by Anne Dayton
“Ana, what has gotten into you?” Mom hisses under her breath.
“I don’t want to look like I’m getting married. I hate this dress. Do you even care that I don’t like it?” I jut out my lip. Do you even care that you’re kicking Maria out in the cold? No, you don’t because you only think about yourself.
“If you want a pink dress, then fine. But you can’t have this dress. Your Papá would faint the moment he saw you in it.”
I frown. I definitely don’t want to make Papá uncomfortable. He’s actually been showing a lot more interest in me lately. His practice seems to be picking up a little momentum and he’s really been getting into this quince stuff. At your party, you have a special dance with your dad. Last Saturday he came to me with a CD in his hand, saying how excited he was that he’d finally found the perfect song for us to dance to. I’d never heard of it, but he played it for me and I kind of liked it. I was touched that he’d put so much thought into it.
“Fine,” I say and put the dress back. I don’t know why I even try. No matter what I do, this is really going to be my mother’s party to show all the snooty-tooty people of Half Moon Bay that we’re good enough to be in their clubs, even though my grandfather was a farmer and no one in our family came over on the Mayflower.
“Honestly,” Mom says, shaking her head. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately. The closer you get to becoming a woman, the more childish you are.”
43
Fifty-five degrees feels a lot colder than it sounds. Fifty-five percent is more than half. Fifty-five is almost old enough to retire. But fifty-five degrees on a wet March night on the beach in Half Moon Bay is cold, even if you are wearing two sweatshirts and gloves. It’s not raining exactly, but the air is misty and the beach is nearly deserted. We’re huddled around the fire Zoe managed to build, but even though we’re far away from the water and the high rock walls behind us shelter us from the wind a little, it’s still pretty chilly.
But, hey, we’re all here. That’s kind of amazing. Zoe managed to convince her parents to let her take the tent and sleeping bags to Christine’s, Riley said she was staying at my house, and I had the brilliant idea to tell the jailers that Riley and I were working on something for church and I would crash with her. Since it was for church, they relaxed the grounding for one night, and besides, I think they’re feeling pretty bad about the fact that Maria is moving right after my quince. I suspected I could use that to my advantage. And what I told them wasn’t technically a lie. I am crashing with her . . . on the beach, and we will talk about church at some point. For now, the warm glow of the fire makes our small circle, huddled against the misty night air, feel happy and safe, and the rhythmic pounding of the waves against the shore is comforting.
I’ve just gotten my second marshmallow a perfect toasty brown when Zoe asks me about my quince plans.
“It’s coming along,” I sigh. “It’s tricky to plan without actually speaking to my parents.” I bite into the marshmallow, and the gooey center leaks onto my fingers. I lick it off slowly. “My mom is being, like, an evil dictator on steroids. She’s completely obsessing about the chocolate fountain she’s decided we must have. But she hates the quality of the chocolate the caterer tried to put past her. Plus, we’re having an all-out war about the throne.” I stuff the rest of the marshmallow into my mouth and savor the hot sticky sugar.
“Throne?” Zoe asks.
I roll my eyes. “During the party, your madrina, who is like a godmother, presents you with a tiara, and Mom actually wants me to sit on a throne for that.”
Riley’s eyes are wide. “You’re kidding.”
I point at Riley. “Exactly my reaction. Mom says I’m being so unreasonable about it. She keeps saying, ‘Ana, think of the pictures!’” I do a dead-on mimic of my mother’s voice and Zoe and Riley squeal with laughter.
“I’m probably going to cave in about it. At least she agreed to hire professional dancers. I spared you guys that. You would have danced a full waltz with some random guy.”
Zoe’s face flushes bright red at the very thought. “Bless you, Ana.”
“Whatever. It’s fine, I guess. I just thought this was supposed to be my party, you know?”
“Parties are always for the people who throw them.” Riley shrugs. She holds her hands up to the fire, trying to warm them. Riley doesn’t eat marshmallows. “My cousin told me that at her wedding.”
