Making Waves

by Nicole Leigh Shepherd

  “Yeah?” I say, my voice hopeful.

  “Let’s just say we’re even.” She playfully kicks the water, splashing me.

  “Sounds good to me.” I splash her back, laughing. “Now start wearing your necklace!”

  Zoe stares at the empty spot around my neck. “Uh, where’s yours, Miss Berkeley?” She mockingly puts her hands on her hips.

  “Um … in my drawer at home.”

  Zoe raises her eyebrows.

  “I didn’t want to ruin it,” I say guiltily.

  “Okay, I’ll start wearing it after the competition today on one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  “After you win—”

  I interrupt her. “Maybe you’ll—”

  She cuts me off right away. “No, Abby, don’t even say it. We both know I’m not going to win.” She shrugs. “Anyway, after you win the competition and the scholarship and find a way to let Brody back in—”

  “I’m not going to do that.”

  “Right. You keep saying that. Anyway, are you gonna let me finish?”

  “Fine. Sorry.”

  “And after we go to the Luau—and don’t you even tell me about how you won’t be allowed to go or make some excuse about your parents—after all that, let’s remember to do things just the two of us sometimes.”

  “No Kylie?” I ask.

  “No Kylie.”

  “No Missy?”

  “Nope, no Missy.”

  I smile so widely I feel like my cheeks are about to burst. “Well, then, I’d love that!”

  “Good.” Zoe smiles back. “Because you didn’t have a choice.” She gives me a hug and I know that things between the two of us are really going to be okay. “Now let’s go kick some butt!”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The hazy afternoon is more humid than hot when Zoe and I make our way to the starting line. The beach is crowded with Last Blast spectators scattered across the Beachwood Country Club grounds.

  I’m shocked to see that my family even made the trip. The club must have allowed them in because of me. Still, it’s so weird to see them here. Dad and Robby, looking out of place in their uniforms, stand off to the side by the cabanas. Whenever someone walks past them—even if it’s just to offer them a cold beverage or an umbrella—they grimace with such intensity that passersby probably think they’re protestors. Meanwhile, my mom and two other brothers have at least attempted to blend in by dressing for the beach. Still, they hold a little protest of their own, opting to sit on a towel by the volleyball nets instead of parking on the many white foldout chairs in front of the pool.

  I step up to the starting line and stretch out my hamstrings. My skin prickles with excitement.

  I’m dying to look at Brody for encouragement—he stands behind me in front of the tower—but I resist the urge. It doesn’t matter that we’re on the same team. We’re over. I will myself to focus; this moment isn’t about him.

  “Go, Abby and Zoe!” I look over my shoulder and spot Kylie and Missy holding signs for the Malibu Mafia. I adjust my black two-piece bathing suit. I’ll deal with the two of them later.

  “This begins our seventh annual Last Blast Competition!” Denise shouts into a bullhorn. “The Malibu Mafia versus the Pacific Coast Pirates!”

  The crowd erupts with cheers. People linger by the pool to watch the action. This is it. Everything I’ve worked for. I can just see the promise of college glimmering in the distance … if I can just manage to keep all of the club craziness out of my head—and if Lexi doesn’t cheat.

  “It’s been another wonderful, but more importantly, safe season, thanks to the hard work of the Beachwood lifeguards. Only one save was needed this summer.”

  Another bout of cheers erupts and Katie looks at me, smiling. I beam back at my favorite partner and then quickly shift my gaze to Zoe, mouthing that we’re in this together. There’s no way that I’m going to bask in the crowd’s adulation without acknowledging what she went through.

  “As many of you know, two teams will be competing against each other today for the coveted Last Blast Cup.” Denise points to a gleaming brass trophy that stands at attention in the middle of a table set up in front of the lifeguard tower.

  As I stare at the cup, my stomach splashes around like waves during a summer storm. That cup is mine.

  “The team with the most points will win the cup. And the lifeguard who earns the most points from the winning team will win an annual twenty-thousand-dollar college scholarship.”

  More applause rings out.

  As the clapping subsides, the screech of my dad’s scanner can be heard. A few gatherers glance over at my dad and whisper.

