Sunset

by Melissa J Morgan

  Silence. Cassie could hear the ticking of the office wall clock and the pounding of the surf several yards away. Your turn, dingbat. “So . . .” she began. She had wanted to tell him something. What was it? Oh yeah! “Hey, um . . . about tomorrow. You’re going to be great.”

  “I hope so. That’s nice of you to say.”

  “No, I mean it. I’m not just saying it to be nice.

  You know what to do. Just keep your head in it and forget about everything else. That’s what I do.” Oh, great. Now she sounded like a know-it-all.

  “Thanks.”

  “Sure.”

  More silence. Was it her turn? Or his turn?

  “I wish we could have had more time this morning,” he said. “To, you know, finish some things.”

  Her dopey smile returned. “Me too.”

  A cozy second passed. Then another and another. Soon it didn’t feel cozy anymore. Once again that helpless, drowning sensation came over her. What was her problem? Why couldn’t she think of anything to say?

  “Um. Hey, Cass?” he said. “Sorry but . . . I’ve got to go.”

  “Oh . . . okay . . .” Cassie couldn’t decide if she felt disappointed or relieved. Maybe both.

  “Yeah. Haydee wants us back at the hotel. We need to unpack and get ready for some dinner thing.”

  “Okay. Well . . . have fun! Good luck tomorrow. You’ll do great!” She winced at the tone of her voice. It came out all shaky and fake-sounding. Would he think she was lying?

  “Thanks. I’ll mumble mumble mumble.” Cassie couldn’t understand the last few words. On the computer monitor she could see him turn away from the camera and hunch over the phone. Then Haydee walked into view, talking and pointing behind her.

  “I’m sorry, what?” Cassie asked, but at the same time he said, “Okay, gotta run. Bye!” and hung up. She could only watch as he followed Haydee offscreen.

  What a dope. That conversation should have made her day. If only she’d had a heads-up that he would call, she could have—what? Rehearsed some witty lines or flirty chit-chat, maybe. Or at least come up with a few direct questions. Instead she went all mute and boring. And when she did talk, she rambled out of control.

  Now that she’d revealed how dorky she really was, he was probably rethinking his whole attraction to her. Someone like Micah probably preferred clever, confident girls—or at least girls who could talk.

  Girls like Danica.

  “There you are!” Tori ran toward her. “So? How’d it go?” She was still wearing that smirky little grin—the one all of the others had had on when they headed out of the office to give Cassie privacy.

  “Okay, I guess.”

  Her cousin frowned. “What do you mean, ‘I guess’?”

  Cassie didn’t want to go into it. She was too tired and confused. She was so looking forward to a quick dinner followed by bedtime. Maybe in the quiet of her bunkhouse she’d be able to organize her thoughts and figure some things out.

  “We didn’t have much time to talk,” she explained. “Haydee showed up and made him get off.”

  “She is such a spaz,” Tori said, shaking her head. Suddenly her eyes widened. She grabbed Cassie’s left arm and yanked down. “Hey! Did you know that Charlie likes Andi?”

  “Yeah, he told me,” Cassie said.

  “So why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I don’t know. Because it was a secret. What’s it to you, anyway?”

  Tori’s eyes sparkled in an unabashedly self-satisfied way. “Only that I’m the world’s best matchmaker.”

  “Oh no. Tor, don’t. Please?”

  “Why not? The guy obviously needs help.”

  “Is that why he told you?” Cassie felt a rush of panic. Is that why he’d confessed his crush to her on that first day, when they were stuck in the closet during that game of truth or dare? Had he been hoping that Cassie would help him? If so, she’d totally let him down. Not that she would have been much help anyway.

  “Um . . . yeah, sure. That’s probably why he told me.”

  Cassie squinted at her cousin. Tori’s voice was suddenly all breathy-sounding. A sure sign that she wasn’t speaking the truth. “He didn’t actually tell you, did he?”

  “Okay, no. Not directly. But come on! It’s so obvious! When we were all standing in the office, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. I can’t believe I never noticed before.”

  “Do you actually think there’s a chance for them? Do you think Andi feels the same way?”

