Girl Power (9 page)

The Harbor water was shockingly cold at first, but the girls splashed in and out of the waves until they were thoroughly cooled off. Then they spread out their towels and blankets over the warm sand and opened the cooler that Emily and Morgan had carried down to the Rainbow Bus. At the bus, Carlie had insisted that she and Amy do their part by transporting it the rest of the way to the beach.

Emily didn’t even feel guilty when Amy complained about how heavy the cooler was. She thought it was about time that the girl did her share. During their massive cleanup of the trailer park, Emily had just assumed that Amy was working as hard as the rest of them, but the more she thought about it, the more she remembered seeing Amy sitting in the shade or sipping on a soda or complaining about a broken fingernail.

“This is the life,” said Morgan, lying back on her towel, a can of Sierra Mist balancing on her chest. The can matched perfectly with Morgan’s lime green, one-piece suit.

“Yeah, I’m ready for some downtime,” said Carlie as she straightened out her beach towel. “I mean, isn’t this
supposed to be summer
vacation
? And we’ve been working harder than ever the last couple of weeks.”

“But our work has a good payoff,” said Morgan. “Don’cha think?”

“I do,” said Emily, stretching her pale arms out into the sun’s warmth. Hopefully she’d start getting a tan before too long. She glanced at her three friends lounging around her on their towels and blankets. It wasn’t going to be easy hanging with these girls all summer. Morgan’s naturally brown skin glowed like copper in the sunlight. Carlie’s deep olive complexion, as well as the way she was filling out her tankini, looked amazing, and even Amy with her relatively fair Asian skin looked a lot tanner than Emily.

Emily flopped back onto her towel and hoped that it hadn’t been a mistake to come here without sunscreen.

“Better watch out, Emily,” warned Amy as she reached in her beach bag. Then almost as if Amy had been reading her thoughts, she pulled out a tube of sunscreen and tossed it to her. “You need to protect your skin from the sun. My sister An made me put some on before I came down here. And it’s waterproof too.”

“Thanks,” said Emily.

“Yeah, you could be a lobster in no time,” said Amy as she adjusted the strap of her bathing suit top. Amy was the only one to wear a two-piece, but her figure was so much like that of an eight-year-old, it didn’t seem too risqué.

“But I do want to get some tan,” said Emily as she cautiously smeared some of the white glop onto her ghostly white legs.

“You could
use
a little bit of tan, girlfriend,” teased Morgan. “You are one pale white chick.”

“Thanks a lot.” Emily tried to spread the gooey sunscreen even thinner now.

“I’ll take some of that too,” said Morgan when she was done. “If Amy doesn’t mind.”

“You
use sunscreen?” Amy tipped back her oversized sunglasses and stared at Morgan.

Morgan nodded her head. “Yes, Amy dear.” She spoke as if addressing a four-year-old. “People of color can burn in the sun too.”

So, before long, all four girls had on sunscreen. And for some unexplainable reason this made Emily feel better. She lay back down, but instantly wished she’d brought along a book to read. Why hadn’t she grabbed one of those paperback mysteries from the bus?

“Wanna make a sandcastle?” asked Morgan after the girls had lazed around for about half an hour or so.

“No way,” said Amy. “Leave me alone—I’m almost asleep.”

“Me too,” said Carlie.

“I’m game,” said Emily, relieved to get up since she was already bored, plus the sun was intense. “Although, as you
already know, I’m not very creative.”

“Maybe not when it comes to art,” admitted Morgan as she went over to where some driftwood and things were strewn up against the sandbank. “But I’ve seen some of your poetry, remember? That was creative.”

“Don’t you want to build the castle closer to the water?” asked Emily.

“Sure. But we need some props and things to take down there.”

“Oh.” So Emily followed Morgan’s lead by gathering up sticks and rocks and shell pieces until their hands were full, then they went down to the wet sand to select their building site.

Emily wasn’t the least surprised when Morgan began drawing an outline and giving instructions for how to proceed. And, trusting Morgan’s artistic sense, Emily just did as she was told.

After about an hour, their castle was nearly complete and Amy and Carlie came over to check it out.

“Wow,” said Carlie. “That’s awesome.”

“Yeah,” admitted Amy. “Not bad.”

“Want to help?” asked Morgan.

