Making Waves

by Nicole Leigh Shepherd

  “Berkeley with a B, correct?” Carol looks up.

  “Yup,” I say, bewildered by the delay.

  “I don’t see you here.” Carol continues to search through the envelopes.

  My stomach drops like an anchor. “What? Wait. I have my letter.”

  As I begin to rustle through my bag, I hear Lexi laughing from the front row behind me. Whether it’s about me or something else, I’m not sure.

  “Are you positive you’re a member?” Carol asks, pulling out a paper. She wrinkles her forehead as she scans the list.

  “Yeah. I mean, no, I’m not a …” I look back behind me. By this point, the line of lifeguards—all of whom appear visibly frustrated by the holdup—has grown like a weedy vine.

  “I’ll grab us some seats. The room is filling up fast,” Zoe says, obliviously leaving me to fend for myself.

  “Abby.” Carol drags her finger down the paper list. “Oh. That’s right! You’re the new girl who’s working at the snack bar this summer. We were just talking about you this morning.”

  “Actually, I’m new to the club but I’m not new to the beach—”

  “That’s great.” Carol cuts me off, pulling out a manila envelope marked NON-MEMBER in black marker. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks,” I say, tensely smiling. I tuck the envelope under my arm and quickly scan the bags. Grabbing the first one I see, I unzip it and hastily shove my envelope inside.

  When I turn around to search for Zoe, Lexi calls out, “Hey, new girl!” I pretend I don’t hear her and find Zoe in the back of the room.

  “Did you see this?” Zoe beams, holding out the red swimsuit. “We’re official!”

  Seeing the gear pulls me out of my funk. I pull a bright red lifeguard visor out of my bag and shove it on top of Zoe’s air-dried hair. She stands and poses.

  “Work it, girl!” I shout.

  We both bust out in hysterics as Zoe begins to pretend to walk the runway.

  Tweeeeet!

  At the sound of the whistle, Zoe and I jump like we’ve been stung by jellyfish. A bronzed woman with a streak of zinc across her nose stands in front of the ivory wall. The combination of the CPR poster hanging behind her, her surprisingly formal attire—a gray Beachwood Country Club short-sleeved collared tee neatly tucked into red shorts—and the way that she crosses her cut arms leaves no doubt in my mind. This woman means business.

  “Attention!” the woman announces from the front of the room. She lets her metal whistle drop from her mouth so that it hangs from a lanyard wrapped around her neck.

  “For those who don’t know me …” The woman glances at the back of the room where Zoe and I are seated. Some of the experienced lifeguards, including Lexi and her crew, turn around, narrowing their eyes at us so that there’s no confusion about who the new kids in town are.

  “Ahem …” the woman says, “I believe I had the floor.” She taps her foot on the ground in annoyance. “As I was saying, my name is Denise Mason and I will be your supervisor this summer.”

  Zoe slides her chair next to mine. Leaning over, she whispers, “Denise is insane. Last year she made Allison run the beach for an hour after conditioning practice because she heard she was dating another lifeguard.”

  Guess it’s a good thing I’ve sworn off guys for all eternity.

  “And get this. She was just talking to the guy.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.” Zoe nods.

  “If the guards don’t need this job, then why put up with Denise?”

  “The same reason you applied. The glory. Everyone wants to work here.” Zoe nods at me sagely.

  I nudge her to pay attention.

  “I know most of you want to jump right into a discussion about the Last Blast Competition.” Denise says, adjusting her matching BCC visor.

  A couple of seasoned lifeguards let out hoots.

  Denise glares at the guards. They immediately stop.

  “But first we’re going to go over the club rules and regs. I can tell already we’re going to lose some guards this year due to bad behavior.”

  Zoe leans toward me again. “Here we go ….”

