Cinderella in the Surf

by Syms, Carly

  "Lydia? Lydia, wait," I interrupt. "I don't think I can work tomorrow."

  She pauses for a second, then plows ahead. "No worries. But we'll need you the day after."

  "Actually, I don't think I'm cut out for waitressing."

  The silence stretches from here to the North Pole. "I don't think I quite understand."

  "Lydia, come on. You saw me today. Disaster after disaster after disaster."

  "Was it supposed to be something different your first day on the job?"

  Her question surprises me, and I don't have a good answer to it. All I know is that the idea of going back to that place fills me with nothing but cold ickiness.

  "I just don't think it's gonna work."

  More silence.

  It's making me nervous.

  "I'm sorry to hear this," Lydia finally says. "You would've done great at Trippy's. Good luck to ya. Be sure to stop by and get your tips from yesterday."

  She hangs up before I have a chance to respond.

  I stare at the phone in my hand before sighing and tucking it into my back pocket and heading back inside.

  It's not until I reach the kitchen that I realize I don't even really have a purpose right now.

  What am I supposed to do? I can't surf, I can't hang with Walker, I don't have a job.

  I'm useless.

  And I kinda feel like one of the broken seashells littering the shoreline.

  I'm staring out the window that hangs over the kitchen sink, trying to decide if I'd be a conch or a moon shell, when a noise behind me jolts me back into realty.

  I turn around, and there's Mom, wandering into the kitchen with her pink mug. She shuffles over to the counter and absently pours more coffee. I watch as she walks to the fridge, and take in her greasy, matted hair and the slippers she hasn't changed out of in what must be days.

  Dad's job loss isn't treating her well.

  "You know, Rach," she begins without looking over at me as she pours half-and-half. "I've been meaning to tell you how proud we are of you for sucking it up and taking that job in town. I can't imagine Trippy's is a great place to work, but it means a lot to your father and me."

  My jaw goes slack and it kind of feels like my own mother just punched me in the gut because I've suddenly got a stomachache the size of Siberia.

  "I, um, I -- thanks," I sputter.

  She lifts one questioning eyebrow as she returns the milk to the fridge. "Did it go well?"

  I nod even though my hands are starting to shake a little. Lying to Mom isn't exactly high on my list of fun things to do, but I don't see another way out right now.

  "Yeah, it's great. Lydia, that's my boss, she's super nice," I say, and I'm relieved to at least get a little bit of the truth out.

  "I've passed the stand. Doesn't look like somewhere I'd think about stopping. They really get customers?"

  "Oh, yeah. Lots. Especially at happy hour, it got super busy. And since I was the only waitress, I think I made a lot in tips."

  Maybe. I'm not so sure how the rest of the night went after I bolted to the beach for Walker, and I'm also not so sure I really want to go back to Trippy's to pick up a couple bucks.

  "That's great, that's just all so great." Mom smiles and lifts the coffee mug to her lips. "You really have no idea what it means to your father and me. We were just talking about it this morning. It's really helping him deal with the job loss."

  I can feel my insides start to shake slightly and beads of sweat pop up along my hairline and along the palms of my hands.

  And my stomach just churns worse when it dawns on me.

  I don't really have a choice here.

  Trippy's Tim's is it.

  It's where I'm going to have to belong.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  An envelope with my name on it is taped to the front window of the door at Trippy Tim's when I get here this morning.

  It took me a full day to work up the nerve -- and try to squash all the dread -- to come back to work.

  Lydia doesn't know I'm coming, so the envelope with my tips from the other day hanging outside doesn't surprise me. I peel it off and stuff it into my bag without opening it.

  It's only 10 a.m., and the stand doesn't open up until eleven for the first lunch push, even though that apparently isn't usually too heavy. I'd figured now would be the perfect time to come ask -- or, okay, beg -- for my job back.

  The front door opens when I twist the knob, which I'm not expecting, and I wander inside. It hasn't been set up for the day yet; chairs are still stacked upside down on the table tops after the broom and mop went through last night.

