Island Girls (and Boys) (2 page)

�W
hy do
you
get the main bedroom?�

I stared at Chelsea, unable to believe she�d asked. The room in question was the large bedroom on the main floor. Like the living room, it had a door that led out onto the balcony. It also had a private bathroom.

On the floor above us were three bedrooms and a shared bathroom in the hallway. Above that floor was a crow�s nest, a small room open on four sides. You can see the entire island from up there, and the ocean and the ships on the horizon. But the crow�s nest wasn�t the issue.

�Because it�s
my
grandparents� house?� I asked, not bothering to disguise my sarcasm. She was being ridiculous to even bring up the subject!

�This is supposed to be
our
house,� Chelsea said.

�Well, yeah, but�� It had never occurred to me that I wouldn�t have my grandparents� bedroom. It had a queen-size bed, a lovely antique dresser, a rocking chair, nightstands. The other rooms were nice, but they were for guests. The room in question had personality, history.

�This was my idea, the whole summer, working on the island, sharing the beach house�it was all my idea,� I pointed out.

�So what? You want us thanking you for the next three months?�

I shook my head in disbelief. �Of course not.�

�Then what? You think because it was your idea that you get to be in charge? That we have absolutely no say about how things are done?�

�Chels, we�re all in charge. We�re friends, we�ll work together.�

Chelsea ran her hands through her short hair in frustration. So much for her ocean breeze look. �But we�re not working together. You�ve been bossing us around ever since we
got here. Telling us where to put things in the kitchen��

�Because I know where everything goes!�

�You know where everything goes when your grandparents are here. But they aren�t here now. So why can�t things be different? Why do they have to be the way they�ve always been or the way that
you
think they should be?�

�Because I�ve spent a lot of time thinking about how we would manage things while we�re living here.�

�And what if we don�t want to do things the way you�ve decided?�

Then go home
, I almost said. But that wasn�t the answer, and it wasn�t what I truly wanted. These were my best friends. We didn�t always agree on everything, but we always managed to work through our differences.

�Then we need to talk about it,� I admitted reluctantly.

�Exactly.� Chelsea crossed her slender arms over her chest. She was supermodel flat. �What do you think, Amy?�

Amy had been quiet during the whole exchange. She dropped a Ping-Pong ball on the
Ping-Pong table on the far side of the room. It bounced, she caught it. Dropped it again, watched it bounce, caught it. She appeared to be more interested in the ball than in the argument.

�Maybe we should all sleep upstairs. There are three bedrooms up there. That way it would, like, be fair.�

Chelsea looked at her as though she�d suggested driving her Gremlin up the stairs and parking it inside.

�But this bedroom is the largest, with the biggest bed, and its own bathroom! It�s crazy not to use it.�

�So I�ll use it,� I said.

�Not fair!�

�Chelsea, it�s where my grandparents sleep.�

�But they aren�t here,� she said again.

We�d barely gotten the car unloaded and the groceries put away when this discussion had started. All our boxes, all our things were scattered around the living room�which was also the TV room, the game room, the library. It was the center of the house, where everyone gathered during family get-togethers. I had a
lot of memories of this room, but this was the first time that I could remember having an argument in here. I�d never realized how the room echoed.

�I�m not going to sleep upstairs,� I said firmly. Wasn�t that what you were supposed to do when you were living on your own? Take your stand and stick to it?

�Well, neither am I,� Chelsea said. She plopped down on the couch, her arms still crossed, her nose in the air.

�Fine,� I said sweetly. �You can sleep right there.�

I picked up one of my boxes and started for the bedroom.

�Jennifer!� Chelsea jumped to her feet like someone had set a lit firecracker beneath her. �You can�t just take the room.�

�Maybe we could share the room,� Amy suggested.

�Right!� Chelsea said. �Three empty bedrooms upstairs, and one crowded one down here. I don�t think so.�

�That�s not what I meant,� Amy said, still bouncing the ball.

I had this terrible urge to snatch it away from her. The constant clicking as it hit the table was really setting my nerves on edge.

�I meant,� Amy continued, �that we could take turns.�

�I don�t want to get my room arranged and then have to switch rooms. I�ll never feel moved in,� Chelsea said.