“That’s becoming abundantly clear,” I say, my voice a little higher. “It’s just an excuse for my parents to show off, make a good impression. It’s not about me at all.” I put the end of my stick into the fire to burn off the melted parts that always get left behind. “It makes me so mad. Don’t pretend like you’re doing this great thing for me.” I roll my eyes and see Zoe nodding. “I wish my mom would leave me alone sometimes.”
I push a new marshmallow onto my stick and pull the sleeves of my sweatshirt down farther on my wrists. It feels so good to get that out. I reach the stick out over the fire but then notice that Christine’s head is down, the strings of her hoodie pulled tight so that only a small portion of her face is showing.
“Christine?” Riley touches her arm, but Christine doesn’t look up. I hear a wet sniff.
Christine mumbles something, but with the wind it’s hard to hear what she says. She gestures with her hand for us to go back to our conversation. In other words, stop looking at her.
“Christine,” I say quickly.
She looks up slowly, and I see she has tears in her eyes. Riley and I stare at each other with the same wide-eyed terror. Zoe, God love her, is already reaching out her arm to Christine, but Christine pulls away. Her face is red and her eyes watery, but her voice is very calm as she speaks.
“I wish I had been nicer to my mom.”
Oh God, help me. How could I complain about my mom in front of the girl who just lost hers?
“I didn’t mean—” I am the biggest oaf. How can I be so utterly insensitive? Why do I say such stupid things all the time?
I listen to the lonely whine of the wind as it rushes down the sand.
“Anyway,” Christine says, quickly wiping the tears away. She sits up straight and tries to pull herself together. Like a switch, she’s back to being tough, cynical Christine. “Dave said he’d come to your quince?” She reaches into the bag for another marshmallow, then thrusts it onto her stick and puts it straight into the fire. She doesn’t look up at any of us.
“Yeah.” Christine has been the most excited about how things are going with Dave. I think it finally gave her permission to like Tyler. She probably knew I didn’t really like him for a long, long time, but now it’s out in the open.
The marshmallow catches fire, and Christine waves her stick around until it goes out, then blows on it carefully.
“Hey, you should be sure to invite Tyler,” Christine smiles shyly. She wipes her hand across her eyes again, then puts the marshmallow into her mouth.
“He’s on the list.” I nod. “Don’t worry. Mom invited everyone I’ve ever met or even breathed near.”
“Are your friends from San Jose going to be there?” Zoe asks. I think she means to sound curious, but her voice is a bit wary.
“A few of them.” I wonder why I don’t feel sadder that more of them aren’t going to make it out for the party. It’s really not that far of a drive. But I haven’t really made the trip out to see them either. I haven’t even talked to most of them since I left. I wonder if it feels as far away—and I don’t just mean miles—for them as it does for me.
There’s a rustling in the distance.
“Did you guys hear that?” Riley is staring down the beach, squinting into the darkness.
“I thought I heard something.” Zoe stands up. “It sounded like voices.”
“Male voices,” Christine says. She stands up, sniffs, and looks down the beach.
I stare into the inky darkness, but I can’t see anything, and all I can hear is the crashing of the waves.
“It’s probably nothing,” I say, my voice a little braver than I actually feel. The beach is so big and dark beyond our little fire. Anything could be out there.
“It’s definitely something,” Riley says, walking away from our little group a bit. Then I hear it too—low, deep voices. The sound seems to be obscured by the mist, and the unknown only makes it more frightening. The indistinct voices grow louder, and Zoe tenses, then scurries toward the tent and begins to unzip the door. I look at Christine, who stares back at me, her eyes wide. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and flips it open. Then slowly, almost imperceptibly, figures begin to emerge from the darkness: two big, dark figures walking down the beach toward us.
All of a sudden, I know this was a very bad idea. I thought camping on the beach would be a fun exercise in rebellion, but now I have a sinking suspicion my parents might have been right. Maybe they had a very good reason for wanting to keep a close eye on me. I wish with all my heart that I had listened. There’s no one else out here. No one else was crazy enough to camp out on a cold, drizzly night. There’s no one to hear us scream.
