Sunset

by Melissa J Morgan

  Time for a break and then only four more sessions to go, Cassie told herself. All in all, she’d handled it better than she thought she would, in spite of her recent distractions. She managed to avoid the deep water. She didn’t freeze up. No one died. She’d even succeeded in getting Hannah to stand farther back on her board for better balance. She should be happy, really.

  “Hi, Cassie!”

  Alexis shouted and waved at her as they waded to shore. She was walking quickly in the direction of her bunk, ready for her late-morning break.

  Cassie raised her hand in greeting. She was just about to say “hi” back when Alexis turned her head and her pretty, twisted metal hairclip glinted in the sunlight.

  Once again, an image of Micah’s text haunted Cassie’s mind. “U left your hair clip in my room, btw . . .”

  Cassie’s stomach tightened and it took all her muscle power to continue heading toward the beach. She really wished she could get just five straight minutes of normal thought.

  “Your hair clip . . . in my room . . . my room . . .”

  That phrase was bad enough—but it wasn’t the real horrible part. The next sentence really made her gut clench: “Will sneak it to you later.”

  It was the word sneak that really made her feel shaky. It implied that something dishonest was going on. And it made it impossible for her to think up other, less scary reasons why Danica would have been there.

  “Thanks a lot, Cassie,” Hannah said.

  Cassie snapped out of her thoughts and was surprised to find herself on dry sand.

  “I hope you get to teach me again soon,” Hannah went on. “Sorry I was such a grouch.”

  “No problem. Sorry I was so . . . careful.” She looked out at the breakers. They were perfect—clean, even, just the right size. If she’d been her old self, she would have agreed to let Hannah surf out there. In fact, she might have suggested it first.

  This had to change. She had to start making it change.

  “No biggie,” the girl replied. “I know you were just doing your job. Bye!”

  The girl headed in the direction of the cabins, passing Tori, who was jogging straight toward Cassie.

  “Hey! You’re better!” she said.

  Cassie nodded. “I am.”

  “Cool! We can sunbathe.” She grabbed the rolled-up beach towel she had tucked under her arm and began to spread it out on the sand.

  “Uh . . . Tor. This isn’t your free class. Aren’t you supposed to be with your group?”

  “It’s cabin clean time. But Madison said she’d straighten my area for two weeks in exchange for my eyelet Juicy Couture shirt—which is so last year anyway. So . . . bonus free hour!” She sat down on her oversize towel and patted the space next to her.

  Cassie could only shake her head and plop down beside her. Leave it to Tori to find ways around all the rules.

  “So . . . ?” Tori flashed her a knowing smile. “Aren’t you excited?”

  “About . . . ?”

  “Micah’s coming back later today! Have you heard anything?”

  The sound of Micah’s name made her gut cramp up so fiercely, she almost balled up into a fetal position. Cassie could feel her cheeks grow pink. “What do you mean? Heard what?”

  “Have you heard anything about the competition?”

  “Oh! No. I haven’t heard anything about that.”

  “Well, you’ll find out soon. They should be here in a few hours.” Tori gave Cassie’s wrist an excited squeeze—the same intensity as the squeezing in Cassie’s midsection.

  She wondered if she should share her dilemma about the text message. After all, Tori was a self-admitted expert on relationships. But Cassie wasn’t even sure she could accurately explain the situation without incriminating herself as a world-class snoop. Plus she didn’t fully understand it herself.

  So instead she watched her cousin start pulling items out of her big, expensive, and apparently bottomless bag. Magazines, nail polish, a bottle of Vitamin Water, lip gloss, compact, hairbrush, a spray bottle of something, two scrunchies, and a chocolate-peanut butter energy bar. The last item she held out to Cassie.

  “Want it? I’m still full from breakfast.”

  Maybe she should eat something. Maybe that would quell the churning in her stomach. It would be ironic if she actually got sick after pretending to be ill yesterday. Probably serve her right.

  “Okay. Thanks, Tor.” Cassie took it and started opening the wrapper. “And thanks for yesterday, too. Sorry you got kicked out of my room. That was really nice of you to share all that stuff with me.”

