Boy-Crazy Stacey Read online

  “Do you rent the same house every year?” I asked Mallory as we unloaded cartons from the car.

  “Yup,” she said. “And we’re so lucky. I mean, right on the beach and everything. In the evening we sometimes sit on the front porch and just stare out at the ocean. And when it rains …”

  “Yeah?”

  “I go up to this room on the third floor and sit on this window seat and watch the lightning and the waves crashing and everything.”

  I shivered. It sounded very romantic.

  “Plus,” added Mallory, “the lifeguard stand is right in front of our house. We can walk out the front door and straight into the ocean for a swim.”

  The driveway was behind the house, and we were carrying things in through the back door. Inside, Mrs. Pike was directing traffic.

  “Why don’t you take the same rooms you had last year?” she suggested. “Boys in the big bedroom at the end of the hall. Claire and Margo, in the room next to Daddy and me. Vanessa and Mallory, the pink bedroom. Oh, and, Mal, show Mary Anne and Stacey the yellow bedroom, okay?”

  Mary Anne was looking around the house, wide-eyed. The rooms on the first floor were big and bright and airy. I saw a living room, a sun-porch, and a kitchen before Mallory whisked us up the wide staircase to the second floor.

  The second floor consisted of a hallway, bedrooms, and bathrooms. It reminded me a little of Watson’s house, only it wasn’t nearly as big. Mallory opened a door toward the end of the hall.

  “This is the yellow bedroom,” she said. “If you don’t like it, there are a couple of rooms on the third floor, or you could trade with somebody.”

  “Oh, no, it’s perfect!” Mary Anne breathed. “Just perfect.”

  It was a pretty room, I suppose, although not really to my taste. It was old-fashioned, with two high, dark wood beds, a bare wood floor, and yellow flowered wallpaper. It did, however, have a view of the beach. Out our window was sand and sun and the lifeguard stand.

  “This is great!” I said to Mary Anne as soon as Mallory had left. “What a view. Come on, let’s unpack. Then we can help the kids unpack, and after lunch, we can go out and do something.”

  We did just that. We emptied our suitcases, putting things in the tall bureau between our beds, or hanging them in the closet. Then we gave the Pike kids a hand. While Mr. and Mrs. Pike were still unpacking boxes and opening windows and making grocery lists, Mary Anne and I made sandwiches and served them up at the table in the kitchen.

  As we were finishing lunch, I made the mistake of asking, “So what do you guys want to do this afternoon?”

  “Go to the beach,” said Mallory.

  “Go to the arcade,” said Jordan.

  “Go swimming,” said Adam.

  “Go to Trampoline Land,” said Nicky.

  “Make sandcastles,” said Claire.

  “Go on the Ferris wheel,” said Margo.

  “Go to the Ice-Cream Palace,” said Byron, who loves to eat.

  “Look for shells, look for shells, washed to shore by the ocean swells.” (That was Vanessa, obviously.)

  Mary Anne and I glanced at each other. Mary Anne raised her eyebrows. “Well,” she said slowly, “maybe we can do everything … sort of.”

  “How?” asked the kids.

  “Yeah, how?” I asked.

  “We’ll go exploring,” replied Mary Anne. “Stacey and I haven’t been here before. Why don’t you take us on a tour? You can show us everything. We probably won’t have time to go on rides or play games, but at least we can see the town.”

  The triplets were the first to okay the idea, and the others quickly followed. Fifteen minutes later, Mary Anne and I were herding the Pike kids out the back door and down the street.

  “Where do we start?” I asked.

  “The main drag,” replied Adam promptly.

  “Yeah, that’s good,” said Mallory. “We’ll walk right through town, and then go over to the boardwalk and come back home that way.”

  Walking “right through town” took just under two hours. At least one Pike wanted to stop at nearly every place we passed. Nicky wanted to see how much it cost to jump on the trampolines this summer. Byron wanted to see if the price of ice-cream cones was the same, and whether the Ice-Cream Palace still had bing cherry vanilla. Mallory and Vanessa ducked into every souvenir shop along the way. They exclaimed over the little animals made of shells (which were pretty cute) and Sea City hats, towels, mugs, T-shirts, shorts, and postcards.

