chapter 5
“SO I’VE BEEN DOING SOME STUDYING,” SAID LAUREN the next morning as the girls packed their beach bags up in Lauren’s room.
“Studying?” asked Chrissy, bewildered. “Did you tackle that math packet already?”
“Not for school,” laughed Lauren. “Studying up on sports. I’ve been reading the sports section of the paper practically every day since last summer. And I have a how-to book on Frisbee, so I now know how to throw, sort of. I have determined that Charlie has to be either a Mets or a Yankees fan, because he’s from New York, so I studied both teams. See, the Mets are in the National League, and the Yankees are in the American League, so it’s a fifty-fifty shot which team he roots for. And also I found this on my parents’ book shelf.” She held up a thick book for Chrissy to see.
“Moby-Dick?” asked Chrissy, puzzled.
“Yep. Last summer I saw Charlie reading some really big book at the beach. So I know he’s an intellectual. I figured this would impress him.”
Chrissy stopped rolling up her towel and looked at Lauren. “Why do you need to pretend? I mean, you’re already smart. And you love baseball. But I happen to know you’re a hardcore Yankees fan. And don’t you love reading mysteries? What’s wrong with that?”
“Fun mystery books don’t send the same message as nineteenth-century novels,” Lauren explained patiently. “And I like baseball but I don’t know a lot about any other sports. And guys talk sports with one another. Talking about sports will be my icebreaker. You totally need to have one of those. Charlie will be impressed by my knowledge of baseball and Frisbee and it will give us something to talk about.”
“Oh . . . kay,” said Chrissy, drawing the word out slowly.
“Do you want to see my flowchart?”
“Oh yeah, your flowchart,” said Chrissy. “You mentioned something about that before.”
Lauren pulled the card out from under a pile of magazines on the bedside table and showed it to Chrissy. “It’s my plan. My plan to start a real conversation with him, plus give him my number at the same time. It’s foolproof. I’ve got every possible angle covered.”
Chrissy glanced down at it. Her eyes flickered over the card as she read it. She smiled and handed it back to Lauren, but didn’t say anything.
It was a bright, sunny day, warm but not sweltering—perfect beach weather. They walked through town and headed toward Crane’s Beach, where they’d seen the boys the previous afternoon.
It was much more crowded, but Lauren spotted Charlie almost at once. It was as though her eyes were drawn to him by an unseen power. He was with his friends again, but this time they were playing what appeared to be an intense game of badminton. Today he wore black swim trunks instead of the red ones he’d had on yesterday. Was he still wearing Chrissy’s Band-Aid? She couldn’t see, but she secretly hoped he had changed it and was wearing a new one.
“There they are,” said Lauren to Chrissy, gesturing with a quick jerk of her chin.
Chrissy turned to see the boys, just as Charlie laid out horizontally, the arm with the racket stretched to its limit, and thwacked the birdie back over the net before landing face down in the sand.
“Oof,” said Chrissy, wincing, as she and Lauren watched Charlie pick himself up and dust the sand from his front. “That just didn’t seem worth it.”
“He’s really into sports,” said Lauren, shaking her head admiringly. “Come on. Let’s pretend we haven’t seen them and spread our blanket near theirs. I think I know which towels are theirs. I made a note of them from last summer.”
There was a good space on the far side of the boys’ towels, closer to the water, and the girls spread out their blanket, studiously avoiding looking in the boys’ direction.
“Has he seen us?” asked Lauren through the side of her mouth.
“I don’t think so,” said Chrissy.
“Well, guess I’ll get some reading done, then,” said Lauren with a sigh. She settled back on her side of the blanket, propped her head against her tote bag, and opened up Moby-Dick.
“How is it?” asked Chrissy a few minutes later, turning a page of her paperback.
Lauren shifted uncomfortably. The truth was, she’d read the same line over and over again and was having a hard time focusing. “It’s okay. But the book is so heavy, I can’t really hold it up to read for very long without my arms starting to ache . . . ” She was dying to start the novel she packed. Her English teacher had recommended it and it seemed so good. But, she reminded herself, she needed to stay on plan. On the Plan. And the Plan called for Moby-Dick.
