“Sabrina?” a man’s voice calls. “Are you in here?”
She jumps back and I look over, seeing a man in a golf outfit.
“Daddy!” She breaks into a sweet smile. “My friend Carter got hurt on the pool deck. I was just checking on him.” She presses the ice pack in my hand. I’m going to need it to cool down.
He looks me up and down and I’ve seen that expression before. Suspicion. Distrust. It’s like some people just know I don’t belong in a fancy place like this, no matter who my dad is.
“Grab your stuff,” he says. “I need to head back to the office.”
“Okay, Daddy.”
He walks off and she tilts her head at me, making the hand signal for “call me.”
I press the ice pack against my head and watch her walk off. Oh yeah, I’m definitely calling her.
4
Bea
I met Katherine Stint when in the second grade. I’d always been the awkward kid in the shadow of my popular, fun-loving brother. Fun was hard for me. It’s still hard for me. There’s always been a nagging monster of anxiety that pushes and pulls at my brain when I dare go outside my comfort zone. My therapist calls it a brain bully. I call it life.
I’d spent the majority of second grade in a frenzy of drawing elephants, talking about elephants, and thinking about elephants. I’m not sure what it was about the giant beasts that garnered my intense focus, but one day Katherine Stint, who I’d vaguely realized was in my class, came to school with a stuffed elephant for show-and-share and I knew I’d found a kindred spirit.
We were perfect for one another. Both introverts. Both liked milk chocolate over dark. Liked mint but only in ice cream. Both liked drawing and art, and well, when interest in elephants waned and shifted to ponies, fairies, boy bands, then anime and graphic novels, we were always in lock-step.
Especially about my brother.
Atticus is like a burst of sunlight. The golden child in the family. He never gets in trouble, studies hard, offers to help around the house, and was the star of our high school water-polo team. Oh, and obviously he’s very, very popular with teachers and students, alike.
Katherine was the only one that understood what it was like, living in the shadow of a golden son. She’s the oldest of three but her mother is one of those all-encompassing personalities that sucks the air out of the room. She’s loud and fun and exciting and fashionable. All the things Katherine never could live up to. Just like I couldn’t live up to the standards Atticus set in our house. Katherine and I had each other as allies.
We were a match made in BFF heaven.
Until March 26th.
What happened on March 26th?
Carter Haines threw a party.
His dad went out of town, which meant Carter was obligated to get in trouble. It’s like he can’t help himself, especially if the opportunity presents itself. Even though Atticus doesn’t like Carter, he went to the party anyway. Why not? The Haines had an amazing pool, a massive fire-pit, and all the girls with a bad-boy complex would be there, hoping to be the one to save Carter from himself.
Gross.
By chance, my parents were also out of town, which meant that Atticus could go to the party without fear of getting in trouble and Katherine and I could have an Avondale marathon on the big screen in the entertainment room and a sleepover. Well, a Katherine and Bea sleepover, which meant I slept and Katherine, who had the worst insomnia, stayed up on the couch reading.
This is why when I woke up at 3 a.m., it was no surprise that Katherine wasn’t in my room. I’d gorged myself on candy and soda during our marathon and had to pee like a freight train. When I was finished, I heard voices down the hall and went to check on Katherine, knowing she’d probably fallen down the rabbit hole of YouTube videos about cats dressed like tacos, dancing.
Gentle laughter floated down the hall along with another voice, a familiar voice, but it was the middle of the night. I had a sugar rush. I was confused.
That’s why it took me a minute to process what I saw on the couch.
My brother and my best friend making out.
Like, for real making out, and I’d actually screamed when I saw them, totally and completely shocked.
At first, I thought it was a mistake.
Then, that I was confused.
But it wasn’t. And I wasn’t. And they didn’t stop seeing one another, no matter how much I freaked out about it. And Atticus invited Katherine to prom. And she went.
Without me.
“How was your first day?” my mom asks that night over dinner. “Everything go okay?”
