Beach Blondes

by Katherine Applegate; Michael Grant

  “Oh.”

  “Follow me, now. I’ll be just a little ahead of you, okay? And I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “Okay.”

  She stuck her mask under water again, this time keeping her eyes open, and tried to breathe normally. It took a while till her breathing became anything like normal, but eventually it did. She learned to clear her snorkel when a gulp of seawater poured in. She learned to swim by moving her legs slowly, powerfully, letting her fins do part of the work.

  Gradually, very, very gradually, the sandy floor of the Gulf fell away. Two feet. Three feet. Four feet. She glanced over at Seth, arms trailing casually at his side, legs working regularly. He looked at her every few seconds, checking to see that she was okay, his eyes looking overly intense behind the mask.

  It wasn’t the worst feeling in the world, the way he was so concerned. It did make her feel safe. And he was so obviously at home out here.

  Kind of ironic, Summer thought. She’d gone floating at night with Diver, but she was diving with Seth. Somewhere in there was irony, she wasn’t sure where.

  Seth reached over and took her arm gently, signaling her to stop. They both came to rest, and Summer stood up.

  Only, the Gulf floor wasn’t four feet below her. It looked like four feet. But it was at least six, which was unfortunate, since that left all of Summer underwater.

  She gasped and fought her way back to the surface. Seth put his arms around her. Summer spit salt water directly in his face.

  “Oh, sorry! Oh, gross,” she cried.

  Seth laughed. “It’s okay. I was already wet.”

  “Yeah, but I spit on you. I thought it was more shallow.” She was chattering, not from cold, but from the shock of discovering she was so far out in the ocean. She twisted back and forth to try to find the land. It was harder treading water with tanks and a weight belt, though the wet suit top seemed to give her some buoyancy.

  “We’re only about a hundred yards out,” Seth reassured her.

  “How come I can’t see the beach?”

  “Because it’s behind you.” He turned her around, held her by the waist, and boosted her up to see over the crests of the tiny waves.

  “Oh.” Beach umbrellas could be seen very clearly. Parallel with her, a small boy rode an inflated air mattress. They had not exactly swum all the way to Bermuda.

  “Okay, ready to try going on the regulator?”

  “I guess so,” Summer said gamely.

  Seth went back over a list of all the things he’d told her on land, making sure she understood everything she had to do.

  “By the way, now we need more luck,” he said.

  “I’ll drown,” she said.

  “No, you won’t.” He put his arms around her, or at least as far as he could with the bulky tank on her back. This time he really kissed her and she kissed him back, a salty, strange, intense kiss. He held her on the surface by powerful strokes of his fins, buoying her. She put her arms around his neck, feeling at once exposed and invisible in the trough between gentle swells.

  “Now we’ll have plenty of luck,” he said.

  “You’re sure this is part of the training?” Summer asked, trying to sound flip, but with a slap of water in the face, gargling instead.

  Finally, when she was ready, he helped fit the regulator mouthpiece in her mouth. It was a little like doing the kindergarten trick where you shove an orange peel over your teeth.

  “Ung mung lnk hrnhy nhad,” she said.

  “Did you ask if you looked pretty silly with that thing in your mouth?”

  Summer nodded.

  “The answer is yes. Come on. See you below.”

  Summer tested the air coming through the regulator. It seemed like normal air.

  She stuck her head under the water and let herself sink slowly down. Seth was already below her, looking up protectively. She began to swim, slowly descending toward him.

  Now, this! This was cool, Summer thought. Okay, this was definitely cool. Much cooler than drifting around on the surface with the snorkel.

  I am underwater!

  She did a slow roll over onto her back and looked up at the surface of the water. The brilliant yellow sun was nearly blinding, even through the ripples of the sultry waves. She exhaled an explosive cloud of bubbles and watched them rise, circling and bobbing and sparkling in the sunlight.

