Dog Beach Unleashed Page 2

  “Sure. I already have my suit on.” She grabs my hand, and we walk to the pool talking about who was at Mornings and who we’re excited to see.

  “I didn’t even know Claire was here already,” Micayla says. “I haven’t seen her. When did she arrive?”

  “Yesterday, maybe? Two days ago?” I actually do know the answer—she and her brother, Calvin, came to their grandfather Mr. Brookfield’s house on Seagate three days ago because their mom had to go to a conference and their dad is traveling in Europe. But for some reason, I don’t tell Micayla that. I don’t want her to feel left out. Also, I’m not sure I should tell her what’s been going on with Claire and Calvin’s parents. It looks like they’re going to get a divorce, and divorce seems like such a private thing. Definitely not something to gossip about. Claire will tell Micayla when she’s ready.

  “So, when are we starting up doggie day care?” Micayla asks, throwing her arm over my shoulders. “You have no idea how many people asked me about it during the year. It was like they expected me to keep it going, even without you. Like I would ever do that.”

  “You could have.” I look at her and raise my eyebrows. “You’re fully capable.”

  “Thanks, Rem. But no. It’s your thing. Anyway, we should get it started soon. People are eager for their dogs to do some socializing.”

  I laugh. “Really?”

  “Oh yeah. Mr. Jennings even said that Atticus is getting bored with only Rascal to play with.” Paul Jennings is a Seagate local who also happens to be Micayla’s teacher, and his German shepherd hangs out a lot with the Newfoundland who belongs to the mom of Paul’s girlfriend, Andi.

  I’m glad to hear it. We made a lot of money last summer, and I’m hoping to make even more this year. I want to be able to donate all of it to an animal shelter in Manhattan that’s in danger of closing.

  We get to the pool and find Claire in the direct sun on one of the sea-green lounge chairs. A thick brown towel is underneath her. Her skin is frying. She thinks that tanning oil with SPF 4 is as good as sunscreen.

  “Girlies!” Claire yelps and sits up. She ties her hair into a high bun and dries the sweat off her forehead with a corner of her towel. “I’d hug you, but I’m really sweaty. Like, really, really sweaty.”

  “We can see that.” I laugh. “Air hug!”

  Micayla and I pretend to put our arms around her. Then we spread our towels out on lounges and lie down.

  “Do I look tan yet?” Claire asks us. “I think I’m the palest person on this whole island.”

  “Give it time,” Micayla says. “It’s still June.” Since she has perfect dark skin naturally, Micayla never understands Claire’s obsession with tanning.

  Claire turns onto her side to face me. “So, what ever happened with that girl at your school who tried out for that movie and was sure she was gonna get the part?”

  “Oh yeah. She didn’t get it. But she got a part in some other movie, so she’s leaving school and getting tutored on the set.”

  “What on earth are you guys talking about?” Micayla asks.

  “When I slept over at Remy’s a few weeks ago, this girl Dylan called to tell her she was going to be in a movie with Brad Pitt, and she was leaving school and all this stuff. But then I never found out if she really got the part,” Claire explains.

  It’s really not the most exciting story in the world, but Claire thought it was so cool. I was supposed to keep her updated, but I forgot all about it.

  Micayla glares at me, and I know what her eyes are saying. “I didn’t know you slept over at Remy’s,” she says to Claire.

  “Oh yeah, a bunch of times.” Claire smiles. “What, like, ten maybe? Right, Rem?”

  My chest flames like the sunburn blossoming on Claire’s forehead. I should have told Micayla about the sleepovers. I didn’t purposely not tell her, but I guess I didn’t go out of my way to tell her, either.

  I nod and attempt to change the subject. “Anyway, you guys, we need to discuss doggie day care. Mic tells me that people are eager to get their pooches settled into the routine. And I’m eager to raise money for the shelter.”

  I look at Claire and then at Micayla, and I still sense the confusion and sadness Micayla is feeling. I’ll talk to her about it later. I’ll make it right. I mean, she was on Seagate. It’s not as if she could come to Manhattan just for a plain old sleepover.