  The rest of the place is dark and empty. Lydia isn't in yet.

  Great.

  With a sigh, I flip the light switches and start organizing the dining room and patio.

  I'm taking down the last chair when the back door crashes open, slams against the wall and shuts again.

  "Holy Toledo hot dog on ice!"

  I jump, flinging the rag I'd been using to wipe down the tables into the air.

  The bags Lydia was carrying are on the floor next to her, and she's standing in the aisle that divides the kitchen, staring at me, hand clasped to her chest.

  "Lydia! I'm sorry!"

  "What in the sweet mother of molasses are you doing here? Nearly scared me half to death." She wipes at her forehead and bends down to pick up the bags before setting them on the countertop.

  "I, um, I -- "

  "You need the money. I get it. It's the way of the world. Lucky for you, Missy still smokes and I'm still desperate."

  I feel some of the tension that had been steadily building since my talk with Mom slowly start to seep out of me. "Thanks, Lydia."

  She waves me off. "You know how to pay me back," she replies, then nods over at the tables. "That's a good start."

  Lydia turns and heads back into her office with the bags, leaving me alone in the restaurant.

  A small smile spreads across my face.

  It feels like the first time in a long time that I've actually managed to get something right.

  ***

  "Order up!"

  I hurry back toward the kitchen counter and load my tray with the three rounds of steak tacos Missy's just cooked. I'm thankful for the quick second break I get while she's busy scooping rice onto the last plate.

  It's already seven o'clock. I've been at Trippy's for what feels like three days, but I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm having a good time. Missy is great to work with when she's not sneaking out the back door with her lighter and Lydia, well, she's Lydia, and she's not so bad.

  She came out of her office about half an hour ago to tell me to go home since I've been here for more than eight hours, but I refused.

  I kinda feel like I owe it to her to stick around, at least for today, after quitting on her this week.

  "Thanks, Miss," I say once the last plate is on my tray and I'm heading back to the table of three women who stopped in for after-work margaritas and tacos.

  "Excellent," one woman says when I stop next to them and set up the tray stand. "We're starving and those smell great."

  "Just wait until you taste it." I finish handing out their meals. "Can I get you ladies anything else?"

  They glance around the table, then look back up at me. "Nope," one says with a smile. "I think we're all set here."

  "Great. I'll be back in a bit to check on you. Enjoy."

  I wait until my back is turned to them before I let out a little sigh of relief. Waitressing isn't exactly coming naturally to me -- I think that's obvious after the other day -- but so far, it's not the total disaster it was before, either.

  I can work with this.

  I turn over three more tables during the next hour, and it really seems to be working with Missy manning the kitchen and me handling whatever the customers want.

  It's eight o'clock before we finally don't have any more customers coming in, even though we're open for another half hour.

  "N
ot bad, rookie," Missy says, tossing a cleaning rag over at me.

  I smile and snatch it out of the air. "It's kind of boring when you don't send any customers into a rage."

  Missy laughs. "I dunno how Lydia would feel about that."

  "Maybe I shouldn't test it. How'd you two get by on your own here?" I ask, turning around and brushing crumbs onto the floor.

  "Oh, it's not just us," she replies. "I mean, it is during the week, usually. I'll go from eleven to nine or so and then there's a weekend crew and sometimes those guys'll cover for me if I need a day, y'know? And Lydia helped with the tables a lot. I like cooking, though."

  I smile. "You're good at it, too. I'm kinda glad I came back."

  Missy nods, then jerks her head back in the direction of Lydia's office. "Yeah, you're not the only one."

  I'm about to respond when the front door opens, and I whip my head around, ready to tell whoever it is that we're closed for the night and they'll have to wait until tomorrow to get their taco fix.

  "Hoaloha, so glad I found you! They said you'd be here."

  I blink as Ahe rushes into the tiny dining room, out of breath and with a sweaty forehead.