�Then stop arguing and take a room upstairs,� I told her.

�No.�

�It won�t be that bad to move our stuff around at the end of each month,� Amy said. �Besides, it would be fun. We�d have different views all summer, and something to look forward to.�

�The views aren�t that different,� Chelsea said. �Water. Water. Water.�

�The views are very different,� Amy said. �The bay, the far side of the island, and the Gulf. I wouldn�t be able to choose my favorite, because each is special.�

�When did you turn into Pollyanna?� Chelsea asked.

We were off to such a bad start. I couldn�t believe it.

�No,� I said with a sigh. �Amy is right. We can each have the large bedroom for a month.�

�I get it first,� Chelsea announced.

�Could you be any more self-centered?� I asked.

�I�m not self-centered, I just want it first.�

�We could play Ping-Pong for it,� Amy suggested. Her brown eyes were watching us intensely, and I knew this continual arguing was making her uncomfortable. You�d think she�d be used to it, growing up with four brothers.

�Not Ping-Pong,� I said. I walked to the bookshelves. I knelt, opened the doors in the lower portion, and pulled out the Monopoly game.

�Not Monopoly,� Chelsea whined.

�Not Monopoly,� I agreed. �Just the dice.�

I took them out of the box and carried them to the Ping-Pong table. �We each get one roll. Highest roll gets it the first month, second highest the second month, and the lowest gets it last. Agreed?�

Chelsea and Amy exchanged glances, then both nodded. Thank goodness. This was
so
not
the way that I�d planned to start the summer. I handed Chelsea the dice. �You can go first.�

She threw a five and a four.

Amy threw a two and one. She would definitely have the room the last month. No way was I going to throw something lower than a three. What I really wanted was to have the room first, because I figured by the end of the month everyone would be settled and no one would want to switch. A little tricky thinking there, but I was certain that was the way it would go.

�Come on double six,� I whispered as I blew on the dice. Shook them in my palm. Blew on them again.

�Come on already,� Chelsea said. �Throw �em.�

I shook, blew, tossed them.

Snake eyes. Two.

The disappointment overwhelmed me. I couldn�t believe how very much I�d wanted to start my summer in that bedroom. Instead, I would end the summer with it. All right. So be it. I could be a good sport about this. I really could.

I went into the kitchen, took the complimentary bait-and-tackle calendar that my granddad got each year from the sporting goods store off the wall, grabbed a pen, and walked back into the living room. Chelsea was already moving her boxes into the room I wanted.

�Chelsea, come here.�

�I won.�

�I know you did, but I want us to agree when the room switching will take place.� I wrote her name on the square for today. �Thirty days from now��I lifted the calendar page��Amy will move into the room.�

I wrote her name on the designated date. �Thirty days later, I�ll move into it.� I looked at them. �Does everyone agree?�

They nodded.

�Initial the calendar,� I ordered.

�Who put you in charge?� Chelsea asked.

�I just don�t want anyone saying that she didn�t understand how we were going to work this.�

�She�s right,� Amy said. �We�re supposed to work together.�

We initialed the calendar, the pictures of
various open-mouthed fish bearing witness.

�Great!� Chelsea said. �Let�s finish moving in.�

She moved across the living room and into the bedroom with a lithe catlike walk that came with her willowy height.

�My mom told me to expect that we�d have to make some adjustments,� Amy said to me. �It�s kinda like being married.�

�It�s nothing like being married. Married people don�t argue about which bedroom to sleep in.�

�She snores. Do you really want to sleep with her?�

I couldn�t stop myself from smiling. �No. I just�whenever I thought of the summer, I saw myself in that room.�

�You�ll have it in two months.�

�Right.�

But after the rocky start, I wondered if in two months, I�d still have my friends.

I
�d attended a funeral that was more joyful than we were as we carted our boxes to our individual rooms. Even the song I heard Chelsea humming when I came downstairs for another load sounded sad.

I stood in the living room, looking through the open blinds. The sun was going down. I found that sad as well. Our first big night on our own, away from our parents, the start of our exciting independent island girl summer�it was nothing like I expected.