  “Hey, that’s what I’m here for. To make your life better.” She grinned her hundred-watt smile. Then she leaned back and spritzed her neck with whatever the spray bottle contained.

  Cassie studied her cousin. She might have been half-joking, but Tori spoke the truth. She did make her feel better. Camp would have been much more boring and confusing if it wasn’t for her. There was just something about Tori that comforted Cassie. It was as if she had so much confidence, some of it had to ooze off of her and onto Cassie.

  Wait a minute . . . that’s what she needed to do! She needed to hit the waves with Tori. Maybe that would make her feel strong enough to face her fears. At sea and on land.

  “Hey, Tor,” she began, in between bites. “You want to go surfing today—during your real free hour?” She tried to sound matter-of-fact. She didn’t want Tori to take this on as a project. Otherwise instead of being fun and bubbly and distracting Cassie from her fears, she’d turn into super nursemaid again—like yesterday. As it was, Cassie was barely keeping back panicky tears. Too much doting kindness would make her blubber for sure.

  “No, thanks. I want to darken my legs today. I’m like the palest girl in my bunk—except for Lisette. And she’s from Minnesota!”

  “Aw, come on.” Cassie nudged her leg with her foot. “It’ll be fun.”

  “No. It’s your thing. I’m really not that good.”

  “You just need practice. I’ll work with you.”

  “Sorry.” Tori lay back and put on her sunglasses. “I’m too depressed.”

  Cassie scrunched up her face. “Depressed?” She didn’t seem at all upset. In fact, depressed would be about the last word she would have chosen to describe her cousin’s mood. Cassie was the one in a funk—not her.

  “Yeah,” Tori replied with a sigh. “Eddie found someone. I was wrong about Larkin Fennell, but not this girl. Madison told me that Gina told her that he’s asking her to the dance.”

  “Dance? What dance?”

  “Oh yeah. You were sick yesterday. They announced it at general assembly. It’s called the Tiki Dance. Apparently they have it every year.”

  “So . . . you’re depressed because you wanted to go with Eddie?”

  Tori raised her glasses in order to shoot her a look. “No. I don’t want to go with him. I just don’t want him to go with someone else. If he has someone new and I don’t, that makes me look bad. It’ll be like . . . he won.”

  Cassie bit off a large hunk of protein bar and chewed it slowly, without tasting it. She really wished she understood the strange, subtle rules of relationships. But listening to Tori made her feel like she’d just gotten out of her diaper-wearing stage. Why did everything have to be so complicated?

  Cassie looked out at the ocean. An hour of free surf had just begun for the older guys and several of the experienced kids were out hitting those perfect waves.

  When it came down to it, surfing was the only simple thing in her life—the only thing with clear rules and consequences. It was all about learning to read your body. Over time you figure out to how tiny movements and shifts in weight can help with balance, speed, and form. It was just you, water, and the laws of physics. You didn’t need anyone else.

  Maybe that was why Cassie was good at it. At least, when she could actually bring herself to do it.

  She forced herself to finish the energy bar and then leaned back on her hands, taking in
the view of the surfers. They were having a great time. Of course they were. Conditions were ideal and they were fearless—just like she used to be.

  One guy in particular knew what he was doing. She could tell he was still a novice, but he had the instinct, that ability to listen to and command his body.

  “Man, he’s good,” Cassie exclaimed as she watched him.

  “Who?” Tori rose up on her elbows.

  “I don’t know his name. He’s out in the surf. The one in red trunks.”

  “Hmmm.” Tori sat up and raised her glasses. “I don’t know him either. But I want to.”

  Cassie smiled. Guess Tori wasn’t “depressed” anymore.

  “You know what?” Tori turned and grinned at her. “Maybe I’ll take you up on some surfing practice after all.”

  Six

  Cassie had never been so happy to rack up a surfboard and walk away from a beach. The sand felt extra soft beneath her feet. The thatched cabins in the distance looked extra quaint and cozy. Even the palm trees seemed to stretch out their fronds for a reassuring hug.

