BSC08 Boy-Crazy Stacey (4 page)

Margo was standing in the doorway to our bedroom. Claire was next to her.

"We want to go to the beach," said Margo.

"What's going on?" asked Mary Anne sleepily from across the room.

"These two want to go to the beach and it's the middle of the night," I said.

"No, it isn't," replied Margo. "The sun's almost up."

"Mr. Sun-silly-billy-goo-goo!" cried Claire.

"Shh, you guys. It's too early for the beach. It's even too early to get up. Come in bed with me."

The girls scrambled for my bed, but three of us were a tight squeeze, so Claire got in bed with Mary Anne instead. We all went back to

sleep. We didn't wake up until we smelled breakfast cooking.

"Mmm," I mumbled. "Scrambled eggs. Bacon. Toast."

"Daggles-silly-billy-goo-goo is making breakfast," Claire announced.

Mary Anne and I got dressed and the four of us were downstairs in ten minutes. The other Pikes had gathered. Mallory and Adam were already in their bathing suits. But Nicky, Vanessa, Byron, Jordan and the little girls were still in their pajamas. I had a feeling it might take awhile to get eight kids ready for the beach.

"Good morning!" Mr. Pike greeted us. "I'm the chief cooker of breakfast around here. Are you hungry?"

"Starved!" Mary Anne and I replied.

"Good," he said. "Stacey, come give me a hand at the stove."

"I'm not much of a cook," I told him.

"Thaf s all right," he replied when I'd reached his side. He lowered his voice. "I want to make sure you can eat what I'm fixing. The Danish is out, right?"

"Right," I said, looking longingly at a pan of sugary bakery Danish warming up in the oven. Cheese Danish used to be my favorite breakfast food.

"Toast?" he asked.

I read the ingredients on the bread wrapper. "That's okay," I told him.

"Bacon?"

"Fine."

"And the main course — cheese omelets/' he said proudly.

"Oh. Urn, no. It's the processed cheese. I can't eat it."

"No problem. I'll scramble you up a couple of plain eggs, okay?"

"Great," I replied. "Thanks."

Mr. Pike didn't look at all put out, but I felt terrible. A mother's helper wasn't supposed to create extra work for her clients. I began to feel apprehensive. What if Mallory or one of the younger Pike kids wanted to know why I was on a diet when I'm already pretty thin? But I put my fears aside, -and felt better by the time breakfast was over and no one had mentioned my scrambled eggs or the fact that I had turned down "yummy-yummy" Danish in favor of plain old toast.

No sooner had the last bite of breakfast been eaten, than Jordan yelled, "Beach!" and the Pikes turned into a human tornado. Six of the kids needed to change into bathing suits. We had to find eight towels, two umbrellas, some chairs, four pails and shovels, four paddleball

rackets and balls, books, a deck of cards, several tubes of sunscreen, T-shirts, and sodas. And that was just for the kids. Mary Anne and I had to get ourselves ready, too.

Mary Anne, ever-organized, had packed her beach bag the night before. Neatly arranged in it were a hairbrush, sunglasses, a headband, and a copy of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. I threw together a similar bag, remembering to toss in the bottle of Sun-Lite. Then we prepared to peel off our shorts and shirts, revealing our bikinis.

"You first," I said to Mary Anne.

"No way. You first."

I'm not shy. I whipped off my clothes. Underneath was my new bikini. It was skimpy (and we're talking very skimpy) and yellow, with tiny bows at the sides on the bottom part. And if I do say so myself, the top part was filled out pretty nicely.

Mary Anne's eyes nearly bugged right off her face.

"Oh, my — " she started to say. "Well, that does it. I'm not taking my clothes off. I'll sit on the beach in a shirt and jeans. I'll wear an evening gown if I have to."

"Come on, Mary Anne," I said. "It can't be that bad. Let me see."

"No."

"Mary Anne, the kids are waiting. They want to hit the beach. They sound desperate. Off with your clothes."

Slowly Mary Anne removed her shirt and shorts. Underneath was a perfectly nice pale blue bikini with white stripes running diagonally across it. It wasn't quite as skimpy as mine, and the top wasn't filled out at all (Mary Anne and Kristy are just about the shortest, smallest girls in our grade), but she looked fine. I told her so.

