Waking Up to Boys

by Hailey Abbott

  “I was not,” she insisted. “You just pushed me before I was ready.”

  “But learning to get up is the very first thing you need to figure out when you start wakeboarding,” Chelsea explained. She remembered how easily she had gotten it the first time. Todd had taken her out on the boat, explained the basics, and told her to keep her weight balanced. After just two tries, she was standing up in the wake, laughing into the wind. Within days she was cutting back and forth across the wake, and after a month of almost daily practice she was getting air on most of her jumps and learning basic handle passes. It had been so easy for her—her body had taken to the sport almost immediately, and as soon as she tried it, she hadn’t wanted to do anything else. As much as she wanted to empathize with Britney, she just couldn’t understand why it would be so hard—or so scary. “You just have to keep trying.”

  “Well, I’m never going to get it if you keep pushing me so hard,” Britney grumbled.

  “I’m sorry, Brit,” Chelsea said. Should she admit that she was new to this whole teaching thing and still learning the ropes? She didn’t want Britney to report back to her parents—who had rented one of the deluxe cabins complete with fireplace and private outdoor Jacuzzi—that Glitterlake hired amateurs. “We’ll take it easier next time, okay?”

  “If there even is a next time.” Britney turned away and stuck her nose in the air.

  Chelsea chewed her grilled Swiss-and-tomato sandwich and glanced around the lunch table, where most of the summer staffers continued to linger over big glasses of iced tea, sharing irate-vacationer war stories.

  “So, dude, get this one,” Leo said as he leaned back in his chair. “I’m slinging brews up at Snowmass late one Saturday night…about to close up shop and starting to chase everyone out. There’s this couple over in the corner playing darts—been there all night, drinking beers and shots of JD, tipping well. But I guess they got in an argument or something—honestly, I didn’t even see, I was cashing out—’cause next thing I know, the guy comes over to me and he’s got a dart sticking out of his head.”

  The entire table laughed and some of the girls giggled.

  “No shit,” Leo continued. “Right there in the outside corner of his left eye. And I’m like, ‘Uh, you okay, man? You want me to call 911?’ And the guy’s just standing there like he’s trying to think what to say next. So I take him down to the ER and they’re all freaking out trying to get an eye specialist in, when the orderly who was supposed to prep him comes out holding the dart in his hand. The guy is fine—it missed the nerve by, like, millimeters. The next day I saw him out on the slopes.” Leo shrugged amidst a chorus of guffaws of protest. Chelsea glanced over at Sara, who was smiling at Leo and shaking her head in disbelief. As usual, she looked like she’d just stepped out of the pages of Teen Vogue. Her hair was swept back in a tight bun that made her cheekbones stand out, and she wore a plaid Ben Sherman dress offset by a simple pearl necklace and matching earrings. It was a cute, preppy look that Chelsea could never have pulled off in a million years. Everything about Sara seemed to sparkle: her eyes, her skin, even her laugh. No wonder everyone thought she was so great. Too bad the only sparkling Chelsea ever did was behind a boat.

  Chelsea suddenly realized that everyone at the table was looking at her expectantly.

  “So what do you think, Chels?” Leo asked.

  “Huh?” Chelsea felt ridiculous with so many eyes on her.

  “Hello—what have we just been talking about for the past ten minutes?” Nina joked. “Earth to Chelsea…the party?”

  “Party?” Chelsea’s ears perked up. If she was getting invited to yet another staff party, she was definitely making progress.

  “Pool party,” Leo corrected. “Soft lighting, cold beers, hot chicks in bikinis”—he glanced sideways at Sara, then quickly gave Chelsea a winning grin—“unprecedented fun in the spa building. What do you think?”

  “I don’t know.” Chelsea was sure that if her parents found out about a party like that, they’d be furious. She had always suspected that they knew about the island parties but turned a blind eye because they weren’t on the resort’s property and didn’t affect business. But the spa building…that was only about a five-minute walk from the main lodge. Plus, it was state-of-the-art, designed by a famous architect, and had been really expensive to build. Chelsea knew that her parents had needed to take out a bank loan just to fund the embedded speakers and underwater lighting. She certainly didn’t want to say no to the other staffers, but…her dad would never forgive her if something happened.

