by Alex Tully
The Outrigger was the biggest hot spot on the peninsula, and it was packed every night. Zoe could definitely use the money, but she already had a job lined up, “Well I’ll be working almost every day as it is.”
“Oh please, what do you even get Zoe?” Debbie scoffed, “Eight, nine bucks an hour? And no tips?”
“Nine-fifty, and we get tips—everyone gives them.”
“Hey, you don’t want it, fine. I ain’t forcing you,” Debbie blew out a long puff of smoke directly at Zoe as she looked her up and down, “but don’t be asking me for anything cuz I can barely pay the bills as it is.”
Zoe never asked. And she expected nothing. Although Debbie probably spent more money on her booze and cigarettes than any of the other bills, it was hers to do with as she pleased. That idea had been hammered into Zoe’s head repeatedly.
“I guess maybe I’ll think about it,” Zoe turned on her heel and headed back to her bedroom.
“Well don’t think too long! And a thank you would be nice!”
“Thanks Mom!” Zoe yelled over her shoulder.
“Don’t you call me that! You know better!”
“Sorry!” But she wasn’t. She liked to piss off Debbie.
Zoe fell onto her bed and stared at the ceiling. What normal mom didn’t want to be called Mom?
Hers, of course.
But it was okay because when Zoe really thought about it, Debbie actually suited her much better. The word Mom was—well, a stretch.
Yes, Debbie did go through the torture of labor, and she did change Zoe’s shitty diapers. Those facts were thrown into her face on almost a daily basis, “I gave up everything for you!” she would scream after one of her benders.
But as far as Zoe could remember, Debbie had always done what Debbie wanted to do. And in turn, Zoe had always done what she had to do, to get by on her own.
And if working at the Outrigger was the only way she’d make enough money for car insurance, then she might have to do it. Riding her bike and bumming rides from Meredith was getting old. But, having to work with Debbie could officially destroy her summer.
She couldn’t just sit there and think about it any longer. She grabbed her phone and her beach blanket, “I’m going down to the dock,” she said as she hurried past Debbie and out the door.
She walked quickly down the gravel drive, picking up speed with each step until she was almost running toward the water.
No matter how crappy she felt, one thing always seemed to make her feel better—the lake.
CHAPTER 4
ETHAN
Ethan was stalking her, but it wasn’t like anyone could see him. He held the binoculars steadily against the glass of the porthole and watched the girl sitting on the dock. He couldn’t see her face very well because of all the long brown hair that blew around it. But what he could see, definitely intrigued him.
She sat on a blanket in the sun, looking out at the lake, doing nothing. She wasn’t on her phone, or reading a book—she didn’t even have headphones on. She was just sitting there—and she seemed content.
And something about it was so calming, that he instantly felt more at ease. He was mesmerized—he couldn’t look away.
He had never seen her before, but that wasn’t a surprise. In past summers, he’d never spent any time on the far eastern side of Crystal Waters, by the trailer park. The only thing over there was the dock for the really big boats, for the yachts.
Ethan had thought a lot about how he was going to isolate himself when they got to Marblehead. Staying in the house with his parents always coming and going, wasn’t an option. They would just annoy him with their persistent hovering, “Why don’t you go to the pool…it looks nice down by the beach…why don’t you go sailing with your sister?”
And while he would want to retort with, “Why don’t you shut the hell up?” he instead would give them his usual response of, “I’ll think about it,” or “maybe later,” because actually doing any of those things was pretty much impossible.
He even thought about leaving Crystal Waters every day and going to the park, or the public beach. Somewhere…anywhere he could be alone. But that wasn’t an option either because he couldn’t drive. Well, he could drive—he had a license and he’d done it before—but he couldn’t physically get into a car and start the engine.
But, Ethan did have a plan—and it was good. He would indulge his parents in the idea that he was getting better and go out every morning and return every night. He would tell his parents he was at the pool, or the beach, or the courts…wherever. And he would go to the boat—not the Sea Ray docked in the marina—but to the big boat, the yacht.
