BSC08 Boy-Crazy Stacey (8 page)

Mary Anne left the unopened box on a bench. Then she put her arm around me and walked me back to the Pikes'.

Chapter 11.

As bad as Saturday night was, Sunday morning was just awful. How could I go to the beach and face Scott? I decided there was no way.

After breakfast, I pulled Mrs. Pike and Mary Anne aside. "I have a headache," I said. "Would it be all right if I didn't go to the beach this morning? I'd just like to take it easy. The beach gets so noisy."

"Of course," said Mrs. Pike sympathetically.

"Sure," replied Mary Anne. But up in our room later, she said, "Thanks for sticking me with all the kids again. You know, last night you dragged me around to about a billion stores looking for a present for Scott. Then when you saw him with that girl, you practically blamed me. You are so rude. The least you could do is apologize."

"I'm sorry. I really am," I said.

But Mary Anne wasn't finished.

"If you actually had a headache, well, that would be one thing, but it's Scott, isn't it?"

I nodded.

"Boy." Mary Anne shook her head.

"Well, what are you complaining about?" I shot back. What was her problem? I'd already apologized. "That guy mother's helper will be hanging around."

"His name is Alex."

"He looks like such a nerd."

"Well, he's not! He's funny and nice. And he's good with kids."

"Who are those kids, anyway?"

"They're Kenny, Jimmy, and Ellie. Ellie's the baby. And he is a mother's helper, but so what? . . . And don't change the subject!"

"What subject?"

"How you've made me do all the work so far."

"I have not."

"Have so."

I sighed. "I'm really sorry, Mary Anne," I said as I followed her downstairs. "I don't know what else to say."

Mary Anne ignored me. She opened the front door. "Come on, kids," she said to the Pikes. "Your mom and dad beat us to the beach this morning."

The Pikes ran outside.

But Byron immediately came back.

"Stacey?" he asked.

"Yeah?"

"Can I stay with you this morning?"

"I guess," I replied, "but I'm not feeling very well. I just want to rest."

"I'll rest, too," he said quietly. He looked awfully serious.

"Okay. Go tell Mary Anne, so she knows where you are."

Byron disappeared. I was kind of glad he wanted to spend the morning with me.

As soon as he came back, he said, "Do you feel like taking a walk? Or are you too sick?"

"No, a walk would be nice," I replied. Then, remembering my "headache," I added, "As long as we go somewhere quiet."

"I know somewhere really quiet," said Byron earnestly. "Come on."

I left a note for Mary Anne and the Pikes. Then Byron led me out the back door, down the street, across the main drag, to the end of the street on the other side of the town.

"This is the bay side of Sea City," Byron informed me.

"Is Sea City on an island?" I asked incredulously.

"Nope, just a little piece of land that curls into the ocean like a dog's tail."

I smiled. "That's a very nice way to describe it," I told Byron.

The bay certainly was quiet. The houses there were even closer to the water than they were on the ocean side, but no one was outdoors. And the water was calm, like a big lake.

Byron waded out to his knees, shaded his

eyes, and said, "See? You can see land across the water. That's the rest of New Jersey."

"Byron!" I exclaimed. "You're in the water!"

Byron looked down. "Oh, yeah," he said. "Hey, here's a little crab or something. . . . Oops, there it goes." The something scuttled away.

"Go after it," I suggested.

Byron shook his head.

"Byron?" I asked. "Are you afraid of the water?"

"Not exactly."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't like the waves. They're too . . . rough. And I don't like it when I can't see the bottom."

So that was why he wouldn't go after the crab. He just didn't want to wade out any farther.

I reached for his hand. "It's really okay, you know," I told him.

Holding my hand, we waded out a few more steps. The water was over our knees.

"Stop!" cried Byron suddenly. "I can't see the bottom. How do you know we're not on the edge of a cliff or something?"

"I don't," I said. "But there's not a good chance of that. Anyway, if we were, and we

stepped down, well, we could just turn around and swim to the shore, couldn't we?"

"Yeah. ..."

"I'll tell you something, Byron. It's smart to be a little afraid of things."

"It is?"

"Yes. Because if you aren't afraid, you might take dangerous chances. But if you're too afraid, then you'll probably miss out on a lot of fun."