  “We totally won’t trash the place,” Mel said, as if reading her mind. “I mean, come on, I work there—I care about keeping it clean as much as you do!”

  “And we’ll only drink out of plastic cups so we don’t have to worry about broken glass,” Leo assured her. “I’ll even run the bar if you want.”

  Chelsea looked around the table at all the summer staffers staring at her expectantly. She knew the decision was up to her—she was the only one who knew where her parents kept the keys to the building.

  “I think it’s a lame idea,” a low voice said from down the table. Chelsea turned toward it and found herself looking straight into Todd’s eyes. “Why would we want to hang by the pool when there’s a lake right there? Besides, Little McCormick would never do something that could get her in trouble.” He had his signature smug grin as he looked at Chelsea.

  Chelsea’s face flushed with humiliation and anger. “Well, I think it’s an amazing idea,” she said. “Let’s do it on Sunday night, after the Fourth of July weekend when tourists have gone home.” She couldn’t believe she had just said yes. But there was no way she was going to let Todd get the best of her in front of everyone.

  A round of cheers broke out, and Sebastian gave Chelsea’s knee a more-than-friendly squeeze under the table. Todd shrugged, lifted his tray, and walked off.

  Chelsea went into her bedroom after lunch and lay down on the bed, looking up at the posters she’d plastered to the walls, showing her favorite pro wakeboarders suspended in the air in the midst of tricks she dreamed of mastering someday. But for once, boarding wasn’t the first thing on her mind. Instead, her thoughts were a jumble of anxiety over the pool party, confusion over what was going on with Sebastian, and jealousy over how easy Sara seemed to have it and how well everyone treated her.

  Maybe the pool party would be her chance to show the world that she could be as girly and feminine as Sara after all. Chelsea went to her swimsuit drawer and rifled through its contents: one-piece practice Speedos, lots of board shorts, and one navy blue tankini—which, she realized to her dismay, was the sexiest piece of swimwear she owned. Even though it showed off only a tiny sliver of stomach and practically came up to her collarbone.

  She heard Sara’s footsteps descending the stairs and then the front door swing shut behind her, followed by a long wash of silence. Chelsea’s parents were probably up at the main lodge, and if Sara really planned to hike the ponderosa trail like she’d told Chelsea she was going to on the way back to their house, she’d be gone for a good long time.

  This is for research purposes only, Chelsea said to herself as she opened the door to Sara’s room and headed toward her closet. And this time, she’d pay attention.

  Chapter Ten

  Could they have picked a nicer day to hold the Fourth of July on?” Leo joked, standing on the top of the ladder as he stood to hang red, white, and blue bunting along the deck. “Hey, do me a favor and refill this staple gun, would you?”

  “No problem.” Chelsea dug around in the toolbox and slipped a row of industrial staples into the staple gun, handing it back up to Leo along with more bunting. Looking out over the tops of the guest cabins and the red clay tennis courts to the lake, she had to agree with Leo. It was a balmy seventy-eight degrees, and the sun shone cheerfully overhead, warming her shoulders as a light breeze rippled the lake’s sparkling surface.

  “Oh, the deck looks wonderful!” C
helsea’s mom called over. Patty slipped through the double-glass doors with her cell phone in one hand and a big sheaf of papers in the other. She was clearly in a hurry to get down to the delivery dock around the side of the building and greet the pyrotechnicians who had come to set up the fireworks, but she still stopped to give Chelsea a kiss on the cheek before hurrying down the wooden stairs.

  The sweet gesture made Chelsea happy, but that was quickly shot through with a cold prickle of guilt. Earlier that day, while her parents were doing their daily inspections of the guest cabins and outbuildings, she had sneaked into their office and slipped the spare set of spa keys into her pocket.

  She watched as her mom’s back disappeared down the stairs; then she pulled the key out of her pocket and handed it to Leo.

  “Thanks!” Leo said, giving her a conspiratorial wink. “And don’t worry about a thing. I have it all under control.”

  Chelsea laughed nervously. She knew she could trust Leo, but she was still a little afraid. “You know, if we get caught—,” she began.

  “Hey, relax. Everything will be okay,” Leo said easily, squeezing Chelsea’s shoulder. “It’s all good.”