  "Who did? Ahe, what's going on?" I drop the rag and hurry over to him. "Is it Mom and Dad? Seth? Are they okay? Tell me!"

  He sucks in a deep breath. "I will if you give me a second to talk. They're fine. Everyone is fine. Why are you here?"

  I frown at him. "I work here."

  He waves his hand in front of his face. "I know that. How else do you think I'd find you?" He shakes his head like he can't believe he has to explain this to me. "But what are you doing here now? Don't you got somewhere else to be?"

  I glance over at Missy, who's staring back at me with a confused look on her face, then back at Ahe as I run through my mental calendar.

  It's summer, so there's pretty much nothing on it, and I have no idea what Ahe's talking about.

  "Don't think so."

  "Rachel! Where is that head of yours these days? Up in the clouds with that Walker boy, I'm sure," Ahe says, and my stomach twists slightly at the thought of him, but I'm not in the mood to go down that path now and fill him in on all the bloody details. "The ball. It's happening now."

  I swallow hard. I've completely forgotten about the ball. "I'm not registered for the competition. It'd be weird if I went."

  Even as the words leave my mouth -- and even though they're true -- they hurt.

  I've been looking forward to surfing in the Invitational for as long as I can remember, and part of that, even if it was only a small part, was because of the incredible stories I'd always heard about the ball.

  The night before the Invitational, all of the organizers and all of the past winners and people who are signed up to take part in the upcoming one get together at a local resort.

  It's just a lot of getting to know other surfers, wearing something other than a bikini or wetsuit, and having a heck of a good time.

  Or that's what I've heard, anyway.

  And since we never had enough money to send me to a different place for all the other past contests, this was the first year I'd been planning on going.

  So much for that.

  Add one more line to the list of things I've lost because of Alex.

  "Nobody'll blink an eye seein' you," Ahe says. "You belong there."

  I pick up the rag. "Not anymore."

  "Rachel."

  Ahe's voice is different, like he's tired of putting up with me. I stare at him, daring him to break eye contact first, but he doesn't and I'm the one who looks away.

  "Give me one good reason I should go there and listen to Piper Monaghan tell me why she's the best surfer that ever lived."

  "Is she right?"

  It's a simple question with a simple answer, and it doesn't take too long for me to figure it out.

  "No."

  Ahe just raises his eyebrows and I feel a smile start to spread across my face. I ball up the rag and turn around to look at Missy.

  "Go," she says, grinning. "I have no clue what you guys are talking about but it sounds important. I can finish up here."

  I toss the cloth to her, grab my bag and leave the restaurant with Ahe.

  He turns to me and smiles.

  "You're making the right choice."

  I only wish I felt as good about it as he sounds.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The ball is happening at one of my favorite resorts downtown. All of the palm trees lining the entrance are wrapped in thousands of tiny twinkling golden lights.

  "Wait," I hiss, reaching out and grabbing his arm as he's about to pull open one of the heavy oak doors leading to the grand ballroom. Loud, happy chatter buzzes from the other side. "I can't go in there like this."

  For the first time, I realize Ahe's wearing nice, pressed khakis, a button down shirt and a tie.

  And I'm in my baggy gray Trippy Tim's shirt and a pair of black yoga pants.

  Plus, there's a giant brown glob of taco sauce underneath the 'm' on my shirt.

  Hot.

  Ahe takes in my outfit, then frowns and tugs at his collar, which doesn't make me feel a whole lot better.

  "I'm not so sure what we can do to fix that."

  "Well, we're gonna have to do something."

  We're staring at each other, Ahe clearly wishing I'd forget about my clothes, and me hoping he'll snap his fingers and produce a gorgeous dress for me to slip into.

  "Some fairy godfather you turned out to be," I mutter under my breath.

  The door creaks open and a very obviously drunk couple comes stumbling out into the hall. Ahe grabs the door before it slams and I get a glimpse of the ballroom inside.

