Hit the Beach (3 page)

“Oh, my goodness, I just remembered I left something on the stove,” Mom said quickly.

Good lie, Mom.

No, it was a great lie. Mom disappeared back into the kitchen.

“I’m so sorry,” Madison stammered. She smiled at Hart. “Um … you were saying …”

Hart reached for her hand again right away.

“What I was saying was …” Hart looked around nervously. “Is your mom gone for real or is she gonna jump out from behind the couch?”

“She’s gone,” Madison reassured him with a laugh.

Hart appeared convinced. “What I wanted to say was that … well … I want to remember you, you know, just like this, right here,” Hart said.

Madison felt her stomach flip-flop.

“You want to remember me standing here in my hallway?” Madison joked nervously.

Now his fingers were both squeezing and pulling. Was Hart pulling her toward him?

Madison froze.

Hart leaned forward. What was she supposed to do now? Madison was way too freaked out to register what was going on. The word
kiss
popped into her head, but she chased it away. This couldn’t be it, could it? Their first kiss? The moment she’d dreamed about a hundred times?
Now?

“Rowwrororooooooooooo!” Phin barked. He leaped out of nowhere, right up on to Hart’s leg, nearly knocking him to the floor.

A very superstitious Madison had to take that as a sign.

Not now.

As Hart straightened up again, he clutched Phin in his arms. “Anyway,” he muttered, “you will E me, won’t you, Maddie?”

“Of course. I’ll E you every day,” Madison gushed.

She desperately wanted to throw herself forward and plant a big, fat kiss on Hart’s lips. That would have been a real movie move. But wanting to do something and actually doing it were two completely different things. This wasn’t a kiss moment, not even in slow motion. This was freeze-frame—all the way.

After another silence, the moment was completely gone.

Hart walked over to the front door. Madison followed like a puppy, and the real puppy, Phin, followed, too.

“Thanks,” Hart said for no reason. “Um …”

“No. Thanks to
you
for coming over. It was a total surprise. Wow.” Madison tried to fill in all of the quiet between them.

“I never expected …” she said. “Well, you know. It was so nice. You are so nice.”

“You, too. But you know that. Look, have a good time at camp,” Hart said at the doorway.

“And have a good time being a lifeguard at the pool,” Madison said.

Phin dashed over and began licking Hart’s leg. Madison tried to grab the pug, but his curlicue tail slipped through her fingers.

Hart grinned a wide grin. “I really will miss you, Finnster,” Hart said. “Really. And I’ll even miss Phin, too. Right, buddy?”

Phin panted extra hard, as if he understood.

Madison smiled at them both. “Good-bye, then.”

“Yeah … bye … for real, now,” he said, walking down the porch steps. He gave Madison a little half-salute before stuffing his hands into his cargo-shorts pockets and heading back down the street in the direction of Fiona’s and her twin brother Chet’s. Madison figured he must be going there to play Wiffle ball or video games or just to chill and talk about boy stuff, whatever that might be. She turned around and closed the front door. Her skin was all prickly—but in a good way.

“I can’t believe that just happened!” Madison gasped out loud.

Mom raced out of the kitchen wiping her hands on a towel. “What happened?” she asked with a little wink.

“Mom!” Madison said, looking embarrassed.

“I hate to put pressure on you, honey bear, but we need to get going in the next twenty minutes or so,” Mom said. “We may hit traffic on the way to the airport. You can’t miss this plane.”

Madison glanced at the clock. It was now after three. She still needed to finish the packing and the laptop prep and
go
. The race was on.

Lucky for Madison, the Hart Jones butterflies still fluttering in her stomach had the power to lift her into the air, up the stairs, and right into her bedroom. That was what it felt like, anyway.

As Madison pulled together the final items for her two-week trip, she tried to imagine how Camp Sunshine could possibly make her feel any sunnier than she felt right just then.

S
INCE SHE WAS STILL
under thirteen and flying solo, Madison needed to be escorted on to the plane earlier than the other passengers. She hated the way everyone waiting at the gate stared as the flight attendants helped her aboard. It made her feel like a little kid.

But it was very cool to board a plane that was completely empty. The air was cool, fresh. The seats were empty. She walked a short distance to the sixth row in coach. She had the window seat, as she had requested. If she was lucky, Madison would be able to catch a glimpse of the New York City skyline as the plane took off.

