“I bet it’s really different from what you remember,” Zoe says.
“You can say that again.”
“I bet it’s really different from what …”
We burst out into a giggle fit.
When we reach our lounge chairs, Zoe grabs one of the white fluffy towels left out for us by a pool attendant and tosses it my way. Then she digs into her bag, pulling out her brand-new waterproof phone.
“Twenty minutes till show time!” Zoe tosses her phone back into her pale blue Roxy bag. “I can’t wait until the meeting!”
I squeal and pull my own thin towel out of my bag; it hadn’t occurred to me that the club would provide one. I’m about to wring my hair out when at the last second I opt to dry myself off with the oversized BCC one instead. There’s no reason not to take advantage of club perks while I’m here, and anyway, their towels are as soft as puppy fur.
“Way to be decisive,” Zoe jokes.
“Ha ha … so funny.” I wave my finger at her in mock annoyance. “Anyway, what do you think we’ll talk about at the info session? Do you think they’ll just let us work the ocean? Or do you think they’ll make us guard the pool too? Do you think …” I stop talking for a second to flip my head upside down and towel-dry my long dirty blonde hair.
“Nervous Nelly much?” Zoe asks, peeling out of her wet suit. “If it’s anything like what Zach said went on last year, then the best swimmers will be guarding the ocean with the senior guards and then everyone else will be assigned to the pool. And I heard—”
“Excuse me.” A woman resembling Betty White from her Golden Girls days steps between Zoe and me. In one hand she balances a tray and in the other she holds a folded navy cloth. “You’re Abby Berkeley, right?”
I nod.
“I’m your new boss,” she replies, neglecting to mention her name. She hands the folded cloth to me and I open it to discover that it’s an apron. The words Sunset Snack Bar are inscribed across the pocket.
“Thank you,” I say, politely.
The woman smoothes out her matching apron and turns around. She opens her mouth to say something when her face lights up. “Zoe, I didn’t realize that was you! It’s so nice to see you again.”
“Oh. I’m sorry …” Zoe looks at my boss’s nametag, quickly reading it. “How are you … Lilly?”
I keep my head down and gather my things, wondering how, with so many club members, my new manager can pick Zoe out of a crowd.
“Good, sweetheart. But, more importantly, how are you? How’s the family? Did your brother leave for Europe yet?” Lilly sets her tray down on the table behind our lounge chairs.
“Yup. He’s gone for the entire summer.” Zoe pumps her fist.
“Is he attending that basketball camp in Germany your mother was raving about?” Lilly asks, her voice dripping with sweetness.
“Yeah. But that’s nothing compared to what we’re doing.”
“And what’s that?”
“Abby and I are not only the club’s newest lifeguards, but we’re also starting our own babysitting service. You know, to help the moms who need a break or maybe want a date night.”
“Really?” Lilly glances at me, her eyes wide. “I’ll make sure I spread the word,” she says, probably wondering how I’m going to swing it all.
“Thanks. It’s my first business venture,” Zoe adds.
“That’s wonderful. Your mother must be so proud of you and Zach.” Lilly turns back around to face me. “I didn’t realize you two were friends.”
I clutch the apron.
Zoe’s forehead wrinkles and she gives me a crooked smile. “Yup, Abby and I have been best friends forever.”
“We played softball together from the time we were six,” I add, hoping the Zoe connection scores early points with my new boss.
“That’s sweet.” Lilly picks up her tray and balances it on her open hand.
I stare at the serving dish poised on Lilly’s palm and wonder how I’m ever going to do that.
“Abigail, please meet me at the snack bar tomorrow morning so we can go over a few things,” Lilly continues, her singsong voice sounding more and more forced. “I figured since you have a lifeguarding meeting this afternoon, I’d give you the day off.”
I stand tall and smile, concentrating on making a good impression. “Thanks for being so understanding. I really appreciate it.”
“Of course.” Lilly nods. Then she glances at Zoe with her sapphire eyes. “And as always, great to see you again, Zoe. Tell your mother I said hello.”
