Daring Chloe

by Walker, Laura Jensen

  “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that you don’t wear leather on the river.”

  “Maybe if someone had bothered to tell someone else that we’d be stepping into water, the rocket scientist wouldn’t have worn her favorite pair of Michael Kors.”

  It was Jenna’s turn to give Kailyn an incredulous stare. “How else did you think we’d launch a raft?”

  “I have no idea. I’ve never done this before.” Kailyn held her metallic leather flip-flops high in her left hand as she gave a feeble push to the rubber raft with her right.

  “Girls, let’s not squabble, okay?” Tess said. “This is a day of fun and relaxation. Kailyn, you might want to put your shoes in one of those extra plastic bags I brought. And let’s shove off and get this party started.”

  A few minutes later we finally got the raft launched and everyone hopped in, with Becca and Jenna manning the oars for a relaxing three-hour drift down the Lower American River. That’s the only way they’d gotten me to come — the promise of no whitewater rapids and the assurance of a gentle, peaceful ride down the lazy river. Becca also pledged that we wouldn’t see any sharks. This time though, just to be sure, I Googled in advance to verify.

  She was right. Sharks live in salt water.

  I adjusted my prescription sunglasses and trailed my hand languidly over the side of the raft. Tess, who had rafted with her sons countless times, attached a small cooler full of bottled water and soda to the back of the raft to float along behind us.

  We’d all slathered on the sun block and were enjoying the quiet reverie of a lazy drift down the river when Kailyn of the perfect body and gorgeous long blonde hair decided she was hot and took off her T-shirt. Big mistake.

  “Woo-hoo! Yeah, baby! ” shouted some teenage boys coming up behind us on another raft. “Lookin’ good, white bikini!”

  One scrawny guy who probably hadn’t even started shaving yet clutched his hand to his chest and shouted, “Will you marry me?”

  The rest of us were wearing bathing suits too — with shorts. But when you’re in a raft with Heidi Klum, who’s going to notice? All at once, I was pelted between the shoulder blades with a hard stream of water.

  I whirled around to see another raft of laughing, sunburned guys — frat boys, by the looks of the Greek logos on their ball caps — all aiming an arsenal of weapons at us: water pistols, water bazookas, even buckets.

  So much for our quiet, peaceful drift down the river.

  Kailyn shrieked as a bucket of water drenched her from head to toe.

  “Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!” The beefy guy holding the now-empty bucket high-fived his buddies.

  “Okay, this is war.” Tess whipped out a heavy-duty water pistol that I hadn’t even seen her bring on the raft, leaned over and proceeded to squirt bucket boy right in the face.

  “Score!” Becca yelled.

  Tess cut her a grin and tossed her a squirt gun. But before Becca could even take aim, a seriously sunburned frat boy knocked it out of her hand with the force of his water bazooka.

  Jenna rode to the rescue. She strong-armed the cooler into the raft and grabbed a bottled water from inside which she opened and proceeded to upend over sunburned frat boy’s head.

  “Yowser! That’s freezing!” he yelled.

  “And there’s more where that came from.” She flexed her biceps. “So why don’t you go play somewhere else?”

  “Bring it on babe, bring it on.” He laughed, along with his buddies who then proceeded to launch into a renewed water attack that left Paige and Kailyn — sitting on the side of the raft closest to them — drenched and shivering.

  I thrust a towel at Kailyn. “Here. Wrap this around you and change places with me.”

  Kailyn did, gratefully, and the guys groaned. “Aw, we’ll be good. Promise.”

  Beefy bucket guy’s beer breath hit me in the face as he and a couple of his brawny buddies reached over to pull our raft closer, tipping it a little in the process, which made my heart jump to my throat and elicited a squeal from Kailyn.

  That did it. Time to bring out the big guns.

  Adopting my most beatific Mother Teresa expression, I looked beefy boy square in the eye and said, “Do you know Jesus as your personal Lord and savior, my friend? If you died tonight, do you know where you’d spend eternity? Would you like to ask him into your heart right now?” Then I began to sing, “Shall We Gather at the River?”

  Tess and Paige joined in reverently. And then Kailyn, who was wearing her T-shirt once again.