  Tori scrunched up her nose. “I don’t know . . . I’d have to say no, she doesn’t. Not at the moment. But I don’t think she’s all hung up on anyone else either—at least from what I’ve seen.”

  “How can you even tell? The girl’s always on the go. I’m not even sure what color her eyes are.”

  “I know, but I really think she could get into Charlie. We just need to get them alone together. After all, he is cute. In a teacher’s pet sort of way.”

  “Yeah. He is.” She had to admit Charlie had a goofball charm about him. “You sure it’s that simple, though?”

  “Of course. Boy plus girl plus time always equals those kinds of thoughts. She won’t be able to help it.”

  Didn’t need to hear that, Cassie grumbled inwardly. She thought of Danica hanging on Micah, and all the together time they were having on Waikiki.

  “Talking is the best way to get a romance going,” Tori continued. “That’s what Oprah says. Or maybe it was Dr. Phil. Or maybe it was that blond girl on The Hills. I can’t remember.”

  “I see,” Cassie said—even though she didn’t.

  “So that’s it then. We’ll help Charlie.”

  We? Cassie wondered. Since when was she considered an expert? She couldn’t even talk on the phone right.

  “Cassie? Hey, Cassie!”

  Cassie spun around at the sound of her name. Simona, the head counselor, was running toward her, all pink-faced and puffing.

  “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Then Charlie told me you were in the office. You must have shown up right after I left,” she said, gasping for breath after every fourth word. She glanced over at Tori and frowned. “Young lady, shouldn’t you be with your group?”

  “I was just . . .”

  “I’m tired of hearing from your counselor about your inability to follow the schedule. This is a camp, not a resort, Victoria. You can’t just come and go as you please.”

  Faint lines appeared on Tori’s forehead and her bottom lip slid up to cover her top one. Cassie couldn’t tell if she was upset by Simona’s scolding or the fact that she’d been called “Victoria.”

  Gradually Tori’s expression crumbled. “Yes, ma’am,” she said somewhat meekly, staring down at her feet.

  “Good.” Simona gave a satisfied nod. “Now get to where you’re supposed to be. I need to talk with Cassie.”

  “Fine!” Tori muttered, then stalked off down a nearby path.

  “What’s up?” Cassie asked Simona, once Tori was out of earshot.

  “I just wanted to make sure you knew to report to the beach extra early tomorrow.”

  “Uh . . . sure . . . can I ask why?”

  Simona scowled. “Didn’t Haydee tell you? I knew it!” She let out an annoyed sigh. “I suppose she was just too busy to let you know that you’re going to fill in as official surf C.I.T. while Danica and Micah are away.”

  “Oh. Uh . . . okay.”

  “I really appreciate it, Cassie. You’re a lifesaver,” Simona said, patting her shoulder. “I know you’ll do a bang-up job!”

  Cassie did her best to smile back. She really hoped the words lifesaver and bang-up weren’t meant literally. Now not only was she worried about Micah, her head was filling with horrible images of chomping sea creatures and riptides and beginning surfers getting swept out to sea . . .

  So much for her relaxing evening.

  Chicken adobo . . . fish kebabs . . . lomi-lomi . . . homemade macaroni and cheese . . . a three-tiered rack of dess
erts . . .

  Micah scanned the buffet table. Dozens of his favorite dishes all in one place. He would dive right in—if only his midsection didn’t feel like it was being shoved through a cheese grater.

  As he stood in the buffet line, trying to decide what his stomach would and wouldn’t object to (so far rice and a biscuit were the only contenders), he noticed a shaggy-topped shadow looming over him. Looking back, he saw Bo Anderson, that swaggery surfer dude he’d noticed at the airport.

  Bo noticed Micah staring and nodded at him. “ ’Sup?” he said with a grin. “Anything good here?”

  “Probably. But I’ll never know. Just . . . can’t eat.”

  Bo nodded again, this time faster. “You competing in the morning? Man, I’m the same way. Won’t eat much before and then pig out afterward. If these guys were smart, they would have planned this big thing for after the contest.”

  Micah laughed. He liked this guy, although he also sort of made Micah feel kind of nervous.