  She’d gotten through surf C.I.T. duty just fine. No shark attacks. No injuries. Not even a blister. But her students had flashed an assortment of disappointed looks whenever she nixed their suggestion to go out into deeper waters. They were both let down and totally shocked. She could tell they’d thought getting taught by the pro surfer girl would be amazingly cool—in fact, one of them pleaded with her to demonstrate some moves. Then they discovered she was a big lame-o.

  Of course, it wasn’t just imaginary sharks that made her a big dud. Micah’s text message to Danica still kept popping into her mind without warning, making her forget what she was doing.

  In just a few hours they’d be back at Ohana. And what then? Would Micah dump her? Could he dump her? After all, they never really got a chance to be an official couple.

  Or maybe he wouldn’t dump her. Maybe whatever happened in Oahu was just an ex thing, and he’d act like everything was cool.

  But could she deal with that?

  “Cassie! Cassie, are you okay?” Charlie suddenly ran up beside her. She stopped as he gripped his knees and took a deep breath.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?” A cold tingle came over her. Did he know about Micah and Danica? Is that why he was asking?

  “’Cause I called your name, like, ten times,” he said, still panting slightly.

  “Sorry. What’s up?”

  “Simona sent me to get you. You’re relieved from kitchen prep duty.”

  “Oh. Good.” That was the best news she’d received all day, but she couldn’t seem to muster up much enthusiasm. It just didn’t seem to matter in the scheme of things. Not when her boyfriend (or whatever he was) still texted his ex-girlfriend and her whole life was going to have to be revised due to constant crippling fear.

  “Yeah, she wants you to do something else instead,” Charlie went on.

  “What’s that?”

  “You’re supposed to come with me to the old clubhouse. She wants us in charge of planning this Friday’s Tiki Dance.”

  “What?” Cassie slumped with disappointment. “Why me?”

  Charlie shrugged. “Beats me. She just told me to tell you. I thought you’d be glad to get out of kitchen duty.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” Cassie didn’t want to tell him that she was much more comfortable peeling potatoes than she was planning an evening’s entertainment. She’d only been to a few beach parties—corporate-sponsored events that were more about shaking hands and making deals than having fun. And she’d only attended one actual boy-girl dance before—one of the suckiest nights of her life.

  So how, exactly, was she supposed to plan one?

  “Come on. They’re waiting,” Charlie said, heading down another path.

  “Who’s waiting?”

  He turned around and flashed her a confused look. “The dance committee.”

  “Right. I just . . . I didn’t realize they were meeting this very second.”

  They silently trudged down the part-dirt, part-sand trail, startling a couple of nearby birds. Cassie tried to think of ways to back out, but her mind was too sleep-deprived and Micah-obsessed to come up with anything usable.

  Charlie, she noticed, also seemed to be mulling something over.

  “So . . . you’ll be going to the dance with Micah, huh?” he asked eventually.

  Cassie paused, startled by the question. The now-familiar ache in her gut switched to a higher setting. “Um, maybe.” She wondered if she should open up to Charlie. Her worry over Micah’s text to Danica was like an enormous boulder inside her—constantly hurting and weighing her down. Maybe she should just . . . let it out?

  She glanced over at him. Charlie looked so upright and decent in his khaki shorts and checkered short-sleeve shirt buttoned almost to the collar. He was such a nice guy. Would he even understand why she looked at the private message? Would he think she was an awful person for having read it? And was she?

  Then again, maybe she was better off not telling anyone. At least not yet.

  “Aw, come on,” Charlie said. “You guys are going together. That’s a given.”

  Don’t bet on it. “Yeah, well . . . he doesn’t even know about it yet. He may not feel up for it after the trip and stuff.”

  “So . . . do you know if . . .” He fell silent, his mouth moving soundlessly for a few seconds. Finally he swallowed hard and continued. “Do you know if Andi is going with anyone?”

  Cassie was overcome with sympathy and understanding. Poor guy. “I don’t really know. I’m sorry.”

  He looked so disappointed, he actually seemed to shrink a bit. “That’s okay.”

  “You know, you should ask her.”

