California Girls!

  Swell, I thought. Terrific. Fantastic. Fresh. Distant.

  Carol pushed past me into our house. She dropped her bag on the floor and said, “So what do you guys want to do today?”

  “Beach!” cried Kristy, Jessi, Claudia, Stacey, Mallory, and Jeff.

  “Hollywood!” cried Mary Anne.

  I didn’t say anything.

  “The beach it is, then,” said Carol. “Get your stuff together. I borrowed the mini-van from my friend again. You guys would never have fit into my car.” (Carol drives something small and red. It is too young for her. But then, I thought Carol was too young for my father.)

  My friends and Jeff and I scrambled around, putting on our bathing suits and packing beach bags with sunscreen, books, sunglasses, visors, combs, and a radio. Mary Anne packed more stuff than the rest of us. She is very sensitive to the sun, so she had to bring along a hat, nose coat, lip coat, an extra towel, and this embarrassing caftan she wears to ensure that every inch of her body is protected from the sun.

  “I hope you have an umbrella,” she said to me as we were leaving.

  “I do. It’s in the van,” Carol spoke up. “Chairs and tapes and three Walkmans, too.”

  “Great!” exclaimed Stacey. “I can tell this is going to be a terrific day.”

  Fat chance, I thought. But I thanked Mrs. Bruen as she handed us a huge basket packed with a picnic lunch. And then I followed everyone out to the van parked in our driveway.

  After stopping to pick up Jeff’s friend Rob, we were really on our way. The drive to the beach took awhile, since we don’t live exactly on the coast, but even I had to admit that it was worth it when we arrived. As I said before, the weather was absolutely gorgeous. And then, of course, there was the Pacific Ocean, and a wide stretch of bleached white sand before it. In Stoneybrook, we actually do live on the water, but there are no beaches like this one. I just love the California beach.

  “All right!” I said as we trudged across the sand with our gear, looking for the perfect spot to settle down. When we found one, Carol put up the umbrella, Stacey and Claud spread out a beach blanket (it was really an old bedspread), and Mary Anne immediately gravitated toward the shade, where she gooed herself up with sunscreen that was, like, number eighty-five or something.

  Soon we were all sitting or lying down, just enjoying the sun and the sound of the waves. But that didn’t last long. Jeff and Rob became restless and ran to the ocean to go swimming. Claudia sat up and began staring at something (I wasn’t sure what), and Stacey sat up, too, and said, “Oh, wow!”

  “What?” Jessi asked Stacey.

  “Surfers. Look! I’ve always dreamed of going surfing.”

  “You could take a class today, if you want,” spoke up Carol.

  “Carol!” I exclaimed. “Surfing is very dangerous.”

  “No, it isn’t,” she said. “Not if you learn properly.”

  Stacey was already on her feet. “How do I take a class? Where do I go?”

  “See that building down the beach?” said Carol, pointing. “That’s a surfboard rental place. And there are surfing instructors who give lessons every day. You could sign up for a beginners’ class.”

  “Can I go now?” asked Stacey.

  “Sure,” replied Carol.

  “Who’s coming with me?” Stacey wanted to know.

  “Not me,” said Claud dreamily, still staring at whatever it was.

  “Kristy?” asked Stacey. “You love sports.”

  “I know. But I’ve seen Jaws too many times.”

  “Don’t even think about asking me,” said Mary Anne, in her caftan, hat, sunglasses, and number eighty-five sunscreen.

  “Maybe I’ll join you later,” I said, just so Stacey wouldn’t feel bad.

  “Okay.” Stacey trotted down the beach.

  Kristy, Jessi, and Mal joined Jeff and Rob in the water. Mary Anne read a book under the umbrella, and Carol took out a pad of paper and began sketching. Claudia was still staring at something.

  I nudged her. “What are you looking at?” I whispered.

  Claud turned around slowly, as if she were in a dream, or as if I were dreaming. “I’m looking at that boy,” she replied in a low voice.

  “What boy?” The beach was getting crowded. There were boys everywhere.

  “The one right over there.” Claud tried to point without being obvious.

  “Reading the book?” I asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Why are you staring at him?”

  “Why? Why? Because he’s the most gorgeous guy I’ve ever seen.”

