Never get too attached. That’s one of the first rules in life.
Ultimately, it didn’t matter much. Atticus is a snob that looks down on me for my reputation. A two-drink popular kid, with perfect grades and attitude. It’s easy to have those things when you’ve never lived outside a million-dollar home and an elite private school that gives you access to the best future.
And his sister?
That girl is an enigma.
She’s not like her brother—he won’t let her be. He’s too busy taking up the limelight to even let his sister get a ray of sun. Beatrice Clarke is snarky, rude, and a little hostile. She’s well aware that compared to her brother, she’s nothing special. Just a girl with a scattering of freckles across her nose and green eyes that look like the grass on the golf course. If her body carries any shape at all, it’s lost under baggy clothes, except I have seen her in that little plaid skirt at school and I know she has fantastic legs.
As far as I can tell she’s got one friend, Katherine Stint, my co-guard for the summer, and according to what I witnessed at prom, Atticus’ new girlfriend. He couldn’t even let his sister have a friend.
What a tool.
Beatrice Clarke is a mess, all of which was confirmed yesterday when she plowed into me on the pool deck. Any other time I would have laughed and checked out her wet T-shirt, but I had Sabrina on the brain.
I was tired and irritated and when I fell backwards in the pool I snapped, not caring about the girl or her feelings. Truth is, I didn’t need to, she can take care of herself. Or at least that’s what I thought, until I found her hiding by my car.
In that moment, I saw a different side of the girl that lived next door.
She was vulnerable. Angry. Maybe a little scared.
And I didn’t exactly know what to do with that information.
My feet push off the wall and I shift to butterfly, my best stroke. One reason I like it is because it takes all my energy, all my focus. It’s a muscle killer; legs, stomach, arms, and back. Normally it’s the place I go when I want to forget about it all. When I want to forget about my mom and my dad and all the stuff in the past. When I want to forget the pressures of my future, and it works. It always works.
Except today.
There’s one thing lingering in my mind.
Beatrice Clarke.
As expected, the swim calmed me down, and by the time Katherine shows up and our shift begins, I’m feeling like a normal person again.
“Carter!” Erin, the pool manager and summer league coach, calls me over. “Any chance you could show these kids how to dive? We’ve got a few that need a good example.”
I look down at the elementary school kids. They’re dressed in identical team suits and when they’re wet they seriously all look just about the same. It feels good though when they smile up at me with eager faces. It’s nice to be around people (even little ones) that don’t have expectations.
“Sure,” I say. “Let’s head to the deep end where there’s more room.”
They swim over and I walk across the pool deck, passing the group of moms that camp out every day. I see Mrs. Greengrove, already camped out in her leopard-print bikini, watching me. You’d think the attention from an older woman, or any woman would be welcome, but it’s not. Okay, that’s not entirely true. It’s kind of hot. She’s hot, for her age, but it’s also awkward. I had no idea what to do with the extra height and long arms and broad shoulders for a long time. It’s not like they came in evenly, and while my friends were still scrawny, I was like some kind of freak. Another reason I like the pool. It’s easier to hide underwater.
“Good morning, Carter,” she says as I walk by. She’s wearing sunglasses but I feel her eyes rake down my body. I fight a shudder and for some reason, Beatrice Clarke with her soaking wet hair and defiant chin pops into mind. I smile and then recover, realizing Mrs. Greengrove is waiting for a greeting.
“Good morning,” I say, nodding at the threesome, and head down to the deep end.
Erin watches me as I approach. “What’s going on with that?”
I run my hand through my hair. “Just being friendly.” I tug off my T-shirt. “You’re the one that told me the first rule of working here is to make sure the members have a good time.”
“I don’t think that applies to flirting with the kids' moms and to be honest, not with anyone.”
I cut her a look. “I’m not flirting with her and are you serious? I’m not allowed to flirt with any of the guests? Even the ones my age?”
Erin is a few years older than me and is an assistant to my year-round coach. Coach Adams is the one that asked her to help me get this job so I could stay busy for the summer and, quote, “not make dumb choices.”
“About that, I’m going to need you to come talk to me in the office after practice. We need to clear a few things up.”
As much as I want to ignore her, I can’t. I do need this job. I nod and walk to the edge of the pool. “You guys ready for your lesson?”
I’m met with cheers that make me smile. I line my toes up to the edge of the pool and position my arms and do my favorite thing.
Vanish into the water.
7
Bea
Day camp at The Club isn’t like a normal program. It’s exclusive like everything else. The rumor I heard was that you have to pay five million dollars to join and have original member legacy—meaning someone in your family had to be a member from back when this place opened which was in like, 1919, or something. It sounds kind of strange to me but we live in a community of extreme wealth—there’s always someone with more. I do know my family doesn’t have a membership.
We start the morning with a little yoga, moving next to the racquetball court where the kids get a lesson from Club instructors. We take a break for lunch in a small, private patio that overlooks the ocean. I don’t think we get to have lunch out here because of entitlement. I think it’s actually tucked away from the rest of the members and guests. These are the kind of people that like their kids seen and not heard.