  “Just our luck.” The guys groaned. “A bunch of church chicks.” They paddled away in disgust, on the prowl for fresh, unsuspecting rafters to sneak attack.

  “Well that’s the most original brush-off I’ve ever heard.” Becca’s pearly whites gleamed. “I’ll have to remember that one.”

  The rest of our afternoon on the river passed uneventfully, and we ended our day with a picnic at a park where we got into a lively discussion on the merits of Huck Finn and whether or not Mark Twain was a racist or a visionary casting a light on the racism of his day.

  We couldn’t come to a consensus, but all agreed we were happy to close the book on the hateful N-word that had been so freely bandied about in its pages.

  When I checked my messages that night, there was one from Julia and one from Ryan.

  I read Julia’s text. NAMES: EMMA, MADISON, SOPHIA? JAMES, JOSHUA, LUCAS?

  I texted back: SOPHIE & LUKE?

  Ryan wanted to know how our day on the river had gone and to remind me it was my turn to bring goodies to Sunday school. “I really like the doughnuts with the chocolate sprinkles,” he said.

  Three weeks later, Becca stood at the front edge of the boat, her torso extended off the railing, arms outstretched and charcoal hair ruffling in the wind as the large catamaran sailed over San Francisco Bay. “Hey, look! I’m King of the World!”

  “You don’t look like Leonardo DiCaprio,” Jenna said dryly, rolling her eyes.

  Becca, in her element, ignored her. “Isn’t this cool?”

  “That’s one way of putting it.” I gripped the railing.

  “Aw c’mon, Chloe! Don’t be a baby.” Jenna zipped up her windbreaker. “Just relax and enjoy yourself. The wind is really calm and the water’s smooth as silk today.”

  “You said that about rafting too.”

  “The river was mellow, it was those guys on the other rafts who weren’t.”

  When we’d first boarded the Adventure Cat at Pier 39 for our hour-and-a-half cruise around Alcatraz and under the Golden Gate Bridge, I’d been a little nervous.

  “Couldn’t we do some of our adventures on dry land?”

  “At least on this water adventure we won’t have to deal with the drunken, testosterone-fueled frat pack,” Paige said.

  “No, just sharks and riptides and who knows what other kinds of underwater dangers.”

  “Oh, chill,” Becca said.

  Jenna stepped out of the relative safety of the glass-enclosed cabin. “Let’s go out front. I want to feel the breeze and smell the salt air.”

  “I’m fine in here for now,” Kailyn said from her seat on the bench, her right hand on the opening to the life preserver storage.

  “Me too.”

  “Chloe, you have to face your fears head on.” Becca pulled at my hand. “Come on.”

  Well . . . it wasn’t like we’d actually be in the water. And it was a pretty big boat, and they did make this trip a couple times a day, so it must be safe. Tentatively, I followed Becca onto the open deck as the thirty-foot-wide catamaran cleared the dock area and entered the Bay.

  “I can’t believe how stable this is,” Tess said.

  “So much smoother than a regular sailboat.” Becca’s eyes lit up. “Now that’s a white-knuckle adventure.”

  I sat down between Tess and Paige on the fiberglass deck of the catamaran and gingerly stretched my feet out in front of me onto the thick, woven trampoline-style net that made up the
front end of the boat. There were pontoons on either side — that, apparently, is what makes it a catamaran rather than a boat. But still. The only thing between us and the shark-infested water was a net.

  Just fabric. What shark can’t bite through fabric?

  Are they serious?

  Jenna and Becca didn’t seem concerned. They plopped down on the netting, which wasn’t springy like a regular trampoline, and it held them securely. They stretched out on their backs with their hands laced behind their heads, staring up at the perfect August sky. Then they flopped over on their stomachs. “How cool is that?” Jenna said. “You can see the ocean right beneath us.”

  “This is so much better than a glass-bottomed boat.” Becca looked through the net into the brownish green ocean below. “I wonder if we’ll see any of my little nurse sharks.”

  Paige and I both yanked our feet off the netting.

  “Very funny. Reminds me of something my sons would do,” Tess said. “And they’re sixteen.”

  “What can I say? I like to stay young.”