  Claud continued to stare. The boy was good-looking. Jet-black hair, dark eyes like Claud’s, and a serious, handsome face. He was about her age, and he was sitting all alone, reading a thick book.

  “I wish I could see what he’s reading,” said Claud.

  “Why don’t you go ask him?” spoke up Carol, still sketching away. “Go introduce yourself to him.”

  What nerve!

  But Claudia said, “Well, maybe I will…. Later.”

  Jessi and Mal returned from the ocean, dripping. As they toweled off, Mal exclaimed, “Hey, there’s Stacey!”

  Sure enough, a small class of surfers was paddling out into the ocean. A wave was approaching them. Claudia turned around just in time to see this.

  “Oh, my lord!” she cried.

  But the surfboards just rose and fell as the wave swelled under them.

  Stacey’s class lasted for about an hour. Even from way down the beach, I could tell that Stacey was having the time of her life. And before the class was over, she had actually tried to ride her first wave in — shakily — and she’d fallen off before the end of her ride. But she’d come up grinning. Stacey was in love with surfing.

  “Uh-oh,” I said. “She’s got it.”

  “Who’s got what?” asked Mary Anne.

  “Stacey’s got the surfing bug.”

  When Stacey returned to us, she was brimming over with the joys of surfing. As we unpacked our picnic lunch, she told us everything. “I felt powerful,” she said.

  “Claudia,” whispered Carol. “How about inviting that boy over for lunch? He’s been sitting by himself all morning.”

  “Well … okay.” Claud agreed so quickly, I knew she’d been thinking about doing that anyway.

  I watched her get up, walk over to the boy, and speak to him briefly. The next thing I knew, he was sitting on our blanket with us. His name was Terry.

  We found out a lot about Terry while we ate lunch. He lived not far away, sort of between the beach and my house. He had two brothers, one older and one younger. Both of his parents were lawyers. Then we started talking about school. Terry loved it. He was taking advanced classes, his hobby was reading, and he had recently won first prize in a district-wide science fair.

  I watched Claudia blanch when she heard all that. I could almost see her thinking, This boy’s not for me. But Terry seemed very interested in Claud.

  When lunch was over, Claud carried a chair to Terry’s spot in the sand, and they sat and talked. Meanwhile, Mallory, who had been gazing up and down the beach, finally announced, “Every single girl here is blonde. That is so unfair.”

  It was untrue, too. Jessi, Kristy, Mary Anne, and Claudia weren’t blonde. And neither were a lot of other people. But all Mal could see were blonde heads. “I want to be a California girl, too,” she said. She thought for a moment. Then she went on, “Hey! Maybe I could put some of that wash-out blonde dye in my hair!”

  I waited for Carol to say, “No, that’s not a good idea.” But she just smiled.

  I sighed. The day wore on. Everyone but Mary Anne went swimming. Claud and Terry talked some more. Mallory moaned about her hair. Also her freckles. And Stacey talked so much about surfing that when I saw some kids I used to go to school with, and remembered that they were devoted surfers, I introduced Stacey to them. They were a few years older than Stacey, but they seemed to hit it off with her right away.

  When t
he day ended, I decided that it had been pleasant enough. But for some reason, I felt unsettled.

  Right after breakfast on Tuesday, Carol showed up again. She had the van with her. “At your service!” she said.

  I saw Dawn roll her eyes. I know why she doesn’t like Carol. It’s because Carol acts like she’s one of us when she’s really an adult.

  “She tries to be such pals with us,” Dawn had complained the night before. “And she’s much too old for that.” (Carol is maybe 32.) “She told Claud to invite Terry to have lunch with us, she told you about the surfing lessons, and she actually smiled when Mal said she wanted to dye her hair blonde.”

  I didn’t see a thing wrong with any of this, but I kept my mouth closed. I didn’t want to get into an argument with Dawn over Carol. I also didn’t want to tell Dawn that maybe she was right about one thing. I wasn’t sure I should have gone surfing yesterday. I’d been feeling a little dizzy — even though I’d been extra careful about my diet, and had remembered my insulin and everything. Oh, well. Maybe yesterday I was still just jet-lagged. Today I felt great.

