Deedee appeared delighted, but I was busy looking for Troy Jones. Hopefully he was gone by now. I didn’ t need him nosing around while I attempted to check a task off the list-especially one that required so little clothing on my part. ‘ I hope Martucci gets back with that T-shirt soon. We should get going,’ I said.
Brie eyed the boogie board. ‘ Looks like you’ ve got some fun planned. By the way, we still on for tomorrow night?’
‘ Yep.’ Brie was going to accompany me to the Oasis bar so I could cross off another task.
‘ You still buying?’
‘ Yep.’
We chatted a bit longer until Martucci returned, chucking a box onto the sand this time. Then he rifled through it and tossed a T-shirt at Deedee. ‘ There you go,’ he said. ‘ Wear it proudly.’
‘ Thanks.’ She held it up to inspect it. ‘ It’ s cute.’
‘ You think that shirt’ s cute,’ Brie said, ‘ you ought to see what I picked out for June to wear for tomorrow. Hoo-ee, it’ s nice. The top’ s this silvery blue, real shiny, you know? And it’ s got these sparkly things right along the-’
‘ Okay, then!’ I interrupted, not wanting Brie to elaborate in front of Martucci as to the location of those sparkly things.
Too late. ‘ Along the what, exactly?’ he asked a bit too innocently, his gaze dropping to indicate he was making a pretty good guess.
‘ We’ ll be leaving now,’ I said, trying to ignore him, but Brie, clueless, gestured across her chest as an answer.
‘ Nice,’ Martucci said. ‘ So what’ s going on tomorrow?’
‘ Girls’ night out,’ Brie replied. I began to worry she might start talking about the list, but she simply said, ‘ We’ re going to this bar called Oasis. That’ s the name of it, right, June? Oasis?’ I nodded, and she continued, ‘ Anyway, the guys there are going to have to pick up their tongues off the floor when June here walks in. She’ s definitely going to be& ‘ She paused to give me an exaggerated wink. ‘ The hottest girl there.’
Okay, shoot me now. I wasn’ t sure who was more amused by Brie’ s carrying on about me being hot, Martucci or Deedee. Luckily, an actual customer approached, preventing Brie from inflicting any further humiliation. I grabbed our beach stuff and said a quick good-bye, and Deedee and I started the trek to the water before I lost my nerve.
Although I had done a fair amount of body surfing in my day, I’ d never surfed on a boogie board. I may be a California girl by birth, but I grew up in the Valley, land of air-conditioning and outdoor pools. Anyone who’ s ever been in Van Nuys during an August heat wave would understand how Valley girls earned such a reputation for hanging out at the mall. It’ s shop or melt. And the beach-the beautiful, breezy beach that was over the hill and a forty-five-minute drive away-may as well have been a thousand miles for my parents’ willingness to drive us there. (Although I have to admit, now living in Santa Monica, it’ s embarrassing how few times I’ ve made the short trip to the beach myself.)
Chase had given me pointers when I’ d stopped by Susan’ s to borrow their boogie board. He’ d told me to paddle out to where the waves crash. Wait until one is about to break, lie on the board, then paddle like crazy and ride it gloriously into shore. ‘ Wait for your wave,’ he’ d advised, as if I had any idea what that meant.
I set down our towels. I wore a blue flowered two-piece bathing suit from last season-one of the few I could find with a bottom that actually covered a bottom and an underwire on the top. If I’ d known at the time how precious and rare this combination would turn out to be-as I bitterly discovered when I tried and failed to buy a new suit in the current season-I’ d have bought the shop out of them. Sure, my bare stomach wasn’ t perfectly flat. But big deal. I’ ve seen women flaunt plenty worse on my bus ride to and from work. Whoever came up with the idea that Los Angeles was filled with tight bodies honed to perfection obviously never rode public transportation.
I grabbed the boogie board. The waves weren’ t quite the size of billboards, but they appeared ominous enough to a coward like me. Deedee had made good on her promise not to go in the water, settling on her towel.
‘ You coming to cheer me on?’ I asked.
‘ I’ ll go up to my ankles,’ she said, snatching a bag of Doritos to bring with her. ‘ But don’ t be thinking I’ m going any deeper.’
Maybe the girl was on to something-the water was so cold that I got brain freeze the second I dipped my feet in. Deedee said, ‘ This isn’ t so bad.’ Which, of course, was easy for her to say, not being the one about to go in full-body. It figured: The one time I didn’ t put something off was the one time it would have been wise to do so. Surely the water would be warmer come summer. Too late now, though: I was committed.
It took me a while to swim out with the board, what with my limbs being numb. Plus every time a wave came, it pushed me back. Eventually-huffing and groaning and cursing the fact that I never finished that junior lifesaving course at the Y back in eighth grade-I made it out past the break, where I gave catching a wave a few tries. The technique I established was to find a wave, fall off the board, and get buried alive in the water, the boogie board attached to my wrist banging into me.
Although growing weary, I dragged my tired body out again and again. I was about to call it a day (after all, the list only said try boogie boarding; there was nothing on it about going pro) when I saw what I was sure was my wave swelling gloriously behind me. Right before it hit, I realized I was wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong. This wasn’ t a wave at all. It was the Chrysler Building. It was Mount Kilimanjaro. It was the Great Wall of China-only standing on its end a thousand miles high and about to come crashing down on me.
Which it did-pummeling me and sending me spinning and tossing so I couldn’ t tell which was up or down. I hit sand hard a few times but was dragged back up& or down& or any direction but toward air. Lungs bursting, I made myself follow the instructions the lifeguards used to tell us-not to fight the wave. Just as I did that, it spat me with my board crudely and unceremoniously onto the shore.
There I lay, splayed on the sand, gasping for air, scraped and sputtering.
I heard a man’ s voice say in disgust, ‘ Watch out for the big lady, Tommy. Don’ t step on the big lady.’ A pair of toddler’ s feet stepped neatly over my head.
Nice. I quit.
I unleashed myself from the board and was about to pull myself up when two more feet appeared. ‘ You okay?’
That voice sounded familiar. I looked up-it was Troy Jones. I yanked myself to my feet, trying to brush the sand