  “Understatement of the year,” Paige grumbled.

  “Oh look!” Annette pointed to a dark spot in the water up ahead. “There’s a seal or something. See him? Oh, he just went under. There he is again. There’s his little black head. Isn’t he cute?”

  “Just so we don’t see a big, ugly gray head and a dorsal fin.”

  I decided I’d be more comfortable standing. Good thing there were lots of things to hold on to. We left the bustling tourists and playful sea lions of Pier 39 behind us as the boat nosed into the open water. In front of us, the sparkling San Francisco Bay spread out like a gorgeous IMAX panorama with an amazing view of the Golden Gate Bridge and surrounding hills.

  Wow.

  “It’s beautiful.” I stood on the side deck clasping the railing a few feet from Becca and Jenna who’d bounded to their feet to stand at the front of the boat yearning into the wind.

  The gentle rocking of the boat was soothing. And I realized I didn’t need to cling to the metal bar quite so tightly. I relaxed my grip and decided this was going to be a good adventure after all.

  Tess came and stood beside me. Silent. In shared appreciation.

  A yell from the skipper startled me. The engines stopped. “What’s wrong?” I grabbed Tess’s arm in panic. “Are we sinking?” That’s when I heard the click and swooshing of the sail being raised into position.

  “No.” She pointed to the first mate hoisting the sail. “We’re just getting started.”

  And with a fhwoomp, the wind filled the sails and we were moving — more like flying — over the water. Seagulls soared overhead and a quartet of ducks skimmed the water’s surface, ducking beneath and resurfacing moments later.

  “What do you think?” Tess asked a few minutes later.

  “It’s great! I hadn’t realized how peaceful it would be.” I lifted my head into the Bay wind, reveling in the scent of the sea. “And freeing.” Coasting over the water was so much better than actually being in the water.

  Becca and Jenna maintained their position at the front of the catamaran, feet planted firmly on deck, their bodies arching into the wind, looking for all the world like twin modern-day figureheads.

  Strong, athletic, and fierce.

  And not in a catwalk, supermodel way either.

  I wonder what it would be like to be that strong and fearless.

  But then again, I am on a sailboat skimming across the ocean. Who’d have ever thought?

  Paige and Annette joined us. “Is Kailyn still hunkered down in the cabin?” Tess asked.

  “Hunk being the operative word.”

  “What?”

  Annette thumbed over her shoulder. “Leave it to my baby girl to hone in on a man on our girls’ adventure out. On the open sea, no less.”

  I glanced back toward the glassed-in cabin where I saw Kailyn engaged in animated conversation with a guy.

  “Only Kailyn,” Tess said. “But who knows? Maybe he’ll be able to convince her to come out on deck. He doesn’t look like the indoor type.”

  “It doesn’t matter what type he is,” I said. “Once a guy meets Kailyn, he sticks to her like glue. Indoors or out.”

  Meow.

  “What are you guys talking about?” Becca popped up beside us with Jenna in tow. “Or should I say who?”

  My face warmed, and I sheathed my claws, deciding it would be better if I focused on our surroundings instead.

  Alcatraz Island loomed on our left, the prison buildings high on the hill and a large sign still posted warning that people caught helping prisoners to escape were subject to prosecution and imprisonment. I stared at the once impenetrable fortress, now a popular tourist attraction. “It must have been horrible to be a prisoner there. So isolated. I’d have gone crazy.” I looked back at the San Francisco skyline. “Especially seeing the city all the time. So close and yet so far.”

  “Haven’t you ever taken the Blue and Gold ferry to Alcatraz?” Becca asked.

  “Nope.”

  “We’ll have to do that next time. And get our picture taken in one of the cells.”

  “I did that with a date once,” Jenna said.

  “That sounds romantic.” Annette pushed her wind-whipped strawberry-blonde hair behind her ears.

  “He took me to a computer show for our second date.”

  “What was he, a CSI nerd?”

  “Engineer.”

  “Ah.”

  “And I thought my dates were bad.” Paige chuckled.

  “Hey, you girls had a chance with some really nice guys.” Annette wagged her finger at us. “So don’t complain. Y’all are just too picky.”