  “Well, we can’t discuss this without Bennett,” Micayla says. “That wouldn’t be right. So how about we have a meeting on the beach later? Or during lunch?”

  “A lunch meeting sounds great,” I say. “Pastrami on Rye around noon? I’ll text Bennett.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Claire says. “Should we text Calvin, or is he with Bennett?”

  “Text him,” Micayla says. “I don’t want anyone to feel left out.”

  Maybe she doesn’t really mean anything by that comment, but it still stings. I need to smooth things over soon, because we can’t start the summer like this. It won’t be good for the dogs. Or for us.

  Claire and Micayla stop at SGI Sweets for some sour straws on the way to Pastrami on Rye. I want them to have a few minutes to bond without me, so I stay outside on the bench to soak up the sun.

  “Hi, Remy.” Mr. Aprone, the owner of Novel Ideas, Seagate’s bookstore, stops to talk to me. I haven’t seen him yet, and I’m excited to discuss the plans for the Centennial Summer celebration with him.

  “How was your year?” I ask him.

  “Good, good.” He snaps open his water bottle and takes a sip. “But please bring the gang by, okay? I’m worried it’s going to be a short summer, and I need as much business as I can get. You know how it is, with so many e-readers these days.”

  I nod. He’s always working so hard to make sure people still read books on paper. I totally understand. I love books on paper, too.

  “What do you mean, a short summer?” I ask.

  He sits down next to me. “You haven’t heard?”

  I shake my head and turn around to look in the window of SGI Sweets. Claire and Micayla are taking forever in there.

  “It’s going to be a rough hurricane season. Everyone’s saying it could be one of the worst we’ve ever seen. There’s a good chance a dangerous storm could reach Seagate.”

  “Really?” I wish he hadn’t told me that. Could it be some kind of joke? I highly doubt anyone would find it funny.

  “Sadly, yes.” He raises his eyebrows. “Listen, I need to run. But it’s good to see you, Remy. Stop by the store, okay? I have the newest title in that series you love.”

  “Thanks. I’ll come in soon, and we can talk about the Centennial celebration, too.”

  Claire and Micayla come out of SGI Sweets, and I don’t mention the dangerous storm Mr. Aprone was worried about. We walk, and I try to pretend he didn’t just tell me that bit of news. I push it out of my brain, refusing to believe it. Just because someone predicts a hurricane doesn’t mean it’s going to happen.

  A short summer would be disastrous. It’s already short enough. I need all the time I can get on Seagate.

  We walk into Pastrami on Rye, and Bennett and Calvin are waiting for us in the back booth. They’re spitting bits of wadded-up paper at each other through straws, cracking up.

  When Calvin sees us, he stops immediately. He sits up straighter, as if he’s suddenly serious and grown-up. It’s kind of funny to watch, but it makes me happy. We all have a business to run, so I want our customers to know that we’re responsible and mature.

  “What’s shakin’?” he asks as we sit down. “We ordered our burgers already. I got the Hurricane Hammie. Obviously.”

  I wish the owners would take that off the menu. After what Mr. Aprone said, we should abolish the word hurricane from the Seagate Island vocabulary, even when it’s only referring to hamburgers.

  “First of all, gross. There’s no reason to have a fried egg on a hamburger. And second of all, you guys couldn’t wait for us to get here?” Claire asks. “Sheesh. Di
dn’t you just eat breakfast, like, two hours ago?”

  “We’re hungry,” Bennett explains.

  “Obviously,” Claire mutters.

  The waitress comes over and brings us menus. We order two of their famous oversized deli sandwiches, a basket of fries, and a basket of onion rings to share.

  “Okay, so let’s get down to business,” I say to get the ball rolling. “I’ve already run into a few of our old clients, and the owners are itching to get the dogs back on a schedule.”

  I need to pretend that everything is fine. Get the doggie day care business started and keep the critters happy. If I act as if this is a normal summer, maybe it will be.

