(3) Distant Waters

So it’s the first week of total freedom. The novelty of not going to school has almost worn off, almost. “There’s still so much to look forward to,” I think as I hear my mom shouting from the family room that my friends are here. Grabbing a towel from the upstairs closet, I jump down the stairs and open the door to find all the girls in the black wrangler with Charlotte’s sister Kelly taping the steering wheel impatiently. Holding up the one-second-finger, I run to the nook in the kitchen and snatch my sunglasses, shouting a goodbye to my mom as I slam the door shut and jump into the jeep, almost all in one motion.

As the overly steamed sister, Kelly, screeches out of my driveway, I hold onto the side of the car tightly, laughing as a neighbor rushes to the side of the road with her dog, annoyed by Kelly’s driving techniques. It feels so good to be in the Wrangler, the warm sun on my legs. Instantly Britney’s long hair whips in my face so that all I can see is bright yellow.

“Can you control it?” I ask her, laughing and pulling it away from my face.

I pull down my shades and feel the wind ripple my yellow tee shirt. My hair is still damp from my shower. I let it down, allowing the sharp breezes from the open car blow it dry until I will put it up in pony tail again. Summer never felt so good.

After Kelly drops us off at the beach, we run toward our favorite sunning spot down by the concession stand. We peel off our shorts and tops and lie down on the warm sand, our towels a cushion underneath us.
We lie there in our suits, talking with our eyes closed, sneaking an occasional glance around the beach to see if there are any attractive lifeguards on duty, or even more unlikely, an attractive guy we know from school. Our towels are in a circle so it's easy to see each other.

Britney and Charlotte are both wearing the same tube top tankinis from J. Crew, Britney with blue, Charlotte in green. They have to adjust their tops every few minutes. Charissa lies flat on her bright pink fish towel, her brunette hair cascading around her on the sand. She insists on tanning this way to allow all of her hair to catch the sun and lighten. Perhaps she feels out of place, being the only brown-haired girl in the bunch, and Patsy is on her stomach, flipping through a Cosmo with headphones on, her legs bent and waving slowly in the air.

When she is sure Patsy is completely into her music and can’t hear, Britney begins venting about how annoying she is.
“I can’t believe her! She shows up in the exact same bikini she knows I bought first and then pretends she doesn’t even know! How like Patsy! She doesn’t even look good in it! I just can’t…”

Britney has to stop because Patsy has taken off her earphones and is searching for another magazine. Patsy and Britney kind of have a love-hate relationship. They always complain about each other when they're apart, but they end up acting like best friends when they're together. It's strange, but that's how it has always been.
I dig my feet farther into the hot sand, listening to the squeals of nearby seagulls fighting over apiece of hot dog bun, and also the soothing sounds of the waves lapping against the rocks while kids laugh and splash in the water. I'm tuning out most of what my friends are saying until I hear them mention Jeff Waters.

"So I hear Jeff Waters is going to Maine for the summer. He's the got the nicest house up there!" Charlotte explains, as she adjusts her tube top.

"I wouldn't mind being his girlfriend. I think he is H-O-T hot!" Britney laughs.

"Yeah you and the rest of the free world!" Charissa points out.

The conversation turns to our plans for spending two weeks together at Charlotte's summer house in Martha's Vineyard. As all of the girls excitedly make plans for movies, dinners on the beach, and hitting all the major shopping areas, I am totally lost in my own thoughts, not focusing on Martha's Vineyard.

As I gaze up at the sky, I think about how I have only a summer to plan my strategy on how to make a certain guy mine. I have two and a half weeks to figure out how to make Jeff Waters, the perfect boyfriend, ask me out. "Good luck!" I think to myself doubtfully.

Operation Boyfriend has just begun and I feel as hopeless as I watch a nearby little girl, building a small sand castle that is constantly washing away into the hands of the outstretched glistening ocean, where the sun dances on the waves and reflects the glorious summer sun.