It may also be a consideration that the staff can hose off the floor when they finish eating.
“Miss Bea!”
I look up from my own sandwich to see a wild-haired little girl named Izzy looking at me expectantly. “I spilled my applesauce.”
I leave lunch on the patio table I’m sharing with Maria and rush over. Sure enough, there was applesauce all over the floor. And her shirt. And shorts. I grimace and wipe up what I can.
“Want me to take her in to get cleaned up?” Maria asks.
“I’ll do it. I wanted to refill my water bottle anyway.”
I tell Izzy to grab her backpack for a change of clothes. Gripping her sticky hand, I lead her down the side path to the nearest bathroom, which is located behind the concession stand. No way I’m taking a kid dripping with food through the main hall.
To be honest, there’s a reason I volunteer to clean up Izzy. Free swim is coming up and I’m plotting a way not to go to the pool area. Maybe by being generous, I can make an excuse to get out of it. After yesterday’s fiasco and then humiliating myself in Carter’s driveway, I’ve had enough embarrassing moments for the first week of work.
“You can change in there. Don’t forget to wash your hands,” I say, pointing Izzy to the single door. It’s a staff bathroom. Along with the concessions area, there’s a small office for the pool manager, who also organizes the camp schedule. Across from that is a staff break room.
The smell of baked bread and French fries wafts from the little kitchen and I walk down the small hallway to the break room. There’s a blue water tank in the corner and I pop the lid off my bottle and head over. Voices carry from the office.
“Thanks for coming in, there’s a few things we need to talk about.” That’s the manager’s voice, Erin. “You know your dad and coach had to pull a few strings to get you this job—reach out to members to give you some positive recommendations. Your record alone was enough to ra
ise a red flag, but some of the complaints coming in are impossible to ignore.”
I press my back against the wall, my need for gossip strong. Someone here has a record? My mind instantly races to Carter. Has to be, right?
The voice that responds is too low to identify but I can tell it’s lazy and unaffected. “I’m not sure what this is about?”
Definitely Carter.
“Yesterday you were goofing around on the pool deck with a camp counselor and playing in the pool. You cursed in front of the campers and guests, and there was a complaint about you spending more time flirting with girls than actually working.”
“That situation on the pool deck was not my fault. Clarke ran into me. It’s not my fault she’s a spaz.”
Ouch. My cheeks heat when I realize he just called me a spaz.
“And I’m not flirting with anyone, and I can’t help it if someone takes it the wrong way. Like I said earlier, you told me to be nice to the members. That’s all.”
“Carter, there are some very influential people at The Club. You can use that in your favor or you can make enemies. Every one of the girls at this pool has a parent with a lot of money and power. Trust me when I say you don’t want to make enemies—especially in your case.”
“Like I said, none of that was my fault.”
“Blame whoever you want,” Erin says, “but you’ve got two strikes and you’re only getting three. One more and you’re out, and from what I understand, this isn’t a job you can afford to lose.”
The bathroom door opens and I jump, heart pounding. Izzy pops her head out. She’s in a fresh shirt and shorts and totally unaware of my eavesdropping.
“What should I do with these?” she asks, holding up the dirty ones.
“Uh,” I say, a little flustered. I glance around and see the staff room. “Hold on.” I walk over to a few drawers by the counter and open them, looking for a plastic bag or something. I finally find one in the garbage can. I hold it out and she drops in the dirty clothes. My pulse is still elevated when I say, “We need to go.”
We walk down the hall and out into the bright sunshine. “Oh, I forgot my backpack.”
“I’ll get it,” I say, turning back. I swing open the door and come face to face with Carter on his way out of the manager’s office. Okay, fine. It’s more face to magnificent bare chest. I look up and see that his handsome face is dark with annoyance, a deep scowl etched into his mouth. I’m pretty sure his fist clenches at his side.
“Get out of my way, Clarke.”
Another lame apology stalls on my tongue and I just nod, pressing my back against the wall, trying desperately to vanish, which is nearly impossible with the width of his shoulders. He passes without another word.
I grab the backpack and Izzy’s hand and dart back down the path, away from the pool. As if I want another run-in with a hostile male, my brother is standing by the concession area, waiting for his lunch, very obviously watching me.
The last thing I need is for him to know I’ve almost cost Carter his job. He already thinks I’m a total disaster who needs watching. Maria waits for me on the patio, along with eleven restless kids. I can’t help but think about how this is going to be a long summer. Not only do I have to work with my brother and ex-best friend, now I’ve made an enemy out of Carter Haines.
8
Bea
One of the unfortunate circumstances in my life is that I have to drive to and from work with Atticus and Katherine. Three months ago, I would have been in the front seat, in charge of the radio, forcing my brother to listen to the music my best friend and I picked.
Not anymore.
Now that they’re dating, I’ve been regulated to the back. The only method of survival is earbuds and my iPod.
