So what was the best part about my dad finally getting to the beach?
A) He brought my phone charger.
B) He brought my guitar.
C) I totally missed him.
D) All of the above.
E) All of the above except for A, which, not to be harsh, was totally lame! And I know he said he looked all over the house for the charger, but I find that a little hard to believe…
Anyway, the correct answer is E. And I was happy, at least, to have my dad and my guitar around (even if I still couldn’t play it). But of course, my dad had to bring news of the weather with him, too. That’s just how he rolls.
“Can you believe it?” he said after he’d carried his bag in and gone on and on and on about how much different and more “summery” I looked. “There’s already a tropical storm brewing in the Atlantic—this early in the summer!” He raised his eyebrows like he’d given us some juicy scoop—like Miley Cyrus and Nick Jonas had gotten back together or something. (Then again, in The Land of No TV or Internet, how would I have known?) “It’s going to be a very interesting hurricane season this year, I predict,” he went on gleefully.
“Indeed!” said Jay.
“That’s the last thing we need,” Karen groaned.
We were sitting on the porch, just outside the Fish Room—Jay and Karen, my mom and Jackie, plus Emery, Kiki, and me. Josh was out cutting kite strings or something with Brian, I was sure. And since it was still early, Juliette hadn’t gotten up yet.
I had really, really hoped that my new look would show her that I, too, had grown up. That I wasn’t a little kid, but almost a teenager—like her—and that we could hang out together. But she didn’t seem any more interested in me than she had before. I hadn’t given up on Juliette completely…but I was pretty close.
“But here’s the good news,” my dad continued. “The fishing should be excellent!”
Oh, good grief.
It didn’t take long. I knew it was coming. Some dads like to hang out at the beach, and swim or read or play paddle ball on the sand for hours, like my uncle Stan. But my dad likes to fish. A lot. And he woke me up the very next morning—early!—with a fishing pole in his hand.
“Rise and shine, sunshine,” he told me. “Eighty-three degrees, barometer holding steady, four-mile-per-hour winds blowing from the southwest, and the tide is high. You know what that means, don’t you?”
“Time for you to get a life?” I groaned, closing my eyes again.
“Very funny,” he said. “No. It means it’s fishing time!”
“I don’t think so, Dad,” I told him. If I’d had a sheet on me, I would have pulled it over my head. But it was so hot in my room, even at night, that I slept on top of the covers. I rolled over and tried to find a cooler spot on my pillow, instead.
“Is Josh going?” I asked.
“Of course!” he said cheerfully.
“Then it will not be fun.”
“Oh, come on,” he said. “Don’t you remember how great it was last time we went?”
“No,” I grunted. What I did remember was going to some lake and Josh slipping a half-dead fish down the back of my shirt. Oh, and the smell! The memory nearly made me gag right there in my own bed.
I don’t even like to eat fish, never mind deal with them when they’re alive.
“Well, I want you to come,” my dad told me. “It would mean a lot to me.”
That’s just playing dirty, if you ask me.
“Okay.” I sat up slowly and felt the top of my head. Ugh. The sun and salt were doing terrible, terrible things to my hair. “But you’re buying me ice cream,” I told him and smiled.
“Done.” My dad grinned. He knew he was getting a good deal. “Meet you by the car in ten minutes,” he said.
“Dad,” I groaned. Couldn’t he see I needed a shower?
“Okay. Fifteen.”
I took a cool shower, then put on some shorts and a green-striped halter tank. (There was no way Josh was slipping a floppy old fish down the back of that.) Then I made my way down the back stairs, which led straight into the kitchen. The house was pretty quiet. I don’t think the morning yoga had even started on the back porch yet. I grabbed a plum out of the fruit bowl on the counter, then found my flip-flops in the Buoy Room and went outside.
My dad was standing by the car with Josh. But they weren’t the only ones waiting for me. Jay and Brian were there, too. Great. I should have known.
“Mornin’, m’lady,” said Jay, opening the back door of his blue Prius. “Your carriage awaits!”
“I call shotgun!” Brian yelled.
“No, me!” cried Josh.
It was too early for this.
“You’re both riding in the back,” said my dad. “Let’s go. The fish aren’t going to catch themselves, you know.”
Jay chuckled as he climbed into the driver’s seat. “If only they could!”
I slid in behind him, while Josh and Brian rock-paper-scissored for the privilege of not sitting next to me.
I leaned forward in my seat. “By the way, Dad, you owe me a double scoop,” I said.
“Who invented fishing, anyway?” I asked my dad about five minutes later, when we pulled up in front of the pier. “I mean, really, what’s the point?”
“The point, my dear, is to catch fish,” he said. “It’s a sport.”
Sport? Uh, I didn’t think so. Fishing was standing around with a worm on a stick, waiting for a slimy old fish to choke itself on a little hook.
I made a face that I thought pretty much summed up my disgust.