  And today I was going surfing again! Dawn’s friends had asked me yesterday afternoon if I wanted to come to the beach with them today. I said yes right away. I didn’t think anyone else was going to the beach, and I wanted a chance to surf again. Dawn’s friends had said they’d pick me up at nine-thirty in the morning.

  It turned out that not only was no one else going to the beach, but everyone was splitting up. Dawn (who said she couldn’t take two days in a row with Carol) announced that she wanted to ride her bike to a nearby mall.

  “Anyone want to come with me?” she asked.

  “Sure,” said Kristy.

  “Why not?” said Claud.

  Dawn borrowed bikes from Sunny and Jill (Jeff said he needed his bike that day), and off rode the three of them.

  Mary Anne had decided to stay at home and look through more of her pamphlets and maps and books. She was acting just like when she, Kristy, Claud, and Dawn came to visit me in New York. Mary Anne could have been our tour guide then. For that matter, she could have been the tour guide for visiting foreign dignitaries. Somehow, she knew everything about the city I’d grown up in and that she just dreamed of visiting. Now, here she was in California, doing the same thing. Oh, well. She’d be happy reading up on Forest Lawn and amusement parks and movie studios.

  Mal and Jessi were the only ones who chose to go off with Carol, and you will not believe where they went. Carol drove them all the way to Hollywood just so that Mal could visit the Max Factor Museum of Beauty. No kidding. Ever since Mallory had decided that she needed to become a blonde, she hadn’t talked about a thing except makeup and hair dye and beauty. Then, among Mary Anne’s collection of pamphlets, she found an ad for this beauty museum, where you can see things that Max Factor, legendary makeup artist to the stars, created to enhance the beauty of Joan Crawford, Judy Garland, and lots of other actresses. You could also visit the Max Factor Boutique, where you can buy Max Factor perfume, makeup, and skin-care stuff, and talk to cosmetic experts. This was going to be a dream come true for Mallory.

  At nine-fifty, my surfer friends (they weren’t very punctual) slowed to a stop in front of Dawn’s house in a souped-up-looking car and honked the horn, which they didn’t need to do since at that point they were so late that I was plastered against the front window.

  I ran out to meet them, beach gear in hand. “Hi!” I cried.

  “Hi,” answered Paul, who was driving. His car was a convertible with the top down. (Oh, cool.) But Paul said, “Sorry. The doors don’t work. You’ll have to climb in.” So I did, feeling clumsy.

  Next to Paul was Alana. I squeezed into the backseat with Rosemary and Carter. Paul was seventeen. So was Carter. Rosemary and Alana were sixteen.

  “Ready for another day of riding the waves?” asked Carter with a grin.

  “Sure,” I replied as Paul screeched off down the street so fast my head snapped back.

  Whoa.

  We sped to the beach and reached it fifteen minutes faster than Carol had. The ride was scary but exhilarating — and, when we walked across the sand and I saw the waves again, I felt a thrill of excitement go through me.

  SURFING!

  The five of us rented surfboards. (Well, actually only three of us did. I forgot to mention that Carter and Rosemary had their own boards. They had been jammed into the car with us, sticking up and over the back of the trunk like big fishtails.) Then Carter and everyone went off on their own, and I signed up for another surfing class. Soon I was riding the waves again.

  Okay, maybe I wasn’t exactly riding the waves, hanging ten, or doing any of the other things my new friends could already do. But I was getting there. I loved the feel of sitting on the board and paddling out to sea. I liked bobbing up and down, thinking of the cool green water below me, and under that, the ocean floor. Later, as soon as Dan, our instructor, allowed us to, I stood up on my board. And this time I rode a wave in without falling off. In all honesty, it was fun — but scary. Dan had just said, “Wait! Don’t try that one. It’s too big!” But for me, it was also too late. I’d stood up, the wave had carried me off, and there was nothing I could do about it. I was whizzing through a tunnel of water, and I didn’t know how to stop. What if this wave just engulfs me? I thought, my heart pounding. My knees began to feel weak, which was not good, because I needed them to support me. Then, just as I was about to panic completely, the wave fizzled out and I found myself on the shore.

  Was I ever impressed with myself.

  Dan wasn’t, though. As soon as he rode in he said, “Stacey! What were you doing? You could have killed yourself.”