I’m scrolling through my music with my headphones in after work, looking for something to tune out the traitors. I haven’t pressed play yet as I’m deciding between a boy-band ballad or some louder, voice-drowning-out rock music, when I spot Atticus a few spots over. He’s standing by a familiar black Mustang. Carter leans against the car wearing a white T-shirt with a red cross on the front, with a draw-string bag slung over his broad shoulders. The annoyed look from earlier is still in place. The purpling bruise on his forehead doesn’t lessen the vibe.
“I don’t know what’s going on with you and my sister, dude, but you need to back off.”
Obviously, I’m forced to eavesdrop. Again.
“Clarke? You think something is going on with us?” Carter asks. His tone is more astonished than my ego likes.
“I know I’ve seen you talk to her twice in the last twenty-four hours, which is two times more than ever before.”
“What’s it to you, Atticus? You’ve never cared who I talked to before.”
“Because my sister is naïve, and,” Atticus pauses, “she’s hurting right now. The last thing she needs is you screwing with her head.”
Besides the anger I feel over him mentioning my “hurt” that he caused, the fact that my brother has drastically misunderstood the relationship between me and Carter strikes me as hilarious. Carter, at best, is oblivious of me. At worst, annoyed by me, because his job is on the line and some of that is my fault.
“Trust me,” Carter says, “if I was going to screw with anyone, it wouldn’t be your little sister.” He runs his hand through his hair. “But, if I wanted to, I’d like to see you make me stop.”
He pushes past Atticus and gets into his car, and a second later the familiar loud rumble of his engine fills the parking lot. My brother glances over and our eyes connect for a quick second, his still flaming with anger. I look down, pretending to mess with my phone. For some reason, I don’t want him to know I overheard him. I get in the car silently while my brother waits for his girlfriend. I don’t reply when she greets me from the front seat, even though I’d give anything to teleport back to how things used to be to tell her everything that happened today. The applesauce, the fact that the rumors about Carter having a record are true and that he could lose his job, and a little of it is my fault. Then there’s the little detail about Atticus telling the hottest, most dangerous boy in school that I’m naïve. Thanks, Atticus. Like I needed to get any lower on the social scale.
We would have popped a bag of popcorn, gotten two big slushies at the corner market and ranted about what a tool Atticus is for hours. But now I can’t do that, because even if we were friends, I couldn’t vent about how her boyfriend is a complete idiot. She’s really put me in an impossible situation and I kind of hate her for it.
This only amplifies when I see him reach across the gear shift for her hand, as if she’s the one that needs consoling.
“Stop the car,” I say suddenly. The first words I’ve spoken to either of them all day.
“What?” Atticus says, glancing in the rearview mirror. “No.”
“I want to get out.” It only takes an instant but it’s like I can’t breathe. I need air. I need to be away from them. “Stop the car!”
Katherine turns around, her eyes filled with pity. “Stop the car, Atticus.”
She’s what makes him stop.
He pulls over and I open the door, scrambling out of the back seat.
“You’re seriously going to walk home.”
“Yes.” I take a gulp of fresh air. I slam the door and my brother stares at me for a minute like I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have. I feel like it.
He pulls away and the stress leaves with them. The good thing about the tiny town of Ocean Grove is everything’s near the beach and the town is never far away. I head toward the shops, thinking that just because Katherine isn’t around, that doesn’t mean I can’t drown my sorrows in sugar alone.
I make my way down to the Corner Market. Cool, air-conditioned air meets my hot face as I enter and I go straight for the slushy machine. I grab the biggest cup and lift the handle to pump in a gush of cherry. I fill it as high as I can, basically overflowing, and I reach for the plastic dome cover to snap on top. I pla
ce the straw between my teeth and balance the cup carefully. I’m about to turn when I hear, “Don’t even think about it, Clarke.”
My eyes snap up. Carter stands two feet away with a bag of chips and a bottle of green tea. “I, uh, um…”
“Twice you’ve plowed into me, and there’s no way I’m getting covered in that sticky mess.” He shakes his head but for once it’s not total annoyance in his eyes. There’s a touch of amusement.
Of course there is. He thinks I’m innocent and naïve.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to bother you anymore.” I carefully skirt past him to walk to the counter. Unfortunately, he has to check out also, so we stand next to one another in awkward silence. Well, I’m awkward. He’s giving flirty smiles to the cashier.
I pay and walk outside. That’s when I realize I have a two-mile walk home. Maybe should have thought that through a little better. I lean against the giant stack of soda boxes and pull out my phone. I can call my mom but then I’ll have to tell her everything, and I’ll get another, “Why can’t you let your brother be happy for once,” speech. Not to mention the Line of Concern.
I groan to myself.
The door swings open and Carter comes out. He’s got a satisfied smirk on his face and is looking at his own phone, probably adding the cashier’s number to his contacts.
“Seriously?” I blurt.
He looks over. “You talking to me?”
“Yes, I’m talking to you. Can you really not stop flirting for like, five minutes, when it’s already gotten you in trouble once today?”
“How do you know about that?” His eyes narrow. “Were you eavesdropping on my conversation with Erin?”
Bea and the Bad Boy: Young Adult Sweet Romance (Love in Ocean Grove Book 3) Page 3