  “We’ll begin the competition today with the women’s one-hundred-meter sand dash,” Denise shouts.

  I set up at the green starting line. Zoe finishes her stretches and steps beside me. She squeezes my hand.

  “Good luck,” she mouths.

  Lexi glances my way as she shakes out her hands and legs. A burly bald man in the crowd—her father, I remember him from the invitational—screams, “Concentrate, Lex!” and her face twists. But then she quickly regains her mojo and smirks at me.

  Just seeing her cocky smile sends the adrenaline rushing through my blood like a current. There’s no way that Lexi Smalls is leaving here with that cup.

  “Ready …” Denise shouts.

  Lexi begins to rock into position like me.

  Brody yells, “Go Mafia.”

  “Set.”

  I dig my back foot into the sand, ready to explode like a cannon. An anticipatory chill dashes up my back and runs down my legs.

  “Go!” Denise shouts.

  I lunge forward, feeling my muscles snap into action. With long strides, I pump my arms hard as I can. Lexi is a blur next to me. We’re neck and neck. Then the first part of the competition is over as fast as it began.

  I race across the finish line, stretching out my leg with the last step. Lexi is already there, a footstep ahead of me.

  She slows down to a stop. Allison and her teammates surround her.

  “Damn!” I turn my back to them and place my hands on my hips completely disgusted with myself. I kick the sand sending a granule shower across the beach.

  After Zoe catches her breath, she finds me, holding her side. “Close …”

  “Yeah. Great. How did you do?” I ask, pulling myself out of my pathetic pity party.

  “Fifth,” she answers.

  I hold my hand up for a high five. “Nice, Zo.”

  “That’s my best finish this summer,” she says, grinning proudly.

  “Awesome,” I say, slapping her on the back.

  “Yeah, look at us, earning some great points for the team,” Zoe adds.

  I nod in agreement and then peek at Lexi out of the corner of my eye. She’s surrounded by adoring fans, many of whom aren’t even from her team.

  “Don’t worry about them. It doesn’t matter if Lexi places first in every event. It’s about the team,” Zoe says, pulling me out of my staring session. “Lexi won’t win the scholarship if her team doesn’t win.”

  “I had her.”

  She shrugs. “You’ll get her in the ocean.”

  I glance at Lexi again. She’s gone from smugly smiling and receiving congratulations from her teammates to being screamed at by her father.

  “What was that? You almost lost to her!” he points to me. “Do you think that she’s had half the training you’ve had?”

  My blood boils. I’d love to tell him where he can put his precious training. I look at the volleyball net and then off to the side of the club for my own family. They don’t seem thrilled, but at least they nod at me civilly.

  “Go, Abby!” my mom stands up and screams. She sits back down on the towel when people start to look at her.

  At least I have one fan.

  Zoe grins at me, grabbing a water bottle off a refreshment table manned by Jason. “Like I said, it doesn’t matter.” She runs of
f to talk to her mom.

  Jason tosses me a bottle. “Nice race,” he says

  “Yeah, right,” I say, twisting the cap off.

  As I’m drinking, I feel someone gently brush up against me. I look up and see that it’s Brody. He’s also come to grab a water bottle. I can’t tell though if he rubbed against me by accident or on purpose. He looks at me earnestly and says my name, “Abs,” in a single breath.

  I glance at my parents, then Denise, and then back at him. The competition isn’t over yet.

  “Not here,” I say. I swallow and walk away.

  * * *

  “That cup is ours!” Zoe screams as we slap hands about an hour later. She steps behind me before the scenario save, the second girls’ event of the day.

  “Victims in distress, take your mark!” Denise shouts through her bullhorn.

  The lifeguards not participating in the competition jog into the ocean to act as victims. I adjust my swim cap and pull at my bathing suit, snapping it against my skin. I look down at my goose bump–covered legs as I wait for the “victims” to set up.

  With two events left, Lexi’s team is up by two points after their guys also won the sand dash. The pressure is on.

  The victims line up horizontally next to the bobbing flags. They begin waving for help.