  This time Charlie looked startled. “Ah . . . no. No, no, no.” He shook his head vigorously.

  “You should! Come on. Why not?”

  “Because she’d probably say no. And then the rest of the summer would be ruined. And we haven’t even made it to July.”

  “Why are you so sure she’ll say no?”

  Charlie stopped walking and stared out over the terrain to the sea. He let out a long sigh and shook his head again. “Because I’m me. And she’s . . . she’s amazing.”

  Cassie felt so bad for him. She wanted to pat his head and scratch him under the chin the way she did to her neighbor’s old sad-eyed Labrador, Bart.

  And she knew what it was like to be paralyzed with doubt.

  “Anyway. Whatever.” Charlie suddenly looked embarrassed. “We should go.” He spun around on his flip-flops and started walking again, even faster than before.

  “Okee-dokey,” she said, falling into step behind him.

  Tori was right. They had to help the guy. Cassie wasn’t exactly sure how someone as mixed up as her could be of any help, but she had to try.

  Cassie sat on a tabletop next to Charlie looking over the crowd. In her hands were a notebook and pencil. As cohead of the Tiki Dance’s organizing committee, she figured it would come in handy as well as make her look official. But so far she’d just been holding it face up in her lap like a mini shield.

  It turned out that everyone who showed for the voluntary dance-planning meeting was female, most of them from Tori’s bunkhouse, and the other girl C.I.T.s, like Sasha and Sierra. Andi was also there, which made Charlie all sad-eyed and fidgety.

  Cassie kept glancing at the large clock mounted on the opposite wall. Like a bomb, it seemed to be loudly ticking down to the time when Micah would reappear. So she, too, was squirmy and distracted.

  Together they were the most useless dance planners ever.

  “Why can’t we have it on the beach?” Sierra was asking.

  “Simona wants to have it in the mess hall where there’s better lighting, and therefore, better supervision,” Charlie explained.

  “Can it be formal?” Sasha asked.

  “Can we carve a watermelon to look like a swan?” Gina asked.

  “Look, guys.” Charlie’s l
ow voice cut through the murmuring. “I don’t think Simona wanted us to come up with all sorts of crazy ideas. The Tiki Dance is just a regular dance.”

  “Yeah. We should probably focus on stuff like what kind of music to play and what types of food to serve,” Cassie added—feeling like she should say something.

  “You can use the music on my iPod,” Sasha suggested. “I have about one hundred and fifty songs.”

  “I have three hundred songs,” Sierra said.

  “Man, I have only ninety-something,” Esme grumbled.

  “I have about ten thousand,” Charlie remarked.

  Everyone stared at him open-mouthed.

  “What? I have an eighty-gig player,” he explained. “Sue me for being a music lover.”

  “Well, I guess that solves the whole music dilemma,” Cassie remarked, sneaking her two-hundredth look at the clock. Let’s get this over with.

  “It doesn’t solve it!” Sierra pouted. “What if we don’t like his stuff?”

  “Yeah,” echoed Sasha.

  “Guys, I have, like, everything. And if I don’t have something you want, I can get it. I’m at the computer each day,” Charlie pointed out.

  “Okay, then.” Cassie raised her hands for silence. “How about if everyone writes down ten songs—”

  “Only ten?”

  “Okay, twenty songs that you really want included in the mix and hand them over to Charlie.” She waited for any additional grumbles, but none came. “Which leaves food. Who wants to help come up with a list of snacks?”

  “Pizza’s always good,” suggested Madison.

  “But it’s a tiki party,” Andi said. “Shouldn’t we have luau food? Like . . . I don’t know . . . roasted pig?”

  “Hey! Some of us are vegetarian!” cried someone in the back.

  Tori stood and raised her hands in a quieting gesture. “People, listen! Remember, many of us will be on dates. That means we don’t want anything messy like big, drippy pizza. We also don’t want anything greasy, or crumbly, or too hard to hold, or that leaves stuff in your teeth, or gives you bad breath . . .”

  “Um . . . doesn’t that pretty much rule out all food?” Charlie quipped.