“Psst! They’re coming!” hissed Chrissy.
Lauren’s heart gave a wallop inside her chest. She clutched the book tighter and raised it up to her face, hoping Charlie would see the title and realize how smart she was. He’d probably already read it, and maybe he would want to discuss it with her over strawberry frappés next week.
Out of the corner of her eye (thank goodness for sunglasses, which made it easy to be discreet while spying), Lauren saw the boys arrive at their towels. “Are you ready for Operation Cell Phone?” Lauren whispered to Chrissy.
“Yes, sir,” said Chrissy.
“Let’s review,” said Lauren. “What happens first?”
“You sit up. You reach casually into your bag. Then you start to freak out a little bit,” said Chrissy. “You pull everything out of your bag. I sit up and start helping you look for whatever is missing. Then you oh-so-casually pretend you see the guys sitting near us. You walk over. You ask Charlie if he has a cell phone you can borrow to call yours, because you think it might be buried somewhere in all our stuff. The rest is . . . future history.”
“Exactly,” said Lauren. “Commence phase one now.”
“Um, but there’s one small problem,” said Chrissy.
“What?”
“Looks like the guys are heading into the water for a swim.”
Lauren darted a glance sideways. Chrissy was right! The guys were heading to the water. She groaned softly. “What is with boys these days?” she demanded. “Don’t they ever sit still?” She pondered. She visualized her flowchart. What should she do now? Plan, she thought to herself. A plan was contingent on one thing happening, then another. They were swimming now. So what would happen after they swam? Then she had it.
“Let’s go to the snack bar,” said Lauren. “Chances are when they get out of the water they’ll be thirsty.”
“Good plan,” agreed Chrissy.
The snack bar was small, with just six weather-beaten tables near it. But it served hot dogs, hamburgers, and fries, as well as a wide variety of drinks and ice-cream bars. There were six stools at the shady Formica counter, and two friendly, older teenage guys working behind it. Only two of the stools were taken, by a father and his tiny daughter, who was eating a drippy Popsicle. Chrissy and Lauren took the two middle seats, leaving empty ones on either side. They ordered lemonades.
“How long do you think we should wait for them?” asked Chrissy after they’d been sitting about ten minutes, drinking their lemonades very slowly. The father and daughter left, leaving them the only ones at the counter. Two families showed up, pulled two tables together, and sat down. Chrissy sighed and looked around.
“Five more minutes?” suggested Lauren. “They have to be thirsty after all that badminton, right? I mean—” She stopped, swiveling back around to face the counter. “They’re coming!” she hissed. “Quick! Start talking sports!”
“Sports?” Chrissy hissed back. “I don’t know anything about—”
“So, how ’bout that off-season trade by the Knicks, huh?” said Lauren loudly. She felt someone approach the counter on her other side. “Why would they ever give up such a quality point guard for a mediocre small forward?”
“Hey!” said a boy’s voice at Lauren’s left elbow. She jumped. And turned.
It was Frank.
“I disagree. He’s a shoot-first point guard, and that’s not what we need right
now,” said Frank.
“What?” said Lauren. Was he talking to her? Oh! Oh no! He was talking sports back to her! Where was Charlie? Had he even heard what she’d said? “Oh,” she said, flustered. “Um . . . yeah, well, that’s debatable.”
“You’re Frank, right?” said Chrissy, smoothly interrupting the awkward moment. Lauren had never felt more grateful to someone in her entire life.
“Yep, I’m Frank,” said Frank. He seemed pleased to be remembered. “Frank Fowler.”
Lauren realized that Charlie was now on Chrissy’s other side. She heard Charlie order two hot dogs and a lemonade. He liked lemonade . . . something else they had in common! Frank ordered large fries and a soda. Lauren felt Chrissy nudge her leg under the counter, and knew she had to say something.
“So,” she said, addressing Charlie, turning her back a little to Frank. “I’m reading Moby-Dick. It’s . . . it’s awesome. It’s . . . about this whale.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth she regretted them. Stupid! What a stupid conversation opener! She should have talked sports, but that dumb Frank had thrown her off by responding to her icebreaker. Oh the Plan . . . what was the Plan? The Plan was Operation Cell Phone. So why was she talking about sports already? She knew if she didn’t follow the Plan it would be a mess . . .
