Dolphin Girl Read online

  “Yeah.” She smiles.

  Her genuineness encourages me. “Remember the time Lexie fell asleep and we froze her bra and she put it on for us the next morning and ooh-oooh’d all around?” I laugh, and Sam does too.

  Ashley barks one hard, “Ha.”

  Alana’s expression makes me feel like she’s looking down on me. And I’m six inches taller than her. “That was pretty immature, huh?”

  It was funny. You thought so, too.

  There’s a tap on my back. I turn around to see Irwin hovering over my shoulder, a sick expression on his face.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “Jane, can I talk to you for a minute? Outside?” He heads off without waiting for an answer.

  I don’t even bother to apologize or make excuses to anyone else, but I whisper to Sam, “I’ll be back.” Then I hurry outside.

  Irwin’s hunched over by shrubbery at the edge of the parking lot, puking.

  I walk up and rub his back in circles. “It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay. Didn’t you know the punch was spiked?”

  Irwin wipes his mouth with his hand and stares at me with scared eyes through the dirty glasses. “The punch was spiked?” His face looks incredibly young.

  “Here.” I gently lift the camera over his neck. “I’ll take the pictures. I bet you got most of the good stuff already.” Pulling my cell from the small jeweled bag, I say, “Want to call your mom?” I glance at the hand he just used. “I’ll dial for you.”

  His face crumples, and he sits hard on the curb, resting his head on his knees. “I can’t call her. She’ll kill me. I mean, really kill me.” Then he starts crying.

  That’s not good. Irwin can’t be seen like this. He’ll never live it down.

  On top of that, I’m at loss. This strikes me as so odd, because here’s this guy who’s extremely independent. He doesn’t care what anyone thinks, acts just as he pleases, and he’s worried about his mom. I mean, I worry about my mom, but I worry about everyone.

  Flipping open the phone, I search my contacts for John and push send. After all, he said to call if I need anything.

  The phone rings twice, and John picks up. “Everything okay?”

  It’s nice that he’s worried — I hope he’s all right with my request.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. But, a friend of mine isn’t. Remember Irwin, the other photographer? I think he needs a ride home.”

  When an adolescent male dolphin identifies a female he’s interested in, he’ll exhibit many flashy behaviors to capture her attention. If that’s not successful, he’ll work to separate her from her pod.

  (Excerpt: The Magic and Mystery of Dolphins)

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The pickup is silent, and it’s a blessing not to have to listen to country.

  “Wanna cruise by the beach?” Travis suddenly asks.

  I’m stunned. I was sure he wanted to dump me at home and then meet up with everyone else there. I mean, after Irwin got sick I spent the night taking yearbook pictures. We never even danced together.

  “Do ya?”

  “Okay.” I fidget with my bag. Maybe-possibly-somehow we’ll run into Sam?

  As he drives, Travis rolls down the windows. The air expands as soon as we cross over US-1. Once we pass over the bridge at the Intracoastal, I can smell the ocean calling to the dolphin in me.

  “There they are.” Travis points to a group in gowns and tuxedoes standing around a small bonfire at the edge of the basketball courts. All the parking spaces are full, so Travis drives up the beach until he finds an open spot.

  Before I climb down from the truck, I slip out of the silver sandals, glad to be rid of them. Then I bunch the dress so it won’t drag on the ground. But as soon as my toes touch the cool, damp sand, I decide to let it go. A breeze swirls the flared mermaid bottom.

  There are a lot of faces I recognize around the beach bonfire: Ashley, Chase, Whitney, Alex, even Karen Perry — but Sam and Alana aren’t here yet. When we join the pod, Travis high-fives his buddies and then goes into his d-bag routine. This time he’s doing a tribal dance. More than any other time tonight, I feel trapped.

  I wander away from the trophy case cluster and immediately feel lighter.

  Along the shore, gentle waves lap at the bottom of my dress, which drags along behind me picking up sand and seaweed. Staring out across the water, a full moon reflects on a violet ocean, creating a sensation of déjà vu. It’s like the sketch I did for Lexie’s band with one difference. Out past the sand bar, I see movement. Two dorsal fins break the surface and circle each other.

  Amazing — dolphins.

  We’re here.

  I turn around to see who said that, but the group still stands around the bonfire. Their voices are too distant, and the conversation they’re having sounds like birds chattering.

  Now the surface of the ocean is glassy, unbroken. I must have imagined them. The ocean lulls me into a trance until someone stands behind me, hands on my waist.

  “The dance was cool,” Travis says, breaking the spell.

  “Yeah. Thanks for asking me.”

  He puts a hand on my waist and guides me along the edge of the water. “Do you remember kissing me on the playground?”

  The atmosphere is romantic. If my life were a storybook romance this would have been awesome. The guy I kissed in first grade taking me to my first high school dance and ending the evening with a walk on the beach. How perfect is that? But alas, my life is as messy as my bedroom.

  “I bet you’re a better kisser now,” Travis says.

  Don’t bet on it. A foolish gamble.

  I don’t know what to say or do. I’d imagined every part of the dance: Chez Antonio’s, the hall, dancing with Sam, but hadn’t anticipated a walk on the beach with Travis. In fact, I hadn’t thought post-dance at all.

