Part 1 (2/2)
Aing up. Enjoy the break while you can.”
”I guess.” Dune's sad brown eyes beamed respect and love for his father.
”You surf, Kristen?” Brice asked, the crispy corners of his hazel eyes scrunching with genuine hospitality. ”Because I've been teaching for eighteen years, and I can have you standing by-”
”Um, no. I'm more of a soccer person,” she blurted, making it perfectly clear that she was far from an OCDiva.
”Then tell your parents you won't be home for dinner.” He rested his arm on her sunburned shoulder. ”The Baxters are gonna teach you how to surf.”
Without hesitation, Kristen texted her parents, then followed the Baxters out to their blue Chevy Avalanche. Maybe she could give her job one more chance . . . for poor Ripple, of course.
LONG ISLAND SOUND.
WATERWAY MARINA.
Friday, July 17 1:28 P.M.
”Okay, kiddos, see that barge over there?” Brice called from the helm of Old Man Old Man, his buddy's twelve-foot floater. He pointed to the east, the top of his tanned shoulder creasing like a worn leather flat.
Kristen lifted the brim on her moss green and white Chanel bucket hat and searched the middle of the Long Island Sound. Could the floating garbage truck three hundred meters away possibly possibly be the barge he was referring to? Even its slow-churning wake looked stinky. be the barge he was referring to? Even its slow-churning wake looked stinky.
She quickly added a third coat of Clarins SPF 30. The first two were to protect her fair skin from the sun's harmful rays. The last one was to keep the poll-ew-tion out.
”Once that baby's close enough, you kids can ride her waves all the way back to Westchester.”
”Aiyyyyyyyyyeeeeeee!” Dune yelled, tying his blond hair back with a putty-colored rubber band.
”I told you, I am not, not, not not going in there!” Ripple cried, dumping three bottles of O.P.I. nail polish out of her peach Wet Seal tote and onto her blue striped towel. ”Ma.s.sie would never touch the same water as a gah-ross rat-raft . . . going in there!” Ripple cried, dumping three bottles of O.P.I. nail polish out of her peach Wet Seal tote and onto her blue striped towel. ”Ma.s.sie would never touch the same water as a gah-ross rat-raft . . . would would she?” Her wide eyes filled with hope as they met Kristen's, as if praying for Ma.s.sie to have a secret love of barge surfing or a fondness for wading in estuaries. she?” Her wide eyes filled with hope as they met Kristen's, as if praying for Ma.s.sie to have a secret love of barge surfing or a fondness for wading in estuaries.
Puh-lease!
Kristen delighted in shaking her head no.
Ripple gazed out at the navy blue water and sighed. ”Didn't think so.”
”Suit yourself,” Dune said, waxing his pomegranate red Channel Islands surfboard. ”Catch!” He threw a faded black wet suit to Kristen. ”I hope it's to your liking,” he added with a smirk, nodding at the CC logo on her hat and the alligator on her yellow halter, as if mocking and daring her at the same time.
Ehmagawd! Kristen wanted to shout. Kristen wanted to shout. I ne-ver buy Chanel. I can't afford it. Ma.s.sie gave me this hat because she said my straw Club Monaco was more like a Club Monac-oh-no-you-dizn't. And I have to wear something on my head or I'll get fried. And this halter isn't even real! I bought a pudding-stained Lacoste polo at the Salvation Army, unst.i.tched the alligator, and sewed it on this J. Crew tank. I do that all the time!!! I'm really poor and down-to-earth, like you. I ne-ver buy Chanel. I can't afford it. Ma.s.sie gave me this hat because she said my straw Club Monaco was more like a Club Monac-oh-no-you-dizn't. And I have to wear something on my head or I'll get fried. And this halter isn't even real! I bought a pudding-stained Lacoste polo at the Salvation Army, unst.i.tched the alligator, and sewed it on this J. Crew tank. I do that all the time!!! I'm really poor and down-to-earth, like you.
But instead she caught the stiff black jumper and tried not to gag on the salty rubber smell.
”Thanks.” She smiled proudly, hoping he'd noticed her stellar hand-eye coordination.
His wink showed that he had.
All Kristen could do to hide her blus.h.i.+ng cheeks and silence her pounding heart was hurry behind the flapping sails and squeeze into the tight neoprene casing.
”You guys are so un un,” Ripple sighed from her towel. She slid a pair of blush pink knockoff Diors over her heavily shadowed eyes and leaned back on her elbows.
”Un-what?” Dune stood over his sister, intentionally casting a buff shadow over her ivory linencovered body.
”Uneverything that's cool.” Ripple sat up and jammed a blue foam toe separator between her jagged toenails, then shook a bottle of coral polish.
Dune gave his father a mischievous smile. Brice nodded once, then quickly dropped the anchor into the water with a plop. He raced toward his daughter and, without a single word, grabbed Ripple's legs while Dune gripped her underarms.
”What are you doooooo-”
They carried her toward the edge of the boat while she kicked and flailed like a hooked fish.
”Noooooooo,” she pleaded. ”I just got this beach cover-up!”
Kristen covered her open mouth-hiding her amus.e.m.e.nt from Ripple and her shock from Dune.
They swung her once and her gla.s.ses fell overboard. Twice and her hair band was gone. The third time they let her go.
”Ahhhhhhh!” Ripple sailed over the rope railings, her blue foam toe separators still intact.
Brice high-fived his son while Kristen finished zipping up her wet suit and hurried to the boat's edge, careful not to get too close to them, just in case she was next.
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