Making Waves

by Nicole Leigh Shepherd

  “Just give me my usual,” Mr. Murphy growls.

  Jason sets a glass down.

  Lexi smirks, drawing me away from Jason’s attempts to convince Mr. Murphy of the benefits of Vitamin C. “I hear you’ve been working with one trainer in particular,” she taunts.

  Wow. And here I thought that Lexi just saw me with Brody and interpreted accordingly. Apparently, she heard our entire conversation.

  Unless he told her …

  I steel my nerves, refusing to let myself be bullied. “Why? Are you looking for a new trainer?”

  Lexi sniggers. “Oh, you’re good, Abby Berkeley. But you and I both know that I’ve already met the trainer I’m talking about. In fact, I’ve known him my whole life.”

  “That must be why your shoulders are so cut. What exercises do you—”

  “Cut the BS, Abby. I know you’re training with Brody.”

  I freeze.

  “What’s wrong? Didn’t know I knew, huh?”

  I swallow, pulling my apron out of my bag.

  “Yup. I know all about your little late nights at Brody’s house. I guess Brody forgot to mention to you that we have a long history. Did you know my weekend home is only a few doors down from his in the Colony?”

  Why didn’t he tell me?

  “Kind of made it convenient when we used to be together. All those hot summer nights on the beach. Good thing we didn’t have to worry about rules back then. But then again, I don’t think we could have kept our hands off each other.”

  My fists clench. I knew there was still something between them.

  Clang. Pshhh … Glass shatters. I look over to see that Jason has dropped a bottle of whiskey.

  Hmm … he’s not usually that clumsy.

  “One more,” Mr. Murphy taps his knuckles on the bar, his Rolex watch banging against the counter. Obviously, our conversation is of no concern to him.

  Lexi looks visibly startled, but she continues laying into me. “Where do you live, Abs? That is what Brody lovingly calls you, right?”

  I glare at Lexi, wondering what she’d do if I threw Mr. Murphy’s drink in her face.

  She continues with her ambush, blissfully unaware of my covert impulses. “Do you live in one of those rundown old houses? I’m betting that you do ….”

  “Shut up, Lexi,” I say, shaking out my apron.

  Mr. Murphy stumbles to his feet and heads toward the beach. He grabs a discarded pair of goggles as if he plans to go for a swim.

  At least Zoe is off babysitting ….

  “I’m just here to warn you. That’s all,” Lexi says innocently. “If it was so easy for me to find out about you and Brody, then it’s probably pretty simple for everyone else. You guys might want to be a little more discreet when you’re sneaking around.”

  My mouth is dry. Sweat beads on my back. Does that mean she’s not going to tell Denise?

  “We’re just training,” I say, tying my apron strings behind me.

  “Whatever. You’re just lucky I don’t turn you in.”

  Wait, what?! Is she seriously going to keep my secret. She must be after something. I look Lexi in the eye. “What do you want?”

  She cackles. “To warn you that you and Brody are just a summer thing. There’s no way that whatever’s going on between you two will last.”

  “Yeah? How can you be so sure?” It must be that she intends to put an end to me and Brody—not that there really is a “me and Brody”—so that she can have him all to herself.

  Jason picks up a towel and begins wiping the counter furiously.

  “Brody is from a certain breed. Pure. Not a mutt if you get where I’m going with this.”

  I roll my eyes. “We’re not dogs, Lexi.”

  “Thanks for the science lesson, Abs.” She puts the emphasis on my name. “What you don’t understand—what you can never understand—is that we’ve been trained to act a certain way.”

  “So you’re a robot then?”

  “Robots aren’t trained.” Lexi furrows her brow, then regains her composure. “We’ve all been through cotillion, you know. Plus, club events, charity balls, fundraisers. Do you even know what any of that entails?”

  “Are you done yet?” I sigh.

  Lexi continues. “What have you trained for? Cleaning up after people?”

  Jason throws down his towel. “Enough, Lexi!” he screams. “Enough!” He stands between us. “Abby here doesn’t want to hear about your warped sense of the world. So why don’t you just go and direct your venom at someone who cares.”