I was beginning to accept that maybe I�d been selfish to expect to have my grandparents� bedroom all summer. It
was
the best in the house. Without a doubt. But Chelsea and Amy were the best, too. We didn�t have to agree on
everything, but I wanted our arguments to be about something that truly mattered�not a silly room. I didn�t want to be sad or missing my friends before we�d even left for college!

It was frightening to think that in only three months, I�d be separated from them. We were going to different universities in the fall. This summer was our last chance to be totally devoted to one another, to share our dreams, to start preparing for the bright future that all the graduation speeches talked about.

�What are we doing?� I shouted. �Why are we unpacking while the sun is still out? This is insane! Let�s go walk on the beach!�

Amy bounded down the stairs, laughing. �I was just thinking the same thing.�

�Me, too,� Chelsea said as she came out of my grandparents� bedroom.

Be nice
, I told myself. It was
her
bedroom, not my grandparents�. For a month. She was coming out of
her
room.

I grabbed the keys out of my backpack and stuffed them into the front pocket of my shorts. We each had a key to the house�not that I thought we�d ever be separated, but something
might come up. Like one of us walking on the beach, while the other two were napping or�well, anything. �Be prepared� was my motto.

Although I certainly hadn�t been prepared for Chelsea to want the bedroom that I wanted. But this was also a summer of learning to adjust. I�d be sharing a dorm room with a complete stranger. Surely I could share a beach house with my friends.

�Let�s go!� I exclaimed.

We turned for the door. A cell phone chirped out a rendition of the musical score from
Jaws
.

�Hold on, that�s mine,� Chelsea said. She ran back to her bedroom.

�Hi!� I heard her exclaim. �I�m so glad you called.�

She appeared in the doorway. �Just a sec,� she said into the phone. She looked at us, pleading for understanding with her violet eyes. �It�s Noah. I�ll catch up with you.�

Then she disappeared back into the bedroom.

I looked at Amy. �I guess it�s just you and me, girlfriend.�

We headed down the stairs. I opened the door, and we stepped outside. I was hit by the smell of
the sea. Not completely pleasant, but not totally icky. I could smell fish and salt and brine.

Amy picked up an old metal bucket that was sitting by the door.

�What�s that for?� I asked.

�I want to decorate my room with seashells. That�s about the only souvenir I�ll be able to afford this summer.�

�Your money might go farther than you think. I�ve worked up a budget for us. But I�ll wait until tomorrow to show you. I don�t want Chelsea going ballistic because I made a plan.�

I was expecting to major in business. I loved figuring out budgets, working with columns of numbers, especially when those numbers translated into money.

�We�re all in this together,� Amy said. �We have to keep things fair. And you�re the one who aced math.�

�Still, we can talk about it tomorrow. And how we want to divide the chores. There�s probably a hundred things I haven�t thought of.�

�Relax, Jen. Everything will be fine.�

I wanted it to be. I really did. But I couldn�t
help feeling responsible. After all, it had been my idea.

I shoved my hands into the front pockets of my shorts and started walking along the sand-packed road toward the beach. Amy was walking beside me, the bucket swinging, occasionally clanging as it bumped against her leg. She was the shortest of the group, so I shortened my strides so she could keep up more easily. It was a habit I fell into naturally.

I could see the sand dunes in the distance. Beyond them, the brown waves rolled onto the shore. Here the water wasn�t blue and clear, like I�d heard it was on tropical islands. Far out in the distance, it looked blue, but near the shore it was brown. Not dirty or polluted. Just brown.

�I can look out my window and see the dolphins jumping in the bay. How cool is that?� Amy asked.

Amy had graciously taken the bedroom that had two single beds in it. It faced the bay. I�d taken the bedroom that faced the ocean�mostly because it had a double bed, while the last bedroom had bunk beds. Bunk beds felt too much like summer camp.

�Very cool,� I said. �Whenever I stay here, I like to leave the windows open and have the breeze blow the curtains. It�s so peaceful.�

The house had air-conditioning. But unless the day was really hot, I preferred not using it. Which would also give us a lower electric bill.