As soon as Lilly walks away, I shove the apron into my Nike bag, diverting my eyes.
But Zoe is never at a loss for words.
“Okay, Wonder Woman, how many hours are you working for her again?” Zoe asks as she and I trek past the crowded pool toward the club lobby.
“I don’t know. However many she needs me.” I shrug, looking for somewhere to stick my towel.
Zoe stops dead in her path and turns to face me. “So does that mean we’re not expanding our babysitting service this summer?”
“Uh … I, uh, I meant to tell you that I might not have the time now that I’m working two …”
Zoe swats the air and tosses her towel in a wicker basket next to the entranceway to the locker rooms. “Whatever. I plan on babysitting my butt off since it gets me away from my crazy house.”
“That sounds like a good idea….” My voice trails off. “Just so you know, I really do want to babysit with you, but …” I ball up my towel and shoot it into the wicker basket, pausing to think about how best to phrase what I’m about to say about Zoe’s beloved country club. “But working the snack bar is the only way BCC will let me lifeguard. You know, it’s part of the arrangement they made with me since I’m not a member.”
“Ahh! This club and its rules.” Zoe shakes her head. She looks like she’s about to say more when she’s interrupted.
“Hey, Zoe!” A tiny woman in a yellow bikini calls out. A light pink baby sling is wrapped across her chest.
“Hi, Mrs. Johnson,” Zoe answers, making googly eyes at the tiny baby.
The woman stops in front of us. “Can you watch the girls for me tomorrow so I can squeeze in an extra session with my trainer? The child care here is just so crowded on Tuesdays and you know how my girls love their one-on-one time,” she says, looking overwhelmed by the sleeping child attached to her.
I open my mouth to say, “I’d love to”—even though I’ve never met this woman before—but then I remember my other obligations.
Zoe looks at me. Then back at the woman. “Yeah. Sure. That’d be great.” She digs into her bag and hands the woman a business card.
“Thanks, sweets,” she says. Relief washes over her as she looks down at the card. She waves to us, adjusts the baby on her hip, and continues her trek back toward the pool.
“Business cards?” I ask.
“I was going to surprise you today with our new cards. I ordered them before I realized how much time this snack bar thing would take up.” She sighs and thrusts a card into my hand.
“Zoe, this is adorable!” I exclaim. The card is framed in a cute pastel pattern with the words A to Z Beachwood Babysitting Service written at the top.
“Would you expect anything less?” she asks, her eyebrows raised.
“From you? Never.” I shake my head.
“You get it, right? ‘A’ for Abby. ‘Z’ for Zoe.”
“I get it. We’re linked, remember?” I pull my friendship necklace from my bag and show her the A and Z letter charms hanging there.
Zoe fingers the matching charm around her neck. “But now I feel like I should probably cross off the ‘A’ from the card….”
“Don’t be silly. I’ll find a way—”
“Awesome,” Zoe quickly interjects. “Because I really need you. The parents love you.” Zoe shoves the cards into her bag, clearly relieved that I was so easy to win over.
“So, on a different note, want to tell me what t
hat poster is for?” I point to a framed poster next to the locker room doors. It’s filled with pictures of what resembles some sort of feast.
“It’s for the Last Blast Luau!” Zoe exclaims.
“The what?”
“The Last Blast Luau! It’s just the biggest party of the summer. Comes after the competition. They hold it every year as kind of a two-part thing.”
“So, have you been?”
“No, I wasn’t ‘old enough.’” Zoe rolls her eyes. “I told you this club had a lot of rules. For the Luau, the rules are that you have to be at least fifteen to attend and …” She stops herself.
“Really?” I lean toward the poster, trying to get a better look. I notice one of the guys in the background looks a lot like Brody. I squint. Must be my imagination. Again.
When I turn around, Zoe’s already deep in conversation with a familiar-looking girl dressed in a red BCC Lifeguard Y-back workout bikini. Is there anyone here who doesn’t know Zoe?