Slowly, after Madison had sat down, placed her carry-on bag in the overhead compartment, and made herself (and her laptop) comfortable, a steady stream of passengers entered the plane. Everyone stared again as they passed by Madison’s seat. Madison tried her best to ignore them. After a few minutes, an older man with a boarding pass in one hand and a hardcover novel in the other stopped at Madison’s row of seats.

“Excuse me, but are you in the right seat?” he croaked.

Madison grabbed her boarding pass and held it up.

“Oh, yeah,” the man sighed. “I got the aisle again. I told that travel agent I wanted the dang window. Golly.”

“I can switch if you want,” Madison said softly, trying to be nice.

The man’s face lit up. “Why, aren’t you a dear, sweet thing?” he said, clearing his throat at the same time. Then he waved her off and sat down in the aisle seat. “Not to worry. I’ll make do with the aisle seat.”

Madison giggled nervously, hoping that the man wouldn’t say anything else to her on the long flight.

But of course, that was not to be. The man, whose name Madison later discovered was Walton (or Wally, for short), was some kind of scientist. He studied wildlife. Or was it sea life? Madison wasn’t exactly sure. He was on his way to Florida to meet his wife and the rest of his family. They lived down there for part of the year. The only other thing Madison wound up knowing for sure about him was that Wally loved to talk. She listened for almost two hours to Wally’s war stories: about trips he’d taken to places like Antarctica and about really,
really
big fish.

It was
not
what Madison had expected. By the time the plane neared Florida, her ears were tired. But she listened some more anyway. She didn’t want to be rude.

“Listen to me prattle on,” Wally said as the pilot announced the initial descent to the West Palm Beach airport.

“I like it,” Madison said. “I mean, I liked your stories. I want to be a writer one day. I think. Well, a writer and a vet. And maybe a biologist. I’m not sure which.”

“Those are big dreams,” Wally said. “Good for you.”

“Thanks.”

“So, tell me something else.”

“Tell you something
else
?” Madison crinkled her brow and shook her head, not sure what he wanted to know. “Like what?” she asked. She felt the plane swoop down a few thousand feet more. They were almost there.

“You know, you remind me of my wife, Myrtle,” Wally said. “And my great-granddaughter, Myrtle Junior, of course.”

“Myrtle
Junior
?” Madison asked with a smile. “That’s different.”

“How old are you, anyway. Sixteen? Seventeen?”

Madison burst into giggles. “I’m twelve, sir,” she said.

“Ah, yes.” He waved Madison off. “These days it’s all the same to me,” he muttered, almost to himself. “When you get to be my age, everyone under sixty seems like a baby.”

“How old are you?” Madison asked casually, not wanting to offend him.

Wally looked at her and smiled. “Eighty-one,” he said proudly.

“You remind me a little of my Gramma Helen,” Madison said, “only older.”

“So, I guess that means we’re practically related,” Wally said.

Madison laughed again. Wally was like a lucky charm. He’d changed her mood, made her forget any airplane jitters she had had, and—most importantly—helped her get over the sadness of leaving Far Hills, her BFFs, and Hart.

The flight attendant came by and asked everyone to buckle up and prepare for landing.

As the 747 pulled up to the gate and attached itself to the proper jetway bridge, the plane began to buzz with the sounds of people shifting in their seats, unbuckling seat belts, and moving bags. Cell phones appeared like magic. Everyone seemed to have someone to call.

Wally shook his head and leaned over to Madison.

“Don’t ever let yourself get caught up in all this craziness …” He pointed to the people standing around with phones at their ears.

Madison nodded. “Oh, yeah?”

Wally squinted at her and lowered his voice some more.

“If you just stop and listen, you can change the world, you know,” he said, and Madison knew he meant it. “You’re an excellent listener. I can tell. You notice things. Things that other people don’t. I can tell.”

“So, I can change the world, huh?” Madison asked.

“You bet. All it takes is one. That’s what I always told my Myrtles,” Wally said. “You just have to understand that we’re sharing the world—all of us—the people, the animals, the water. It’s for sharing, not taking.”