  “I’m going to start off by saying, first and foremost, absolutely no relationships between lifeguards and anyone who is employed by the country club. And I hope I’m making myself clear this year. That means no hand-holding with yoga instructors. No kissing bus boys”—I’m surprised to see Lexi and her friends’ eyes go wide at this one—“and most importantly, no dating your fellow lifeguards. Last year, we seemed to have some misunderstandings.” Denise scans the first few rows. Her dark eyes land on Allison, who immediately turns to stare at a spot on the wall.

  I say a silent prayer of thanks that I’m not her.

  “Ohmigod,” Zoe whispers.

  “I know. Can you believe she outed Allison like that on the first day? She must be dying.”

  Zoe’s eyes are wider than a six-lane freeway. “You’re not going to believe this.”

  “What?” I whisper back.

  “The guy. The one who actually won the competition.”

  “Yeah?”

  “He’s here.”

  “What?”

  “Look!” Zoe points to the back of the room.

  “Zo, I don’t even know what he looks like and we should be paying attention to Denise.”

  “Look!” she practically screams.

  And that’s when I turn behind us.

  I gasp.

  His neck, I’d recognize those muscular contours anywhere. His tousled brown hair, the same hair I ran my hands through. His long strapping legs, the legs that stretched out with mine on the sand. His eyes, the emerald ones that have been imprinted in my mind for the last month.

  It’s him. Standing in the doorway.

  Brody.

  Chapter Four

  Droplets of sweat roll down my back as Denise’s stern voice fades away like a distant foghorn. The only sound I hear is my heart beating inside me like a drum.

  “Abs … Are you okay?” Zoe asks.

  I slink down in my chair, pulling Zoe along with me. “Shhh …” I say. “He’ll see you.”

  “Who cares if he sees me?” Zoe whispers loudly. “It’s Lexi who better watch her back.”

  “Lexi?”

  “Yeah, because of the competition. How he’s the one who actually won and everything … Isn’t that what we’re talking about?”

  “Zoe, that’s him. That’s the guy.”

  Zoe gives me a confused look.

  “The guy from the swim meet.”

  Zoe’s eyes widen as recognition crosses her face. “Wait just one second. Your mystery guy is Brody? Brody Wilson?”

  I glance around nervously, slumping deeper into my chair. “I have to get out of here.”

  “What? Are you kidding me? This is the best thing to happen since, well, ever!”

  “How can you say that? He’s here, which means he lied to me. He told me he was going to be at Michigan by now. So either a, he wasn’t actually recruited for swimming or b, he just didn’t want a relationship with me.” I shake my head. My brothers were right. Guys are dogs.

  “Or maybe he just didn’t know he was going to be back here, since he did give up the captainship and everything.”

  I glare at Zoe. She clearly doesn’t know what she’s talking about. After all, she never even told me that Brody worked at the country club in the first place. Granted, I never told her his name.

  “Uh, Abby. I think he’s looking at you.” Zoe elbows me.

  “What? No!” Without thinking, I pop up to see if Zoe’s right. Only then do I realize that she was just kidding. Some of the other guards glower at me, but fortunately, I duck down again before Brody notices what’s going on.

  Or at least I hope I do….

  My breath begins to rise and fall in heaping gasps and I force myself to concentrate on what Denise is saying. “Our club members expect certain standards to be met,” Denise continues, “which
in turn means we expect nothing but the best from our lifeguards.”

  I can’t help it. It doesn’t take two seconds before I start tuning out Denise’s droning. Again. How can all the other guards look so calm? Brody friggin’ Wilson is here!

  I give myself a mental slap in the face. Get a hold of yourself, Abby Berkeley.

  “To be the best, you have to work hard.” Denise faces us.

  I don’t know if it’s because my ragged breathing is making me lightheaded, but I start to feel like Brody’s staring at the back of my head.

  I can’t look. I just can’t.

  “Look around,” Denise says.

  Of course. Now he’s sure to notice me.

  Heads turn back and forth. Some smile and wave. Others sit relaxed back on their chairs. I cringe and chew on my nail.

  “There are a combined twenty-five senior and junior guards in this room. Do the math. That’s way too many. We do this on purpose.”

