc, but it’s just that . . .”

He picks up the bag by the corner and examines it like it’s dog poo. “What
is
this?”

“What does it look like?” Okay, now this is just silly. It’s like I’ve landed on a different planet. He’s never seen an iPhone? Oh, wait, he means he’s never seen this model. “I know, it’s old. I was going to trade it in for the new one, but my dad’s about to switch contracts, and, anyway, I want the new iPad for my birthday.”

Jason hands me back the plastic bag. “Sure, whatever you say.” He stares at me like I just fell out of the sky, like I’m the strange one, even though that girl standing there staring at me is wearing a headband and a rainbow one-piece bathing suit when she obviously has the body to be rocking a bikini.

God, I have
got
to find my way out of here.

“Hey, are you all right?” Jason asks.

“Yeah.”
No.

I’ve seen that bridge before. In fact, I’ve seen those waterslides, except they weren’t so clean. They didn’t have water gushing out, and they didn’t have people on them. I have to sit down, gather my bearings, and call someone. I march all the way across the sand toward the tree-lined shore where there’re fewer people. This place is really packed.

Bah.
I have no signal here.

I plop down and try to think, even though Jason, following me, has made it difficult. He sits next to me and draws in his knees. “You sure? Because you still seem a bit off-kilter. I don’t feel right leaving you alone. I’m sorry. I know that’s the chauvinist pig in me talkin’, but I don’t.”

“A what pig?” I ask, but then a familiar sight out across the water, behind a spattering of little blue and red boats, distracts me. I’d know that A-shape building anywhere. “The Contemporary,” I mutter, my eyes fixed on the famous hotel. Wait, I’m in Disney! I came here with my dad and Erica. I have a little brother and sister. We’re staying in Fort Wilderness!

I look down at my phone again. There’s an unread message—
r u inside river country? i’m here looking for u.

“River Country . . . yes,” I mumble.

I turn and take another good look around.

White sandy beach, people in old-looking bathing suits, Bay Lake, inner tubes, and those wooden beams and wire? Kids sliding down a zipline, holding on to a metal handle. They hit the other end of a wood pole and fall into the water. Behind that are the waterslides, and these people on the bridge? They’re in line for the slides. The line starts at those big rocks over there. I remember those big rocks, but it wasn’t like this when I last saw it.

“Yup. River Country,” Jason says, scooping up a handful of sand and letting it out slowly. “The ol’ swimmin’ hole.”

I press the center button on my phone to return to the main screen, but I hold it a tad too long and Siri’s bloop sound pops up.

“Did that thing just make a noise?” He leans in to study my phone. “It looks like a personal video game machine. Can I see?”

“But . . .” I tear my eyes away from all the people and really look at Jason for the first time. Blue. His smiling eyes are blue. How is this possible? “But River Country is closed,” I say cautiously. Of course it is. I saw it empty and abandoned. That lake area was overgrown swamp, and that pool and kiddie area were drained and full of grass. I saw it!

“Closed?” Jason glances at his black plastic watch. He presses a silver button until it beeps. “Nah, it’s Thursday.” He smiles at me. “Today we’re open till seven.”