“Hey, I’m Abby,” I say to the girl, stepping next to Zoe. It’s obvious this girl is a lifeguard—not only is she wearing the right attire, but her chiseled shoulders have the look of extensive training. I might as well get to know her.
“Yeah. Hey.” She flicks her brunette hair over her shoulder, not even bothering to glance my way. “So, is your brother here?” she asks Zoe. As she’s talking, Allison and Brooke, two ultra-chic girls from B-Dub, come up behind her. They’re clad in sheer sundresses over bikinis and swarm around her like the president’s security detail.
“Nope.” Zoe shrugs. “He’s in Europe till the end of August. At basketball camp.”
“Oh, that’s a shame. I was looking forward to hanging with him this summer.”
“You were looking to do more than hang with him, Lexi.” Allison elbows her.
“Yeah, now that Kylie is a thing of the past …” Brooke giggles.
“And so is you-know-who …” Allison adds, raising her eyebrows like she knows she’s saying something she shouldn’t.
Lexi shoots them both a look like shut up now, you morons. Then she tells Zoe that she’ll catch her later and with that she saunters past us. Allison and Brooke trail behind her like goslings following their mother. Allison manages to give me a small wave goodbye before being pulled back into the gaggle.
“And I thought Allison and Brooke were Violet Montgomery’s girls,” I say, mockingly. “They always seemed to be such loyal followers at school.”
“They would follow a toddler if they thought the kid was going to be the next Justin Bieber.”
I snort. “Regardless, I’d kill for that girl Lexi’s shoulders.”
“I know. Her parents set her up with this amazing trainer in LA who works with all the professional athletes,” Zoe replies.
And that’s when it hits me. “Wait. Lexi? Lexi Smalls.”
“Yeah …”
“She was at the invitational in San Fran. I beat her by a stroke in the freestyle. And from what I heard, she kicked butt in tournaments all year long.”
“Yup. That’s her.”
“That’s right! I knew I’d seen her somewhere before. I remember Lexi’s dad totally reamed her out after I beat her. He screamed so loud his voice echoed throughout the entire gym. I even felt sorry for her. Now not so much.”
“It’s hard to feel sorry for Lexi.”
“So what’s her deal? You know, besides me beating her at the invitational and her having psychotic parents?”
Zoe scales two gray stone steps and passes in front of a comfy window seat filled with plush navy cushions. “Let’s just say this: Lexi Smalls makes Violet Montgomery look like a kitten.”
“Seriously?”
“Lexi is like Violet but instead of using her powers for evil as an ‘actress,’ she uses them to be a total swimming superstar. I hear that when Lexi’s done with a swim meet at school, her classmates flock to her like she’s Lady Gaga.”
“Wait, where does she go to school again?” I stop midstride, hoping that Zoe isn’t about to say what I think she is.
“Upper Crest.”
Heat fills my body. Upper Crest is the school that Brody went to. I force myself to keep calm. “Oh right, the same private school that uh …”—not Brody, not Brody—“Amber McDonald went to before she transferred to B-Dub this spring.”
“Yup. That’s how I got the inside deets.”
“Well, maybe things will be different at the club ….”
“Ha! Doubt it. Since Violet and Hannah are in the South of France this summer, Lexi is definitely ready to take over Vi’s reign as top dog.”
“Well, hopefully our captain will put her in her place,” I reply, trying to be the logical one.
“That’s just it. Loco Lex is our captain this year.” Zoe stops in front of a door emblazoned with a gold plate on which the word, Lifeguards is stamped.
“Who would name someone like that captain?”
Zoe grabs my arm and pulls me down the hall beside a large potted plant. She lowers her voice when a cute group of guys in red swim trunks say hi to her. They walk through the door we were just standing in front of.
“That’s the thing. Captains aren’t named here. They’re earned through that intra-squad competition I was telling you about. They hold it at the end of the summer and whoever wins is named captain and guaranteed a college scholarship.”
“Wait. What? Did you see her Prada beach bag? I can think of at least ten of my neighbors who could use a scholarship before her,” I say with a sigh.