“Sure,” said Carlie. “How?”

And so Morgan gave them both assignments to gather more round little stones, some four-inch twigs, and any sort of seashell that they could find.

“Do you really need that stuff?” asked Emily. “Or were you just trying to get rid of them?”

Morgan laughed. “We haven’t been friends that long, but you sure seem to know me pretty well.”

Still, Morgan managed to put their items to good use when they returned about twenty minutes later.

“Voila
!” she said, standing up and stretching her back. “Finished.”

“It’s a work of art,” said Emily as she gave her a high five.

“Man, I wish I had a photo of it,” said Morgan.

“I could run and get my camera,” offered Carlie.

“Cool.”

“You guys stay here and protect it,” Carlie was already taking off. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

“And she will,” said Morgan. “I’ve seen that girl run.”

“You should enter the sandcastle-building contest next weekend,” said Amy. “I remember reading about it in the newspaper last week.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Emily. “My mom was telling me about that. They’re hosting the contest at the resort where she works. She said that people are coming from all over. It’s the first one in Boscoe Bay, and they want it to become an annual event.”

“Of course, there’s a registration fee,” said Amy.

“How much?” asked Morgan.

“I think it was twenty-five dollars.”

Morgan frowned. “That seems stupid. Just to build a sandcastle when you can do it for free right here?”

“Yeah, but there are prizes,” said Amy. “The first place winner gets five-hundred dollars.”

“Five-hundred dollars?” Morgan looked seriously interested now.

“And there are second- and third-place prizes too,” said Amy. “I can’t remember how much.”

“There’s Carlie,” said Morgan, pointing to where the trail came onto the beach. “Right on time.”

Carlie shot the sandcastle from a variety of angles. Then, as a middle-aged couple came walking down the beach, Amy approached them to ask if they’d take a photo of the four girls with the sculpture. The couple gladly agreed, complimenting the beauty of the sandcastle as the girls posed behind it for several shots.

“You girls are very talented,” the man said, handing the camera back.

“Yes,” said Amy. “We think we should enter the sandcastle-building contest at Boscoe Bay Resort.”

He nodded. “I’m sure you’d have a good chance.”

As the couple walked away, Amy turned to Morgan. “Why don’t we?”

“We?”
Morgan pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and frowned at Amy.

Amy nodded. “Yes,
we
. We could all chip in on the entry fee, and you could tell us what to do.” She smirked at
Morgan. “Which you seem to enjoy doing anyway. That would only be six dollars twenty-five cents apiece to enter the contest.”

Morgan laughed. “You have it all figured out.”

“And one hundred twenty-five dollars apiece if we win first place,” said Amy.

Suddenly all four girls were very interested. They all started talking at once. Some thought they should put their winnings into fixing up the bus. Some thought they should just split it and call it good. Then they talked about a compromise—half for the bus and half to split equally.

“Let’s go back to the Rainbow Bus and start planning our strategy,” said Morgan as she turned around and headed back to their sunbathing spot on the beach.

“Yes,” agreed Amy, right on her heels. “And we’ll need to fill out the entry form.”

“And I’ll have to start sketching some designs.”

“I can provide the tools,” said Carlie. “We have lots of shovels and rakes and stuff.”

Emily thought about what she could contribute to the efforts but, as usual, she was coming up short.

“Okay,” said Morgan. “I will agree to this only if Emily can be my right-hand man. I mean, girl.”

“Why’s that?” asked Amy in a somewhat insulted-sounding tone.

“Because Emily totally gets me,” said Morgan. “And she’s good at following directions.”

“Hey, I don’t have a problem with that,” said Carlie in her usual agreeable way.

“Okay,” agreed Amy with some reluctance. “I guess I’m okay with it.”

So maybe Emily did have something to offer the group. At least she hoped so as she picked up one handle of the cooler. “Why don’t you help me with this, Amy?” she said, waiting for Amy to protest.

“Okay,” said Amy. “But only because Morgan provided the lunch and Carlie has her camera junk to carry.”

And the four of them trekked down the trail and over the dunes and back to the Rainbow Bus, which was surprisingly cool when they got inside.

“Not bad,” said Amy, immediately taking the couch.

“Siesta time,” said Carlie, heading back to the bed.