The Sea-quester, as his parents proudly named it, was the perfect hiding spot. His family only took the yacht out two or three times a summer. The rest of the time, it sat empty. And, because it was sitting offshore, in relatively shallow water, he didn’t have to worry about any “Titanic” scenarios.
And now, he had the added bonus of a captivating view. He put the binoculars down and spotted a young kid, maybe ten or so, walking down from the trailer park and onto the dock. He was carrying a fishing pole and made his way straight up to the girl. Maybe a little brother?
Ethan wished he could hear what they were saying, but they definitely seemed friendly—all smiles. Maybe not a little brother after all. After a short conversation, the kid went further down the dock, almost to the end, and started baiting his hook. He seemed to know what he was doing too.
Ethan had a fleeting urge to go join the kid—he loved fishing and he hadn’t done it in a long time. But the urge passed immediately when he thought about walking past the girl.
He’d have to say something to her, at least a, “Hey.”
And she’d probably say, “Hey,” back.
And then what?
What if he casually tried to walk around her, and he stumbled and lost his balance?
What if he fell into the fricking water?
Just then, another girl came running down the hill from the trailer park and onto the dock. He put his binoculars back up against the glass. She looked about the same age as girl number one, he would guess a BFF. She plopped down on the blanket next to her. It was a regular party at the Sunny Shores Trailer Park.
Ethan didn’t know much about the little trailer park, but he had heard Marty Crawford wanted to buy it. Marty was the owner of Crystal Waters and a complete douchebag. At night he’d make his rounds at the club restaurant, his white hair slicked back on top of his tanned, tight face. Casually strolling around the tables, he’d make small talk with people, making sure everything was to their liking.
“Oh, it’s divine Mr. Crawford.”
“Please, call me Martin.”
“Well, it’s superb Martin, kudos to the chef—and to you, of course.”
During the day, he was a permanent fixture at the pool, sitting like a king in his cabana, arms stretched behind him, reclining in his lounge chair. He kept his roaming eyes hidden behind a pair of aviators, while girls in short blue skirts went back and forth with cold drinks.
The story was that Marty wanted to expand Crystal Waters and squeeze a couple more villas onto the trailer park’s prime lakefront property. Apparently, he had made an offer that no reasonable person would refuse.
But unfortunately for him, the old couple who owned Sunny Shores weren’t reasonable people. They had lived inside the park forever, and the rumor was that they didn’t care about money—they refused to sell no matter what the price.
Ethan could just see Marty sitting inside a dirty old trailer, wearing his Armani best and smiling widely, his white teeth reflecting like mirrors in the dingy space, “So you see, this is an incredibly generous offer.”
And then, the old guy sitting across from him wearing his Wal-Mart best and smiling widely, his yellow dentures clacking against his gums, “Well I’m sorry Mr. Crawford, but our park is not for sale.”
Of course, Ethan had no idea how it really went down, but tha
t was how he liked to imagine it.
“Got one!” the boy suddenly shouted. The kid was holding his pole up in the air while a good-sized fish dangled at the end of his line. Maybe a bass?
“Nice Parker!” girl number one gave him a thumbs up.
Well, now he knew the kid’s name. But he really wanted to know her name.
And if Ethan wasn’t a complete freak, and had any shred of confidence whatsoever, he would walk over there and take a chance. That’s what the old Ethan would’ve done.
But, that guy was long gone. Pathetic, stalker Ethan, was all that was left.
CHAPTER 5
PARKER
“Got one!” It was a good one too—a bass—probably twelve inches. He held it up so Zoe could see. She gave him a thumbs up.
Zoe was his best friend. Yeah she was a girl, but that didn’t matter, and yeah she was sixteen, but that didn’t matter either. She was cool.