“My day was great,” Atticus says, digging into his roast chicken. “I got a twenty-dollar tip from Mr. Hallford.”
“Impressive,” my dad says. He’s all about the Benjamins.
“What about you, honey?” Mom asks.
Before I can answer, Atticus jumps in. “I’m not sure Bea can say the same about her day.”
“Shut it,” I tell him, brandishing my dinner knife.
My mom frowns and the Line of Concern appears on her forehead. I sigh and glare at my brother for making her worried. I spend 99% of my time trying to stay off her radar, which is pretty easy when everyone is focused on The Golden Child.
“Nothing,” I tell her. “Just a little accident at the pool.”
“What kind of accident?” Dad asks.
“It’s no big deal.”
“Well we can decide on that,” Mom interjects.
“She punched Carter in the face.”
“Bea!” My mother is horrified.
I snap my head in his direction. “That is not true. I fell in the pool and accidentally ran into Carter, who happened to get in the way of the toy gun I was fighting over, and that punched him in the face. Not me.”
“Well,” my mother says, the Line of Concern fading a little, “at least you’re okay. Did you apologize to Carter?”
“He didn’t really give me the chance.”
“He’s fine,” Atticus says. “I saw him after work. I’m sure it’s not the first punch he’s taken.”
Atticus disapproves of Carter’s general attitude. They both swam on the team at school and played water polo, Atticus excelling at the game. Carter, the individual sport. Ever since Carter showed up in the eighth grade, they’d always been rivals. Kind of yin-and-yang, like me and Katherine, except not in the best friend kind of way. More like nemesis.
I’d overheard him say he thought it was embarrassing to have him on staff at The Club, that his father and coach had pulled some strings to get him the job in the first place and that he’d probably get fired within the first week.
“Be nice to Carter,” my mom says to Atticus. “You know he’s had a hard time.”
“Hey, I’m not the one that assaulted him at work today.”
I kick him under the table and he kicks me back. Hard. I wince. “Jerk.”
“Nerd.”
“Bea, stop aggravating your brother,” Dad says, shoveling mashed potatoes on his fork.
My internal temperature rises. “Me? You want me to stop bothering him? Are you kidding? You do realize he’s destroyed my entire life, right?”
The whole table looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. Again.
Maybe I have.
“Whatever,” I say, standing and dramatically tossing my napkin on the table. “It’s all my fault. It’s always my fault.”
“Young lady—” my father starts, but I’m halfway out of the kitchen when I hear my mother tell him to let me go. That’s what I do, go, storming out the front door and heading down the driveway. Shoeless. Phoneless, and completely without destination.
And because the cosmos will not give me a break, not one tiny break, as I get to the edge of the driveway where it meets the road, a familiar car turns down my street.
“Oh no. No. No. No. Not today.” I look both directions and see a black car parked in the driveway next door. I dive, literally dive behind it, pressing my back agains
t the greasy wheel. I hear Katherine’s car pull into my driveway and wait to see if she tries to come over here to talk to me. Her car door opens then closes, then the sound of her feet on the driveway. There’s a pause, a hesitation, and I close my eyes, desperate for her to not find me while also being completely desperate for her to find me and tell me this has all been an elaborate joke gone wrong.
A girl can have dreams, right?
Unfortunately, the moment passes and I only hear her walking up to the front door and then a minute later, Atticus’ voice echoing across the lawn as he greets her. I peek around the back of the car and see them in a tight embrace.
They’re both happy, which makes the pain worse. Not because I don’t want them happy. I just don’t want them happy together. I want my best friend back. I want the order of all things back.
I mean, how would Atticus feel if I dated his best friend?
Which is ridiculous, because his best friend is Pete Anderson, who already dates Melanie Thompson, the most popular girl in our class.
