Turtle Bay (5 page)

Pasting a nice fake smile on my face, I tossed a nonchalant goodbye to Leslie, Paris, and Farrah—or the Unwelcoming Committee, as I would now think of them.

Buttercup was working in the front yard when I got home. "How was the beach?" she asked, kneeling in front of the inexpensive planter we had bought for her herbs.

"Nice. The ocean is a beast though." I launched into a description of how the waves had tossed me around like a rag doll. Buttercup smiled at my narrative and didn't comment on the dangers of being reckless in the ocean. It wasn't that she didn't care. She and Butch were just the kind of parents who felt the best lessons in life were learned from experience. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that I would be infinitely more careful the next time I went into the water. She would be right. I had learned a new respect for waves today after the ocean made me its plaything.

"Where's Butch?" I asked, pouring myself a glass of lemonade from the pitcher that was resting on the small table on the porch.

"He's working in your room with the plumber. Looks like you'll have your own bathroom before you know it."

"Yay! I thought my bladder was going to explode when I had to skate around that bug. Speaking of which, where's Player?"

"He's in the flower power room. I figured Butch wouldn't be venturing in there anytime soon, so he should be safe with his allergies."

"Smart idea. I'm going to go catch a shower and then I thought I would hit the pavement to look for a job."

"Why?" she asked, surprised, sitting back on her heels.

I shrugged, unsure of how truthful I wanted to be. "There's a few things I want before school starts in the fall," I finally admitted.

"Like?"

"Um, books, supplies—maybe some new clothes?" My confession didn't evoke any response other than Buttercup's eyes boring into mine as she waited for me to elaborate further. "I want to look different this year," I added defensively as she quirked her eyebrows.

"Clothes do not—"

"Define a person," I finished for her. "I know you always say that, Mom, but new clothes are nice. Maybe I want to experience the bliss of not worrying about whose ass last filled out the jeans I'm wearing."

"Language," she warned.

I rolled my eyes. Was
ass
really a bad word? It is an animal too, after all. I considered debating the point, but saw no reason to provoke her when I was trying to talk her into letting me get a job.

"I'm pretty sure I wash out any butt germs before you wear them, Rainbow," she teased, dropping seeds in the hole she had made in the soil with her finger.

"Rain," I corrected automatically, not bothering to address her comment. It was a fight we'd had so many times that a stalemate was the closest resolution we were going to reach. I knew Buttercup struggled to understand the changes she and Butch had seen in me during the past few years. I went from wearing whatever homemade or hand-me-down clothes that were provided for me to begging for new ones. Combine that with my track record for trouble since middle school and getting kicked out of Huntsville High and I was pretty sure my parents assumed aliens had taken over my body. "I want new stuff. Don't worry. I'll buy it," I said with an uncharacteristic edge in my voice. I just wished they'd see my side of things. Butch and Buttercup could live any way they wanted to, and I should be able to make my own choices. I didn't see the problem.

She sighed. "Butch and I have no problem financing your other wants, but we can't justify wasting money on new clothes when there are dozens of thrift stores offering the same thing for so much less. Now, if you want us to buy you a sewing machine so you can try your hand at making your own, that's a different story. Maybe you'll have more success than I did," she added, shuddering slightly since her own attempts at making clothes had been a complete bust. Buttercup had mad skills when it came to gardening and making jewelry, but she was a disaster when it came to sewing.

"Pass," I answered, heading for the front door. This would be why I needed a summer job. Clothes may not define a person, but the right clothes certainly didn't hurt as evidenced by the success of my pink bikini. Now that I was finally sixteen, I could earn money for the things I wanted.

Chapter 4

I woke the next morning with Player curled up on my forehead. This did not surprise me. I'd come to the conclusion the night before that Player had dominance issues. After he had successfully scaled everything in my room and perched on the highest obstacle, he was where he wanted to be. Lording over everything below. Waking with him on my forehead was simply another way for him to show me who was boss. Scooping him up in my hands, I rested him on my chest. He started purring loudly as I stroked a hand over his small head.

"You're too big for your furry little britches," I cooed as he stood up and stretched before hopping down to the floor. I could hear him chasing something around as I continued to veg in my bed, reflecting over the past twenty-four hours. I was pleased with the progress I had made in my personal life. I had met a guy
.
Technically, I met two guys, but I wasn't sure I should count Turtle Boy, no matter how cute he was. I'd also managed to secure a job at the small ice cream shop that was less than a mile from my house. My past experience working in concession stands at craft fairs swung the job in my favor. Things were falling into place like giant-sized jigsaw puzzle pieces.

I was in the process of debating whether my bathroom needs were important enough to get up out of bed when Player jumped on my blanket with a big disgusting spider dangling from his jowls. I shrieked and slid back on my mattress, trying to put distance between us. As if he thought I was playing with him, Player followed me and dropped the spider on the bed before pouncing on it again. I scrambled off my bed and reached over cautiously to pat Player's head, rewarding him for his capture. Satisfied at being acknowledged, he sat back and proceeded to munch on his kill right on my bed. "Gross," I gagged, turning away after one of the spider's legs landed on my sheet.

Note to self: wash sheets before going to bed tonight. "You're lucky you're cute," I said as he licked his chops. "Maybe, though, you can eat your trophies on the floor from now on." Of course he ignored me and jumped off the bed to chase dust mites floating in the air. No respect.

I left my room to find Butch and Buttercup in the backyard prepping it for the garden they had mapped out the night before. With the exception of my room, the backyard was my favorite part of our new house. There were a few palm trees littered around, providing patches of shade, and a rather large magnolia tree with a gazebo perched underneath in the far corner of the yard that was a perfect spot for reading. The gazebo was painted white to match the house and screened in on all sides to keep out pesky bugs. Inside sat an oversized lounge chair built for two, flanked on either side by little round tables. The space practically begged you to lie down and chill.

