“Considering we’ve got two past champions on our squad, I still like our chances,” I say. “One of you can surf in the Main Event and the other in Legends with my dad.”
Mickey shakes her head. “I’m afraid it will have to be one of you three.”
“Why?” I ask. “You’ve both won it before. You’ve got the skills.”
“Our skills have faded,” says Mickey. “We can do some damage in the Legends, but it would be a miracle if either one of us made it out of the first round in the Main Event.”
“She’s right,” says Mo. “It needs to be one of you.”
“And if we’re going to be honest,” says Nicole, “I’m not in the same league as Izzy and Sophie. So it shouldn’t be me.”
I feel my pulse pick up pace as Sophie and I lock eyes on each other.
“That means it’s got to be you,” I say to her. “You’re much better at cutbacks and tricks than I am. You can earn a big score. You can do this.”
Sophie laughs. “You know that’s not true. You know that I am nowhere near the surfer you are. This is your time to be bold. This is your moment.”
“Well, it’s got to be one of you,” Mo says.
“How do we decide?” I ask.
Mickey smiles at me. “That’s easy. The same way we always decide disputes at Surf Sisters. We’re going to go to the register.”
“But we’re not open yet,” says Sophie. “No one is working the register.”
Mo nods. “I know that. But since Izzy is the one who first came up with the idea of competing, and since she’s the one who found this wrinkle in the rules, we’ll say that she’s officially on register. We’ll let her decide.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. Bullet dodged.
“That’s not fair,” says Sophie. “You know I’m right and you just gave her a way out.”
Mo looks at me with an intensity that’s unnerving. “I don’t know about that. There’s a lot of responsibility that goes with being on the register. If you take the tradition seriously, you don’t just make the easy choice. You make the right choice. I think Izzy takes things seriously. I think she’ll make the right choice.”
That last bit gets to me. I do take tradition seriously. I look at them one by one, and each one stares right back at me. I think about the contest. I think about the summer.
Back in June the idea of me competing in the King of the Beach would have been laughable. But so much has happened. I’m definitely not the same girl I was then. I’m not even the same girl I was on the Fourth of July. Then I start to think about the girl I want to become. No one rushes me. No one says a thing. They just wait for me to respond.
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll make the decision.”
“Who’s it going to be?” asks Mickey.
There is no hesitation in my voice. “Me.”
Ben’s first day back in Pearl Beach doesn’t follow any of the romantic comedy movie plots that have played out in my imagination. There is no indie pop love song playing as we rush into each other’s arms at the airport. (I have to work so his uncle picks him up without me.) I don’t walk out of the shop after my shift and find him waiting for me across the street as he sits on the hood of a sports car. (His flight’s delayed two hours, so he’s still not back when my shift ends.) And we don’t go on a picnic and have it ruined by a sudden rainstorm only to kiss passionately after we take cover beneath an abandoned gazebo. (Okay, so I was pretty certain this one wouldn’t happen but, man, how cool would that be?)
In fact, Ben’s first day back in Pearl Beach doesn’t even include me until it’s almost over. I still haven’t heard from him by ten o’clock, so I try to call and it goes straight to voice mail. I figure (at least I hope) that it’s because his battery is dead and not because he hit ignore when my picture popped up on his phone. Without really thinking it through, I ride my bike over to his uncle’s house and knock on the door. I regret this decision the moment I see his face.
“Hi,” I say as he opens the door.
He smiles, but it feels forced. “Hey.” I can tell that he’s exhausted both physically and emotionally.
“How was your flight?” I ask.
“Long . . . like the week.”
There’s an awkward silence, and I’m not getting any encouraging signs, so I decide to cut my losses.
“Well, I was just riding home from Nicole’s and wanted to make sure you got back okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I turn around and try to speed walk over to my bike, but he runs up behind me and takes me by the shoulder.
“Wait a second,” he says. “Why are you in such a hurry?”
I turn around and try to read his face, but it’s hard in the darkness.
“I don’t know. I figured you’d be happy to see me. But you don’t seem happy. So I thought I should leave.”
“I am happy. It’s just that I’m tired and I have to get up early for work.”
(“You gave two excuses. Which one’s the real one?” I think as I remember what Nicole said to me just a couple of nights ago.)
“I completely understand. Let’s just act like this never happened. We’ll see each other tomorrow and run into each other’s arms.”
I really could use a laugh right here, but he looks serious.
“Why don’t we go for a walk?” he says. “So we can talk.”
All these signs are worrisome. I start to breathe heavily, but I try to hide it as Ben tells his uncle that he’ll be right back.
I’m not sure how to describe the vibe as we walk down to the beach. Our chemistry feels completely different. The problem is that I don’t know if this is because things have changed between us or if it’s because he’s tired and I made a mistake by coming over this late. I’m also a bit concerned by the fact that he said he wanted to talk, but he’s keeping awfully quiet.
I decide to take charge of the conversation.
“If you want to talk about what went down with your parents and the judge, you know that I’m more than happy to listen,” I tell him. “But if you just want to forget about that stuff, that’s fine too.”
He thinks for a moment. “Maybe another time, but right now I’m just happy to be away from it.”
It’s night, but it’s still too hot and humid to snuggle as we walk down the beach together. We hold hands, but there’s a formality to it.
“I hope you got to have at least some fun while you were up there.”
“There was a big party at the lake, and I saw a lot of my friends from school,” he says with a faint smile, “so that was fun.”
I can’t help it, but the first thing I do when I hear this is wonder whether or not his ex-girlfriend, Beth, was at the party. Amazingly, I resist the urge to ask him and instead let my crazy worrying stay in my head.
“What did you want to talk about?” I ask, not sure I really want to hear the answer.
“I really missed you,” he says.
“I really missed you, too.”
“But in a couple weeks I’ll be going back for good and . . . I wonder if we should—”
I put my finger up against his lips to quiet him.
“Why don’t you stop right there,” I say. “We both know that September’s coming. But I don’t think we should talk about it. I think we should just enjoy the moment.”
He takes a deep breath and considers this. “It’s just—”
“I don’t even want to talk about surfing,” I say, cutting him off again. “I just want to hold your hand and walk along the beach.”
“Okay,” he says reluctantly. “We can do that.”
We don’t say much after that. We just walk, and as we do I hold on as tightly as I can.
The next few days aren’t much better. Ben and I both smile and say all the right things, but there’s a definite distance between us. He even cancels on me twice. Yesterday he backed out of lunch because there was a problem at work, and today I was supposed to give him another surf lesson, but he bailed at the last moment. He said that he had to go listen to a couple bands he was considering for the Sand Castle Dance. I offered to go along with him, but he said that since it was work, he really shouldn’t bring anyone along.