  Lexi’s face turns red. She looks genuinely mortified. “Jason, I …” she stammers.

  “Go,” he says, stone-faced.

  She turns around and tramps out of the snack bar, her expression far guiltier than the one worn by the boys Katie rounded up yesterday.

  I look from her back to Jason.

  What just happened?

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Mr. Murphy!” I exclaim as soon as Lexi is out of earshot.

  “What?” Jason asks, barely paying attention. His mind is clearly elsewhere.

  “He grabbed a pair of goggles. And it looked like he was going to the beach!” I frantically untie my apron and rip off my work shirt. Good thing I decided to wear my bathing suit under my snack bar uniform today.

  “Oh no!” Jason shouts.

  “I was so caught up in everything Lexi was saying that all I thought about was how it was good that Zoe wouldn’t see her dad embarrass himself.” I step out of my shorts, tripping on them as I look up at the clock. “But the lifeguards aren’t on duty till ten. How much did he have to drink?

  Jason motions to four empty glasses—two Jack and cokes and two shots. “All in fifteen minutes.”

  “Okay, you go to the tower to call this in. I’ll go see if I can spot Mr. Murphy.” I run out before Jason can protest.

  I can’t decide whether it’s good or bad that Lilly wasn’t here to see this. I doubt she would have been able to stop Mr. Murphy from drinking—he is a member after all—but maybe she would have known what to do.

  I grab a buoy from the side of the lifeguard stand and dash across the sand. I scan the ocean. It’s empty. No swimmers. No victim. Nobody struggling.

  Thank God. Mr. Murphy decided he was too drunk to swim.

  Jason scampers over to me. “I radioed in an intoxicated swimmer,” he says, out of breath. “Denise told me that she was fifteen minutes away and that you should try to talk him out of the water.”

  “He’s not here,” I reply.

  “What?” Jason looks right and left, searching the water alongside me.

  “I don’t see him,” I say, oddly calm.

  The tranquility doesn’t last.

  “Abby look! He just went under!” Jason yells, pointing to an area beyond the cliffs.

  My instincts take over. “Call 911!” I shout, already sprinting to the water.

  My lungs burn as I dive under a wave with my buoy in hand. I swim as fast as I can to where Mr. Murphy was last sighted, ignoring the stinging of the saltwater as it assaults my eyes. When the bubbles clear, I make out a dark shadow up ahead.

  I plunge back into the water and swim faster and faster, harnessing everything I learned in training. I pop my head out for a breath and am bashed by a wave, but this time I can definitely make out a figure flailing about helplessly. I dip back underneath and push myself. It’s Zoe’s dad! my mind screams. I come up again for air and can just about grab one of Mr. Murphy’s waving arms.

  I swim underwater and around Mr. Murphy. I grab him underneath his arms, using my feet to push off the bottom and propel us upward.

  Mr. Murphy fights me as we rise to the surface. His arms thrash and he kicks me hard in my recently healed knee.

  Pain radiates from my knee to my foot. I let go of him. He dips underneath the surface.

  Tears fill my eyes and then, as if out of a dream, Katie appears in the distance, pushing the paddleboat into the water. I signal to her that I ne
ed assistance.

  Unfortunately, though, I can’t wait for her arrival. Mr. Murphy is in trouble right now. I inhale, forcing myself to ignore the ache in my knee, and dive back under. I wrap my arms around Mr. Murphy’s chest and attempt to kick my legs. But Mr. Murphy is too heavy to move.

  I pop my head up and see that Zoe’s father is still fighting the water.

  “Please relax,” I plead with him, tossing him my buoy. “It’s going to be all right.”

  He’s back underwater before he can hear me—or grab on.

  “Where is he?!” Katie shouts as she arrives next to us in the boat.

  I point, swallowing a lump in my throat. I can’t let Zoe’s dad drown. Not on my watch.

  “Pull him to the surface so he can grab the paddle.” She holds out the oar.

  “He’s fighting,” I say, feeling the panic rise in my throat.

  “Just do it!”