Byron thought that over. He waded around for a long time, looking for shellfish or for stones to toss. At one point, he said, "Boy, it's hot," and actually ducked under the water briefly.

We walked back to the house shortly after noon. Byron had made me feel as calm as the bay water. I decided I could face the beach. After all, Scott didn't know I'd seen him with the other girl, so it would just be a matter of avoiding him.

While Byron had been thinking and playing, I'd been thinking, too, and I'd figured out what had happened with Scott — or at least I thought I had. I decided that Scott really did like me, but just as a friend. Or maybe even just as a cute kid. He was, as Mary Anne had pointed out, too old for me. The girl I'd seen him with the night before had been much more his age.

She was probably his actual girl friend. I began to feel silly. How could I have thought Scott loved me? He never kissed me, never held my hand, never asked me out. He just sent me off to do favors for him. Still, I couldn't hate him. He'd been nice to me. We'd had fun. He'd given me his whistle.

I was too embarrassed to hang around him anymore, though. Scott might wonder why I was avoiding him. Then again, he might not even notice. Whatever I did probably wouldn't matter, anyway, I thought bitterly. Those other girls would step right back in and take over.

Byron and I returned to the Pikes' in time for lunch. When lunch was over, I whispered to him, "Ready for the beach?"

He nodded, looking scared but determined. Exactly the way I felt.

As it turned out, I didn't need to be scared. Just as we were heading across the sand, the lifeguard jeep pulled up, Scott jumped off the stand, traded places with another guard who'd been in the jeep, and rode away. The next day, I knew, was his day off. I wouldn't have to worry about him until Tuesday. But I couldn't decide whether to feel glad or let down.

Meanwhile, Byron had a terrific afternoon. He waded into the ocean almost up to his knees. While he couldn't be coaxed out any

farther, this was good enough for Adam and Jordan. They could do plenty of splashing and shouting in knee-deep water.

I realized how much I'd missed the kids. I'd spent so much time thinking about Scott that I hadn't really been with the Pike kids. Even when I'd been around them, I hadn't been with them, if you know what I mean. Byron had shown me that.

Mary Anne seemed to be acting a little more friendly. I wasn't sure why, but it might have been the guy mother's helper — Alex, or whatever his name was. The two of them were playing with all eleven of the kids. Whenever I looked at Mary Anne, she was beaming. Her happiness must have canceled out some of her bad feelings about me. I took advantage of her mood to be especially nice to her — and to apologize again.

So, by the end of the day, the triplets were together again, and Mary Anne and I were together again.

But Scott and I had come apart.

Chapter 12.

Monday and Tuesday were gorgeous days. I'd been nervous about my decision to avoid Scott, but I didn't need to have been. The very thing that I thought would happen, did happen. All those other girls began hanging around him again, and he called them cutie and beautiful, just like he'd called me. I have to admit that hurt. I hadn't meant anything to him, after all.

But I stayed with the Pike kids, working hard, and Tuesday passed. Then Wednesday dawned — another clear, sunny morning.

"You know what?" Mary Anne said to me first thing that morning.

"What?" I replied.

"I think some of the kids are getting bored going to the beach every day. Maybe we should split them up. One of us can take the bored ones into town or something, and the other can stay on the beach with the rest of the kids."

"You know, that's a good idea. It's gotten so that Nicky looks a little green every time we mention the beach."

Of course, I was hoping to be the one to go into town, so I could avoid the beach for one more day, but Mary Anne ended up with that job because of her sunburn problem. She took

Nicky, Mallory, Byron, and Margo to Trampoline World and the miniature golf course (Claire had decided she didn't care to use her free passes), and I took Claire, Vanessa, Adam, and Jordan to the beach. (Mr. and Mrs. Pike went to the boardwalk!)

That morning, I had no sooner gotten the kids lathered up with sunscreen, and the chairs and towels set up, than I heard Claire's singsong voice proclaiming that someone was a stupid-silly-billy-goo-goo. I looked around. Not far away were Claire and one of the kids that Mary Anne's friend Alex took care of.

"Stupey-stupey-silly-billy-goo-goo!" Claire sang again. Hands on hips, she faced the little boy.

"Claire Pike!" I shouted, just as the boy burst into tears. I ran over to them. "Claire, what are you doing?"