  “Well, we should make room for new clients, too,” Bennett suggests. “We should advertise and see how many dogs we can take on. Claire and Calvin are officially on board this summer, right, guys?”

  They nod.

  “So we have two extra sets of hands,” Bennett continues. “We can really expand the business.”

  “But do we want to be so busy?” Micayla asks after a bite of sandwich. “We need to save some time for fun, too, right?”

  “Yes. Definitely. Fun and tanning,” Claire answers.

  We agree and decide to make some posters so that everyone on Seagate is aware of our business. We’ll follow up with our regular clients, and we’ll get everything going by next week.

  “So we have the rest of this week just to hang out and have fun,” I explain.

  “Thanks for the permission, Rem,” Bennett says, mocking me.

  Bennett has always been the kind of friend who teases, who helps me break out of my usually serious frame of mind. But right now it’s annoying. I don’t know why. I just want him to be serious for once. Like Calvin.

  We spend the next morning hanging out and putting up posters about our doggie day care business, but when afternoon rolls around, our group is off in a million different directions. Micayla goes to a yoga class with her mom. Calvin and Claire go on some mystery adventure with Mr. Brookfield, their grandpa.

  Bennett and I are left alone with a whole afternoon in front of us.

  For some reason it makes my stomach feel queasy.

  “What are you doing now?” he asks when it’s just us.

  “No idea. You?”

  “Well, I haven’t been in your new pool yet this summer. So let’s do that.” He looks at me, but I can’t look back at him. Bennett and me alone at my pool? It was never a big deal before. But now it makes me nervous.

  “Sound okay?” he asks.

  I realize I haven’t answered him.

  “Oh yeah. Sounds great.”

  We get to my house, and I tell him that I need to run up to my room to change. Truth is, I already have my bathing suit on. But I need to mentally prepare.

  “Go out to the pool. I’ll meet you there,” I tell him.

  I don’t want to feel different. I want it to be Bennett and me swimming together as we have a million times on Seagate. But as much as I tell myself that nothing’s changed, something has.

  Suddenly Bennett seeing me in my swimsuit is the scariest thing in the world. I want to swim in one of my dad’s oversized Tshirts instead.

  When I get to the pool, Bennett is sprawled out on a lounge chair reading a section of my dad’s newspaper.

  “Do you have any idea what’s going on with the real estate market in New York?” he asks. “It’s totally insane. You guys should sell your apartment. You would make so much money.”

  “Um, okay.” I give him a look. “I don’t really pay attention to real estate. And I didn’t think you did, either.”

  He laughs. “Well, I don’t, I guess. I was just reading this article. But don’t I sound smart?”

  “You do, Bennett. Very smart.”

  We both crack up, and he puts the newspaper on the little side table. He takes off his SGI Sweets T-shirt, throws it at me, and says, “Ready to swim?”

  I don’t want his smelly T-shirt on me, so I throw it back at him.

  I should’ve gotten into the pool while he was still reading the paper. Then he couldn’t watch me walk all the way from the lounges to the pool ladder. But it’s too late for all that now.

  Thankfully, he takes a running leap into the pool, and I have just enough time to get down the ladder and into the water before he comes up for air.

  “Your new pool is awesome! And it’s the perfect temperature,” he says.

  I can’t think of a single thing to say, and I have no idea why. Bennett’s been my best summertime friend forever, but my mind is blank.

  “Get on the pink raft,” he says. “I’ll push you around the pool. Remember how we always used to do that when we were little?”

  I sneer. “Yeah, but have you gotten any better at it? You tipped me over a few too many times for me to trust you and your raft-driving skills.”

  “I’ve been practicing.” He flicks some pool water at me and smiles. “Come on. Don’t be scared. Get on the raft.”

  I don’t know how to get out of it. Now he’s going to see me—my whole body—lying flat on the raft.

  Bennett holds the raft still for me, and luckily I’m able to get up on the first try. Usually I fumble around and half fall off in the most clumsy, ungraceful way possible.

  But today I’m able to do it. I’m grateful for that.

