“Who do you think can build a better sand castle?” she says. “The boys? Or the girls?”
The kids all shout, and within thirty seconds Sophie has them split into two groups who are happily building away. Fearful that I might start crying in front of everybody, I say a quick good-bye and head up to the shop. This is strategic on my part because I know that Ben can’t leave the kids, so he won’t be able to follow me.
I hide out in the shop’s storeroom for about twenty minutes and make it back down just as they’re finishing. The sand castles look great, and the kids are having a wonderful time. I’m really disappointed that I acted the way I did. I feel like I let them down. Ben walks up to me, and I still can’t read his face.
“I’m really sorry,” I say, convinced that it’s too little too late.
“Me too,” he replies.
There’s an awkward silence.
“Do you want to do something tonight?” I ask, half prepared to hear him say that he doesn’t ever want to do something with me.
“Sure,” he says. “Whatever you want.”
I am so not good at this. Considering my current track record of bad ideas, I decide to stop with the boldness.
“I want you to pick,” I say. “None of my ideas seem to be working out too well lately.”
He gives me a little smile. “The picnic almost worked out.”
“You mean except for the thunderstorm.”
“Yeah, but the sub sandwich tasted good. Wet . . . but good.”
It feels nice to joke, even a little bit. “Still, I’ll let you pick. Surprise me.”
He nods. “I’ll pick you up at eight.”
The ultimate surf maneuver is to ride inside the barrel or tube of a wave. It’s super difficult, especially here in Florida where there aren’t usually waves big enough, but when you do it, you are surrounded by water collapsing on you from all sides. Your only hope is to keep aiming for the light at the end of the barrel where you come back out again. That’s how I’m feeling about things with Ben. Everything is collapsing around me, but I’m still aiming for that light, still hoping to ride this wave all the way in to the shore.
Since I don’t know what he’s got planned for us, I’m not sure what I should wear. I decide to turn a negative into a positive. Rather than worry about what’s appropriate, I just pick out the cutest outfit I can find: a navy skater skirt with a white tank and a sleeveless plaid shirt. I like how it looks, but just to play it safe I text a quick picture to Nicole, and she responds with a row of smiley faces. The most important smiley face, though, is the one Ben shows me when I greet him at the door.
“You look great,” he says.
“Thanks,” I reply. “Is this appropriate for where we’re going?”
“That all depends. Can you dance in it?”
Dancing. I like it already. I should always let him decide what we’re doing.
“I can dance in anything,” I say with some surprising confidence. “Where are we going dancing?”
“There’s a party down the beach.”
Suddenly my mood drops.
“Whose party?”
“I’m not exactly sure,” he says. “Kayla promised that it was going to be huge and fun.”
“Kayla?” I say, trying to control my anger. “Seriously?”
He looks utterly confused by my reaction. “Is that a problem? She invited us to a party, and I thought it would be fun.”
“Kayla didn’t invite us to a party. She invited you to a party because she likes you. She saw me have a breakdown today at camp and probably figures she’s in the perfect position to swoop right in.”
“No,” he says, completely oblivious. “She knows you’re coming with me. I thought you would like this.”
“Why on earth would I like this?”
Is it possible that he doesn’t know that Kayla and I are mortal enemies?
“You said you never get invited to these parties. I thought you might like to go to one and meet some new people.”
I’m trying to keep my voice down so my parents don’t hear, and as I take a deep breath, I realize why he went for this.
“Is that what this is about? You want me to meet people?”
“I don’t see why that’s a bad thing.”
“I don’t want your charity,” I reply. “I don’t need you to find people for me to hang out with once you’re gone.”
“It’s not charity.”
“Did it ever occur to you that I have in fact met all of these people? It’s not that big an island. I’ve grown up with them, and they never became my friends. That’s not going to magically change because they see me arrive at a party with you. They might be nice to me while you’re around, but they’ll be making fun of me the second we leave.”
None of this has occurred to him, and I see him trying to make sense of what I’m saying.
“It’s just a party,” he says. “You said you wanted me to surprise you.”
“Well, you certainly did that.”
“We can just drop by and then do something else.”
“You still want to drop by?” I reply, incredulous.
“I don’t want to be rude. I told Kayla I’d go.”
“Oh, yes. Let’s make sure we look out for her feelings and not mine.”
“Fine,” he says. “We won’t drop by. We can do something else.”
“No,” I say. “I don’t feel like doing anything. You go to the party. You have fun. Meet all the people you want. I just want to stay home. Alone.”
It’s at this point that I think we might be breaking up. It is excruciating and painful and more than I can bear.
“Okay,” he says. “I really am sorry.”
There is a hesitation, and for an instant I think he can save the moment. I don’t know what he could do, but I know I don’t want it to continue this way. I look at him with sad eyes and wait for him to say something. Anything. But he doesn’t. He bites his lower lip for a second, and then he turns and walks away.
I don’t start to cry until I’m back in the house with the door shut. I don’t know how I made it this far, but once I’m clear of the outside world, the tears start to fall. My mom comes down the hall toward me, and from her expression I can tell I failed miserably at making it so my parents didn’t hear me. I bury my face into her shoulder. She doesn’t say a word. She just puts her arm around me and hugs me tightly as I sob uncontrollably.
Izzy.”
A hand grabs me by the shoulder and tries to wake me.
“Izzy, get up.”
I am completely disoriented as I wake up from the deepest sleep. My eyes are still sore from last night’s extended crying jag, and they’re also bleary due to the early hour. I squint and look out the window and my fears are confirmed. It’s still pitch-black outside.
“Dad? What time is it?”
“Five oh seven,” he says.
My head slumps back onto the pillow. “Leave me alone. I need to sleep.”
He yanks the pillow out from under me, and my head plonks down on the bed.
“Oww!”
“We’ll take the pillow with us,” he says. “You can sleep in the truck.”
Now I am completely confused. “Where are we going?”
I’m finally able to focus on him as he flashes a huge grin.
“Sebastian!” he says. “It’s going to be epic.”
Now I’m starting to wake up. Sebastian Inlet is the best surf spot for over a hundred miles.
“How epic?” I ask.
“There are two hurricanes in the Caribbean, and according to the surf report the waves might be as big as we’ve seen in years.”
I let this sink in. “We better get going.”
Dad has an orange and blue Ford Bronco that was old when he got it back in college. It’s not much to look at, but it’s weathered decades of salt air and sand, and is the ultimate surf vehicle. We load our boards into the back and minutes later pull out onto A1A, the highway that runs right along the Florida coast. It’s going to take us about an hour and a half to reach Sebastian, so I tuck my pillow against the window and fade off to sleep.