Lauren's Beach Crush (8 page)

“But, you tolded us—”

“That's okay,” Charlie interrupted graciously. “I don't mind. Our Frisbee game just ended anyway. The rest of them are headed to the snack bar. And I'm a mad sandcastle builder.”

The boys laughed with delight.

Lauren smiled and turned around.

But it wasn't Charlie she was giving what she hoped was her most dazzling smile.

It was Frank.

The plan had backfired. Again.

As Frank knelt down in the sand to help Bobby and Kyle begin building, Lauren spotted Chrissy far in the distance, turning onto the wooden boardwalk that led toward the snack bar. Just behind her were Charlie and his friends. Chrissy gave Lauren a helpless shrug, as though to say,
sorry, I tried.
Charlie was talking to Chrissy.

Just then, a thought struck Lauren.
It's not possible.
She tried to push it away. But the thought wouldn't go away. A tiny voice inside her asked:
What if Charlie likes Chrissy?

A FEW DAYS LATER, ON MONDAY AFTERNOON, LAUREN
sat on the beach thinking. She hadn't seen Charlie at all over the weekend. Had he gone home? Was his vacation over so soon? That couldn't be. The previous summers he'd been there when she arrived and remained there when she'd left. She was almost positive his family spent the whole summer in East Harbor. But where was he? The Fourth of July barbecue was happening on Thursday. He had to be there. She hadn't even had a chance to try Operation Cell Phone on him!

Chrissy emerged from the water and joined Lauren on the blanket, covering herself with a towel in an effort to dry off.

“Just saw Matt B. in the water,” she said, casually wringing her hair and trying to comb it out with her fingers.

Lauren scrambled to a sitting position and stared at
her over the tops of her sunglasses. “And?” she prompted impatiently.

“And he told me that Charlie and his family have been in Montauk for the long weekend, visiting his cousins' family,” she reported. “He's coming back later today.”

Lauren let out a relieved sigh. “Thank goodness. I thought he wouldn't be here for the Fourth of July barbecue.” Then a creeping suspicion entered her mind. “So, um, how did the subject come up? About Charlie, I mean? Did you ask Matt flat out, or did he volunteer the information?”

Chrissy shrugged and pulled out her book from her bag. “I asked,” she said simply. “I thought you might want to know.”

“Okay. Thanks,” said Lauren. But her thoughts were whirling. What if Matt B. went and told Charlie that Chrissy had asked about him? Maybe Charlie would think it was Chrissy who wanted to know. Maybe Charlie would think Chrissy liked him. This wasn't good. And it most definitely was not part of the Plan.

The next morning Lauren awoke to the sound of rain pattering on the roof. She opened one eye and glanced
at the clock. Already ten o'clock. In the next bed she could see that Chrissy was still sleeping, a mound underneath the bedspread that softly rose and fell, a pillow over her head. A tendril of auburn hair tumbled over the side of the bed. Lauren lay back on her own pillow and pondered.

Did Charlie really like Chrissy? Possibly. Did Chrissy like him back? She dismissed that possibility. Chrissy was still really hung up on her crush, Justin, back in California. She texted him every night and often during the day, too.

Plus Chrissy knew how crazy Lauren was about Charlie. She wouldn't do something like that. Would she? Not if she were really her BFF.

Quietly Lauren dug through her pile of magazines until she found the one she was looking for. She slid it off the bedside table and opened it carefully, so that the rattling of the page wouldn't awaken Chrissy. She turned to the quiz she remembered seeing there:

“Is your BFF really your Secret Frenemy?”

Back when Lauren had received this issue, she didn't have a BFF so there had been no reason to take the quiz. Plus, it didn't have anything to do with Charlie. But now,
Lauren thought, she had an almost BFF in Chrissy . . . at least she hoped she did . . . and maybe the quiz topic did have something to do with Charlie.

This is silly,
she told herself. She stared at the quiz, unsure of what to do. But then she picked up the pen, determined to take the test for fun . . . just to see what it would tell her.

Can you trust your BFF with secrets?

(A) absolutely

(B) never

(C) not all of them—if it's a secret you're really worried might get around, you keep it to yourself

That was easy. The answer was
A
. Chrissy was totally trustworthy.

Does your BFF tell you things she doesn't tell anyone else?

(A) she tells me everything

(B) she tells me most things

(C) I don't know any of her secrets

Another easy one.
A
for sure. Chrissy had confided in Lauren about Justin. No one else at school knew about him. Telling about your secret crush pretty much qualified as telling everything.

There's a party coming up. You want to figure out if your secret crush will go with you. Your BFF:

(A) asks him out on your behalf—without your permission

(B) helps you figure out a plan to find out how he feels about you

(C) asks him to go with her, even though she knows how you feel

Another easy one: definitely
B
. Chrissy was always there to help her out when it came to Charlie. She thought about that for a minute. Maybe that was the solution! She should ask Chrissy to help her find out what Charlie thought about her! Once Charlie knew Lauren liked him, maybe he'd ask her to the Fourth of July party. The plan was a good one, Lauren was sure of it. She put down the magazine.

“Hey,” said a sleepy voice in the next bed. Chrissy was awake and had lifted her head out from under the pillow. Her hair was a mass of glossy strands falling around her shoulders. Lauren wished her own hair would do that instead of being all smooshed down like it usually was when she woke up.

“Hey,” replied Lauren, scooching herself up to a sitting position and closing the magazine before Chrissy could see the topic of the quiz she'd been taking. She suddenly felt disloyal for starting the quiz, even though it had been just for fun. “It's raining,” she said, gesturing to the window.