  My head rests on the little raft pillow, and I let out a sigh of relief. I cover my stomach with my arms, and Bennett pushes me around the pool.

  “So, what happens next year? Where are you going to school?”

  I tell him about the whole middle school process in New York City—how you have to apply to some schools to get in. It’s pretty complicated, almost like applying to college.

  “Your friends are going to that same school?” he asks.

  “Well, some are, and some aren’t.”

  We get so involved in a conversation about school and standardized tests and all that boring stuff that I forget I’m floating on a raft in my swimsuit with Bennett pushing me around. And I forget that he likes to flip me over when I’m not paying attention.

  And that’s exactly what happens.

  He flips over the pink raft, and I fly off into the water. I come up for air, coughing and laughing and splashing Bennett as much as I can.

  And then Bennett and I are standing so close to each other in the pool that we’re practically touching. Suddenly I get freaked out all over again.

  “So, what should we do now?” he asks.

  I’m relieved that Bennett has changed the mood.

  “Do you have any good snacks? I’m starving,” he adds.

  “Hmm. Well, we did just get here and go grocery shopping. So we should be at our snack peak of the summer, shouldn’t we?”

  “Good point. Let’s go raid the fridge!”

  “Go on inside,” I tell him. “I want to swim a lap first.”

  This is a total lie, but I don’t want to get out of the water with him watching me.

  “You’re suddenly into exercise?” he asks me.

  “Well, I’m trying,” I explain, hoping I sound believable. “I might even try out for my school’s swim team this year.”

  “Wow. Impressive.” He arches an eyebrow. And there’s a reason for him to be surprised. I’ve never been into sports. When I say I like to swim, I mean that I like to wade in the water and float around.

  “Hey, I have an idea. I could be your coach this summer!” he says. “Get you ready for tryouts.”

  As soon as he says it, I realize my mistake. Bennett is an amazing swimmer. He took lessons from the time he was six months old. If he’s my coach, he’s going to see me in a bathing suit all the time. I mean, he would anyway, since we swim every day on Seagate. But this would be different. This would be up close and personal.

  “You don’t seem enthused by the idea,” he says.

  “I guess I’m realizing all the time and effort it would take, and I got tired just thinking about it.” I laugh. “You know me
. I don’t like to exert too much energy.”

  “Right. But I do want to make use of this great new pool.” He shrugs. “Well, it’s just an idea. And it would be fun to hang out more.”

  He wraps a yellow towel around his shoulders and goes into the house.

  I stay in the pool and think about this coaching idea, and part of it seems enticing—all that alone time with Bennett. But it makes me nervous, too.

  I wish I understood what I was feeling.

  The next day, we hit the ground running, trying to get the business going again. The boys put up posters on the parts of the island that we’ve missed, and the girls follow up with all our old clients, making sure we know what their needs are so we can give them priority in the schedule.

  “We’re going to be very busy this summer,” Paul, Atticus’s dog-dad, tells us.

  Micayla, Claire, and I are sitting with Paul and his girlfriend, Andi, on his porch. Atticus and Rascal are gnawing on rawhide chews in a corner. Atticus’s triangular German shepherd ears perk up and he tries to steal Rascal’s rawhide. They behave like real brothers now that they live together, always wrestling and snatching each other’s treats. But Rascal stays calm. His black, velvety Newfoundland fur almost glistens in the sun. He sits there all dignified, as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.

  “We are?” Andi asks Paul with stars in her eyes. They share the wicker love seat, sitting as close to each other as they possibly can.

  He nods. “Yup. I have a lot of things planned.”

  Maybe he knows about the shortened summer, too. Maybe he’s trying to squeeze in as much as he can before the big storm. Ever since I talked to Mr. Aprone, I’ve been worrying about it, but I keep the worries to myself.

  Right now it feels like a secret that only Mr. Aprone and I know. If I don’t talk about it, maybe it won’t become real.

  Paul grabs Andi’s hand, and I wonder if Claire and Micayla feel as awkward as I do. It seems as if we caught the grown-up couple in some intimate moment, even though they knew we were coming over.