“Can you do my back?” I asked Claire, who was wearing the thirty SPF like we were supposed to. “I’ll only wear it for an hour, I promise.”
She sighed and seemed about to say something along the lines of “you’ll be sorry,” but then seemed to think the better of it and reluctantly poured the sweet banana and coconut scented oil in the palm of her hand. “Turn around.”
“That oil’s gonna fry you up to a crisp,” Amy said, as Claire spread the tanning oil from my shoulders to the back of my bathing suit. “Like when Mama oils the chicken before she roasts it in the wood stove.”
It wasn’t cooking oil. Hello. I shoved the bottle of Banana Boat toward her.
“Infused with rare extracts of banana, carrot, and coconut,” Amy read. “Sounds like you’ll be cooking something to me. No SPF. What’s SPF?”
“I don’t need SPF!” I yelled.
“I’m not going to rat on you,” Claire said, thankfully not realizing I hadn’t been talking to her. “But I’d make sure Audrey doesn’t find out.”
Thank God, my older sister was busy with a customer and hadn’t heard me. She would snitch on me in a nanosecond.
“Let’s lay out for awhile,” I said, motioning to Amy to take the empty chair next to me.
Back and butt to the sun, I settled onto the towel-clad lounger, propped at a slight angle, and pretended to read the novel I’d brought with me. Periodically, I’d turn the page, but do not ask me about the content. I was counting the things I loved about Drew.
I loved the way he sat, his back against the chair, his legs bent, yet relaxed. Nice definition in the thighs and calves, which let a person know there was power and strength enough to spring off that stand and save someone at a moment’s notice. And he wasn’t too hairy, like the other lifeguard here today, who even had tufts sprouting from his back. Eww! Mom said hairy chests were popular in the seventies and eighties. I wondered if Drew waxed his chest. It was super smooth.
“So all we’re gonna do is set here in the sun?” Amy complained after a total of maybe five minutes. From her spot on the lounge chair between me and the baby pool, she stirred a welcome little breeze that ruffled Claire’s Teen Vogue. “I’m bored.”
Her words tempted Fate, and Fate answered by bringing closer to us this bratty little kid and his brother who looked just like him only smaller. They’d been roughhousing over in the kiddie pool.
“Jack, stop that,” said their belly ring-sporting mother. Like Malibu Mom’s lackluster attempt at scolding was going to stop wrestle mania. Her voice rose, though, as she continued gabbing with Mrs. Cheever about her birthing experiences, which I have to say, now that I could hear their conversation, grossed me out more than Mrs. Cheever’s back fat.
Jack and mini-Jack fell on top of Amy. Her ghostly arms and legs flailed with theirs.
“Knock it off!” I yelled in my best angry babysitter voice. I didn’t need to have my haint both bored and riled up.
“Who’s gonna make me?” the older stinker challenged.
The younger one swiped at the snot running out of his nose. “Yeah. Who’s gonna make him?”
Amy decided she’d try. She floated up out of the lounger and kicked the older one in the shins, repeatedly. Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to feel it.
“Boys,” the mother said, standing up and tying a sarong around her waist. “Get your sandals on. I know you like making new friends …” She smiled, nearly blinding me with her freshly bleached teeth. “But Mommy’s hungry. Since you’ve been so good, today, we’re going to get some ice cream.”
Good? That was good behavior?
The little hellions made faces at me, then ran, not walked, to their mother.
The smaller one scooped all his pool toys scattered across their table into his arms.
“Leave ‘em, sweetheart,” she said, grabbing her wallet and keys. “We’ll be back.”
“Oh, joy,” I muttered under my breath and took the opportunity to prevent a second round of wrestling when the dynamic duo returned. I spread one of my extra towels over a once-again-reclining Amy. The terry cloth must have tickled because she laughed. I wondered how long her good mood would last.
For good measure, I sat our mini-Igloo at the end of Amy’s lounge chair, close to but not touching her feet, a barricade to any further incursions.
“Oh, look at this.” Claire pointed to a page in her magazine. A model dripping with beads in a bohemian chic skirt and camel colored tank pouted back at me.