“Room for two more?” grinned Morgan.

“Sure,” said Carlie. “This is one big bed.”

The three of them found their spots and within no time everyone was fast asleep, with Carlie even snoring. Well, everyone except Emily. For some reason she was wide awake. She just lay there for a while, thinking about the strangeness of her life these past few weeks.

Just the fact that she was here right now with her three new friends—sharing this cool clubhouse of an old bus, hanging out on the beach together, building sandcastles, planning to enter contests—was mind blowing in itself.
But when she replayed the events of the past couple of weeks—dealing with bullies, fixing up the rundown trailer park, getting the hand-me-down clothes and colorful things for her room from Morgan—she couldn’t believe her good fortune. And the most amazing thing … inviting Jesus into her heart at church! Everything was so different from her old life—less than a month ago—back when everything looked totally bleak and hopeless. She closed her eyes and whispered a thank-you prayer, then rolled over on her stomach, hoping her mind would shut down for a while and let her sleep.

Then she spied the box of books down on the floor beside her. She was about to pull out one of those mysteries, but instead her hand paused on the spine of the faded, red yearbook. She still wondered about this Dan guy. Who was he and why was his high school yearbook hidden here? Was it just a coincidence or did he have something to do with this bus?

She pulled out the book and opened it up to the page with all the writing from his friends, glancing over it again, hoping to find some hidden clue as to who this guy was—who he might be now. He certainly seemed to be well liked. And, it occurred to her that he might even be missing this yearbook.

“Watcha doing?” whispered Morgan.

“Just looking at this,” whispered Emily. She rolled onto her back, holding up the yearbook.

“Oh, yeah. Dan the man.” Morgan sat up and leaned against the wall behind them. “Find anything new?”

“Not really …” She scooted up and sat beside her, continuing to whisper although it looked like Carlie was sound asleep. “I mean, we know that he’s well liked … by both guys and girls. And he’s good at sports.”

“Let’s look through the yearbook and see if we can find his photo.”

“But we don’t know his last name yet,” pointed out Emily.

“Well, how many Dans can there be?” asked Morgan. “And we know he’s a senior.”

“Go to the senior section,” said Amy.

Both Morgan and Emily looked up, surprised.

“And make room for me,” commanded Amy, squeezing in next to Emily.

“Hey,” said Carlie, nearly falling off the bed. “What’s going on?”

“An earthquake,” said Morgan. “Hang on for dear life.”

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” said Amy. “Nap time’s over.”

Carlie sat up and yawned. “What’s going on?”

“We’re looking for Dan the man,” said Morgan.

“Huh?” Carlie blinked then looked over at the yearbook. “Oh.”

They huddled together as they turned page after page, joking as they noticed some pretty weird hair and clothing styles.

“I have two words for these guys,” said Carlie, finally waking up as she pointed to a guy named Carl, whose long, fluffy blond hair made him look like a girl.
“Hair cut.”

“I think that’s one word,” said Emily.

“Yeah, whatever,” said Carlie. “Get out the scissors.”

“Here’s a Daniel Foster,” said Morgan, pointing to a skinny guy with curly hair and wire-rimmed glasses. “Do you think that’s him?”

“He looks kind of nerdy to me,” said Emily.

“Not exactly the jock type,” added Carlie.

“But everyone looks kind of strange in this yearbook,” said Morgan. “It might be hard to tell what they’re really like.”

“Well, keep going,” said Amy. “But stick your finger there.”

So they flipped through the pages and were about to give up when Emily pointed to the bottom of the last page of pictures.
“Dan Watterson
,” she proclaimed. “I’ll bet that’s him.
Dan the man.”

“Even with his long hair, he’s pretty good-looking,” observed Amy.

“And he looks big too, like he could be athletic,” said Morgan.

“There should be an index with more photos listed for him in the back of the yearbook,” Amy said with authority. “How do you know that?” asked Carlie.

“Because my brother and sisters have high school annuals, silly. I’ve looked at them before.”

Sure enough, there was an index. And beneath Dan Watterson’s name was a list of about a dozen more page numbers. They retraced their steps back through the yearbook finding shot after shot of Dan Watterson: football hero … basketball star … He even played baseball. And when he wasn’t in a sports photo, he had a girl or two hanging on his arm.