He grabbed his towel and placed the bass gently on the dock. He had taken hundreds—no—thousands of hooks out in his life, and he was better at it than almost anyone he knew. He easily slid the hook out of the rubbery lip and whispered, “Goodbye fish, have a nice life.” He leaned down, carefully lowered the bass back into the water, and watched it swim away.
He always wondered where the fish went after he threw them back in. Did they have a family? Did they have friends? Did they swim back home and tell all the other fish about their crazy encounter outside the water?
He had also wondered if it was cruel to catch fish, and if maybe he should give it up. But he did a lot of reading about it, and scientists said that even though fish could feel pain, it was nothing like how people could feel pain. A hook in the mouth wouldn’t really bother a fish. And Parker never kept the fish he caught, he always released them.
Besides, mom taught him how to fish. They used to fish all the time together. After dinner, when the sun was setting and the sky was pink, they would go out to the dock and fish and talk. Those were some of his favorite memories.
“Hey, Parker!”
The voice made his shoulders tense up instantly. He turned around, “What?”
Zoe’s best friend Meredith was standing next to her, “Come here!”
God, she was annoying, probably the most annoying person he knew. He never understood why someone as nice as Zoe would be friends with someone like her, “What do you want?”
“Just get over here, you little shit!”
He pulled his pole out of the water and started packing up his stuff, “Fine.” He wasn’t in the mood to fish anymore anyways.
As he started toward them, Meredith called out, “You got a girlfriend yet, Twerp?”
He wanted to push her in the water so bad! “You got a boyfriend yet, Meredith?”
“Oh, that’s right, I forgot,” Meredith shot back, “We all know you have a crush on Zoe.”
Instant heat rose up in his cheeks, and he didn’t want to take another step. But Zoe always said the right things, “We’re like brother and sister, right Parker?” she reached her hand out to give him a fist-bump.
The truth was any boy would like Zoe, she was smart and pretty and nice—not a bitch like her friend Meredith. But Parker understood the basic principles in life, like how a girl in high school wasn’t ever going to like a sixth-grader. It was okay though because he got something better—he got to be around her all the time, like whenever he wanted.
“Anyway Twerp,” Meredith twirled her keychain around her finger. Ever since she got her driver’s license she had to flaunt it, “Tell your grams that my dad’s going to do extra patrols up and down the park. She can give him a call if she wants.”
He nodded, “Yeah, okay.”
Last weekend they had an actual burglary at the trailer park—sort of. Frankie’s hunting rifle was stolen out of his screened porch. Sunday morning he was running around and banging on everyone’s door, “My rifle’s gone! Did anybody see my rifle?”
It was no secret Frankie liked to drink a lot—even on his hunting trips. He would come home from a trip, stumbling around, bragging about a kill with nothing to show for it. He always left his rifle right inside his porch, but there was no lock on the door. Anybody could just walk in there and take it.
“Is your grandma freaking out about it?” Zoe asked.
Grams wasn’t the type to get freaked out about anything, “No, you know her. She said, ‘Parker, the trailer park will be a lot safer now without that jackass running around with a gun’ or something like that.” He had tried to do his best Grams impersonation. It wasn’t very good, but Zoe still laughed.
And then, even Meredith laughed, “Gotta love Shirley!”
He was feeling pretty pleased with himself, which gave him a little boost of confidence, “So are you guys doing anything fun tonight?”
It was Friday night after all, and the first official night of summer. Zoe and Meredith always did something fun, and he always sat at home.
“I want to,” Meredith gave a major eye-roll, “but lame-o here wants to stay in, so she’s all fresh in the morning for her big job.”
“Sorry,” Zoe said, “But it’s my first day. I can’t screw this up.”
Well, Zoe didn’t have to apologize to him. He loved it when she stayed in because that meant they’d probably hang out together.
In fact, Parker would be happy if she never went out again.
CHAPTER 6
ZOE
Zoe hit the snooze button on her phone…again.