“Nice. I bet Mom could show us how to make those.” It was great having a creative mother. If only we could convince her to dress in a less fashion-deprived manner. God only knew what message she was wearing on her t-shirt today.
Speaking of moms, this haggard looking one in lime green Crocs limped past us with a girl toddler in pigtails clinging to her neck and a second of the boy variety with goggles strapped to his head wrapped around her leg. Scary. Twins.
The boy’s face was all pinched like he was about to let loose on a whine to end all whines. I nearly made the sign of the cross as she dragged her load back and stopped right in front of me, obstructing my view. Couldn’t she tell I had a man to admire, and he was getting ready to blow the whistle for Adult Swim?
Yet another thing I loved about Drew—the way he lifted the whistle to his mouth. Drew had what I would call a pretty mouth. The top lip was thin in comparison to his fuller lower lip. Very kissable if you know what I mean. Not that I could see it now.
I cleared my throat, hoping that Mrs. Mom would get the picture. She didn’t.
Amy apparently did and laughed, and I suspected she’d done something to keep the woman from moving. Maybe that was her idea of fun.
I heard Drew blow the whistle and call, “Adult Swim.”
Luckily, the mom moved to the side in time for me to watch Drew stretch his tall build toward the mid- afternoon sun, highlighting every sweet sinew on his killer bod.
“Heather,” Claire said, pinching me. “Your mouth is open.”
I couldn’t help it. I didn’t even care that I’d have another bruise or that I had a ghost to entertain so I could move her on to the next realm. Drew’s beauty was jaw-dropping.
He tossed the baseball cap and sunglasses he’d been wearing aside, and I have to say, the new buzz cut suited him. He dove into the water and swam all the way to the shallow end of the pool, near me. As I tried to calm my tingling skin, he emerged from the water, climbing up the steps to the pool deck like one of those slow motion commercials.
Water streamed from his high cheekbones to his Adam’s apple to his smooth, muscular chest, to . . . Well, you get the picture.
All of a sudden, chilled water sluiced from the top of my head down my face and neck. I shrieked. “Claire! What did you do that for?”
“You needed it,” she said, looking at me over the rim of her oversized sunglasses. She raised one eyebrow in a way that made me feel like she was the older, wiser sister, then she lowered her voice to a whisper. “Don’t get all crazy. But he’s coming this way.”
No, coming or even walking was the wrong verb. What Drew was doing was more graceful, sensual even. He cocked his head to the side, trained his icy blue eyes on the chair next to me, then on me.
Feeling every loopy nub of the terry cloth beneath my thighs, I quickly grabbed the Marshmallow Sparkle Lipsmacker I’d been using as a bookmark and reapplied a frosty, glossy glow. I debated whether I should take my hair out of the clip and toss it. It, after all, could become one of my best features by the end of the summer when I hopefully would have saved enough money to have it highlighted.
Drew stood there, dripping in his modest red swim trunks and staring down at me. I really hoped Audrey was taking this in.
“What can I do for you?” I asked, for once glad that my deep, raspy voice wasn’t the sweet simper other girls my age perfected. It made me memorable. And my voice could be viewed as attractive, right? That’s why he was now staring. He was so . . . turned on?
My skin itched horribly right where the plastic fastener linked the two sides of my top together. I scratched near it, but that just made the patch under the plastic itch worse.
Drew pointed to the lounger next to me. “Um, is that your chair?”
I glanced over at the spot I’d staked out for Amy who was invisible to everyone but me. She waved and exposed the gap between her front teeth as she smiled.
Oh, my, God. Drew Blanton wanted to sit next to me! And Amy was in the way.
I took a deep breath and noted a hint of citrus in the air. I sniffed again. Chlorine, Drew’s sun-warmed skin and citrus. I’d go to the drugstore and sniff all the suntan lotion until I found the one that smelled like him. Maybe I’d dab a little on my pillowcase to enhance my Drew-dreams.
“The chair’s all yours,” I said with a grin I hoped wasn’t too goofy. Amy, bad little haint that she was, remained in a reclined yet defiant position.
