I’m not sure if that’s true, but I don’t have time to discuss the point with my sister right now.
“Listen, I should get going. I’m supposed to meet”—I hesitate, about to say his name, but decide to skip it—“my date in a half hour. I better hurry. When are you coming out to visit, anyway?”
“Semester’s over in two weeks.”
“I just want to let you know I’ve farted on your pillow every night since we’ve been here.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
“I’ll talk to you later, Tina.”
“I’ll talk to you later, Holly. Have fun and be safe. And by safe, I mean make sure Chazz wears a condom.”
“Goodbye,” I say and disconnect the call.
I set the phone on the counter and look at myself in the mirror one last time.
Seven hours forty-five minutes to go.
Two
Just as I expected, my mother has planted herself on the couch in front of the TV watching an old movie. It’s in color, not black and white, but I’m pretty sure most of the cast could be found in retirement homes today if they’re not already dead.
“Can I take the car?”
Her gaze glued to her movie, she says, “May you take the car?”
“I’m seventeen. Haven’t we, like, moved past that phase?”
Still not looking at me: “As long as you continue using poor grammar, I guess not.”
Okay, so that’s how it’s going to be.
“You do realize it’s two o’clock in the morning in Georgetown, right?”
This gets my mother’s attention. Her face tilts toward me, and she squints at me as if seeing me for the first time.
“Is it?”
“This isn’t the first time we’ve had this conversation, Mom.”
“But Tina”—she shakes her head slowly, trying to fathom this new information—“Tina was awake.”
“Yeah, because you woke her up when you called.”
My mother doesn’t need to know about Tina’s date. Speaking of which …
“So can I use the car?”
Now her attention focuses on my outfit: sweatpants and hoodie. “Where are you going?”
“To meet a friend.”
“Who is this friend?”
“Her name is Diane.”
“Diane what?”
“I don’t know,” I say, shrugging, because of course I’m making this up as I go. “I met her when I was down at the beach. She’s on vacation with her parents.”
“Where are you going?”
“Honolulu.”
“That’s forty-five minutes away.”
“If I drive the speed limit it is, yeah.”
Judging by the look on her face, my mother isn’t in the joking mood.
“Kidding,” I say. “Of course I’ll do the speed limit.”
“When will you be home?”
“Um … midnight?”
“Are you asking me or telling me?”
“That depends on whether or not I need to negotiate my curfew.”
My mother frowns. “Where are you going exactly?”
“There’s an all-night gym Diane wants to check out. I forget the name.”
“You’re going to a gym?”
“Yes.”
“In flip-flops?”
Shit.
“I have an extra pair of sneakers in the car,” I say, not sure whether or not this is true but hoping my mother doesn’t press the issue. To ensure this doesn’t happen, I decide to switch gears.
“When will Dad be home?”
This makes her pause. In fact, after looking into her eyes, I want to kick myself for bringing up the fact my dad hasn’t spent much time with us in the past three weeks. Then again, my question has caused her to focus back on the TV, so at least there’s that.
“He should be home soon,” she murmurs.
Soon, I’ve learned, is code for I have no idea when.
“So the car,” I prompt.
She waves a hand. “Go, go. Have fun. Be safe.”
My mother looks so sad, so despondent, that I want to rush over to her and give her a hug, but at the same time, I don’t want to jinx myself.
“Thanks, Mom.” I turn away and grab the keys on the counter, adding a quick “Love you” before slipping out the door.
Seven hours thirty minutes to go.
Three
Here’s the thing: I’m not what you would call a beach bunny.
It’s not that I dislike the beach, but I’m not one of those girls who’s crazy about the beach, either. Maybe it’s because my first beach experience was in New Jersey, a couple miles away from Toms River. I was six years old. My parents had taken Tina and me there because at the time my dad was stationed at Fort Dix. For the weekend, my parents wanted to do something nice so they drove us to the ocean, and the trash littering the sand along with the stink has stayed with me ever since.
But now having come to Oahu, well, my resentment toward beaches has changed. Mostly because the beaches here are beautiful. And clean.
The first week my mother and I headed north up the highway until we came to Waimea Bay Beach Park. And we laid our towels on the sand and watched the surfers for a while. It was nice. After a couple days, though, my mother decided she’d had enough of the beach and decided to stay home at the condo watching old movies. Me, I took the car and returned to the beach and lay on a towel watching the surfers.
That’s how I met Chazz.
It was maybe a week ago when I first noticed him. He was just another surfer riding the waves. When he came out of the water, some girls gathered around him, and he chatted them up as he made his way across the sand toward where he’d parked, and as he passed by where I lay on my towel, he smiled down at me.
That was it—just a smile.
The next day I saw Chazz again. Riding the waves, and then the girls swooning again as he carried his board across the sand. I watched him, sunglasses covering my eyes, trying not to be too conspicuous. He scanned the beach, looking for someone. Then he spotted me and veered in my direction, leaving the swooning girls behind.
“Nice day,” he said to me.
I nodded but said nothing, for some reason too nervous to utter a word.
“I’m Chazz.”
“Holly.”
“You on vacation?”
I wasn’t technically, but I nodded anyway.
“Awesome,” he said, and then that was it. He looked out at the