  “But I didn’t,” I said. And when class was over, I rented my board for the rest of the day, and joined Alana and Carter and everyone. I wasn’t nearly as good as they were, but I’d definitely gotten the feel of surfing, and I kept riding the waves in — big or small.

  Early in the afternoon, I realized I needed to eat something, so I went to the snack bar and bought a salad. I was walking with it down the beach to my towel when I passed someone who looked familiar. It was Terry.

  “Hey, Terry,” I said. “It’s me, Stacey. Claudia’s friend.”

  Terry looked up. He was sitting in a chair, engrossed in the same big book he’d been reading the day before, only now he was much further along in it.

  “Hi!” he said. “Is Claudia here?”

  “Not today,” I replied. I sat down next to him and began to eat my salad. “She and Kristy and Dawn went to a mall,” I told him.

  “Oh,” said Terry, sounding disappointed.

  I took that as a good sign. The night before, Claud had told me she wouldn’t be seeing Terry again. “I like him a lot,” she had said, “but we’re not right for each other. He’s way too smart for me. Going out with him would be kind of like dating a male version of Janine. What would we talk about? I don’t know a thing about science, and I’m betting that even though he’s read about a million books, none of them was a Nancy Drew.” She’d paused. “Besides, I don’t even know his last name.”

  Well, I could take care of that now. I was sure Claudia was just suffering from low self-esteem. She and Terry had talked for quite awhile yesterday (so obviously they could carry on a conversation), and Terry was still interested in Claudia, no matter what she thought about herself. I didn’t see any reason why Terry and Claud couldn’t be friends — or even boyfriend and girlfriend.

  “Listen, would you like to call Claudia?” I asked Terry.

  “Sure!” he replied.

  “Great. We’re all staying at Dawn’s house. I’ll give you the Schafers’ phone number. Claud would love to hear from you.”

  So I gave the number to Terry. Then I spent the rest of the afternoon with Rosemary, Carter, Alana, and Paul. We must have gotten pretty caught up in our surfing, because by the time Paul dropped me off at Dawn’s, it was after six o’clock.

  And Mr. Schafer was home. br />
  He didn’t look very happy as I climbed over the side of Paul’s car and dashed up the front walk.

  “Who drove you to the beach today?” he asked me.

  I turned around as Paul drove off. Luckily, his tires didn’t squeal.

  “Paul …” I replied, realizing that I didn’t know his last name.

  But Dawn had followed her father outside. “Paul Rapkin,” she supplied. “You know. He lives right down the street. His father is Doctor Rapkin. And those other kids are Alana Becker, Rosemary Tanner, and Carter Pape. You know their parents, too.” Dawn sounded very matter-of-fact.

  “Okay,” said Mr. Schafer. He sounded somewhat doubtful, but he let the subject drop, adding, “That reminds me. I’m playing tennis with Carter’s father in a couple of weeks.”

  I let out a sigh of relief.

  Everyone else had returned from their outings. Mallory and Jessi (especially Mal) were brimming over with tales of the Max Factor Museum of Beauty. Claud, Kristy, and Dawn had bought matching bracelets at the mall. And Mary Anne had made a long list headed, “Things We Have to Do in CA.”

  I looked at Claudia, thinking of my meeting with Terry. I decided not to tell her that I’d given Terry her phone number. I would just wait to see what happened.

  I wrote that postcard on Wednesday. I wrote it after everything had happened. (I’ll tell you what happened in just a minute.) I sort of wanted to write to Mom and Dad about Terry, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t confide in them about boy stuff. So I stuck to run-of-the-mill things like the beach and the mall. (At least I didn’t stoop to discussing the weather, or adding, “Having a wonderful time. Wish you were here.”)

  Anyway, what happened was that on Tuesday, after Kristy and Dawn and I got back from the mall (with really distant matching charm bracelets), and after everyone had eaten dinner, the phone rang.

  “I’ll get it!” yelled Jeff. He jumped up from his game of Nintendo and raced for the phone.

  “Does he have a girlfriend?” Dawn asked her father.

  We all laughed, and Mr. Schafer said, “No. Believe it or not, he wants tickets to a Grateful Dead concert. They’re going to be playing here next month, and he’s dying to go. He’s hoping that phone call is Rob saying he got tickets.”