  I look over at Lexi’s team. Of course, Lexi, like me, is set up to save. Her teammate, Allison, stands behind her ready for the victim lift.

  “Set,” Denise screams.

  The rope dangles across my body, fluttering in the wind.

  ERNNNN …

  The horn sounds and I take off. I hear the cheers as I dive headfirst into the first wave. Then, boom.

  Bubbles and the comforting silence of the ocean.

  I emerge, then re-submerge, diving like a dolphin until I clear the waves. Immediately I begin the freestyle stroke, finding a similar rhythm as I did back in May when I won the invitational. I reach our victim, Tammi, within seconds and toss her the buoy. I signal to Zoe, treading water. When I know Tammi’s secure, I begin my swim back to the sand.

  Tammi’s pull yanks me back a few feet. Once I can stand on the sand, I begin to use the waves to my advantage, working them one-by-one. Like clockwork, Zoe sprints to my side. Together we use the rope to pull Tammi to shore. As soon as Tammi is in shallow water, I set up in front. Here we go.

  “One. Two. Three. Pick up,” Zoe shouts.

  I maneuver Tammi’s arms to balance on my shoulders. Then I hoist Tammi’s upper body onto my back as Zoe lifts her lower half. We take off to the finish line running like we’re in a wheelbarrow race.

  “Come on, Allison!” Lexi screams next to us.

  “Mafia, by a mile!” Denise screams into the bullhorn.

  The beach erupts into cheers.

  Zoe and I gingerly lower Tammi.

  “Nice job, guys,” Tammi says, as she grabs a towel.

  Behind her, Lexi’s dad grabs her by the arm and pulls her to the side of the crowd. He resumes his pointing and screaming.

  I spot Brody grabbing a buoy by the tower and mouth, “Thank you.” We might be a thing of the past, but I still owe a lot to my trainer.

  Brody nods, then says audibly, “It’s all you.”

  “On your marks!” Denise shouts.

  The butterflies in my stomach fight for position as I stare at the orange two-hundred-meter flag flapping in the wind. We’re tied with Lexi’s team after six events, thanks in part to Brody’s coming in first during the men’s save event. It’s finally the last women’s race—the ocean swim—and it’s all up to me to bring it home.

  “Get set!” The wind whips, throwing me off balance for a second. I position my feet on the wet sand, pull my goggles over my eyes, and suck in a breath, concentrating on getting into my zone.

  “Go!”

  The crowd roars behind me as my feet slap across the shallow water. I tear across the shin-deep waves, ignoring Lexi’s father as he yells out instructions. The other guards splash me as they run, but I pay them no attention. Once the water is waist height, I hold my breath and surface dive underneath a breaker.

  Silence.

  I emerge and begin my freestyle over the waves, the other guards jockeying for spots beside me. I find my breath while keeping my head above water and quickly get into a rhythm. I stretch my arms as far out as possible, attempting to gain as much mileage as I can. I smile as I feel myself pull away from the pack.

  I spot another wave about to break, so I hold my breath and fight it with all my strength, refusing to allow the momentum to thrust me back to the shore. Brody’s words echo in my mind as I use my kick to drive me forward across the rough salty water. The flag is within feet.

  With the wicked waves assaulting me, my freestyle isn’t perfect. But my strong kick gives me enough power to propel myself toward the flag.

  I swim past a paddleboat manned by a male lifeguard, and I’m surprised when he yells out, “You’re in the lead!”

  Those words act like an extra shot of adrenaline. I swim around the flag, pulling my body to the surface of the water to resume my freestyle. My lungs burn as I chop the water, moving closer to the shore with each motion. With the current at my back, the swim to shore is smoother and easier than the swim out to the flag.

  Whoosh.

  I allow the massive wave to push me to shore. When it’s about to crest, I surface dive. Then I feel for the bottom with my feet. A piece of slimy seaweed wraps around my ankle as my toes touch the sand.

  Bingo.

  I begin sprinting through the shallow water. And then out of nowhere, a rush of water pelts me from behind. But I don’t dare look. I know it’s Lexi gaining on me.

  Lexi uses her hands to push for position. I push back. All eyes are on us as we dash toward the finish line.