  “What’s all good?” Sienna hurried up the stairs with Mel right behind her.

  “Sorry, can’t tell you,” Leo laughed from atop the ladder. “Top secret.”

  “Ooooooh,” Mel breathed. “I know what this is about.” She leaned in toward Chelsea and whispered in her ear. “Thanks for doing this, Chels! It’s going to be great.”

  Chelsea’s cheeks warmed at Mel’s excitement. It was the first time she had ever felt really included by the other staffers. While they had always been perfectly nice, Chelsea was used to feeling like the staff was a popular clique that could never really include her—and that Mel and Sienna were its ringleaders.

  “Good times.” Sienna absentmindedly air-kissed both Chelsea’s cheeks before hurrying inside.

  “Well, Chelsea, I think we’re all done.” Leo climbed down the ladder with the staple gun balanced in one hand.

  “You sure?” Chelsea asked.

  “Positive,” Leo assured her. “I’m gonna go find your sister and see if she’ll give me a hand with the American flag window decals.”

  Chelsea almost reminded him that Sara was her half sister, but at the last minute decided not to. It was too beautiful a day, and she was in too good a mood.

  Chelsea thought she could really get the hang of the whole skirt thing as she made her way from her family’s house down to the barbecue area on the lake. In honor of the special occasion, the day’s unusually balmy weather, and her new commitment to dressing more feminine, Chelsea was wearing a knee-length maroon skirt she had borrowed from Sara’s closet in another weird hot-clothes-induced trance. She’d meant to tell Sara about it, and apologize and offer to return it, but she had been so busy, she just hadn’t gotten around to it. She figured Sara owned so many clothes that she probably wouldn’t even notice—and if she did, Chelsea could always just say she owned the same one.

  “Chelsea, you look totally cute!” Mel exclaimed, greeting her with a hug when she arrived at the barbecue area. Chelsea flushed with pride. She had paired the skirt with one of her cuter tank tops and even pulled it all together with a pretty but simple pair of dangly gold earrings from H&M. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear a skirt before. And that’s a great tank top—you have amazing shoulders!”

  “Thanks.” Chelsea smiled, embarrassed but pleased at the compliment. She looked around: The nearby tables and lawn were swarming with summer staffers and tourists scarfing perfectly grilled burgers and salmon steaks and drinking freshly chilled Sierra Nevadas. “Are those burgers as good as they look?”

  “Delicious,” Mel laughed. “Go get one!”

  Chelsea wove through the crowd toward the big gas grill that she knew was her father’s pride and joy. He stood behind it, brandishing a spatula and grinning through the rising smoke.

  “Medium rare for my favorite Champ?” he asked jovially, flipping burgers as he talked. “Grab a bun.”

  Seeing her dad in such a good mood made Chelsea grin. She grabbed a plate from the long buffet table next to the grill and piled it high with potato salad and a big slice of watermelon. When she looked up, she saw Todd standing directly across the table from her, giving her a strange look.

  “What?” she challenged.

  “Nothing,” he shot back. “You’re just…Well, forget it.”

  “I’m just what?” she asked, not wanting him to saunter off and leave her to spend the rest of the day wondering what he had been thinking. She was sick of always wishing she knew what was on his mind.

  “You look different,” Todd observed. “Did you do something to your hair?”

  Chelsea couldn’t help laughing. “Nope,” she said.

  Todd looked her up and down. “It must be the glow of knowing you’re about to do something stupid.”

  “What?” Chelsea demanded. Was he referring to the pool party? Couldn’t he just let her have a good time like everyone else?

  “I mean—that,” he answered, pointing at her knee. She looked down to where a blob of ketchup had dripped from her burger and landed on the corner of her skirt. Sara’s skirt. Crap.

  “Good luck with that, Little M,” Todd chuckled, turning toward the tables.

  Chelsea quickly rotated the skirt so the stain was hidden on the back, and hurried to catch up with him.

  “Chelsea, Todd, hey!” A happy chorus went up when they arrived at the picnic table and sat down. Sebastian hadn’t shown up yet, and she briefly wondered where he was. As Chelsea bit into her burger, the staffers began to talk excitedly about the gorgeous weather, the myriad of tourists, and of course, the secret pool party.