  A glimpse of the dance floor.

  A glimpse of one very familiar-looking blonde head.

  Nestled in the arms of one very familiar-looking blonde guy.

  The DJ set up in the corner of the room plays a slow song, and it's calm inside, just a low hum from hushed voices.

  "Is that Walker?" Ahe sounds confused about what he's seeing. I, on the other hand, feel like a tire that's suddenly gone flat.

  "Yep."

  "Who's he with?" Ahe squints, then gasps. "That's Piper Monaghan."

  I pretend hearing it out loud doesn't hurt me, and maybe it shouldn't, but it's like thousands of tiny knives are ganging up on me at once.

  "Yeah. He's allowed to hang out with whoever he wants, I guess."

  "This isn't right, hoaloha. They don't look right."

  I'm watching them together, all dressed up and lovely, and it just makes me feel sick.

  "Rachel," Ahe says when I keep quiet. "You gotta do something."

  I shake my head and lean back against one of the tables. "I can't. He broke his promise."

  I stare at the two of them, looking so much like a couple in the middle of the dance floor, trying to block out all the things pulsing through me right now.

  And then it happens, like a bolt of lightning streaking across the sky without a warning, the storm already here.

  Piper lifts her head from Walker's chest and looks up at him. When she cranes her neck, I know exactly what she's angling for, and that's when I stop thinking.

  I'm not worrying about my clothes, about taco stains, about Ahe or money or surfing or Alex or any of it.

  I'm inside the ballroom, marching straight over to the dance floor, to the couple that so clearly does not belong together.

  And it's about to get a heck of a lot louder in here.

  I storm over to them. They aren't talking. Piper has her head pressed up against his chest, her eyes closed and a dumb far-away smile on her face. Walker's looking away from me. I don't know what he's thinking.

  But that doesn't stop me.

  "What the hell is this," I hiss, thinking that if I keep my voice down, I'll avoid creating a huge scene at the opening ball.

  Piper's eyes pop open, but as soon as she sees me, the smile on her face goes from lazy and happy to amused and preda
tory.

  As if she's really going to enjoy this.

  I doubt it.

  Walker is slower to react, or maybe it's just in my head, but I watch as he turns to face me.

  And it takes a few seconds for his expression to change when he figures out what's going on.

  "Rachel!" he says, letting go of Piper like she's suddenly burst into flames. "Why are you here?"

  "That's a great question," Piper adds. "This is for people who are surfing tomorrow, you know. Not drop-outs."

  "Then I guess I should ask you the same thing," I say, keeping my eyes firmly trained on Walker the whole time. A faint -- and satisfying -- blush clouds his cheeks.

  "He's here because I asked him to be," Piper says even though I still haven't acknowledged her.

  I guess she isn't going to go quietly into the night like I'd been hoping.

  That was wishful thinking, anyway.

  "So you came here with her."

  It takes awhile for Walker's eyes to meet mine, but eventually he knows he has no choice but to look at me.

  "I, um, I -- "

  "It's really not a difficult answer," I snap. "You either did or you didn't. But it's also kind of obvious to anyone with one eye and half a brain."

  He shrugs. "So what? It's not like I said no to you to come here with her."

  "So what?" I snap. "So what? Are you kidding me with this right now, Walker? Who are you?"

  He throws his hands up in the air. "I don't know what you want me to say, Rachel. You're up, you're down, you're mad at me for breaking a promise and don't want to talk to me, now you're made at me for going somewhere without you. You don't know what you're doing and it's getting kind of hard to keep up with all the mood swings."

  I press my lips into a tight, thin line. "That's not an answer."

  Walker rolls his eyes. "It's still the truth."

  "What's with the outfit, anyway?" Piper asks, her nose scrunched up. "You look like your shift just ended at a fast food joint."

  I focus my attention on her for the first time since I marched up to them. "Actually, it did," I snap, and watching the look on her face shift from smug to surprised is worth it. She shuts up after that.