  We almost had tears when we passed a penny candy store called Candy Heaven and Byron discovered some change in his pocket and started buying up—but only for himself. The others wanted candy, too. Luckily, Mary Anne and I had just enough change to buy each of them a jawbreaker. And Mary Anne bought a tiny chocolate teddy for herself, but I had to go without, of course. When we left Candy Heaven, all you could hear was slurp, slurp, slurp, and exclamations of “Mine’s turning blue now!” or “Hey, look! Mine’s yellow!” or “When mine gets smaller, I’m going to bite it in half and look at all the layers.”

  We proceeded along the main drag.

  “There’s Burger Garden!” said Byron, as we passed a tacky-looking restaurant. It was surrounded by a “garden” of plastic flowers. The eat-out tables were in the shape of mushrooms, and the waiters and waitresses were dressed like animals.

  “Ask Claire what this place is called,” whispered Jordan.

  “What’s this place called?” I asked her.

  “Gurber Garden.”

  Jordan hooted. “She never says it right!”

  We continued on our way. “There’s Candy Kitchen,” said Margo. “That’s where we get fudge. It’s yummy-yummy!”

  “And there’s miniature golf,” pointed out Jordan.

  “That looks like fun,” I said. “They didn’t have miniature golf in New York City. Have you ever played, Mary Anne?”

  “A couple of times. There’s a miniature golf course near Shelbyville in Connecticut.”

  I kept looking. I looked so long that Adam said hopefully, “Maybe we could play now.”

  “Sorry, kiddo,” I told him. “I wish we could, too, but we don’t have any money. I’m sure we’ll come back, though. It would be fun to play sometime.”

  We stood around and watched a while longer. Then we continued with our exploring. It took us another hour to walk along the boardwalk, and finally we ended up on the beach in front of the Pikes’ house.

  “Can we go in the water?” asked Nicky.

  I looked at my watch. “Nope. Sorry,” I said. “It’s five o’clock. The lifeguards are getting ready to leave. Besides, you guys aren’t wearing your bathing suits.”

  “Can’t we even go wading?” Nicky pressed.

  “Please, please, please? Just to our knees?” added Vanessa.

  “No,” I told them. “You know the rules.”

  “You could make a sandcastle or look for shells,” suggested Mary Anne.

  Nicky pouted. “That’s girl stuff,” he announced. “I know. We’ll play paddleball.” He ran into the house to get rackets and balls.

  Mary Anne and I settled ourselves in the sand. We watched the rest of the Pike kids run around, laughing, glad to be at the seashore finally. I looked at the other people on the beach. They were mostly families. Then I watched the lifeguards. They had jumped off of their wooden stand and were pulling on blue Windbreakers that said SEA CITY COMMUNITY BEACHES. One had dark, curly hair; the other wavy, blond hair. They looked about seventeen years old.

  As the blond one leaned over to fold his towel, the sun caught his hair, making it gleam. And at that moment, he glanced up. He saw me looking at him, and gave me a smile and a little wink.

  He was gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous.

  He turned back to his towel and I let out my breath in a shaky gasp.

  “Oh, wow,” I whispered to Mary Anne. “I’m in love.”

  “Huh?” she said, frowning.

  “I’m in love,” I repeated, “with that g
orgeous lifeguard.”

  Mary Anne just shook her head. I knew she thought I was crazy.

  Sunday

  Dear Kristy,

  Here’s something for the notebook: Pikes get up early. See ya!

  Stacey

  Sunday

  Dear Claudia,

  I’m in LUV with that blond, tan hunk of a lifeguard! Today I found out his name. It’s Scott. And I think he likes me. Later!

  Luv,

  Stace

  P.S. I can’t let Mary Anne see this card. She doesn’t understand about Scott at all. She thinks I’m looney tunes.

  “Stacey?” whispered a small voice.

  I pulled the covers over my head, hoping the small voice was part of a dream. It was Sunday morning. Very early Sunday morning. Something had awoken me from a sound sleep.

  “Stacey?” whispered the voice again, more urgently.

  “Mmphh.”

  “STACEY-SILLY-BILLY-GOO-GOO?”

  “WHAT?” I sat up in bed like I’d been shot out of a cannon. “What is it?”