�It was so nice of your grandparents to let us have the house,� she said.

I realized that it was the first time anyone had actually acknowledged my grandparents� generosity.

�They�re really nice people,� I told her. �Every time I walk into that house, I feel like they�re hugging me. I know that sounds silly��

�No, it doesn�t. I feel the same way when I go to my grandma�s. There�s just something about a house when people have lived in it for a long time. Like it has absorbed their personalities or something.�

�I�ve always loved spending time out here, Amy. It�s peaceful and calm. Don�t you think it�s relaxing?�

�Definitely. There�s just something about the salt air and breeze. Makes me feel like we�ll be on a perennial vacation.�

�That feeling will go away tomorrow, though, when we start working.�

We trudged up the sand dunes and over to the sandy spot that was the main area of the beach. I could only see a few cars down the way. It was getting late. The sun was going down. The weekend was ending. Like us, most people had to work tomorrow.

I slipped off my sandals and walked to the water�s edge. I removed my cap, pulled my hair loose, and let the breeze blow the strands around my face. Now I
could
smell rotting fish.

Amy was picking up seashells and putting them in her bucket. �Some of these are so pretty,� she said. �I think I�ll use them to make a shadowbox display so I�ll remember this summer. I�ll make each of us one as a souvenir.�

�You might want to check with Chelsea first, get a vote. Don�t want her to think you�ve taken control of the souvenir decisions.�

I didn�t mean to sound petty, but I guess I was still bothered that Chelsea had thought I was being bossy.

�She�s the baby in her family. She�s used to being spoiled.�

�I never really noticed that before.�

�You�re the oldest in the family. Being in charge comes natural to you.�

�And you�re the middle child,� I pointed out.

She studied a shell before dropping it into her bucket. �Right. The mediator.�

We�d all been in the same psych class our senior year.

�Chelsea probably sees this summer as being a long slumber party,� Amy added.

�I�d sorta thought that, too,� I admitted. �A long slumber party with responsibilities.�

�Which you�ve already divided between us,� she said, before bending down to pick up another shell.

�Well, yeah! But we can discuss things. Nothing is written in stone except that when my grandparents come back, they shouldn�t be able to tell that anyone lived in their house over the summer.�

Amy looked up at me from her crouched position and held something out. �Do you know what kind of shell this is?�

It was thin, ridged. Nothing special. �Seashell?�

She laughed. Amy had a fun laugh that made you want to laugh along with her.

�Hey, guys!� Chelsea was rushing toward us. She came to a quick stop, laughing and breathing hard. �I was afraid I�d waited too long, and I wouldn�t be able to find you.�

�How�s Noah?� Amy asked.

�Missing me. I didn�t think I�d feel so isolated. The only way I can see him is if he comes here.�

�But that would be true even if you were at your house,� Amy said. �He lives hundreds of miles away from there, too.�

�I know. It�s hard to explain what it�s like to someone who�s never had a boyfriend,� Chelsea said.

Okay, Chelsea and her boyfriend comments were getting seriously old, but I so did not want to get irritated at her over something else.

Amy apparently took no offense at Chelsea�s statement. She laughed. �I know all about boys, Chelsea. In case you�ve forgotten, I have four brothers. The last thing I want is another boy in my life.�

�What about you, Jen?� Chelsea asked. �Don�t you miss having a boyfriend?�

�I�m going to be too busy this summer with work and living on my own. I�m with Amy on this.�

�It�s going to be a good summer, isn�t it?� Chelsea asked.

�The best,� I assured her.

�I�m sorry I got all bent about the bedroom,� Chelsea said.

�Sorry I came across as being bossy. We�re just going through a period of adjustment.�

�Yeah, right. Everything is going to be totally cool once we get settled in.�

�Oh, y�all, look at the sunset. Isn�t it gorgeous?� Amy asked.

It really was. The sun splashed vibrant orange, purple, and pink across the darkening sky.

I hooked my arms through Chelsea�s and Amy�s. I suddenly felt small, insignificant, and scared. A summer on our own was a big step.

�You�re my best friends in the whole world,� I told them.

We hugged one another, and I knew they felt the same way.