“It’s also a very important means of getting food,” my dad went on. “If we’re lucky, we’ll catch enough today to grill up for dinner tonight.”
“Mmm, delish!” said Jay.
I made another face. The only thing worse than catching fish was eating them, as far as I was concerned.
In the shack at the front of the pier, my dad bought some bait and paid our admission. Then we all walked down the wooden dock to claim our “spots.” The pier was long, but already crowded. I couldn’t believe so many people actually paid to do this. For fun! Early in the morning! Especially since fishing piers stink. A lot. There are fish guts and scales all over the place (plus a few cigars, and a lot of BO). Ugh!
Jay stared at me. “Egad! Are you okay?” he asked.
My hands were clapped over my nose and mouth. “I can’t breathe!” I gagged.
“She’ll get used to it,” said my dad. (He’s used to my reaction to fish smell, I guess.) He looked around, then grinned and set down his cooler and tackle box. “Here’s a good place, don’t you think?”
“Looks A-OK to me. Let the fishing commence!” Jay declared.
Let’s get it over with already! I thought.
I took a pole and got ready to cast, then immediately jumped back. “Gross!” I cried. There was a dried fish head on the railing right in front of me!
“This is not a good place,” I said, frowning. “I’m going over there, toward the end of the pier.”
“Okay,” said my dad, “but don’t forget your bait.”
Oh…right. How silly of me.
He held out two Styrofoam containers. “Squid or worms? What do you think?”
What did I think? What I thought was that I wanted to stay as far away as possible from both of those things.
“Gimme some worms!” said Josh, reaching in and grabbing a handful.
“Sweet! I’m taking squid!” said Brian. He picked one out of the cup and gave it a shake. Then he pretended to eat it. “Slurp, slurp. Yum!”
Really, really not funny.
“So which’ll it be?” my dad asked me as Josh and Brian ran off down the pier.
“Uh…” I bit my lip and slowly reached my hand out toward one…and then the other. I so did not want either.
“Why don’t you start with a worm?” suggested my dad.
I shrugged and took one. Then of course it had to go and wiggle. I jumped—and dropped it—and watched it fall through the slats of the pier.
“Or maybe a squid?” my dad said, raising an eyebrow.
“Here, allow me to pick the very best, and bait your hook for you,” said Jay. He grinned and took a little bow. “It would be an honor.”
“Thanks,” I said, and I had to smile. Jay was totally weird. But he was also okay sometimes.
Once the baiting was done, the actual fishing part wasn’t that bad. (Though no matter what my dad said, I did not get used to the smell.)
I actually liked casting. And just standing there dangling my line in the water gave me time to think about Jeremy Ryan and that one lifeguard, and which one was really cuter. (So hard to say!) And about Mina and Liza and what they were probably doing at that very moment. (Having a fabulous time, I was sure. Me, jealous? Yes.) I wondered if they’d gotten the packages I had sent a few days before, and when I’d be getting my souvenir packages from them. I thought about what flavor ice cream I was going to get when we were done fishing. (Cookie dough, maybe? Mint chocolate chip?) I thought about the pros and cons of Josh and Brian falling off the pier. (There were several of both.) And I thought about Juliette and wondered why she didn’t seem to want to be my friend.
I also thought about how slowly time goes when you’re fishing…almost as slowly as time at the Drift Inn. And I wondered if I’d catch anything at all that day.
Then, suddenly, I felt a tug on my pole that nearly jerked me out of my flip-flops.
“Hey!” I cried. “I think I caught something!”
I yanked back on the pole, grabbed for the handle, and tried my best to reel the line in. But the thing was not budging. In fact, it was pulling me forward! I took a step backward and tried again.
“Whoa, look!” said a guy to my left. “Looks like Junior’s got a big one!”
Junior? Come on! I was wearing a halter top.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to make sure that everyone knew I was, in fact, a girl. I was way too busy playing tug-of-war with my fishing line.
“Easy! Not too fast,” said another man behind me. I glanced back. A whole crowd had suddenly formed.
“You got it,” said another.
Yeah, but what did I have? A killer whale? Or maybe—and this would be typical—my hook was just caught on the dumb pier.
Just when I thought it couldn’t be worth the battle, whatever it was, a flash of silver broke the surface. The whole pier erupted in cheers.
“That is one big fish, Samantha!” said my dad, appearing by my side. “Need any help?”
My hands and arms were killing me. “I can do it,” I grunted.
My rod was bending almost to the breaking point, but I kept reeling and reeling the line in. Next thing I knew, a fish the size of Jay’s Prius came flipping and flopping out of the water. (Okay, maybe it was a little smaller than that. But not much.)
“It’s a monster!” cried one guy.
“It’s a fighter, too!” someone else yelled.
Tell me about it, I thought. But now that the fish was out of the water, it seemed to have lost some of its fight. I stopped reeling and slowly walked backward, pulling the fish up and onto the pier.