“Well, well, well,” one of the men says, and the guy with him chuckles a little. “What do we have here?”
Riley tenses up, and lifts her arms up like in one of my mom’s kickboxing videos.
“What a nice little surprise,” the guy on his left says. As they step closer, I see that these guys are huge. Should we all just make a run for it?
“We’re armed,” Christine says quickly, and I hear a thud as Zoe hops inside the tent.
“Get in here, guys,” Zoe whispers, but no one follows her into the tent.
“Fresh meat,” the biggest one says, coming closer, and I freeze.
“Leave us alone!” Zoe shouts from inside the tent.
That guy almost looks like—
“Zach?” The tension on Riley’s face drains away, and she drops her hands and starts to laugh. I wonder if it might be too soon to relax, seeing as how we’re still on the beach with two huge guys and no one else within calling distance. “Zach? Andy! What are you doing here?”
Zach laughs and gives Andy a high five. They smell like beer.
“You scared us to death,” Riley says. She laughs a little too loudly as the guys scan the area quickly, then look back at her. Apparently we’re uninteresting and don’t merit further investigation.
“Your fire is the only thing lit up on this beach. We could see you miles away,” says Andy.
“And when you stand up like that against the light,” Zach says, reaching out to lift a section of Riley’s bright blond hair, “it’s pretty easy to tell who you are.” Zach laughs. “We thought we’d come give you guys a little scare.”
“You did that on purpose?” Riley screeches, which the football players think is hilarious.
“We’re just having a little fun,” Andy says, but Riley has shifted into cheerleader mode and is laughing and slapping at Zach playfully. I’m so relieved that we’re not about to die that I don’t even care that she’s playing dumb.
“I can’t believe you.” She reaches out and punches his shoulder lightly. “How could you do something like that to me?” She flips her hair over her shoulder. For once, I don’t really mind fading into the shadows. And then, suddenly, I wonder if Riley invited Zach out here. She wouldn’t, right? This was supposed to be only for the Miracle Girls.
“You just made it all worth it,” Zach laughs, holding his waist as he doubles over laughing. Zoe climbs out of the tent and stands up slowly.
“Whatever. I’m going to get you back.” Riley slaps at his face, but Zach doesn’t even flinch. He simply picks her up, throws her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and begins to walk away.
“AAAH!” Riley screams, but her high-pitched shriek sounds more like laughter than anything else. “Put me down!” She slaps his back uselessly.
Zach puts Riley down a few yards from our little circle, and she immediately lunges toward him. He jogs away, surprisingly nimble for a guy his size. Like a shot, she’s after him, laughing as she chases him down the beach. Andy follows, jogging along behind. Within moments, Riley has disappeared from sight, vanishing into the dark, empty night.
“What on earth was that?” Christine’s face registers her disgust. “Did she really just giggle and run away?”
“Do you think she’s okay?” Zoe asks, looking toward the sound of shrieking.
“She sounds okay,” Christine says, rolling her eyes. “She can always just cheer her way out if she gets in trouble.” She curses under her breath. “I can’t believe they scared us like that on purpose.”
“It’s okay,” I say quickly. “We’re fine.” Once again, I try to make my voice sound sure.
“Do you think we should go after her?” Zoe scrunches up her face, but Christine shakes her head. We hear Riley shriek again, but this time sound echoes off the wall of the cliffs behind us.
“She’ll be back when she’s done with her other friends.” She sits back down in the sand and pulls her legs up, then wraps her arms around them. I follow suit, and Zoe sits down tentatively. We sit in silence. The night is cloudy, so the moon and stars are obscured, but the steely gray clouds still look majestic. It’s just so big.
A few minutes later, we hear Riley scream again, but this time there are no deep voices responding. Zoe turns her head, then looks back at us. “I’m going to go check,” she says.
“Go for it,” Christine replies, staring into the fire.