  “What do you think, Chels, do you want to bring CDs or just trust Leo’s iPod?” Sienna asked.

  “Hey, what’s wrong with my iPod?” Leo demanded.

  “Oh, I dunno, it’s probably all emo,” Sienna joked.

  Leo pretended to be insulted. “Uhm, hello…and Primus.”

  Chelsea tuned out as they bantered back and forth. Despite Todd’s teasing her, the feeling she’d gotten earlier that day of being truly included for the first time ever had come back, and she let herself soak in it like a nice, warm bath. It felt so good to belong.

  “I’m going to go get some dessert.” She started toward the buffet table and piled her plate with strawberry cheesecake. As she was headed back toward the staff table, she heard her mother’s voice and turned her head to see her sitting on a picnic blanket, head-to-head with Sara. Chelsea was closer to her dad than her mom, but it still bothered her to see her mom and Sara getting along so well and having so much fun together—almost as if they were friends instead of daughter and stepmom. Wasn’t it obvious how Sara was just trying to worm her way into their family?

  “Boo!” Sebastian slipped his arm around her shoulders. “Sorry it took me so long to get here—had to finish a long lesson. The fireworks are starting soon. Want to watch with me?”

  “Okay,” Chelsea agreed. She was sorry that she couldn’t go back and hang out with Todd and the others, but it made her feel guilty. Sebastian was so sweet and earnest standing there. And he looked at her with such desire that Chelsea couldn’t help but hope that they would end up someplace secluded. Sebastian led her to a blanket far down on the sandy beach of the lakeshore. Although several other groups had the same idea and the beach was littered with blankets, it seemed more peaceful there, and Sebastian felt warm and solid as they sat side by side, their arms and legs touching. Chelsea grabbed a huge piece of the luscious cheesecake with her fork and fed it to Sebastian.

  “Mmm…,” Sebastian murmured. “This is amazing. You know, this is my first Fourth of July in America.”

  “Well, you picked a really good one,” Chelsea said. “The weather’s perfect.” Sebastian took the fork from her hand and began maneuvering a piece of cake toward her mouth. Chelsea leaned forward to catch it—she d
idn’t want to risk another spill.

  “Not just the weather,” Sebastian said as the first firework whizzed high into the sky and burst into a shower of pyrotechnic white rain above their heads.

  “Ooooooh,” said the crowd. “Aaaaaaaah.”

  “Not just the weather?” Chelsea probed, picking a strawberry off the top of the cake and slipping it between Sebastian’s lips. A little juice slipped out of the corner of his mouth, and she reached up to wipe it away with her finger.

  “Yeah.” Sebastian caught her hand, and with his other, he moved the plate of cheesecake away from them and onto the blanket. “It’s everything: the fireworks, all of the people, the lake…you.”

  Chelsea was sure the rush of uncertainty she felt was just because she wasn’t used to being romanced. Sebastian tried to feed her the last piece of cheesecake, but she held up her hand to stop him.

  “I’m so full, I’m about to burst,” she said apologetically.

  Another firework exploded above their heads, and Sebastian looked at her. He smiled shyly, then moved his hand up and gently tilted Chelsea’s chin. Their lips met softly, and Chelsea felt a short moment of panic. What if someone could see them: Sara, the other staffers, her parents or—even worse—Todd? She pulled back and looked around anxiously, but all the faces around them belonged to unfamiliar tourist families looking excitedly up at the fireworks show. Their faces dazzled in the darkness.

  “Relax,” Sebastian cooed, bringing Chelsea back to reality.

  Chelsea smiled and touched the downy side of Sebastian’s face, drawing him in toward her for a longer, more passionate kiss. She leaned in and gave herself up to Sebastian, letting the rest of the world fade away. Over their heads, the fireworks bloomed, burst, and faded, leaving gray trailers of smoke like fading flowers in the sky.

  Chapter Eleven

  Chelsea stood with her hands on her hips and stared at the colorful plastic bags laid out on her bed. She couldn’t believe the sheer amount of shopping she had done that afternoon during her covert solo expedition to the mall in Reno. During her foray through Sara’s closet several days before, she had tried on tons of clothes, noting sizes, colors, and labels, jotting each one down carefully in a small notebook—and armed with the notebook, she had taken the Meadowood Mall by storm.