  I stare at the floor, attempting to mentally invoke long dormant powers of teleportation. It doesn’t work.

  “Some of you will quit because you can’t hack it in the water. Others will be fired because they can’t hack it on land. But know this: one bad move and you’re history. No exceptions.”

  “Let’s hope she makes one exception,” Zoe whispers, raising her eyebrows in Brody’s direction. “For a certain Miss Berkeley and Mr. Wilson.”

  I shudder. What if Denise does find out about my history with Brody? Would that alone be enough to disqualify me? If she can be mad at Allison a year later for something that turned out to be totally insignificant, then I can only imagine what she’d do to me if she ever discovered all the Brody-related thoughts that have been flying through my head for the past thirty days.

  “Please refer to the schedule included in your packets. You will be required to condition before and after your shifts. Junior guards who are in the top five in conditioning during the first few sessions will be paired up with a senior guard to learn to work the beach. The remaining junior guards will be assigned to the pool. You will receive your assignments by the end of the week. More specific information can be found in your folders.”

  “Did you hear that? You and Brody will be paired up! I know it!” Zoe elbows me.

  I reach down and dig into my bag before I throw up.

  “Any questions?” Denise asks. She takes the room’s silence as a call to continue. “If there are no questions about conditioning, then let’s take a moment to go over what I know you’re all anxious to hear about: the Last Blast Competition.”

  The guards around me instantly perk up as Denise grabs papers from the side table. “The competition will be held at the end of August just as it has been in years prior.”

  I pick my head up. That’s what I need to distract me. The competition. I’ll be so busy training to win the scholarship I won’t have time for Brody.

  “Just like last year, two captains will be selected on the basis of seniority. They will then have the opportunity to select their teams and choose a group name. Men and women each will compete separately in three events, earning points for their respective squads. The winning team will take home the trophy and—” she pauses for emphasis, “the leading scorer for the winning team will win a college scholarship of twenty-thousand dollars per year.”

  Twenty-thousand dollars! Per year! I set my feet on the linoleum floor like a track star ready to take off.

  “I hope that everyone has been working out this spring. Conditioning begins tomorrow. Now, I’ll ask you once more: Are there any questions?” Denise lets out a deep breath and hastily scans the room. “I guess not. Then, in that case, our first meeting is officially dismissed.”

  Before Denise can finish the s sound in dismissed, I dart out of my seat. I’m in such a hurry to escape that my bag snags on the arm of my chair. It pulls and rips, scattering the contents across the carpet.

  No! Not the apron. I search for it, hysterical. Guards begin to gather around me. Finally, I spot the navy cloth resting against a chair leg in the distance. If I can just grab the cloth before Brody sees me, maybe I’ll manage to escape with at least some of my dignity intact.

  I make a last-ditch attempt to reach for the apron, hoping to feel the familiar cotton beneath my fingers.

  Instead, a warm hand folds over mine.

  Chapter Five

  “Abby …”

  The word hangs there. But I’m too disoriented to even recognize it as my name.

  “Abby?” Brody says it again, this time as a question. Like earth to Abby, only soft, sweet.

  I look down and realize that my hand is still wrapped in his. His fingers are warm and rough, the fingers of someone who isn’t afraid to get a little dirty. I like that about him. My breath catches in my throat. What am I doing thinking about Brody Wilson’s fingers?

  I pull my hand back abruptly. “Uh, uh … I gotta go.”

  “Wait,” Brody reaches out to me again. This time his hand lands on my arm.

  Shivers run down my spine and once again I’m momentarily paralyzed.

  “I’m so glad you came.”

  My eyes travel to his thick lips, watching them as they form each individual syllable. For a moment, it’s as if his lips are disassociated from the rest of his body. All I can think about is how amazing they would feel pressed against my own. How luscious they did feel pressed against my own.

  “I was actually looking forward to seeing you here today.”

  I take a tiny step backward and am finally jolted from my daydream. “Wait, how did you know I was supposed to be here? I just found out a couple days ago.”