  The dude’s head continued to bob up and down, his blond curls following a half-second behind. “Yeah, hardly any of us eat the night before. This guy I practice with, Jonah, he always can—but he’s more animal than human. This girl Cassie sure can. We even call her Hot Dog because this one time—”

  “Wait a minute,” Micah interrupted. “You’re not talking about Cassie Hamilton, are you?”

  “Yeah! Heard of her, huh? You a fan?”

  Micah felt a huge surge of annoyance. “Um, no.

  I mean, yeah, but . . . I know her, actually.” He wasn’t sure how else to put it. He was her friend? No, more than that. Her boyfriend? Pretty sure, but considering they’d only near-kissed it seemed technically wrong to call himself that. Her wannabe main dude? That was pretty accurate, but also extremely lame-sounding.

  Bo’s eyes grew almost as big as the plate in his hands. “What a weird coincidence, man. Cassie and I are supertight.”

  “Really?” Micah’s gut felt like it was being skewered by hundreds of toothpicks. “That is weird.”

  The guy held out one of his palms. “I’m Bo, by the way.”

  “Micah.” He gripped Bo’s hand and gave it a firm shake.

  “Micah . . . Micah . . . huh. I don’t remember her talking about a Micah.”

  Another wave of irritation swept through Micah. “Yeah, well . . . we just met a few weeks ago. She’s at my camp this summer. Camp Ohana. I’m representing them in the contest tomorrow.” He hoped the last bit would make him seem a little cooler in Bo’s eyes.

  Instead Bo’s head shook in a cartoonish double-take. “She . . .what? She’s at a camp? Whoa! I knew she was taking some time off, but what the heck is she doing in a place like that?”

  Micah took a deep breath. He was past the geek-out phase. Great or not, he was this close to shoving the guy’s whiskered face into the mac ’n’ cheese. “She’s one of the counselors-in-training. So am I,” he explained. Then, unable to help himself, he added, “Guess you haven’t talked to her in a while, huh?”

  “Nah. Been on tour and stuff. I really should call her though. Cassie’s great. Isn’t she?”

  He smiled and Micah could see no trace of smugness. Maybe the guy isn’t a jerk, he decided. Maybe he’s just clueless.

  And yet he couldn’t help wondering how “supertight” Bo and Cassie had been—or maybe still were.

  “Yeah. She’s great.”

  Bo glanced about as if he’d only just realized where he was. “Well, guess I better grab some more food before it’s gone. Nice to meet you.”

  “Nice to meet you, too.”

  Bo started to walk off, then stopped and turned back toward Micah. “Oh, and hey. Good luck tomorrow. Take it from a pro: Having no appetite is a good thing. Means your whole body is focused on the competition.” He clapped Micah on the back. “Being really nervous is totally cool.”

  “Thanks.”

  As Bo loped off toward the dessert cart, Micah fought the urge to throw a biscuit at his head. Who’d that guy think he was? Take it from a pro? Talking about how Micah must be really nervous?

  Was the dude trying to make him feel better? Or make him explode from pent-up stress?

  And, most importantly, how well did he know Cassie?

  “I see you’re on the high-carb diet.”

  Micah had been so busy frowning at Bo’s back that he didn’t notice Danica walk up beside him. He turned and directed the frown at her. “So what if I am?” he asked.

  “Just kidding!” Danica squealed. “Jeez. Did that guy get to you or something?”

  “Yeah. No. I don’t know.” Micah let out a sigh. “He was just trying to be nice . . . I think.”

  “You know you’re not going to be competing against him, right?”

  Micah still had images of Bo and Cassie in his mind, so it took him a moment to realize Danica was talking about tomorrow’s surf contest. “I’m not?”

  “No. He and a few others are only here for a special exhibition.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “Because he’s on the posters!” she said, laughing. She pointed to a nearby wall where a giant full-color flyer advertising the surf competition was displayed. A square filled with Bo’s shaggy head was superimposed over a shot of the beach.

  “Oh.” Micah felt a little silly, but no less panicked.

  “Hey.” Danica stepped in close and playfully tapped the tip of his nose with her index finger. “Mellow out.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “I mean it. You worked hard to get here. Loosen up and enjoy it a little more.”