  “Lexi! Lexi! Lexi!” the crowd chants.

  “Use your power!” Lexi’s dad yells. His pacing is visible even through my goggle-blurred vision.

  And then a few more voices add themselves to the chorus. “You got it, Abby!” my dad bellows.

  “Be tough, Abs!” Brody shouts.

  I don’t let myself think about either of them.

  I pump my arms, feet from the finish. Suddenly, I realize that there’s no way I’m going to win on foot. I stretch out and dive across the finish line like I’m sliding home headfirst.

  For a second, everything is a blur, and then I hear Denise’s voice echo from the bullhorn. “Abby Berkeley is the winner by a hair!” she shouts.

  It might be my imagination, but it feels like the crowd goes silent for a moment. Then applause roars and the crowd, which had previously been chanting Lexi’s name, starts yelling mine.

  I pull off my goggles and swim cap, tossing them to the side. I look around in awe—I’d been working for this moment for so long it’s totally surreal now that it’s here.

  My sense of wonderment comes to an abrupt end when I feel someone jump on my back.

  “You did it!” Zoe says, smacking my back.

  Just then, a towel is tossed at my face.

  I look up in the direction it came from and there’s Jason, smiling and giving me the thumbs-up.

  Huh. Maybe I really did change his mind about how things could be here.

  “You look like a sand monster.” Zoe points to the grains covering the entire front of my body.

  I use the towel Jason threw at me to wipe away the rough sand.

  As soon as I’m done, Zoe grabs my towel and comes in for a high five. “Who’s gonna be the scholarship winner? Abby Berkeley’s gonna be the scholarship winner.” She moves her head from side to side.

  I giggle. “We still have to wait for the men’s event.”

  “Nah. It’s in the bag,” says a new voice.

  I look to my right and am surprised to see that Katie has come over to congratulate me. “I have to say I’m seriously impressed, partner.” She slaps me on the back. “In all my years at the club, I’ve never seen a performance like that. Wa
y to go!”

  “Excuse me!” I hear a husky voice call out. I look over and see that Brody has cut through the crowd and is practically running toward me. He looks like he’s about to scoop me up into his arms, but then we make eye contact and he stops mid-stride, suddenly remembering where things stand between us. For a second, he just stands there, staring at me, as if he can’t decide whether our recent reconciliation means he’s allowed to approach me as anything more than my trainer.

  I shake my head—I don’t want him to get any ideas—but inside my heart screams for him.

  He buries his head in my neck. “I knew you could do it,” he whispers.

  Oh. My. God.

  “Are they still together?” I hear Katie whisper to Zoe.

  Zoe whispers back, “Once Abby decides to get her head out of her butt.”

  “Men, you’re up in five minutes!” Denise yells in the distance.

  Katie and Zoe wave at me, walking off to watch the upcoming race.

  Brody pulls away from my neck and looks me straight in the eyes. “You’re gonna win the scholarship, Abs. You carried us. You’re amazing.”

  My eyes plead for him to kiss me, to forget about everything I said about us being wrong for each other. “Friends …” I murmur, more to myself than to him. “We can be friends.”

  Brody hangs his head. “Yeah, friends …” He lingers for a moment and then takes off toward his mark.

  “So that’s him, huh?” my dad asks, startling me. He pats me on my damp hair.

  “Yup,” I weakly reply. Then a lightening bolt rips through my stomach. “Wait, no. Dad, it’s over. Don’t say any—”

  “It’s over? Why would it be over?” My dad raises his eyebrows. “He came up to talk to me. Seems like a smart boy. Told me I have an amazing daughter. Knows a good thing when he sees it.”

  My heart flutters. I can’t believe Brody told my father that. I watch as Brody takes his mark at the starting line and am suddenly filled with a sense of pride—that’s my sort of ex-boyfriend slash trainer person out there.

  Looking around, I notice that Lexi and her dad have disappeared. The crowd meanwhile has refocused its attention on the upcoming race. I gulp. Clearly, I was just a quick blip on the collective radar. I turn back to my dad. “It’s just that we’re too different.”