Saturday, May 28

LOCATION: Stone Harbor, New Jersey

I have to write this down because I don’t think Future Me will believe it happened: I’m spending the weekend at the beach.

I’ve never been a sand-in-your-hair, zinc-oxide-on-your-nose kind of girl. I don’t drink or eat anything on sand because it can easily get in your soda can or your turkey sandwich with provolone cheese, spicy mustard, and extra pickles (my favorite). Cheese puffs are out, too, because your fingers are sandy, which means they’re going to ruin the puffs. It’s a cheese-puff tragedy waiting to happen.

And yet here I was at the Jersey Shore, which is known for its boardwalks, funnel cakes, beaches, and occasional shark sightings. (Gulp.) Briggs wanted to be somewhat near Atlantic City to hear some new band play at a casino, so he rented a house in his favorite New Jersey beach town, Stone Harbor. Jilly invited Scarlet, Iris, and me to come with her. May in New Jersey is usually still too chilly to go in the water, but my friends and dozens of others were braving the fifty-degree water temperature to do it. It helped that it was eighty and sunny out.

Except me. I was sitting on a lounge chair working on sketches for my Mac Attack comic book while I watched Jilly, Scarlet, and Iris boogie-board from a (safe) distance. It’s not like the soft breeze was annoying when it blew my notebook around. And the heat certainly wasn’t getting to me. I read somewhere that it’s good to sweat. My stomach wasn’t growling at the sight of the hoagies that were just delivered to the beach. Boogie-boarding with the girls didn’t look fun, either. Not. At. All.

Cough.

I watched Jilly catch a wave that she rode all the way in to shore. She effortlessly stood up, unhooked the boogie board strap from her wrist, and jogged toward me, carrying the board under her arm like a pro. She’s my most athletic friend.

Jilly wiped the water away from her face. “Aren’t you hot?”

“Does my red face give me away?” It was sweltering under my umbrella!

“Walk down and dip your toes in the ocean.” Jilly gave me a fierce look. “I promise there are no sharks here.”

“They can swim in shallow waters,” I pointed out. “I’ve read it online.”

Jilly rolled her eyes. “Not that shallow.” She grabbed my hand with her wet one and pulled me up. She was really strong for such a petite girl. “We’re going to be able to fry an egg on you if you don’t cool off.”

“I’ll go in up to my ankles, but only if we’re in front of the lifeguard stand.” In shark movies, it was always the person swimming too far from the lifeguard who got eaten first.

Jilly ignored me and led me down to the water. I had to admit, the closer we got to the ocean, the cooler I felt. Kids flew by us on boogie boards, rode waves, or drifted around in tubes. The sound of their happy squeals was interrupted only by the occasional whistle. The guards seemed super strict here. Surely, they’d spot a Sharkinator if a fin were circling the area.

Iris and Scarlet came splashing toward me, kicking up water as they ran.

“Attention, all sharks! Mac is in the water. I repeat, Mac is in the water!” Scarlet wiped her wet face with the orange surf shirt she had on over her bathing suit and staked her boogie board in the wet sand. She’d written PS IS MY LIFE! on the bottom of her board.

“Look, she’s in up to her knees,” Iris pointed out. She was still wearing her tie-dye goggles. She hated getting water in her eyes. “If you can handle that, you can definitely try boogie-boarding next!”

The water must have pulled me out. I wouldn’t walk into the cool ocean myself, would I? Then a kid on a boogie board crashed into me, sending me into the water on my hands and knees where—

“OUCH!” I jumped up and ran back to the shoreline. “Something bit me! Everyone, look for fins.”

“You probably hit a piece of broken shell.” Scarlet sounded unsympathetic.

“Be daring, Mac,” Jilly encouraged me. “Think of PS. I’m sure the guys are doing something exciting in the Bahamas. Don’t let them show you up!”

Perfect Storm was in the Bahamas with Lemon Ade, playing at some resort. I could only imagine the thousands of Lola look-alikes hanging on the guys. They were probably having the best time. Was I really going to mess up my own because of a silly fear of sharks? There were dozens of people in the water. Half of them were under the age of ten, and they didn’t look worried about a shark eating them for lunch.

“I’ll do it!” I rushed back to the water before I could second-guess myself, grabbing Scarlet’s board and paddling out. I could hear the others cheering, but I was concentrating on not looking down. If I didn’t see how dark the water was, I wouldn’t worry about what was lurking beneath the surface. Jilly paddled up next to me.