  Micah could feel a smile work its way across his mouth. She was right. It was stupid of him to get freaked like this. He was supposed to be having fun.

  “Thanks,” he murmured. “I needed that.”

  “What can I say? I’m just awesome that way.” Danica lifted her chin in a haughty angle and continued on to their table.

  He shook his head and laughed. Maybe things weren’t so bad after all. Bo might not be the jerk Micah supposed him to be. And although he still wished Cassie could be here, at least he had Danica. There was something comforting about having her around—in some ways she still knew him better than anyone else. Of course he hoped that someday Cassie would be the one who knew him best. If only he knew how close she and Bo had been—and maybe still were. Maybe then he could relax.

  Danica checked her reflection in the mirrored wall of the elevator and grinned. Her green-blue eyes shimmered like flames on a gas stove and her mouth was curled in a tiny Mona Lisa-style grin. She knew that look—her can’t-be-beat expression. She only wore it in the summer at Camp Ohana.

  Progress was made today. Micah actually loosened up a bit. He still seemed distracted, but he shot her a few smiles over dinner (not that he ate much) and laughed at a couple of things she said. With just a little more quality one-on-one time, she could probably wipe what’s-her-name out of his mind.

  At this point Danica needed to focus on winning the competition. Then, by lunchtime tomorrow, she could turn her whole attention to Micah. Just a few more charged moments and things would be back to normal—back to where they were supposed to be. She’d be Micah’s favorite, not Cassie. She’d be the triumphant surfer and star of the camp, not Cassie. Danica would once again be the awesomest one of all.

  She was so close. All she needed was a relaxing bath and a good night’s sleep and she’d be at the top of her game. Thank god Haydee let her beg out of listening to the boring welcome speeches so she could head back to the room and get ready for tomorrow.

  Danica let out an impatient huff as the elevator stopped at the second floor lobby. The doors opened and four tall, athletic-looking girls stepped inside. They each smiled at her—tight, phony smiles that were just excuses to size her up.

  They were obviously fellow surf competitors. In fact, Danica recognized them from the welcome dinner. They had been sitting at the back of the ballroom. Probably snuck out the door and up the stairs to the lobby
before anyone noticed. Slick move.

  “Hi,” said the steeliest-looking one of the four, a ridiculously muscular girl with short black hair. “You here for the contest?”

  “Mm-hm.” Danica pretended to be barely interested in them.

  “Supposed to have some major waves tomorrow. Hope you brought your game.”

  Danica looked the girl straight in the eye. “Oh, I can handle it. I’m ready for anything.”

  The girl smiled and held her stare. Danica was thrilled when she finally blinked and looked down.

  “Ooh!” the girl gasped. “Look at your leg! How did you do that? Bad wipeout?”

  “No!” Danica was suddenly acutely aware of the scab on her thigh. “I didn’t wipe out. It’s nothing. No big deal.”

  “Must itch like crazy, huh?”

  “No,” Danica lied. It did itch. A lot, now that she mentioned it. She must have sounded unconvincing because the other girls began murmuring among themselves.

  The lead girl made a few tsk-tsk noises with her tongue. “Man, any weakness, even something small like that, can totally throw you off your game. Cuts always take forever to heal when you keep getting into salt water. And it’s so tough to keep the sand out of them, isn’t it?”

  Danica considered not responding, but that would give the girl too much satisfaction. People like this needed to be dealt with directly, mind game versus mind game. Something Micah, who was too nice for his own good, really needed to learn.

  She met the girl’s gaze and held it. “Don’t stress yourself. It is so not a problem. I can’t even feel it.”

  Danica kept on grinning at the girl as if she were her long-lost best friend. She held her stare, watching the girl’s expression go from smug to doubtful to simply annoyed. Finally the elevator dinged to a stop and the doors slid apart.

  “Here I am,” Danica sang out cheerfully as she pranced out into the corridor. “So nice to meet you. Good luck tomorrow!”

  “You too,” said the tough girl as her pals stood and smirked behind her. “And take care of that leg. It looks pretty bad.”

  Before Danica could respond, the doors closed between them. She stood there, fuming—hoping to hear a loud snapping sound and the screams of four snooty girls as the elevator plummeted several stories.