“Great,” he said, smiling back with nice straight teeth. He must either have naturally good spacing or his parents had spent some major moolah on braces. Didn’t matter. He had perfect teeth and a perfect smile.
Rather than sit down, he turned to the mom who’d been walking around with the attached toddlers. “Ma’am, this spot is free.”
He leaned over to move the cooler when I did, and doofus that I am, I bumped heads with him. Please, please, please, I prayed, hoping Audrey hadn’t seen my less than smooth move. Though he had the opportunity to look down my bathing suit top, he didn’t even try. How deflating is that?
But he had noticed me, and that was a fantabulous thing, right?
I wasn’t sure, so I spent most of the next Kid Swim contemplating whether this first official encounter was a victory or a defeat. I could now say “hi” to him because he’d talked to me, recognizing my existence. Recognition was a start. And I gave my extra lounge chair to the mommy, so he thought I was nice. But being nice could make me seem uncool. Didn’t all the guys worth having always go for the mean girls like Audrey and her friends? I’d banged heads with him, too, so he must think I’m a klutz.
To make my misery more complete, Amy whined, and whined, and whined. “I don’t have me a bathing costume. Or a chair to sit on. I’m plumb bored. When are we leaving?”
I glanced around. Mrs. Mom was in the kiddie pool tossing a squishee ball with her toddlers. Claire had gone to the snack bar to take advantage of Audrey’s discount. No one else was paying attention, so I put my earbuds in to make it appear like I was singing along to some music. “Look, Amy, you asked to come,” I whispered. “You begged me.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled.
“We’ll leave by two. Okay?”
Amy glanced to the clock hanging between the boys and girls bathrooms. I wondered if she would make the hands move faster. “How ‘bout half past one?”
“Amy, I know this is hard for you to understand because, well, you don’t know what it’s like to crush out on a boy. The longer I stay, the greater the opportunity for Drew to talk to me.”
“But I want to have fun.”
“You can. Go in the pool. Play with the other kids.”
A little voice inside me, call it intuition, told me I should probably leave. Amy wasn’t happy. And if your ghost isn’t happy, you’re not going to be happy either. But I was stupid. I didn’t listen. My Drew fix required another hour.
About twenty minutes later, when Drew was back on diving well duty and I’d broiled enough to warrant a quick dip, I padded over to the well, making certain to stay on the wet pavement and not burn the soles of my feet.
Amy followed, her laughter drifting over the tinkle of the water spigot refilling the well. She stopped and bent down to stick her ghostly hand in the stream of water, splattering it every which way. Thank goodness she found something to amuse herself with. I could relax.
Since I was a pretty good diver and Amy was occupied, I figured why not show off a little? It wasn’t like my diving would embarrass Audrey. I might even impress Drew.
I walked to the end of the board, sprang, and molded my long body into a classic dive position. Mid-air, though, my confidence imploded. If Amy got tired of her water play, she could take this opportunity to de-pants and uncork me.
Time slowed. Seconds seemed to stretch into minutes.
Oddly enough, the breeze blowing against my chest while I was descending toward the deep, glassy surface seemed more pronounced than usual. Specifically, my breasts tingled more than I’d recalled they’d ever tingled before.
My first thought? Hot damn! I can actually feel them growing.
My second thought? I’m topless.
Chapter Four
Oh, my, God. Oh—my—God! My top was flopping at my waist. I couldn’t scream. Even more people would look, and Drew, if he wasn’t already watching, would see how un-luscious my lady lumps were. Please Lord, please Lord, make me invisible, I prayed, breaking the surface with nary a splash. And what about Audrey? What if she’d seen?
Underwater, blue-tinted legs kicked and skinny kid backsides protruded through floats away from the deep end. I swam upwards one-armed, the other folded across my chest, and broke the surface to a renewal of that breezy feeling and great applause from a pack of roving middle school boys. Mortified, I looked down at my goose-pimpled flesh, treaded water, and debated how I could pull my top up without flashing anyone or drowning.
“Her name should be Princess and the Peas!” one of the boys shouted in a nasally voice.