Reluctantly, she helped get the kids organized. The ten of us struggled out the front door and across the sand. About halfway to the water, Mallory suddenly said, "This is a good place."

The kids dropped the junk they were holding and ran, leaving Mary Anne and me to set up our spot. It was nine-thirty and the lifeguards were on duty, so we knew the kids were pretty safe by the water. We spread out towels, opened the umbrellas, set out the beach chairs, and were ready.

I rubbed some Sun-Lite in my hair. "Sun, hit me with your rays," I said. I oiled myself up with sunscreen and sat back in a chair.

"Hey!" yelped Mary Anne. "We forgot to put lotion on the kids. They'll be as red as lobsters if we're not careful."

We had to round up all the kids and make sure they got lathered with sunscreen. Then we turned them loose again.

I put on my shades. I put on my visor. I sat back in my chair again. The sand was white and warm. The sky was a brilliant blue. In front of me, the ocean crashed and foamed. This was the life.

I gazed around. Not far away, a mother and three little kids were parked. In another spot were a mother, a father, a grandmother, and a little boy about Nicky's age. With some interest, I watched two boys, one about seven, one about four, tugging at the hands of an older boy (fourteen?) and pulling him impatiently along the beach. The older boy was trying to carry a bundle of towels, an umbrella, and a baby. They stopped near us. The boy reminded me of me. He spread out their towels, rubbed sunscreen on the children, and then let the boys run to the water while he stayed under the umbrella with the baby.

Was the boy their brother? I didn't think so. He was fair-skinned with light brown hair, while the children had olive complexions and masses of black curls.

I nudged Mary Anne. "See that boy over there?"

She nodded.

"I think he's a guy mother's helper."

"Really?"

For the next fifteen minutes or so, Mary Anne and I kept an eye on the Pike kids, watched the other mother's helper, and just enjoyed the beach. Of course, I had checked out the lifeguard stand. Two guys were on duty, and they were cute, but neither one was the hunk I'd seen the day before.

"Stacey?" said Mary Anne after a while. "Look at Byron."

I searched the shoreline. I saw Mallory, Jordan, Adam, and Nicky shrieking around in waist-high water. Claire, Margo, and Vanessa were crouched in the wet sand at the water's edge, making castles that were meant to be washed away with each wave. But Byron was hanging back, alone. He was sitting in dry sand, staring out to sea.

"What's wrong with him?" I wondered.

"He hasn't been near the water since we got here. He hasn't even stuck a toe in."

"He does know how to swim, doesn't he?"

"I know for a fact that he does. I remember when the triplets were taking lessons at the Y," replied Mary Anne.

My attention was drawn away from Byron by something very interesting. A jeep was driving up the beach. It stopped by the life-

guard stand. Two guys wearing windbreakers got out. One removed a pair of mirrored sunglasses. It was the hunk! Noskote and lipcoat were smeared on his face, but it didn't matter. He was as gorgeous as ever. He was totally cool!

And he was changing places with one of the guards on duty! The hunk was now sitting just ten yards away from me. Unfortunately, I was facing his back.

"There he is! There he is!" I hissed to Mary Anne.

"Who?" She was still watching Byron.

"Him! That incredible hunk from yesterday. The lifeguard of my dreams. Oh, I am in love with him for sure. I mean it."

"You're not the only one."

"Huh?"

"Look." Mary Anne pointed to a group of girls about our age who had gathered at the base of the lifeguard stand. They seemed to have materialized out of thin air. They were giggling and talking and asking the guards questions.

My heart sank.

All morning I watched the lifeguards and the girls. I watched them much more than I watched the Pike kids. Mary Anne seemed a bit miffed, but I couldn't help it. I was in love.

How did those other girls get so lucky? Not only did the lifeguards seem to know them, but they gave them the supreme honor of letting them do favors for them. Those girls got to bring them sodas and pick up anything that fell off the stand, and one was even asked to fix them sandwiches for lunch.

"Will you quit looking over there?" Mary Anne finally said crossly. "You're boy-crazy. Those lifeguards are much too old for you."

"They are not."

"Are too."

At that moment, three girls who were definitely in high school, maybe even in college, sauntered down the beach. The lifeguards stopped talking to the younger girls surrounding the stand, and watched the progress of the older ones with interest.

"See what I mean?" said Mary Anne smugly.

"Oh, cut it out," I snapped. "You don't understand."