  Her mind went back to the night with Diver, watching the stars overhead, floating motionless between sea and space. And before that she had looked out over this same sea with Adam, skimming across it in his boat. Now here she was with Seth, encased in protective rubber armor, literally beneath the waves, invading an alien world, a vast new undiscovered universe.

  She was sure there was some profound meaning there somewhere.

  She touched the bottom and trailed her hand through the sand, stirring up a tiny whirlpool. Okay, Summer thought jubilantly, now summer vacation is back on track.

  This would be fun with anyone, she told herself. It’s not because I’m with Seth.

  Seth floated by, paused, and waved his hand in a slow, beckoning gesture that meant “follow me.”

  He was leading her deeper. She hoped he wouldn’t take her too deep.

  “Look, you have to come,” Summer insisted. “I want to get some stuff to go on my walls. I have brand-new linoleum and brand-new tile and even brand-new grout, and all I have on my walls is nothing. Besides, I need a book about fish.”

  Summer and Marquez were on the lawn with Diana, who wished they would go away. Marquez was just back from work, flush with tip money. Summer was back from scuba diving and had not shut up about it yet. They stood over Diana, who was lying on a beach chair under two layers of sunscreen, baking and thinking.

  “Yeah, we really, really want you to come with us,” Marquez said. “Really.”

  Diana shook her head wearily. “Let me guess. Marquez can’t borrow her parents’ car, and you both need a ride.”

  “You shouldn’t be so cynical,” Summer chided.

  “Yeah. You’re right, we do need you to drive, but still, cynicism isn’t called for,” Marquez said.

  Diana nodded thoughtfully. “Summer, do you happen to have one of those little, tiny tape recorders?”

  “What? Why?”

  Diana looked bored. “I need one, okay?”

  “I don’t have one,” Summer said.

  Diana climbed to her feet. “Well, then I guess I’ll just have to buy one. Which means I’ll drive you to the mall. Give me a minute to change. If you want, we can take Mallory’s Mercedes. The keys are on a hook in the pantry. Why don’t you two get it out of the garage and put the top down.”

  “How does she manage to do that?” Marquez asked Summer. “Make us feel like we’re her servants.”

  “Or you can walk to the mall,” Diana said over her shoulder. “It’s only like twenty miles.”

  Diana changed quickly into a patterned sarong skirt and a white top. She was on her way out of the house when the phone rang. She picked it up in her mother’s office.

  “Yes.”

  Her heart sank as she recognized her mother’s voice. “Diana, I can’t believe you’re there. I expected to get the machine.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you. You’re not back, are you?”

  “No, honey, I’m in Sacramento. California. Don’t even ask. They’ve extended the tour, and I have to go on talking about this silly book for another week.”

  Diana breathed a sigh of relief. It was a reprieve. So much had gotten tied up in her mind with the return of her mother. Another week to decide what to do. “Well, I guess I’ll survive.”

  “I know you’ll survive. How is Summer?”

  Diana rolled her eyes. “She’s fine. As a matter of fact, I’m taking her shopping. The stilt house is almost all fixed up.”

  Diana heard the honking of the Mercedes’s horn outside and the faint sound of Marquez shouting something impatient. “She’s waiting. I better go.”
r />   “Okay. You still have my ATM card and the credit cards?”

  “No, I’ve been supporting myself by picking up sailors.”

  Her mother made a phony laugh. “That would be unusually outgoing for you, Diana. It’s nice to know you’re meeting people.”

  “Uh-huh. Are we done?”

  “Yes. Buy something nice for Summer, a gift from me. And get something for yourself, too.”

  Diana hung up the phone, seething as she did after almost any interaction with her mother. Her gaze fell on a small framed photograph on her mother’s desk. It showed Mallory, back before she’d become a big success, back when her hair was still normal-size, before it had become romance-writer hair. She’d never noticed the picture before. In it, her mother seemed unusually frumpy. And it wasn’t even a good picture, all fuzzy and off-center.