Another member brushes by us. Her Louis Vuitton purse bangs into my arm, jolting me into action. “Scratch that. Is there even a single club member who actually needs a college scholarship? Seems to me that most of the families here could endow their own.”
“That’s not the point.” Zoe lowers her voice to a whisper. “It’s a total status thing to guard here. And if you win the scholarship, not only do you earn bragging rights, but all the members make this huge deal out of you. You become BCC royalty.”
I immediately begin to formulate a plan to snag the scholarship. I’m sure if I win, the club will give me “member status.” But most of all, then I could guarantee myself money for college before I even begin my sophomore year of high school. And I thought I would have to pray to get noticed through one of my sports at B-Dub! My insides begin to bubble like a Jacuzzi just thinking about the scholarship.
Zoe continues. “And get this. Lexi didn’t exactly win last year. She came in second place. The guy who won decided not to work at the club again, so he gave the money back and they gave the captain rank to Lexi.”
“So she didn’t even earn it outright?”
“Uh-huh. Rumor is, though, that Lexi didn’t actually get to see the moolah. So this year, she’s willing to do just about anything to prove that she’s deserving of the coveted Beachwood Country Club swim scholarship. And when I say anything, I mean anything.”
“Is the event that competitive?” Even with what Zoe’s told me about how much people at BCC love to brag, I can’t imagine that Lexi and everyone else here would be as motivated as I am. Unlike the rest of them, I need a scholarship. It’s the only way I’ll be able to attend a four-year school.
“If you thought breaking the basketball, softball, and swimming lineups at B-Dub as a freshman was tough, that’s nothing compared to how all-out people go for this thing.”
“Zach told you all of this?”
“Yeah. So you can imagine how tough it really is ….”
I step next to her, admiring the huge plaque honoring Last Blast winners. I run my finger down the names, recognizing some of the last names from school. I can just barely make out where last year’s original winner’s name was listed before being replaced by Lexi’s. “And I guess a non-member has never won ….”
“Nope. Never. Like I said, you’re the first non-member to ever lifeguard here. So it’d be pretty impossible to w—” Zoe places her hand in front of her face as if she can’t believe
those words just tumbled out of her mouth. “Not that I don’t think you can do it.”
“You better believe I can.” We squeeze into the team room and I look around. Lifeguards sit on folding chairs and huddle in small groups. Everyone seems totally at ease. But I’m not going to let that stop me.
This swanky club doesn’t know what’s about to hit it.
Chapter Three
I follow Zoe to a long table set up beneath a framed panoramic black-and-white photo of the beach thirty years earlier. A woman wearing a starched white Beachwood Country Club shirt sits behind a cardboard box filled with envelopes marked “registration.”
“How are you, Zoe?” the woman asks, lowering her tortoiseshell glasses onto the bridge of her nose. She graciously smiles.
“Peachy cream, Carol. As you may have already heard, I’m a lifeguard this summer,” Zoe announces, going for maximum effect.
“I did hear as a matter of fact,” Carol replies, wagging her finger at Zoe. She flips through the small file and finds Zoe’s manila envelope in seconds. “Please pick up your gear over there.” She passes Zoe the package and points to the table next to her. On it sit rows of brand-new navy blue Beachwood Country Club gym bags.
I watch Zoe attack the table, snatching a canvas bag up in seconds. While most girls at B-Dub wouldn’t be caught dead in anything but designer clothes, Zoe and I are always suckers for sporty gear.
“And you are?” Carol looks me over like she’s checking out squashed soup cans masquerading as fine art.
“Abby. Abby Berkeley,” I say, clearing my throat. Two girls come up behind me and try to push their way to the front to sign in. They roll their eyes when they realize that there’s a line.
Carol gives them each a small grin and then begins flipping through the monogrammed envelopes. “Hmm …”
Zip.
“Check this out!” Zoe shouts, holding up a Dri-FIT tee against her chest.
I do a little bounce, eager to snag my own bag of free duds. The girls in line barely manage to control their snickers. Obviously, this isn’t as big of a moment for them as it is for me.
Making Waves Page 2