And that was all we said to each other until we rounded up the Pikes for lunch and a little break from the hot sun. The kids ate hungrily but didn't want to stay inside for long. They were soon clambering to get back to the sea and sand. I made them all put on sweatshirts and things, since their skin wasn't used to the sun, and I put on some extra clothes myself.

(Only Mary Anne refused to do this. She said she wanted to get tan right away.) Then we ran out to the beach again. Mr. and Mrs. Pike decided to go into town.

The kids made a beeline for the water, despite the fact that I'd just told them not even to go wading until their lunches had had a chance to digest for an hour.

"At least Byron paid attention to you," Mary Anne pointed out.

"Yeah. . . . Uh-oh."

I jumped up. At the water's edge, Adam and Jordan were splashing Byron.

"Quit it!" he shouted. "Cut it out!"

"Sissy!" Adam yelled back.

"Jerk!"

"Baby!"

"Ratface!"

"Okay, okay, okay," I reached the boys in record time. "What's going on here?"

"He started it!" Byron cried.

"I don't care who started it. I want to know what you're fighting about."

Mary Anne had run up behind me. When Adam made a grab for Jordan, she dived between them, separating them and almost losing her bikini.

"Byron is a baby!" exclaimed Adam. "He won't go in the ocean."

"And you're mad at him for that?" I asked.

"I want him to come in with us. Triplets stick together. He's ruining everything."

"I guess the only choice is for the three of you to do something out of the water," Mary Anne pointed out practically, adjusting her bathing suit.

I turned around at that moment and saw the hunk watching us. He flashed me a grin. My knees melted. I just had to talk to him.

While Mary Anne took over with the triplets, I sauntered up to the lifeguard stand.

"Hey, cutie," said the hunk.

My knees practically disappeared, but I turned on all the charm I could find. "Do you have the time?" I asked. "My watch isn't working."

The group of girls around the stand looked at me warily. They backed off a couple of steps.

"Sure," replied the hunk. "It's two twenty-five."

"Thanks," I said.

Just as I was turning away, I heard a cry and the sound of sobbing. "Stacey!" shouted Mallory's voice.

Mallory ran to me, carrying Claire, whose foot was bleeding. "She cut it on a shell," said Mallory.

"WAHH! Stacey," wailed Claire, holding out her arms to me.

I reached for her — and realized that the hunk was at my side. He was holding a first-aid kit. In no time, he had cleaned Claire's cut and put a Band-Aid on it. Claire and I both gazed at him adoringly.

As Claire ran off a few moments later, the hunk said, "Maybe we better introduce ourselves. I'm Scott. Scott Foley. I've been noticing you."

(The girls at the stand retreated even farther.)

"I — I'm Stacey McGiH," I told him. "Thirteen years old. Formerly of New York. City." (Oh, I could just die! What a stupid thing to say.)

But Scott simply smiled again. "I better get back on duty," he said.

That afternoon, I talked to Scott several more times. I asked him about the weather for the next day. I asked when high tide would be. I pretended I really, really needed to know. Then, around four-thirty, Scott asked me if I'd mind getting him a soda. (Mind?!)

The girls left altogether. I had Scott to myself for the rest of the afternoon. I found out that he lived in Princeton, New Jersey, had recently turned eighteen, and was going to college in September. He was a little old for me, but I didn't care.

Just before supper that night, I escaped Mary

Anne's accusations about how little help I was being, and ran across the beach and down to the water's edge. I stared at the spot where the lifeguard stand had been, and then at the tracks it left as it had been dragged back to the dunes for the night. After a moment, I knelt down in the wet sand. I found a piece of shell and carefully printed:

4- SCOTT * U)V

Then I ran back to the house before a wave came in. I didn't want to see the words wash away.

Chapter 6.

Mr. and Mrs. Pike spent almost all of Monday on the beach with the kids and Mary Anne and me.

Scott wasn't on duty.

I was depressed.

But I felt better that afternoon when Mrs. Pike said that she and Mr. Pike wanted to go out to dinner — just the two of them — to this fancy restaurant in Jamesport, the next town over, and gave Mary Anne and me enough to take the Pike kids out for the evening.

"Probably the best you'll be able to do with that is go to Burger Garden, which is fairly inexpensive, and get a treat on the boardwalk later," said Mrs. Pike.

At this, the kids became hysterical with joy.