  Then it occurred to Diana that the picture was there for a reason. This was Mallory’s “before” picture. It was to remind her of what she had been and what she had become. On the wall, much larger, gilt-framed, was the publicity shot from her mother’s first bestseller. A whole new Mallory Olan.

  Before and after.

  Diana could imagine her own “before” picture. It would be a picture of her now. Right now. This was the before.

  Suddenly she took out her mother’s address book. The number was bound to be there still. They’d done a little puff piece interview with Mallory…yes. There it was.

  She could do it. She could do it right now. The idea excited her in a dark, unsettling way. Yes, why wait any longer?

  It was all so new. The entire concept of doing anything at all was new. It had been so long. So much time had passed when all she had managed to do was wallow in depression and dream of how she would end her suffering.

  Some new energy was inside her now. She could feel it. But it was fragile force, like a single candle in the darkness. She wanted to nurture that candle, keep it safe from blowing winds that might snuff it out.

  Start it now.

  The great dark hole of depression was still there, still tangible and real and oddly seductive. Against it just the one small light. She had to make it grow, give it air and fuel. To let the fire burn brighter and hotter, until it dispelled the last of the shadows.

  Yes, start it now.

  She checked the number again. But she didn’t dial it. Instead she called a different number. Area code 202, Washington, D.C.

  She took a deep breath. “Start it, Diana,” she ordered herself sternly. “Do it now, or you’ll find one excuse after another never to start.”

  She dialed the phone number. There was a delay, then it rang.

  Click.

  “Senator Merrick’s office.”

  “I wan—” Diana’s voice choked off. She almost crashed the receiver down in panic but stopped herself. She cleared her throat. “I want to speak to Senator Merrick.”

  “I’m sorry, but the senator cannot take calls. I’ll be glad to take a message.”

  “No,” Diana said sharply. “He will want to take this call himself. It’s personal. It’s about his son.”

  A long pause. “Who’s calling?”

  “My name is Diana Olan. Tell Senator Merrick to take this call. Or—” She hesitated. Her prepared speeches all sounded silly now. Like something a child would dream up. “Look, tell him if he doesn’t want his son to go to jail, he’d better take this call.”

  An even longer pause. Then, “Please hold.”

  Outside, the car horn honked again, more insistent. Diana could picture Marquez and Summer out there, playing the stereo, talking away, getting annoyed that Diana was keeping them waiting.

  And she could picture another scene, over a thousand miles away in Washington. She imagined a dark, paneled office. Maybe the Washington Monument was visible from the window. Maybe—

  “Who is this?” A brusque, haughty voice, instantly recognizable.

  “Senator Merrick?”

  “Yes. Now, what do you have to say? I’m a busy man.”

  “Your son tried to rape me.” The words came tumbling out, all of their own accord.

  “Don’t waste my time. I’m hanging up.”

  “I’ll go to the police,” Diana said.

  “Do whatever you think you have to do, young lady,” he said calmly. He even sounded a little bored.

  But no, he wasn’t bored, Diana knew. “Senator, your son Ross tried to rape me in your Crab Claw Key home last year. I know you heard about it. I know Adam told you what happened. That’s why you put Ross through rehab.”

  “I know who you are, Diana. But I thought you were a smart girl,” he said contemptuously. “I thought you knew better than to try to blackmail me.”

  “It isn’t blackmail,” Diana said. “I’m just…It’s just that…I’m tired of being afraid.”

  “No one has tried to threaten you,” he said. “You invent some incident and call me up—”

  “I didn’t invent anything and you know it!” Diana cried.

  “So, you have witnesses? The police will want to know if you have witnesses.”

  “I realize that, Senator. I know the police will want witnesses. And I know Adam will lie to protect Ross. But you know what? I figured something out. The police may want witnesses, but there are other people who may not care all that much whether I have a witness or not.”

  “I think this conversation has gone on long enough.”

  “I have a number I want to give you. Write it down. And when you hang up, call them.” Diana read off the phone number. At the other end she could hear a pen scratching on paper.

  “Call that number, Senator Merrick. And then I want to meet with you, face-to-face, down here.”