God, she wanted to sleep, but she had to get moving. It was the first day of her new job and she couldn’t be late. She made her way to the bathroom and took a quick shower.
Loud snoring noises were coming from Debbie’s room, so she didn’t bother trying to be quiet. She glanced over to her dresser where her uniform was folded neatly on top. She quickly slipped out of her towel and pulled it on.
Looking at herself in the mirror, she frowned. She was hoping that somehow, it would fit bigger than it had a week ago. No such luck. The white polo was skin tight and the navy blue skirt barely covered her butt. “Holy crap, could this thing be any shorter?”
She tugged at the polo material to try to stretch it out, and she shimmied down the waistband of her skirt to add some length, but it didn’t really help.
She pulled her mousy-brown hair (at least it wasn’t rooster-red like Debbie’s) back away from her face into a high ponytail, as was required. “No hair is allowed to touch the shoulders, ladies!” She dabbed some sunscreen onto her nose and cheeks and finished it off with some lip balm.
Looking at her reflection, she sighed, “Crystal Waters, here I come.”
Of course, it wasn’t her dream job. Working in the middle of La La Land every day would be a constant glaring reminder of how badly her life sucked. But the pay was decent and the work was pretty simple—carry drinks and snacks to the rich people around the pool.
Tips weren’t technically allowed, but everyone gave them anyway—at least that was what she had heard. The biggest plus about working there was the convenience of it—she didn’t need a car, she just walked down to the water, hung a left and she was there.
And getting the job was too easy. She didn’t even have to look for it—it came to her. While waiting out by the road for Meredith one morning, a black limo pulled up. Mr. Crawford himself, the owner of Crystal Waters, rolled down the window, “Excuse me Miss, could I bother you for just a moment?”
Marty Crawford was a walking cliché of the old rich guy who was trying way too hard not to look his age. He flashed a giant white smile that was even more prominent because of his overly tanned face. She walked cautiously toward the car.
“My name is Martin Crawford and I own Crystal Waters,” he nodded over at the pearly gates next door. “Believe it or not, we are having a heck of a time finding good help for the summer. I was just wondering if you might be looking for a job, if I could give you my card?”
He held a little white card out to her, as
he looked her up and down. She was getting a major creep vibe, but she reached out and took it.
“Um, I might be,” she kept her eyes focused on the card so she didn’t have to look at him.
“Can I ask how old you are?”
“Sixteen.”
“Okay, you’re fine then,” a disgusting whiff of cigar smoke floated out of the car, “That’s got my secretary’s number on there—just call her and she’ll set everything up.”
Creep or not, the job was a good one—next to the Outrigger, everyone wanted a gig at Crystal Waters. So, she didn’t wait long and called his secretary later that day.
The day after that, Zoe received a package on her porch, FedEx overnighted. Crystal Waters was literally a five-minute walk from her trailer door, and they paid over fourteen dollars to ship it! Money seriously meant nothing to these people.
Inside the box was her uniform, a size smaller than she told the secretary, and a letter that read:
Uniform Regulations: (strictly enforced)
Clean, plain white tennis shoes only
White ankle socks, nothing higher
Hair must be pulled away from the face and must not touch shoulders, white hair ties only
No jewelry except a watch and one ring
Orientation: Saturday at 9 am sharp in the Blue Room at The Galley (poolside restaurant)
All cell phones must be kept in lockers in the Blue Room during your shift
She glanced at her cell phone—8:32. She went into the kitchen and shoveled down some raisin-bran. Debbie would sleep the day away, probably crawl out of bed around two.
By that time, Zoe would be finishing up her shift and immediately facetiming Meredith to tell her about the first day.
She took one last glance at herself in the mirror and checked her phone again—8:41. She took a selfie, pointing to the gold Crystal Waters logo embroidered on her polo, and smiled sarcastically. She sent it to Meredith with a caption, “Wish me luck.”