  Margo was standing in the doorway to our bedroom. Claire was next to her.

  “We want to go to the beach,” said Margo.

  “What’s going on?” asked Mary Anne sleepily from across the room.

  “These two want to go to the beach and it’s the middle of the night,” I said.

  “No, it isn’t,” replied Margo. “The sun’s almost up.”

  “Mr. Sun-silly-billy-goo-goo!” cried Claire.

  “Shh, you guys. It’s too early for the beach. It’s even too early to get up. Come in bed with me.”

  The girls scrambled for my bed, but three of us were a tight squeeze, so Claire got in bed with Mary Anne instead. We all went back to sleep.

  We didn’t wake up until we smelled breakfast cooking.

  “Mmm,” I mumbled. “Scrambled eggs. Bacon. Toast.”

  “Daggles-silly-billy-goo-goo is making breakfast,” Claire announced.

  Mary Anne and I got dressed and the four of us were downstairs in ten minutes. The other Pikes had gathered. Mallory and Adam were already in their bathing suits. But Nicky, Vanessa, Byron, Jordan, and the little girls were still in their pajamas. I had a feeling it might take a while to get eight kids ready for the beach.

  “Good morning!” Mr. Pike greeted us. “I’m the chief cooker of breakfast around here. Are you hungry?”

  “Starved!” Mary Anne and I replied.

  “Good,” he said. “Stacey, come give me a hand at the stove.”

  “I’m not much of a cook,” I told him.

  “That’s all right,” he replied when I’d reached his side. He lowered his voice. “I want to make sure you can eat what I’m fixing. The Danish is out, right?”

  “Right,” I said, looking longingly at a pan of sugary bakery Danish warming up in the oven. Cheese Danish used to be my favorite breakfast food.

  “Toast?” he asked.

  I read the ingredients on the bread wrapper. “That’s okay,” I told him.

  “Bacon?”

  “Fine.”

  “And the main course—cheese omelets,” he said proudly.

  “Oh. Um, no. It’s the processed cheese. I can’t eat it.”

  “No problem. I’ll scramble you up a couple of plain eggs, okay?”

  “Great,” I replied. “Thanks.”

  Mr. Pike didn’t look at all put out, but I felt terrible. A mother’s helper wasn’t supposed to create extra work for her clients. I began to feel apprehensive. What if Mallory or one of the younger Pike kids wanted to know why I was on a special diet when I’m already pretty thin? But I put my fears aside, and felt better by the time breakfast was over and no one had mentioned my scrambled eggs or the fact that I had turned down “yummy-yummy” Danish in favor of plain old toast.

  No sooner had the last bite of breakfast been eaten than Jordan yelled, “Beach!” and the Pikes turned into a human tornado. Six of the kids needed to change into bathing suits. We had to find eight towels, two umbrellas, some chairs, four pails and shovels, four paddleball rackets and balls, books, a deck of cards, several tubes of sunscreen, T-shirts, and sodas. And that was just for the kids. Mary Anne and I had to get ourselves ready, too.

  Mary Anne, ever organized, had packed her beach bag the night before. Neatly arranged in it were a hairbrush, sunglasses, a headband, and a copy of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. I threw together a similar bag, remembering to toss in the bottle of Sun-Lite. Then we prepared to peel off our shorts and shirts, revealing our bikinis.

  “You first,” I said to Mary Anne.

  “No way. You first.”

  I’m not shy. I whipped off my clothes. Underneath was my new bikini. It was skimpy (and we’re talking very skimpy) and yellow, with tiny bows at the sides on the bottom part. And if I do say so myself, the top part was filled out pretty nicely.

  Mary Anne’s eyes nearly bugged right off her face.

  “Oh, my —” she started to say. “Well, that does it. I’m not taking my clothes off. I’ll sit on the beach in a shirt and jeans. I’ll wear an evening gown if I have to.”

  “Come on, Mary Anne,” I said. “It can’t be that bad. Let me see.”

  “No.”

  “Mary Anne, the kids are waiting. They want to hit the beach. They sound desperate. Off with your clothes.”

  Slowly, Mary Anne removed her shirt and shorts. Underneath was a perfectly nice pale blue bikini with white stripes running diagonally across it. It wasn’t quite as skimpy as mine, and the top wasn’t filled out at all (Mary Anne and Kristy are just about the shortest, smallest girls in our grade), but she looked fine. I told her so.