It doesn’t matter, because like I said, the cosmos will not give me a break. Instead of Katherine finding me and telling me she came over to dump my stupid brother and beg for my forgiveness, someone else walks up. Someone with the face of a troubled Greek god with a giant bruise on his forehead.
Carter Haines.
5
Bea
“What the heck are you doing down there, Clarke?” he asks. His car keys dangle from his long, slim fingertips.
“Uh,” my eyes dart around like I’m looking for an excuse. I’ve got nothing. “Hanging out.”
“On the ground. By my car.”
I shrug. “Why not? It’s nice down here. Shady. Quiet.”
“I knew you were a weirdo, Clarke, but this is pushing it. Move. I need to go.”
I start to get up but then laughter carries from next door and I instinctively press my back against the car again.
Carter looks across the yard and his eyes narrow. “Are you hiding from them?”
“Why would I hide from Atticus and Katherine?” I doubt he’s heard anything about our falling out. It’s not like either of us were on ever on his radar.
“Because you’re a dork?” His lips curve in an annoying grin.
“Look, just play it cool and pretend like I’m not here.”
“I’d love to do that, Clarke, but you’re leaning against the door and I can’t go anywhere.”
True. And I can’t have him leave and reveal my hiding spot. “Okay, what are they doing?”
“Who?”
“Your brother and his girlfriend.”
“Her name is Katherine, you dimwit. You work with her.”
“So? Am I supposed to keep track of everyone I work with?”
Okay, maybe Atticus is on to something with his dislike of this guy. I roll my eyes. “Well? What are they doing?”
His eyes, a disturbing shade of green I’d never noticed before, flick over to my house. “Sitting on the stoop.”
“What the—? They better not be waiting for me.”
He frowns. “You mean they know you’re over here?”
“No.” I say, mulling it over. “Yes, well, maybe. I don’t know.”
He reaches up to run his hand through his hair and grazes the bump on his forehead. He grimaces. I should apologize like my mom suggested.
Wait.
“Help me up.”
“What?”
I hold out my hand. “Help me up. I figured out how I can get out of this and you can leave.”
“Clarke, what are you talking about?”
“My name is Bea.” How dumb is this kid? I shake my hand and he finally reaches out a long arm with a telephone number written down the long, muscular expanse. He grips mine, using his strength to easily lift me off the ground. I fly up and crash into his well-defined chest for the second time that day.
This time he’s prepared, catching me by the upper arms. An amused grin curls his lips. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were running into me on purpose.”
His flirtatious tone and his warm hands knock me off kilter. I pull away quickly, hoping the blush on my cheeks doesn’t give away how much he unnerves me.
“Look,” I say, then raise my voice. “I just wanted to apologize for what happened today at work. Totally my fault. I’m sorry.”
He gives me a funny look, which I think is warranted because I’m talking unnaturally loud, and of course the general fact that in all these years we’ve never had a conversation of any kind.
I lower my voice and whisper, “Are they watching?”
“Yes.”
“Do they look like they believe it?” His eyes dart their direction but then he shifts his attention back on me, smiling down in a way that I’ve seen him give the girls at school. He chuckles and leans against the car. I have no idea what’s going on. “Carter?”
“Your brother looks like he wants to come over here and add a black eye to my list of Clarke injuries. Your friend? She’s just really curious.” He looks her direction and winks.
Oh boy.
Carter Haines is trouble.
I need to get out of here before I manage to make things even worse with Atticus and Katherine. I mean, the four of us do have to work together this summer.
“Just accept my apology,” I hiss.
“Will that get you out of my driveway so I can go on my date?”
My eyes shift down to the number. I have a feeling I know who wrote it there. “Yes.”
“Then you’ve got it.”
I step back, feeling like I need a gulp of air, and not one that smells like detergent and clean boy.
“Great.” I give him a thumbs-up, because yes, I am that much of a dork. Once I’m away from the Mustang, he doesn’t hesitate to open the door and hop in the front seat, revving the engine.