Zoe nods, then pushes herself up. She brushes the sand off her hands and begins walking. I stand up quickly and move to follow her, and finally Christine, apparently aware that she’s about to be left alone, reluctantly stands up and begins to follow. We’ve gone a little ways when we hear another shriek, and I gasp when I make out dark figures on top of the cliff. Their shadows seem so small against the dark sky.
“Riley?” Zoe calls, and it isn’t until she laughs again that I realize Riley isn’t one of the figures at the top of the cliff. The noise comes from the middle of the cliff, and as I get closer I can see a dark figure halfway up the sloped rock face. It’s not a completely vertical face, but it’s steep enough that no one in their right mind should be trying to climb up what are bound to be slippery rocks on this wet night.
“Is she trying to kill herself?” Christine hisses. Riley finds a foothold and pushes herself farther up.
“You climb like a girl,” Zach says, egging her on. Is that how the guys got up there?
As my eyes adjust to being away from the fire, I see a trail a little farther down that leads from the beach up to the top of the cliff. I quickly measure the distances in my head and realize that the guys must have used the path, but Riley, to save time, decided to scramble up the rocks instead.
“Riley?” She doesn’t seem to hear me. She moves slowly up the rocks, and the wind howls. I hear some low laughter from the top of the cliff.
“Riley!” Zoe yells, cupping her hands around her mouth. Christine shakes her head.
And then, somehow, the dark shadow on the rocks slips. She almost catches herself, then loses her grip again. There is a moment of shocked silence; then I hear a scream followed by a sickening thud. Riley falls to the ground. My heart stops.
She can’t have just fallen. I start running as fast as I can toward the dark shape on the sand. She’s not moving.
A deep voice curses, and suddenly I’m grateful the guys are here. They can help us. They’re big enough to carry her to their car. But before I can register what’s happening, they turn and begin to run, and soon I see headlights illuminate the night. The tires squeal as they drive away.
I run as fast as I can, but even as I pump my arms, I know it’s ridiculous. I am too late. Still, I pray. Please, God, please, God, I whisper over and over again, until my breath becomes choppy and I have to gasp for air. But I still keep saying the prayer in my head.
Maybe a fall onto a sandy beach isn’t so bad.
But I know enough
about physics to understand that even if you fall into the ocean from that height, you’d be in serious trouble. And Riley’s body is so still and peaceful—too still. A weird mournful sound escapes my body. I know she is dead. I can just see it. I don’t want the others to see her like this. I stumble back a few feet and stop them.
Zoe immediately pulls her phone out of her pocket and calls 911, and while she’s talking to the operator, her voice high and scared, Christine and I avoid each other’s eyes. She’s weeping, and I don’t know how to react to that right now.
Quietly, Christine pulls out her own phone and hits a button. I try to understand what Zoe is telling the operator, but she’s not really making any sense. Christine hangs up and tries her call again. I watch her to avoid having to look at Riley’s still form. Her movements are sluggish and her eyes are panic-stricken.
“Dad, it’s me,” Christine says into her phone. “It’s an emergency. Please call me back as soon as you get this.” She flips the phone shut and holds it in her right hand.
“She’s not moving!” Zoe shrieks into her phone, and Christine opens her phone up again and retries her call.
It’s funny the things you notice when time stands still. I can feel the tiny drops of water hit my face as the fog swirls around us, and I hear that the deep pounding of the waves hitting the shore actually has a high-pitched undertone.
Christine’s call is dumped into voicemail again, and I slowly reach out my hand. She hands me her phone without meeting my eye. I hold it, running my finger along the smooth plastic edge as Zoe explains to the 911 operator where we are again. I cast a quick glance at Riley, then look away. I open the phone and take a deep breath.
As it rings, I wonder if I am doing the right thing. There’s no turning back from here. But still, somehow, there’s nothing I want more right now.
“Mom,” I say as soon as she picks up the phone. I suck in a jagged breath. “Riley fell. I’m scared.” She gasps, but I plow ahead before she can ask any questions. “We’re on the beach, near the cliffs. Please come.”