  Brody gives me a sheepish grin. “When Denise told me that a spot on the team opened up and she received an application from an Abby Berkeley”—he bends down and picks up my manila packet from the floor—“I had to step in.”

  “You what?” I ask, confused. I take the folder from his outstretched hand.

  “I couldn’t believe it was really you. What are the odds?”

  “Yeah. Small world.” I shove the stupid non-member packet in my bag. I glance at the doorway, still tempted to flee. Then I look back at Brody and before I know it, I’m letting everything out. “Look, I haven’t seen you since you told me that you didn’t want to go out with me. And now you’re here when you said you were going to be in Michigan. And I’m about to start lifeguarding at this fancy club of yours and I really want to make a good impression. So just be honest with me. What’s up?”

  “I recommended you for the job.” He pushes back his side-swept brown hair.

  “You what?!”

  “I advocated for you to get the lifeguarding job. And surprisingly enough, Denise listened to me.” Brody looks down at me and gives me a smirk that somehow manages to convey both shame at being found out and the glee of a five-year-old child who knows he’s gotten away with murder. “I’m sorry that they’re also making you work at the snack bar, but I’m just glad to see you here.”

  I let Brody’s alleged enthusiasm wash over me and then place my hands on my hips. “Are you telling me that I couldn’t have gotten this job by myself?”

  “Wait, no. That’s not what I meant—”

  I cut him off. “Because you of all people should know what an accomplished swimmer I am.”

  “I do, Abby—”

  “I mean, you were there at the conference.”

  “I know, which is why—”

  “Ahem,” says a voice, interrupting Brody mid-sentence. The word is quickly followed by two quick taps on my shoulder. When I turn around, Lexi holds out my apron, “I’m sorry to get in the way of whatever’s going on here, but I believe this is yours.”

  Quicker than I can say mortified, I snatch the apron from her grasp.

  “So tell me, will you be guarding the snack bar this summer?” Lexi snorts.

  I ball my fists.

  “You’ve got yourself a real two-for-one here, Brody,” Lexi continues, glancing his way. “You know, l
ifeguard by day, snack girl by night?”

  My face reddens with humiliation. If she were anyone other than my captain, I’d knock her right out of her overpriced coffee-colored Ugg flip-flops. As it is, I’m thinking of doing so when Brody steps forward.

  “Lay off her, Lex,” he says.

  My cheeks heat up—Brody defended me! But then I stiffen just as quickly. I can handle this myself.

  “Oh, don’t worry about us, Bro. We’re just having a little fun. Right, Abby?”

  I grimace.

  Lexi doesn’t let that stop her. “So if I say, ‘Thank goodness we have Abby to save us from drowning in a glass of water,’ she’ll know I’m just joking. Right, Abs?”

  “That’s enough, Lexi.” Brody stands between us.

  Lexi backs away, feigning humility. “Okay, okay. I’ll let you two get back to your little secret tryst.” She raises her eyebrows and turns to me. “I’ll see you when I need a mocha.” Then she charges out of the room, practically whipping us with her brown ponytail.

  For a second, I forget that I’m standing in front of the same guy I’ve been thinking about, okay obsessing over, for the past month. “What’s her deal?” I ask.

  “She’s just an insane competitor.” Brody shrugs.

  “So you two know each other well?” I imagine the two of them sneaking into an empty classroom at Upper Crest for a private canoodling session. The thought makes my stomach churn.

  “Let’s just say Lexi and I have known each other for a long time.” He hesitates before telling me more. “Look, I wanted to—” A buzz interrupts us.

  He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. His face drops as he reads the text.

  “I’m sorry to do this … but I’ve got to go,” he says abruptly. Then he dashes toward the door.

  What the? I watch him disappear, feeling as if the world has just dropped out beneath me.

  And then suddenly there he is, back by my side just as quickly as he vanished. He moves in as if he’s about to kiss me on the cheek, but then at the last second he squeezes my hand instead. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  And then he’s gone. For real this time.

  And I’m left totally confused.