  “Easy for you to say when you got the cream of the crop.” Tess linked her arm with Annette’s. “Does your Randall have any brothers, by chance?”

  “Only one and he’s married. Sorry.”

  As we sailed past Alcatraz, the contrast struck me — the freedom of sailing versus the prison on the rock. This is how young Robin Graham must have felt as he sailed Dove over the open sea.

  I’d never felt so free. And I was surprised to discover I wasn’t the least bit afraid either. No wonder so many poets wrote odes to the sea and so many men fell in love with her and left women behind for her.

  The Cat turned, and we were sailing directly toward the Golden Gate Bridge. Ahead of us a little ways on the left — is that called starboard? — I spotted three sailboats, each with different-colored sails, one white, one sunburst yellow, and one turquoise blue, zig-zagging through the water. As I tracked their progress, sails billowing, all at once the turquoise sail caught the wind and it puffed out into a giant blue ball.

  “Look!” I pointed. “That sailboat’s pregnant!”

  “And how. Looks like she’ll be going into labor any second,” Paige said.

  “That’s what you call sailing.” Tess broke into the song of the same name — a perfect accompaniment to the mood of the day.

  Kailyn finally surfaced from her glass sanctuary and introduced us to her latest lap dog, Doug. He was cute. I noticed him checking out Becca as she scampered around the deck like a happy puppy in her shorts and red hoodie. Not Kailyn’s lap dog after all.

  Definitely a dog though.

  All at once, a wave lifted the catamaran up slightly and then dropped her back down on the water, splashing water on deck and splattering us with a little sea spray.

  “Eek!” Kailyn jumped back. At least this time she’d left her fancy flip-flops home.

  The boat lifted again as another wave rolled beneath it.

  She blanched. “Are we going to tip over?”

  “Not a chance,” Jenna said. “That’s just the Cat reacting in the wake of that other boat that went by. Happens all the time. No biggie.”

  “Still, I think I’ll go back inside.” Kailyn flicked a droplet of water from her blonde mane. “Coming, Doug?”

  “Nah. Think I’ll just chill here and catch some wind and rays.”

>   Kailyn’s eyes flicked to Becca, who was oblivious to Doug’s apparent interest, caught up as she was in her whole sailing adventure.

  “Chloe, want to join me?”

  “No thanks. I’m fine out here. Actually, I’m really liking it.”

  Becca and Tess whipped up two enthusiastic and athletic thumbs up. “What’d I tell you?” My roommate bounded over and said loudly into my ear, “It is nothing to die; it is horrible not to live.”

  “Who said that?”

  “Jean Valjean in Les Misérables.”

  “Oh. I thought maybe it was Robinson Crusoe.”

  The Cat glided across the water like a warm knife through butter.

  “This is really somethin’,” Annette said. “I think everyone should do this at least once in their life.”

  “Oh yes.” I drank in the beautiful towers of the Golden Gate silhouetted in the distance, the freedom of the open sea, the wind and salt air in my face, and the gentle rocking of the water.

  This wasn’t something I could read about. This was something that had to be experienced.

  “Wow. Who knew this would be such a rush?” Annette said. “Thanks for suggestin’ it for the Paperback Girls, Becca.” She giggled. “Although, maybe we should rechristen our group the Getaway Girls.”

  “That’s not a bad idea.”

  As we approached the bridge, there was a dark stripe in the water — the shadow of the bridge stretching across our path. And as we entered the bridge’s shadow, we could feel the temperature drop several degrees — something normal and expected when you walk under the shade of a tree, but here at sea, it was different somehow. The hills were now only to our sides as the bay opened into the ocean. Looking forward, it was just water and sky across the whole horizon. But looking up, we could see the belly of the Golden Gate.

  “I’ve never seen it from this angle,” I murmured.

  “Not many people have,” Tess said. “Relatively speaking. One of the most famous structures in the world, yet most people only see it from above, not from down here.”

  “It’s so high.” Jenna gave the metal structure a thoughtful glance. “No wonder the jumpers never make it.”

  “Leave it to Agatha Christie to go there.” I gazed back across the open ocean. “And talking of making it, would you ever go sailing around the world alone like Robin Graham did?”