Charlie leaned forward, past Chrissy, and gave Lauren a quizzical look, raising one eyebrow.
“Moby-Dick?” Frank repeated. “My older brother read that in college last year. That’s pretty serious for beach reading, no?”
“Oh, well, yeah, but I—”
“Order up!” yelled one of the guys behind the counter. The other one slid Frank’s fries and drink to him on Lauren’s left, and the first one slid Charlie’s hot dogs and lemonade to him on the other side of Chrissy.
“Well, see you guys,” said Frank.
Charlie didn’t say anything, but he followed Frank out of the snack area, cramming half a hot dog into his mouth as he walked.
Lauren groaned and slowly lowered her face down to the counter, where she rested her forehead on it. “Why did I have to talk about Moby-Dick?” she moaned.
Chrissy patted her back. “It’s okay,” she said. “But I think you should just be yourself from now on.”
Lauren picked her head up and looked at Chrissy. “Myself? Why would an awesome, supersmart guy like Charlie want to hang out with me? I have to show him that there’s more to me than meets the eye, and that we have a lot in common. Come on. Let’s go try Operation Cell Phone before they go back into the water or start playing some new sport.” She thought she heard Chrissy sigh again. “What?” she asked.
“Nothing,” said Chrissy.
When they got back to their stuff, Lauren walked Chrissy through the plan one more time. “So then I go over there, and I tell them I’ve lost my phone and ask Charlie if he would mind coming over here to call it. And then I make a flirtatious comment about how now he has my number, and maybe he should call me sometime. Got it?”
“Got it,” said Chrissy. “But you’d better hurry, because they look like they’re getting ready to get up again and go swimming or something.”
Lauren scrambled to her feet, readjusting her bathing suit and shaking out her hair so it was just right. “Okay, here goes,” she said firmly, and turned and marched toward the boys.
“Wait, Laur!” called Chrissy.
But Lauren was almost at the boys’ towels. Too late to turn back now. She figured Chrissy was going to give her another pep talk about how she should be herself and not try to talk about topics she knew nothing about. Whatever.
She cleared her throat. “Um, hi, guys,” she said, stopping and looking down at them. The boys had been passing around a bottle of sunblock. Charlie looked up, shielding his eyes from the sun to see her.
“Hey. Karen, right?”
“Um, close. Lauren.” She gulped, trying to steady herself. He had almost remembered her name! Do. Not. Screw. This. Up. “So I have a favor to ask you,” she said, waving her hand. Then she froze, horrified.
She was holding her cell phone in her hand. She’d forgotten to “hide” it before walking over here. That must have been what Chrissy had wanted to say to her. Why hadn’t Chrissy tried harder to get her attention! Now what was she going to say? She couldn’t exactly ask them to help her find her lost cell phone when there it was in her hand!
“What’s up?” asked Charlie.
Think fast. Think fast. “Um, I was wondering if one of you might have . . . might have . . . ” Think. Think. Aha! “—might have a portable radio I could borrow? To check the score of the Yankee game?”
“No, sorry,” said Charlie. “But why don’t you just check on your phone? Don’t you have internet?”
“Oh, well no, but whatever . . . ” said Lauren quickly, turning away before Charlie could see that her face had turned bright red.
“Hey!” Frank called after her.
She stopped.
“Just so you know, the Yanks aren’t playing this afternoon. The Mets have a double header, though.”
“Oh, right,” said Lauren with a queasy giggle. “My bad. Well, I guess I’ll have to tune in tomorrow.” She hurried back to Chrissy and flopped down next to her, wishing that the sand would somehow turn into quicksand and swallow her.
“Guess it didn’t go so well?” Chrissy asked with a sympathetic look on her face.