There was a round of applause, and I almost took a bow.
“That’s my girl!” said my dad.
As it turned out, not only had I caught the biggest fish so far that day, but I’d caught the biggest fish on the pier so far that summer! Someone ran out with a scale, which said that the thing weighed a whopping twenty-two pounds. They even took my picture with it, to hang in the bait shop.
“We’re with her!” Josh and Brian actually bragged. (I figured it was the first and last time that would ever happen.)
Then my dad took a knife out to gut my fish.
“Hang on!” I cried.
“Do you want to do it?” he asked me.
“No!” I replied. Was he kidding?
“I didn’t think so,” he said. “But I have to do it here, or it’ll go bad before we get home.”
“What say we hang it in the Fish Room?” Jay suggested. “Next to the pompano!”
I shook my head.
Here’s the thing: That fish very clearly wanted to keep living. I could tell. And when I looked at it, I couldn’t help thinking about that fairy tale, the one about the fish who’s really a wizard and can talk, and grants all those wishes to the fisherman, blah blah blah? Of course, it was clear that this fish couldn’t talk. (He’d had his chance.) But still…
I stared hard into the fish’s flat eyeball. Please, please, please make this summer get better, I silently begged.
Then I waved my hand. “Throw it back,” I said to my dad.
I must admit, I kind of enjoyed the looks of disappointment on his and Jay’s faces. “Don’t worry,” I assured them. “There are more fish in the sea, you know.”
Jay grinned. “She speaketh the truth!”
And no, I didn’t really believe the fish was magic…but sometimes a girl needs all the help she can get.
I didn’t catch any more fish that day. But I did catch something else, by accident.
I was just casting my line again, when I felt it snag behind me. I heard a voice cry out, “Hey, careful! Watch it!”
I froze, then cringed and slowly turned around.
Oops. Just as I’d feared—my hook—worm and all—was stuck in some stranger’s T-shirt.
I started to say, “I’m sorry,” but froze again. It wasn’t just some stranger. It was the cute lifeguard from the beach!
I thought I might die of humiliation. May I rest in peace.
“I—I am so sorry!” I blurted. “Really, really sorry!”
“Uh…it’s okay,” he said. He looked down at the slimy worm spot on his shirt and grinned. “If you want this shirt so badly, you can have it, I guess.” Then he took the hook in his hand—just as Josh and Brian walked up, howling.
“Look!” Josh cried, pointing. “Sam caught another one!”
“Quick, get a picture!” Brian laughed. I guess they were back to their old selves.
The lifeguard turned to them. “Don’t I know you guys?” he said.
Recognition flickered across Josh’s and Brian’s faces. They looked at each other quickly, then took off running across the pier.
The lifeguard looked at me, grinning. “I guess you know them, too,” he said.
“Yeah…” I sighed. Unfortunately, I did. “That’s my brother—my much younger brother,” I added, “and his equally young friend.”
“Oh yeah?” The lifeguard raised his sunglasses to his forehead, and I saw that his eyes were the exact same amazing blue as the shallow end of a swimming pool. “Oh, sure,” he said. “I know you, too.”
I couldn’t help but break into a huge smile. I really hoped it didn’t look too goofy. The lifeguard, meanwhile, pulled my hook out of his shirt and carefully handed it back to me. Then he grinned this grin that every boy in the world should practice.
“You guys swim at the beach where I work,” he said. “Nice to meet you. I’m Nick.”
“I know,” I blurted.
“You do?”
“Oh, I mean, I didn’t know your name was Nick. Mine’s Samantha. Nice to meet you! But I did know you were our lifeguard. Ten to eleven, one to two, and four to five. Right?” I said.
“Uh…just about, yeah,” he answered.
I realized too late that he probably thought it was totally weird that I knew when his shifts were. I had to change the subject, and fast. “So, I’m really, really sorry I hooked you,” I said.
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” he told me. “It’s an old shirt—and just one of the hazards of fishing, I guess.” He looked down at his dive watch. “I’d better get started myself.” He reached for his own pole and nodded down the pier. “Wish me luck.” He winked. Winked! “I’ll see you soon, Samantha.”
“See you soon, Nick!” I said.
As I watched him walk off, I couldn’t help wondering if maybe I was dreaming all this. Did the cutest lifeguard in the world and I now really know each other by name?!
“Hey, sunshine, ready to go?” asked my dad, walking up with a fish-loaded cooler.
“Do we have to?” I sighed and looked longingly after Nick.
“Well, since we’re all out of bait, I’m going to say yeah,” my dad replied. “But I’m more than happy to bring you back tomorrow.”
Thanks, but no thanks. “Okay. I’m coming. Just give me a sec.”
As soon as he’d walked off, I turned to the railing, leaned over, and murmured, “Thank you, Mr. Fish!”