  I suck in a big gulp of air and plunge back beneath the surface. I don’t let myself be held back by the burning in my eyes—or in my knee. I wrap my arms around Mr. Murphy’s chest. He thrashes and I’m barely able to hold on to my loose grip. Using my good foot, I push on the sea bottom.

  It’s just enough to get us to the surface for a second.

  He breathes and thrashes. I have to let go or I’m going down with him.

  I come up for a burst of air and then dive underwater. This time, Katie joins me. Bubbles surround us as we wrap our arms around Mr. Murphy’s trunk. She holds up one finger and we both push on the sea floor. This time, we’re able to pull Zoe’s father to the surface. He grabs the buoy.

  Adrenaline kicks in once I resurface. I have to get him to the shore. I maneuver the buoy in front of his chest.

  “I got him!” I shout to Katie.

  “I’m in front,” she yells, pulling us to shore.

  I scissor kick, using the waves to propel us.

  I can do this, I think.

  That is until Mr. Murphy begins to choke. He waves his arms in a misguided attempt to clear his throat.

  “Please calm down,” I say. “Everything is going to be all right.”

  Mr. Murphy finally relaxes into my arms. I can’t tell if he’s just stopped fighting or if he’s passed out.

  “Hold on, Mr. Murphy. We’re almost to the sand,” Katie shouts.

  We ride another wave into shore.

  Splash. This one pushes us to shallow water.

  “We’re on sand,” I say once my feet hit the bottom.

  “The ambulance is on its way!” Jason yells, running toward us.

  “I don’th needth no Godth damnsh ambulancesh,” Mr. Murphy slurs. He wiggles out of my grasp.

  “Mr. Murphy. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to walk unassisted. You’re probably very tired from your struggle,” Katie says.

  Before I can catch him, Mr. Murphy falls face first into the ankle-deep water.

  “Mr. Murphy!” I yell, dropping down next to him.

  I gently roll him to his side. He thanks me by vomiting all over the sand.

  “Make sure his airway is clear!” Katie dictates.

  Zoe’s dad moans as I listen for breathing.

  “You’re going to be fine, Mr. Murphy. Just sit tight until help arrives.” The waves begin to wash away the vomit.

  I turn to Jason. “Can you grab us some warm towels?”

  Jason dashes toward the lobby.

  Mr. Murphy rolls over. “Where am I?”

  I look around for help. In the distance, I see Denise sprinting over. “You’re at the beach club. You’ve had too much to drink this morning and you went for a swim. You’re going to be okay.”

  A siren screeches. Flashing lights spill from the lobby.

  “Huh?” He squints.

  Jason returns with the towels.

  “Thanks.” I grab the towels and lay them across Mr. Murphy to keep him warm. He starts to drift off to sleep.

  “What happened?” Denise yells.

  “Abby and Katie saved Mr. Murphy’s life,” Jason explains, patting me on the back. I cough out the water still lodged in my throat pipes.

  Finally, the paramedics take over and Denise relaxes. The danger has passed. “Nice job, girls,” she says. Her voice is a mixture of intense pride at our having saved a man in her absence and overwhelming relief—there will be no lawsuits today.

  “Thanks,” I squeak, attempting to catch my breath. I watch the paramedics as they transport Mr. Murphy into the ambulance.

  Denise motions that we’re free to go.

  I tremble as I walk across the pathway to the snack bar—I still have an hour left of my shift. It’s no exaggeration to say that literally every part of my body quivers—my legs, my lips, my arms, my hands. The shaking doesn’t stop until I feel a warm body press into me. Muscular arms wrap around my frame and a familiar musky scent drifts into my nostrils.

  “Brody,” I gasp.

  “I just heard what happened.” He sounds out of breath. “Are you okay?”

  “I uh …” I disentangle myself from him and pick my apron up from where I left it on the counter. My hands are still unsteady. Hot tears push against me eyes. “I’ll be …”

  Brody lays his hand on my shoulder. “You need to go home,” he says. “Lilly would never expect you to work after this.”

  I drop the apron on the counter. Lilly! My mind sounds a warning bell. I look around—she’s still not here. Fortunately, neither are any customers. I guess they must have seen that no one was serving and left. “People are gonna complain,” I say nonsensically.