"Nobody would play with me," she wailed, as if that explained everything. "They're all in the water and they won't play with me."

"So why are you calling this boy a stupey-silly-billy-goo-goo?"

Claire shrugged.

"Well, say you're sorry, and then go lie down on your towel for ten minutes. I'll tell you when the time is up."

"Sorry," mumbled Claire, not sounding as

if she meant it a bit. Then she marched off to our towels.

I looked over at Alex. He and another boy were playing with the baby (Allie? Ellen?) and another little kid on a blanket under an umbrella.

Heaving a deep sigh, I led the crying boy to them.

"Uh-oh," said Alex. "What happened?"

"Claire was teasing him," I explained, pointing to Claire, who was pouting on her towel. "I'm not sure why, but I'm really sorry."

"No problem," replied Alex cheerfully. "Kids are always teasing each other. Listen, you're Stacey, right?" He grinned, and I noticed that he had a very nice smile.

"Right," I said. "And you're Alex."

"Yup. And this is Ellie" — the baby — "Jimmy, Kenny" — who was drying his tears — "and Toby. Toby's my cousin. His family is staying in Sea City for a few days."

That was when I got my first really good look at Toby. He was about fourteen years old. (Perfect!) His brown hair was sort of waved back from his face. It was held out of his eyes with a blue headband. I was glad I could see his eyes, because they were a beautiful deep brown, almost velvety looking. A handful of freckles was sprinkled across his nose and

cheeks. He was wearing plain white swimming trunks, but his shirt was amazing — tan with silly pictures of cowboy boots and cactuses all over it. And his sunglasses — black bands with narrow slits from side to side to see through. Totally cool. I wished Claudia had been there.

"Hi," I said, hoping I didn't sound too eager.

"Hi," he replied, sounding as eager as I had tried not to sound.

There was an awkward pause.

"Well," I said, "I better get back to Claire."

"Okay."

Disappointed, I wandered back to our stuff. But when Claire's ten minutes were up and the two of us began to amble toward the ocean, Toby ran after us. "Hey," he said to Claire, "do you know how to make witches' castles?"

Claire looked intrigued. "No," she replied. "How?"

Toby led us to a patch of wet sand just beyond where the waves were coming in. (I noticed, thankfully, that we were yards down the beach from the lifeguard stand.) He showed Claire how to drip the wet sand through her ringers to make weird, blobby fairy-taleish shapes.

Soon Claire was making a whole row of castles. She left Toby and me behind.

"Well," I said after a while, "where do you live?"

"Lawrenceville, New Jersey," replied Toby. "How about you?"

"Stoneybrook, Connecticut. But I grew up in New York."

"New York City?"

"Yeah."

"Wow."

Toby was fourteen. He was going to be a freshman in high school. He played soccer and football. His hobby was computers. He had two older sisters. His favorite group was Smash. His favorite food was peanut butter. He hated history and geography. He liked math. He loved telling jokes. He didn't look at a single girl except me while we were talking.

xBy the end of the morning, he and I knew everything about each other. And the two of us and Claire, joined by Alex, his kids, and Adam, Jordan, and Vanessa, had built an entire village of castles. People walking along the beach would pause to watch us.

We hated to stop for lunch, but we had to. We were all dying of starvation. Afterward, though, we came right back. The waves had destroyed part of our village, but we started building again, anyway.

"So," said Toby, as he topped off a large castle, "did you hear about the dying man named Al who wanted a city named after him?"

"No," I replied, smiling.

"Well, this guy Al knows he hasn't got much time left, so he says to his friend, 'Promise me they'll name a city after me.' And his friend says, 'I promise, Al.' And Al says, 'Will it be big?' and the friend says, 'Sure will, Al,' and Al says, 'Will it be pretty?' and the friend says, 'Count on it, Al/ "

"They named a city Al?" I interrupted.

Toby grinned and went right on. "And Al says, 'And you promise it'll be named after me?' and the friend says, 'You betcha, Mr. Buqu-erque.' Get it?" said Toby. "The guy's name was Al Buquerque? Aflbuquerque? As in New Mexico?"

"I get it," I said. I fell over in the sand, laughing hysterically.

Claire pounced on me. "Stacey-silly-billy-goo-goo!"