A loud cannon ball-sized splash drowned his buddies’ responses. Seconds later, a mini tidal wave formed, slapped my face, and choked me as I fought to remain afloat, keep my breasts covered, and breathe.
Too busy to realize the back closure of my halter-top must have been barely clinging to my waist, I wasn’t aware that whatever was tickling its way down my leg was my bikini top until it was beyond easy retrieval. In despair, I watched the brown and turquoise fabric sink to the bottom of the diving well.
Amy’s laughter rose above the splashes and shouts. She was sitting on the brick coping beside the metal ladder I should be using to climb out, kicking her ghostly booted feet in the water, and waving. I needed help, and it wouldn’t come from her.
The hard look I sent her way merely encouraged her to laugh louder. Where was Claire? I glanced around desperately, realizing I had no other choice. I had to dive to the bottom of the well to get my top.
I took a deep breath, filling my lungs before my descent, and the freckled middle school demon who’d taunted me earlier dove over my head and into the well. He beat me to the top, mostly because one-armed swimming is about as easy as getting rid of a ghost. As he came back up to the surface, I tried to snatch my top away from him, but again, I wasn’t all that effective with one arm.
Making my awkward way back up to the surface, I seriously considered the benefits of drowning. One—I’d no longer have to deal with Audrey and her friends. Two—I wouldn’t have to worry about one of those middle school twerps uploading every embarrassing moment of my topless dive to YouTube so that my humiliation would go global. And three—I wouldn’t have to deal with my ghost. Unless. . . she stayed with me for all of eternity because I hadn’t given her enough fun. Crappola.
Out-of-breath and still clutching my chest, I broke through the surface.
From the pool deck beside the diving well, the boy shook my bikini top. “You want it? You want it?” he teased, then tossed it to one of his friends. His friend pitched it to some other boy who needed some major dermatological intervention as I paddled to the side, trying to get Drew’s attention.
“Can I get a little help here?” I finally yelled up at my idol, who seemed totally clueless. Amy was probably making him deaf.
Drew looked down and frowned.
“Those boys have my top,” I explained, jerking my head in their general direction, all the while hoping my legs didn’t give out.
He blew his whistle long and shrill. “
Hey, return the girl’s top! Now!”
The freckled juvie pervert walked across the pool deck to stand next to the ladder, next to Amy. He held up my dripping halter and snorted. “Girl? I couldn’t tell.”
I cringed.
Why couldn’t Amy do useful stuff, like put that boy through a similar torture to mine? A debriefing to be exact, then I’d ask him if he really was a boy. The pool patrons would cheer, and he’d move to another state, too mortified to return to school.
“You want it, come get it,” the boy said, dangling my top just out of my reach.
Drew whistled again. “That’s it, Justin! You’re out for half an hour. Sit on the bench after you give the girl her top. Say anything else, and I’ll call your parents and send you home.”
My knight in shining sunscreen! Defending me against middle school pooligans. If only he could see Amy, I was sure he’d defend me against her, too.
“Aw, man!” the boy grumbled, then threw my top at me. The damp Lycra stung my face as it hit. I nearly choked again.
I was about to try reattaching my top underwater, but Claire had made her way to the ladder with a dry towel. She held it up like a screen for me and helped me wrap myself in it.
My normally husky voice was barely a whisper as full as it was of tears that I refused to let fall in front of the gawkers. “Not too many people saw, right?”
“Um . . . what do you consider too many?” Claire asked, then bit her lip.
Great. Everyone had seen.
Wobbly-legged from treading water for too long, I managed to limp past the loungers and tables with my head high, but itchy. I felt people’s stares, heard their snickers.
As I passed near the snack bar, Audrey’s distinctive whine rose above the other conversations. “She did it on purpose just to embarrass me. God, I can’t wait to graduate and get away from her.”
My skin felt hot all over. With the back of my hand, I swiped at the warm trickle running down my face. I knew taking Amy to the pool would be a disaster. But somehow, I never imagined anything would happen that could make Audrey hate me any more than before. Like I’d been about everything else, I was so wrong.
Haint Misbehavin' Page 4