  Brody glances around. “No one’s here,” he whispers. “No one but you and me.”

  I look up into Brody’s eyes. There’s pity there—and something else. “The sheet—Lexi—Zoe’s dad,” I say gravely. I can tell I’m not making any sense.

  “Abby, I think you should go home.” Brody moves a piece of hair out of my eyes.

  “But I have to call Zoe. Tell her what happened. And what about Lilly …” She should be here any minute.

  A single tear drips onto the counter.

  “Zoe will understand.” He runs his fingers through my hair. “And don’t worry about the snack bar. Jason can handle it.”

  I sniffle and Brody must take this for an invitation because he wraps his arms around me once more.

  I let him envelop me, fortifying myself in his embrace.

  But then I tense up. “We’re at the club,” I screech.

  “No one is paying attention, Abs. Everyone is busy with the save.”

  I look around. He’s right.

  He guides me out of the club and into his Jeep.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Is this it?” I stare across the Pacific Coast Highway to the top of an enormous copper-colored cliff. Beyond the brush, the sun sets over the rolling water.

  “Yup.” Brody slows down. Cars whiz by as he attempts to parallel park. “Ready to do some hiking?”

  “Hiking?” I ask, quickly sending Zoe another text. Still no reply after at least eight messages. That’s weird. I’ve been calling her since I saved her father and nothing. She must be really freaked out.

  “Hiking? I wore flip-flops,” I say to Brody as he climbs out of his Jeep.

  After the big save, Brody took me to his house—I managed to be coherent enough to recognize what would happen if he came to mine—and we relaxed by the pool. At first, I just cried. And Brody held me. And then we talked, really talked. It was the first time since the swim meet that we had a real, uninterrupted conversation—no accusations, no worrying about why Brody withdrew from Michigan, and no swimming laps. He shared the story of his first save and how it took him a couple of days to let it sink in. Eventually, I stopped shaking. At one point, I even opened my eyes to discover that I’d calmed down enough to fall asleep.

  Brody opens the passenger door. “Thanks,” I say as I climb out of the car. My stomach does flip-flops. Even after all the time Brody and I spent together, I don’t know if it
was a good idea to come with him to the bonfire. Part of me thinks that I shouldn’t have even come here at all.

  He grabs my hand and the enormity of what would happen if someone saw us rushes back to me. I can’t let Brody think that just because we shared the most wonderful afternoon, we’re suddenly together. There’s still the scholarship to think about. And my family. Not to mention whatever Lexi has in store—I can’t imagine that she plans to stop at a mere warning.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, feeling queasy about rocking the boat.

  “You agreed to come to this together so I figure we’re officially out of the closet.” He looks both ways before pulling me behind him as he crosses the street.

  “Not exactly.” I shove my phone into the back pocket of my cut-offs. “I figured this was more of a Look they showed up at the same time kind of thing—you know, What a coincidence!—than a Look they came together kind of thing.” I pull my hand back from his. “And I just don’t think it’s a good idea to hold hands next to the busiest road in Malibu.”

  Brody lets out a sigh. “Are you ever going to stop caring about what people think?” He looks up at the darkening sky.

  “It’s not just that I care what people think.” I stamp off, then turn back around. “It’s that I’ve put too much into training to blow it two weeks before the competition.” I wave my hands, exasperated, then take off across the highway.

  Brody shakes his head and follows me.

  When I reach the cliff, I glance over at the dense brush. I can’t figure out how we’re going to get to the other side of the cliff without some serious rock climbing equipment. “Where is this bonfire anyway?”

  Brody waves me over. “Follow me.”

  I trail behind him through the brush and onto a narrow path. I gingerly peek over the edge and spot waves splashing against the jagged rocks below. Talk about a long fall. I swiftly shift my body weight back to solid ground. “I don’t see any steps,” I say.

  “Over here.” Brody walks perilously close to the edge.

  I tremble for a second at the thought of something happening to him. I should be used to the landscape—I grew up in Malibu after all—but this cliff is seriously steep.

  Brody peeks over the side and I seize up. “Ready for a workout?” he asks, a glint in his eye.