  Reluctantly, she helped get the kids organized. The ten of us struggled out the front door and across the sand. About halfway to the water, Mallory suddenly said, “This is a good place.”

  The kids dropped the junk they were holding and ran, leaving Mary Anne and me to set up our spot. It was nine-thirty and the lifeguards were on duty, so we knew the kids were pretty safe by the water. We spread out towels, opened the umbrellas, set out the beach chairs, and were ready.

  I rubbed some Sun-Lite in my hair. “Sun, hit me with your rays,” I said. I oiled myself up with sunscreen and sat back in a chair.

  “Hey!” yelped Mary Anne. “We forgot to put lotion on the kids. They’ll be as red as lobsters if we’re not careful.”

  We had to round up all the kids and make sure they got lathered with sunscreen. Then we turned them loose again.

  I put on my shades. I put on my visor. I sat back in my chair again. The sand was white and warm. The sky was a brilliant blue. In front of me, the ocean crashed and foamed. This was the life.

  I gazed around. Not far away, a mother and three little kids were parked. In another spot were a mother, a father, a grandmother, and a little boy about Nicky’s age. With some interest, I watched two boys, one about seven, one about four, tugging at the hands of an older boy (fourteen?) and pulling him impatiently along the beach. The older boy was trying to carry a bundle of towels, an umbrella, and a baby. They stopped near us. The boy reminded me of me. He spread out their towels, rubbed sunscreen on the children, and then let the boys run to the water while he stayed under the umbrella with the baby.

  Was the boy their brother? I didn’t think so. He was fair skinned with light brown hair, while the children had olive complexions and masses of black curls.

  I nudged Mary Anne. “See that boy over there?”

  She nodded.

  “I think he’s a guy mother’s helper.”

  “Really?”

  For the next fifteen minutes or so, Mary Anne and I kept an eye on the Pike kids, watched the other mother’s helper, and just enjoyed the beach. Of course, I had checked out the lifeguard stand. Two guys were on duty, and they were cute, but neither one was the hunk I’d seen the day before.

  “Stacey?” said Mary Anne after a while. “Look at Byron.”

  I searched the shoreline. I saw Mallory, Jordan, Adam
, and Nicky shrieking around in waist-high water. Claire, Margo, and Vanessa were crouched in the wet sand at the water’s edge, making castles that were meant to be washed away with each wave. But Byron was hanging back, alone. He was sitting in dry sand, staring out to sea.

  “What’s wrong with him?” I wondered.

  “He hasn’t been near the water since we got here. He hasn’t even stuck a toe in.”

  “He does know how to swim, doesn’t he?”

  “I know for a fact that he does. I remember when the triplets were taking lessons at the Y,” replied Mary Anne.

  My attention was drawn away from Byron by something very interesting. A Jeep was driving up the beach. It stopped by the lifeguard stand. Two guys wearing windbreakers got out. One removed a pair of mirrored sunglasses. It was the hunk! Noskote and lipcoat were smeared on his face, but it didn’t matter. He was as gorgeous as ever. He was totally cool!

  And he was changing places with one of the guards on duty! The hunk was now sitting just ten yards away from me. Unfortunately, I was facing his back.

  “There he is! There he is!” I hissed to Mary Anne.

  “Who?” She was still watching Byron.

  “Him! That incredible hunk from yesterday. The lifeguard of my dreams. Oh, I am in love with him for sure. I mean it.”

  “You’re not the only one.”

  “Huh?”

  “Look.” Mary Anne pointed to a group of girls about our age who had gathered at the base of the lifeguard stand. They seemed to have materialized out of thin air. They were giggling and talking and asking the guards questions.

  My heart sank.

  All morning I watched the lifeguards and the girls. I watched them much more than I watched the Pike kids. Mary Anne seemed a bit miffed, but I couldn’t help it. I was in love.

  How did those other girls get so lucky? Not only did the lifeguards seem to know them, but they gave them the supreme honor of letting them do favors for them. Those girls got to bring them sodas and pick up anything that fell off the stand, and one was even asked to fix them sandwiches for lunch.