Madison thought Wally sounded a little like one of the Zen philosophers Aimee’s mom liked to listen to on her meditation and yoga tapes. She was glad she’d met him.

Wally collected his things and headed for the exit along with everyone else. He gave Madison a little salute before fading into the flow of people; his gesture reminded Madison of Hart’s salute back in Far Hills. Madison’s chest tightened. Did good-byes ever get easy?

The flight attendant came over and made sure Madison was okay leaving the plane. Of course, she was. After all, she wasn’t a little kid. The walk to the gate seemed to take an eternity. And then Madison strolled out under the bright fluorescent lights of the airport.

Madison made her way to the baggage-claim area, accompanied by a nice lady who worked for the airline. As Madison came into view, Dad and Stephanie waved madly. “Here! Over here, Maddie!” Dad shouted.

Madison broke into a grin and raced over to her father. The three of them squeezed together in a hug and then went to get Madison’s luggage. As they walked over to the baggage carousel, Madison searched the crowd for Wally. But he was nowhere to be found.

They got Madison’s suitcase and headed outside to the parking lot. The air was like mashed potatoes—sticky and thick. No breezes blew.

“Welcome to Florida in the summer,” Dad announced. “Not my first choice, but it’s a lot cooler by the water where we’re staying. We’re in this area where the Indian River meets the ocean. No matter how hot it gets, there’s always some kind of breeze. You’ll love it.”

“So, Madison, did you have a pleasant trip?” Stephanie asked.

“Yes,” Madison said. “I sat next to this really old guy. He talked a lot. But he was cool. Actually, he talked a lot about animals.”

“Did you tell him you were going to Camp Sunshine?” Stephanie asked.

“Why would she tell him about Camp Sunshine?” Dad interjected.

“Because,” Stephanie said. “She was making conversation.”

“Anyway …” Madison said in a cheery voice. She leaned toward the front seat a little bit.

“Hey,” Dad cautioned, “shouldn’t you have your seat belt on?”

Madison leaned back and buckled up. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

“No,” Dad said. “I didn’t mean to snap. You hungry?”

Stephanie turned around. “You e-mailed your dad about going to that cool restaurant we were telling you about,” she said, “so we made a reservation.”

“The place is called Seashores,” Dad said. “You’ll love it.”

“Way cool,” Madison said, gazing out of the car window. She stared at the scenery as they drove away from the airport.

Madison saw rows of lush palm trees and bougainvillea. She saw brightly colored stucco homes and office buildings with enormous shutters. She knew that hurricane season was there, although Dad assured her that the forecasters had predicted no major storms for the month of August—at least not yet.

After a short drive, they drove up a long ramp on to an enormous bridge. There was water everywhere Madison looked. Off in the horizon she saw the ocean, foamy waves breaking at the shore. All along the edge of the water, set back from the beach, Madison spotted apartment buildings and mansions. She could see everything from way up there on the bridge. Dad slowed the car down and pointed to a small, overgrown island in the center of the river under the bridge.

“That’s called Pelican Isle,” Dad said. “I just found out about it. I think Camp Sunshine takes a boat trip near there.”

“Really?” Madison asked, nose pressed to the window.

“The more I hear about this camp,” Stephanie said, “the more impressed I am. In fact, your father and I were just taking a look at the camp brochure before we picked you up at the airport.”

“You were?”

“I want this to be a special summer trip for you,” Dad said, reaching back for Madison’s hand.

Madison took his hand and smiled.

“Thanks, Dad,” she said. “I know it will be.”

She let go of Dad’s hand and hunkered down again in the backseat. She stared out the window and counted the other small islands dotting the river. If only it hadn’t been so terribly hot there in Florida, Madison thought. She was grateful that Dad and Stephanie had the air-conditioning on high just then. It would take her time to get used to the temperature—
lots
of time.

Madison wished her laptop had been working better, or, rather, working at all. She’d tried it once on the airplane (when Wally had gotten up to stretch his legs), but it had just sizzled and gone off before she had had a chance to log on. If it had been working, Madison could have e-mailed everyone right now: Aimee, Fiona, Lindsay, and even Bigwheels, her long-distance keypal. If Madison’s pals couldn’t be there with her in the car, or at camp, then she craved the next best thing: virtual contact.