“I thought you’d like some company,” she said, turning her board back to shore to wait for a wave. We were in up to our shoulders at this point, and I was trying hard not to panic. The shore looked so far away, so I was grateful to have her there. “Scarlet ran to get her phone to video your big moment. The minute the wave starts coming toward us, start to paddle. The wave will catch you and pull you to shore. Got it?”

“Got it,” I said, and not a minute too soon, because I could feel the water pulling backward and the wave beginning to form behind us. It looked HUGE.

“One, two, three, GO!” Jilly shouted, and the two of us began paddling. Seconds later, I could feel the wave pushing me forward, past kids playing in the water until—WHOOSH!—I was sliding on the sand.

“I did it!” I shouted. The four of us jumped up and down, screaming like we just met PS for the first time. The lifeguards were looking over, but I didn’t care. “That was awesome!” I wiped the sand and water away from my face. “Let’s do it again!”

“You need to get your own board,” Scarlet pointed out. “You didn’t buy one, remember?”

“I think her exact words were ‘I’d rather see Perfect Storm get the chicken pox and cancel their next five concerts than buy a boogie board!’” Jilly reminded me.

“That was a little harsh,” I admitted. “I’ll get one and come back.”

“We’ll all go,” Jilly said. “We could get frozen custard. Or fudge. Or both!”

I laughed. “More fudge is fine by me. But if we’re all going into town, then maybe we can also do something else I’ve been dying to do.”

“Are you going to make me play mini golf on that rooftop?” Jilly asked. She was afraid of heights.

“Nah,” I said as we walked along the boards that led us back to the streets where one beautiful home followed another. “I don’t want you throwing up on me. I was hoping we could try a psychic.” Jilly groaned. “It could be fun! There is one right by the frozen-custard stand. We could all get readings.”

“From a beach-town psychic?” Scarlet lowered her shades and gave me a skeptical look. “It’s going to be bogus.”

“You don’t know that,” I said. Lemon Ade, who PS opened for this spring, had a psychic reading in at least three tour stops. She said it really helped her channel her chi, whatever that is. “Madam Celeste has been in business for twenty-four years.” According to her sign. “It could be fun to hear what she thinks Future Us will be like.”

Jilly shrugged. “I guess I’m game.”

Iris nodded. “Me too.”

Which is when Scarlet caved. “Fine, but I’m not believing a word she says! They’re all frauds.”

I’m not sure Scarlet would still use the word “fraud” after hearing her future as predicted by Madam Celeste. She learned that she’s destined to be a famous inventor. (“Madam Celeste said my braces-that-don’t-look-like-braces idea is going to be HUGE!” Scarlet squealed when she emerged.)

Iris wasn’t as happy with her report. It said nothing about her winding up with a “tall, dark haired, brooding artist with the first initial Z.” Even after prompting Madam Celeste several times during the reading. Iris came out looking dejected. “She said I’m going to live a long life and karma will always be on my side.”

I don’t know, but that seemed like good news to me.

Jilly was equally uninspired. “She sees green in my future, and me living a very comfortable life.” She shrugged her sunburned shoulders. “I already knew that. My dad is loaded.” Her eyes wandered over to the fudge shop across the street.

My Madam Celeste idea was turning out to be a bust. It sounded like she was a fraud. Her shop was sandwiched between the custard place and a funnel-cake stand. When I walked in, I saw she was wearing what looked like a Halloween gypsy costume. Her makeup was super caked on, too, with bright red lips. When I sat on the folding chair across from her, she looked at me strangely.

“You, dearie, are in for a storm,” she said, pointing a long red nail in my direction. “A perfect storm at that.”

My ears perked up. Maybe Madam Celeste was the real deal after all! She knew about Perfect Storm! “Yes, I am!” I said giddily, leaning forward and pulling out my phone. I couldn’t help but show her the picture I drew for the guys’ album of a ship in a stormy sea. “My art teacher says I have talent.” I looked into her gray eyes. “By any chance, do you see the Eiffel Tower in my future?”

Madam Celeste frowned. “I do not understand. You have seen this storm you will face, too? Perhaps you have the gift, like I do. It is in your eyes.”

“Gift?” I was confused. “Who is getting me a gift? Is it someone whose name starts with K, because—”

Madam Celeste clasped my hands. Her palms were ice-cold and white. “You have dark days ahead of you. You may have already been betrayed and don’t even know it. A perfect storm is coming for you, and you cannot stop it.” Her stony stare disappeared and was replaced by a small smile. “That will be twenty-five dollars, please.”

I pulled my hands away and reached into my wallet for payment. What did she mean by a perfect storm if she didn’t mean my favorite boy band? “That’s it?”

Madam Celeste pulled out a black money box and opened it to make change for my two twenties. “I see what I see.”