"How about helping me hoe?" Butch asked cheerfully.

"Is that any way to talk to your own daughter?" I teased.

He laughed at my joke. That was our relationship. It may have seemed at times as if my parents and I had grown apart during the past few years, but that didn't mean we didn't like to cut up with each other.

"Sorry. Do you want to help me with the garden hoe?" he clarified as Buttercup threw a handful of dirt his way.

"Babe, I was just asking our child for some assistance," he said, smiling mischievously. Buttercup reached into the ground for another handful of dirt to threaten him when he once again reworded his question. "Rainbow, my sweet lamb chop, do you want to help us
till
? There, how was that?" he asked.

"Nice attempt, but sorry, I can't. I have plans today," I said, allowing the "Rainbow" slip to go without comment.

"Oh yeah?" Buttercup commented. I tried not to bristle when she and Butch exchanged an apprehensive glance. Obviously they were worried about whether I would get into trouble like I had back in Huntsville. I couldn't deny that their concerns were justified, even though they were the reason I started my pranks in the first place. That was the part my parents still didn't understand. All I wanted to do was shift the attention off the town's favorite freak show spectacle, to do something to get the kids at school to stop laughing and talking about us behind my back. Now all the distrust between my parents and me had caused a chasm in our relationship that was never there before.

"Look, you can relax. I have to go back to Tasty Freeze to fill out my paperwork and do some training," I finally admitted, throwing them a bone.

I could almost see the tension leave their shoulders. "Look at our Rainbow, all grown up," Butch said, pretending to wipe away a tear. Unlike the reluctance Buttercup had shown, Butch was all for me getting a job. He appreciated the fact I wanted to work for what I wanted.

"Aw, don't cry, Creston," I said, patting him on the back.

"Butch," he corrected.

"Rain," I countered.

"I'll never understand why you'd want to change the name we felt suited you so well," Butch grumbled, churning up the ground with the hoe.

"I'm sure your parents felt the same way," I pointed out, heading for the main house so I could grab some grub before I headed to Tasty Freeze.

"Creston is not a name. It's the gooey stuff in the corner of your eye in the morning," he griped, stabbing at the ground.

"That's gross, dear, and you need to turn the earth, not pulverize it," Buttercup said, humming to herself as she sorted through her seeds. She already seemed to have moved on from her mistrust from moments before. Buttercup embraced harmony and refused to rise to conflict. It was nice most of the time, but a pain when you were itching for a fight.

***

"How did it go at Tasty Freeze?" Buttercup asked when I returned home a couple hours later. I could tell she was waving the white flag.

I returned the smile, ready to accept her olive branch. I hated being at odds with my mom. I missed her. This move was supposed to make things better. "Great," I replied, sinking down on the stool next to her.

"If you're hungry there's hummus and a vegetable pasta salad in the refrigerator," she said, looking up from the necklace she was crafting out of delicate purple wire.

"I'll eat something later. I met a couple guys yesterday who seemed cool. They invited me to hang out today," I answered. "They're having a party tonight."

"Guys?"

"Huh? Oh, girls too. You know what I mean," I added, bracing myself for a barrage of questions.

"Sounds fun," she answered, stringing an iridescent bead.

It was hard to tell by her tone of indifference whether she truly objected, but her interest at least seemed genuine.

"Yeah. I'm sure there'll be drinking, drugs, and probably some sexual shenanigans too," I teased, slipping back into my old persona, the one that wasn't constantly on edge.

"If you're lucky," she answered, returning my grin as she bent and contorted her piece of wire with a tool that looked like mini pliers.

I laughed. At least our exchange hadn't turned into a fight. That much I was grateful for. "I'm going to go change into my swimsuit," I said, leaving her lost in her beading.

Twenty minutes later I headed across the street with my chair and towel in hand, scanning the beach for the group I had befriended the day before. Figuring they would be somewhere near Evan's house, I walked into that general area and swept my eyes over a countless sea of sunbathers before coming to the conclusion that my new friends weren't among them. I was about ready to give up in disappointment when I squinted into the sunlight behind me at the sound of my name. Placing a hand over my eyes to block the sun's blinding rays, I spotted Evan leaning against the wooden rail of the lowest of his house's three decks. Smiling in relief, I toted my beach chair through the sand toward the wooden steps that led to where Evan was standing.

"Hey," he greeted me. "Come on up. The gate's unlocked."

"Hey yourself," I answered, smiling coyly. "No beach today?" I reached the top of the steps to find a spectacular pool, complete with its own slide and custom-made waterfall. Leslie, Farrah, and Paris lounged on padded chairs with cucumbers covering their eyes. Their bodies glistened in the sun from tanning oil and all three appeared to be tuning out the world with their earbuds while they listened to music. Trevor and Steve floated on rafts in the pool, offering up halfhearted waves as a greeting.

"Some crap-ass daycare decided to bring, like, a hundred rugrats to this section of the beach earlier. Talk about ruining a perfectly good day," he complained, grabbing a beer from a stainless steel ice chest on wheels that was parked by the hot tub. He handed it to me without asking and pulled another out for himself. I accepted it without hesitation. I was no stranger to drinking. Buttercup and Butch prided themselves on making their own wine, and Butch had also spent a few summers perfecting his whiskey-making skills. After a few years, he was a pro at the whole fermentation-and-distillation process. Not that they allowed me to drink whenever I wanted to. They believed in moderation and saw nothing wrong with me sampling a drink or two on special occasions. I enjoyed the taste of wine, but discovered early on that whiskey wasn't for me. Actually, beer was my adult beverage of choice. Buttercup disliked the smell of it, and Butch could take it or leave it.