I’m barely out of the way and in the grass of our front yard before he screeches out of the driveway and speeds down the street. I shake my head and walk toward the front door. Both Atticus and Katherine shift their gaze from the squealing car to me.
“Hey, Bea,” my former friend says hopefully as I approach.
I don’t reply, stepping between them. I open the front door and step inside. When I turn to close it, neither are paying me a bit of attention. Atticus’ arm is around her shoulder, and her head is leaning against his chest.
I slam the door as hard as I possibly can and walk away.
6
Carter
Swim team practice starts at ten, which is also when my shift starts. I could practice with the others, but there’s some privilege that comes with age and skill. When you’re the best swimmer on the team, the summer league is small stuff—the coach more about building community than creating winners. I joined the team out of obligation—it’s one of the reasons I got the job. Not only am I a lifeguard for The Club, I’m a ringer for the team.
So yeah, I don’t practice with the other kids, but I woke up with my nerves riding a razor-sharp edge. I come in an hour early hoping to smooth things out a little. Swimming always helps calm me down—my mom figured that out when I was still a little kid.
My “date” last night was frustrating. I thought I was going to pick up Sabrina so we could spend a little time together alone. Instead she used me to chauffer her and her friends around all night, popping in and out of different parties around town. I tried a couple of times to get her to the side, make out a little, but she mostly bummed cigarettes off of me and seemed disappointed when I wouldn’t use my fake ID to buy her beer. I shouldn’t even carry that thing around. One more arrest and boarding school will look like a great option—I’ll go straight to juvie.
The Club is quiet this early in the morning. The pool a clear, flat surface. I dip my toe in out of habit and then adjust my goggles and cap. Taking a deep breath and shaking out my arms, I ready myself, pushing off the block in a smooth dive. The coldness of the water bites but in a good way, and I start the
first of a dozen laps.
The truth is, I could do this at home. My dad installed a lap pool for me when I moved in four years ago. Really, he’s willing to do almost anything he can to please me—except the one thing I really want and probably need: just be around. Work is his number one priority and always will be. I guess being parental isn’t instinctive and inheriting a kid when he’s already fourteen can’t be easy.
Especially a kid with a boatload of baggage.
In general, we try to stay out of one another’s way, but last night I came home and he was waiting up. I knew the minute I walked in that he was in a mood—the kind where he tries to go “Full Dad” by inserting himself in my life. It’s laughable. He knows nothing about me except what I allow, and even I can admit that person is a jerk.
Apparently, he found a few empty beer cans in the garage. So maybe I had some friends over. So what? It’s not like he’s around to supervise. Of course, he doesn’t actually care about my friends coming over here or the drinking. It’s my future he’s worried about. The swimming. My coach. College and beyond.
Sometimes I think it’s the only reason he took me in.
My brain knows there’s an easy way to resolve some of this stuff. Talk to him. Tell him the truth about the drinking and friends, but I can’t let him in like that. I can’t let anyone in. It’s easier to take the lecture and let him and everyone else believe the narrative I’ve created.
I touch the wall and come up for air, twisting into backstroke. In addition to the Sabrina frustration, I’d been too befuddled all night to think about anything else than that strange interaction with my next-door neighbor, Beatrice Clarke, earlier in the evening.
Clarke’s brother was my biggest competitor for the first two years I lived here, but then he shifted into water polo. That gave us both our own sport to dominate. I still play water polo, but it’s Atticus’ passion. Same for him and swimming. You’d think we’d be best friends, living next door to one another and playing on the same teams, but that’s not the case. At one point we hung out a little—his mom feeling sorry for me with my dad out of town so much. I was at their house a lot. Eating dinner. Watching TV. It was nice not to be alone. But once I started making some other friends and the competition between us got more intense, Atticus blew me off. Which, frankly, is a trend I’m used to.
Bea and the Bad Boy: Young Adult Sweet Romance (Love in Ocean Grove Book 3) Page 2