  “What is this number supposed to be?” the senator demanded.

  “It’s the number for Inside Edition. You know, the tabloid show. The one that would be really interested in this kind of a story.”

  The only sound was that of a breath, sharply inhaled, then let out slowly, shakily.

  “All right, young lady,” the senator said at last. “You want a meeting? I’ll be down on the island early next week. I’ll have someone call you. But you want to be careful about trying to blackmail me.”

  “It isn’t blackmail.”

  “Of course it is,” he said, sounding weary and cynical.

  “Call it whatever you want, then,” Diana said. Slowly she replaced the receiver in its cradle. “I call it justice,” she whispered to herself.

  Outside, the horn now blared in one long sound. Diana grinned. Shopping. Why not? She did have certain purchases to make.

  9

  Video Blog

  I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know it’s been a long time since I posted anything for you. Like a week, I guess. No, wait, more than a week. But it’s been kind of a busy week.

  For one thing, this waitress at work quit, so I’ve picked up some of her shifts. I’m doing dinners now sometimes, which is good because the tips are a lot better. The other night I made eighty-two dollars. Of course, my feet were killing me afterward, and I pulled a muscle in my back lifting this one tray. But Seth gave me an excellent back rub after work…. Oh, wait. You don’t know anything about all that, do you?

  Seth and I are kind of going out sometimes. The thing is, we’ve both agreed that we can still see other people if we want, and we’re not like capital “B” boyfriend and capital “G” girlfriend. We would be more lowercase boyfriend and girlfriend. We do things together, but I’m still very cool and in control about it.

  Not that I’m seeing anyone else. It’s just that I could if I wanted, and I probably will, because I have totally learned my lesson about falling in love with people too soon and getting hurt when it turns out they’re dirt-bags. I wouldn’t mention any names. Especially any names that start with “Ad” and end with “am.” Did I tell you he tried to give me this necklace? Like I would just forgive everything for gold and diamonds.

  Okay, yes, I thought about it. But I
said no. You’d probably agree with Marquez that I should have taken the necklace and then blown him off. Marquez got so mad at me she was yelling at me in Spanish. The only Spanish she ever speaks are four-letter words, or maybe they’re five letters in Spanish. Of course, she wasn’t serious. Maybe.

  But speaking of Marquez, she’s still broken up with J.T. Only, the other day she saw him making out with Lianne in the walk-in, and she was very upset over that, because that’s where she and J.T. used to make out when they were at work. She tells me every day how she’s totally over him, and then spends an hour muttering and grumbling under her breath about him and Lianne. Now she says she’s going to get a new boyfriend. I’m not kidding—she’s on the lookout for someone even better looking than J.T. so she can rub his nose in it. She painted out J.T.’s name on her wall, which is as serious as Marquez gets.

  And as for Diana, I don’t even know. I tried to talk to her a couple of times, but she’s still as private as ever. Although, it’s funny, because she is different. I mean, before you’d talk to her and there was always this feeling about her, like she was thinking about something else. Well, she still is that way, but it’s as if what she’s thinking about has changed. She has this look, like she’s planning something. You know, like she’s a secret agent or something. I don’t know how to explain it any better than that.

  Diana says Mallory, her mom, is coming home soon. Her book tour got extended, but she’ll be back any day now. Maybe that will help.

  Anyway, tomorrow I get certified.

  Ha, ha, Jennifer, no, not certified insane. Very funny. Jennifer, I so know the way your mind works.

  I’m getting certified as a scuba diver. Seth has been teaching me, and Jennifer, it is the most excellent, coolest thing on earth. You have got to learn, so we can go together when I get home. I’m serious—we can dive in lakes. Seth says lakes are boring, but you could learn there, and even when all you see is sand, which is all I’ve really seen, it’s still way cool.

  I’m feeling like things are going more normally now. Like all this stuff with Adam was just this unhappy phase. From now on, it’s just happy happy, joy joy for the rest of the summer.