“You have no idea,” Lauren replied. “It’s my plan. It’s the perfect plan. So how come I keep messing it up?”
chapter 6
THE NEXT SEVERAL DAYS WERE OVERCAST AND rainy. The girls entertained themselves by jogging together in the warm rain, shopping at stores on Main Street, going to the small local movie theater, and even cooking dinner for Lauren’s parents one night. They went shopping with Mrs. Silver for corn and tomatoes at the local farm stand, for fresh fish at the local fish store, and for crusty bread at the local bakery. Then they grilled scallops (with a little help from Mr. Silver, master griller), made corn on the cob, and tomato and mozzarella salad. It was fun having someone to hang out with. Normally Lauren would just hang out by herself or spend time with Mom and Dad, but it was great to have company. Being an only child meant she could entertain herself pretty well, but having Chrissy around was like having a twenty-four-hour pal.
Lauren and Chrissy spent one morning at the library, where Lauren showed Chrissy her favorite reading nooks. Lauren realized, as they talked about books, that they both loved a few of the same authors. Lauren looked longingly over at the paperback mysteries that seemed to be calling her name . . . but she was determined to get through Moby-Dick by the July Fourth picnic so she could talk about it with Charlie. So far she had read eighteen pages. Chrissy borrowed Lauren’s library card and checked out a paperback from a series Lauren recommended. Lauren looked around hoping to see Charlie. “At the library?” asked Chrissy. “Somehow I doubt it.” Lauren wondered what Chrissy meant, but decided not to say anything.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, the sun came out. Lauren suggested they get to the beach early so that they could be there before the guys and not look as though they were stalkers.
“But we’ll do our stakeout near where we were last time,” said Lauren matter-of-factly as they walked to the beach, laden down with tote bags full of towels, a blanket, water, sunblock, and of course, books. “Because people are creatures of habit.”
“What do you mean by that?” asked Chrissy.
“Well, I bet you and your family always sit in the same seats at your dinner table, right? And at school? Don’t you always sit in the same seat? So chances are, they’ll park their towels in the same area they did last time we were at the beach together.”
“Good point,” said Chrissy. “Maybe you should be a detective. Or a social anthropologist.”
“What’s that?” asked Lauren.
“My sister wants to study social anthropology when she starts college in a few years. It’s a science that studies how groups of people
behave. Liz is already really into it. That’s why she gives such great advice about boys and dating and stuff—she knows a lot about why people act the way they do.”
Lauren couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have an older sister. When she was little, she used to beg her parents to have another child so she could be the big sister, but they never did. Then as she got older she changed her mind and decided it was actually nice being an only child. She didn’t have to share her clothes or books or makeup with anyone. But then again, having an older sister to borrow those things from was probably fun. And having an older sister who knew a lot could come in handy. An older sister might be able to help with the Love Plan.
The girls climbed the stairs to the beach. It was still early, not yet ten, so not many people were there. They headed toward their spot.
“I’m sure Charlie has heard of social anthropology,” said Lauren, pulling out the blanket and handing one side to Chrissy so they could spread it out. “He’s probably the top student in his class. He probably read Moby-Dick when he was in preschool.” They both plunked down on the blanket.
“Well, why don’t you ask him?” suggested Chrissy. “Because he’s heading this way!”
Lauren stared at Chrissy in a panic. “How do I look?” she asked desperately.
“Awesome. But you’d look even more awesome if you didn’t look totally panicked! Just relax.”
“Right. Must relax. Look casual,” said Lauren. She pulled off her T-shirt and adjusted her suit. Then she settled back against her tote bag, which she was using to prop her head up, and readjusted her sunglasses. “I can’t look. You need to be my eyes. Is he with the same group of guys as last time? Frank and all those guys?”
Chrissy pretended to do a stretch, twisting her torso this way and that, so she could scope Charlie out. “No,” she said. “He’s with his mom and dad. And maybe his grandmother? And a couple of older guys and one older girl—I’m guessing they’re his cousins?”
“The guys are his cousins,” confirmed Lauren. She didn’t even need to look—she knew everything about his family. “The girl is his older sister. And that would be his grandmother. He’s so nice and respectful to her. He’s totally like, the perfect guy. I read in my magazine that it’s important to find a guy who is close to his family and respectful of elders. Here, let me put sunblock on you so I can get an angle.”
Lauren's Beach Crush Page 4