“Yes, it is,” Chrissy yawned. Raindrops streamed down the old glass panes in rivulets, blurring the pink and green of the climbing roses outside the window. “I guess the beach is out of the question. What should we do? Maybe go back to the library? That was awesome,” said Chrissy, pulling herself up to a sitting position too and hugging herself around the knees.

Lauren hauled her laptop off of the floor next to her bed, where she'd left it last night, and opened it up. “We could,” she said. “Or we could go to the whaling museum. It sounds boring, but it's pretty cool, really.” As she said
it, Lauren remembered how she had wondered at the beginning of the vacation if Chrissy would think the whaling museum was lame. Now she didn't even worry about that. She knew Chrissy would love it too. And if for some reason she didn't, she definitely would never call it lame. Chrissy might have some strange opinions when it came to boys and romance, but she was definitely enthusiastic and up for trying new things. Lauren realized how much she liked having Chrissy around. It was kind of cool to have a BFF.

Lauren clicked on the weather report. “It's supposed to clear up by early this afternoon. Maybe we can do something this morning and then head to the beach after lunch?”

“Sure,” said Chrissy.

“Hey, you left your phone downstairs last night, but I brought it up and plugged it into your charger, in case you wanted to text Justin this morning. But I guess it's too early out in California?”

Chrissy looked down at her knees and swallowed. “Yeah. Well. He hasn't been all that good about replying very quickly lately.”

“Oh. Sorry,” said Lauren. The two girls sat in silence. Chrissy stared out the window, suddenly looking a little
sad. Maybe the weather was bumming her out? Or maybe she was just tired. Lauren was trying to figure out how to bring up Charlie. She decided just to do it. “Chrissy? Can I ask you something?”

There must have been something serious about her tone, because Chrissy immediately sat up straighter and looked at Lauren. “Um, sure.”

“Do you . . . like Charlie?”

“Sure I do.”

Lauren noticed that she'd answered very quickly. “No, I mean,
like
like him.”

“
Like
like him? Charlie? Ew. No.”

Lauren felt her face get hot. “What do you mean, ‘ew'?”

“Oh, no, I didn't mean ‘ew' as in eeeew!” Chrissy said, speaking quickly again. “I just meant, um, that there was no way I would think of him That Way. If I liked anyone better than I like Justin, which by the way I do not, but if I did, I would like Frank. I think he's really cool. Or maybe Matt B. Or even Owen. But definitely not Charlie. Why would you even think such a thing?”

Lauren could see Chrissy was being sincere. She looked hurt. Lauren felt terrible. “I'm sorry, Chrissy. That was a dumb thing for me to ask you. It's just that—well,
Charlie barely looks at me. I think he kind of likes you. He seems to hang around you a lot more often than he does me. So I just wondered if, well, if it was mutual.”

“It's not,” said Chrissy firmly. “And I really don't think he likes me. He barely knows me. You know what my sister told me? That boys are drawn toward girls who give off vibes that they're not interested. And I am definitely not interested, so if anything, he's just picking up on that.”

Lauren nodded. Maybe Chrissy's sister was right. She'd read something about that phenomena. But she was pretty sure that kind of thing mostly applied to older boys, so she couldn't worry about that right now. What she needed to do was get Charlie to spend more time with her. Then he'd realize that she, Lauren, was just like him. It was just a matter of time before he saw the light and realized the two of them were meant to be together.

She decided to change the subject. “So remember I mentioned the big Fourth of July cookout? It's this Thursday night.”

Chrissy nodded. “I know. I can't believe it's the Fourth already. What should I wear?”

“That's what I was going to say. People wear anything
from shorts and tees to fancy dresses. There's this awesome vintage clothing store off Main Street that has the coolest old dresses from the fifties, sixties, and seventies, and it's super cheap. We could use our babysitting money and go there this morning to see if we can find something to wear to the party. I've decided that I can stretch my casual style a little bit for one night and get dressed up! Maybe you can help me choose something that will make me look irresistible to Charlie.”

Chrissy looked at her for a minute and looked like she was about to say something, then changed her mind.

“Let's do it!” said Chrissy, flinging back the covers. She hopped out of bed.

Half an hour later Lauren led Chrissy into the vintage clothing store. A bell tinkled as they opened the door. She loved the smell—a combination of old-fashioned perfume, wood polish, and ocean breezes—which seemed to swirl around the high-ceilinged shop, thanks to the rotating fan overhead.

There were several people inside, and the nice woman behind the register smiled at Lauren, looking as though she recognized her from summers past.

Lauren led Chrissy to the back, where a rack of
dresses lined the entire back wall.

“This place is awesome!” said Chrissy, touching a wild looking straw hat. Its wide brim was festooned with bright blue feathers.

Lauren smiled with delight. It was rare that Chrissy ever thought something wasn't awesome, and Lauren really liked that about her. Lauren always worried about everything, but Chrissy always seemed to think things would just work out. Lauren vowed to try to be more like her.

They tried on several dresses apiece. Finally they both stepped out of the dressing room at the same time, looked at each other, and beamed.

“That is perfect on you!” said Chrissy, jumping up and down and clapping her hands as she gazed at Lauren.

“And that is perfect on you!” said Lauren, shaking her head in amazement at how great her friend looked.

The owner of the shop came around from behind her register and looked at both of them. “Those dresses were made for both of you!” she exclaimed. “I wasn't sure if anyone would be petite enough to fit into them, and along you both came!”

Lauren's dress looked as though it had been fitted by a tailor. It was a short shift from the sixties, and the pattern
was blocks of bright colors—pink, yellow, and aqua, on a white background. She looked at herself in the mirror. It really was an awesome dress. It made her look at least a year older, maybe two. And she had the perfect black flats to wear with it.