  He leans in and closes his eyes. He wants a kiss.

  Travis might not be the last person I’d kiss, but he might be. Sam would be my first choice, but can I continue to be choosy? Once you’ve gone sixteen years without one, it’d be easy to make it to twenty or thirty. Can you say Old Maid?

  I glance back at the group huddled down the beach. There’s still no sign of Sam or Alana. He’s probably kissing her right now.

  Never kissed. Does that make me unlovable? It’s not like there’s been all these great opportunities with Sam. Or anyone else, for that matter. If I let this chance slip away, who knows when another guy will even try?

  You can pretend he’s Sam, I tell myself. Think of it as practice for the real thing.

  I place my hands on Travis’ face and meet his soft lips. His tongue darts and thrusts between my lips, and I do the same.

  Am I doing this right? It doesn’t feel right.

  Travis’ mouth has engulfed mine and his tongue is halfway down my throat. I try to think Sam, Sam, Sam, but it doesn’t work. Finally he breaks away.

  Does that count? Is that it, my real first kiss?

  “Nice,” Travis whispers. “Better than first grade.”

  I glance over his shoulder at the group around the bonfire. Where’s Sam? I wish it didn’t matter who I was kissing, wish that I felt free enough to kiss anyone. There’s probably some rule for the trophy case pod about not dating inexperienced girls. I don’t mean an official rule, more like something everyone knows — even Sam.

  If I get better at this, maybe it’ll make me more attractive to Sam. Maybe when I get my chance, I’ll knock him off his feet.

  Travis is facing me, holding onto both my hands. Since I’m barefoot, he’s slightly taller. I tilt my face and kiss him, thoughts swirling through my head.

  This isn’t as fun as I thought.

  He kisses my neck, my ears and the thoughts won’t stop.

  Do I feel different now that I’m kissed?

  Without breaking away, Travis pulls me to the sand.

  Would Sam do that? Is he kissing Alana? Why didn’t he come?

  I can’t stop thinking about Sam, an
d these kisses are as phony as my stairway entrance. If I were kissing Sam, I wouldn’t be able to think at all.

  Realizing this isn’t what I want, I stop, but it doesn’t faze Travis. In fact, he’s pushing me to lie on the sand.

  I press back.

  He gives one hard shove, and my head thumps against the sand.

  “Ow,” I grab the back of my head.

  Travis stops and places his hand over mine and gently rubs the sore spot. “Sorry,” he says and laughs. I don’t think he is. “Show me your ink. That dolphin is delish.”

  Delish? Seriously? He’s so cheesy. “We should go.” The sand has dampened my dress and my mood.

  But Travis kisses my neck again, cups his hand over my breast and moans. He nuzzles his head down to my chest. Oh, God! This has to stop.

  “No,” I squeak.

  Travis removes his hand but kisses me again on the lips. He’s positioned himself on top of me and I’m pressed into the sand, my voice and movement cut off.

  I thrash my head to the side. “I mean it, Travis. Party over.”

  He’s on top of me, smiling. Either he thinks this is funny or he thinks I don’t mean it. He lowers his head to my neck, and I push him off me. Hard.

  Travis sits and brushes sand from his tux, an angry expression on his face. “I knew you were a, a—”

  “A what?”

  “Tease. C’mon let’s go.” He holds his hand like he’ll help me up, then changes his mind and drops it.

  “Travis, listen,” I say gently. “I didn’t mean to lead you on. It’s just that I like someone else, ya know?”

  “Haven’t you ever heard of friends with benefits?”

  I have heard of it and even kinda get it. It’s girls like me who feel behind and want to catch up, or who are too curious, or who like a guy but aren’t confident enough to make sure he likes her back. Even though I get it and want to be kissed, I’m not willing to compromise.

  “I like someone else,” I apologize.

  “Yeah — Sam. Everyone seems to crush on him. Except he’s with Alana. Don’t you want to make them a little jealous?”

  Sam likes Alana?

  “Just take me home.” My heart crumbles.

  Sand has gotten inside my gown and the grit scratches as I sit on the vinyl seats in Travis’s truck. I feel dirty. The over ripe moon fills my window. Earlier I’d imagined it looked romantic, but it’s only a cold, remote reflection of light.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Sometimes when my eyelids flutter open and I see the sunlight peeking through my blinds, I forget who I am for a minute. It’s like I’m this new person and I don’t remember my life. That was today until I remembered Rodeo Bob’s, the Snow Ball, the beach with Travis and afterwards with Mom.

  The phone rings; I roll over and read the clock—9:30. It’s Lexie. I just know it.

  “I’ll be there in thirty minutes, so be ready,” she says.

  “I just woke up.”

  “So, get going.”

  I’m about to hang up when Lexie says, “Listen, if I bring the black dress, how will you sneak it in?”

  “Just bring it. I already got caught.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah. I’ll tell you all about it.”

  After Travis brought me home, he wanted to walk me to the door, which I let him do. Then he wanted to come inside, which I didn’t. I don’t know what he thought would happen if he came in.

  Well, actually I do. He wanted to play kissy face again, but didn’t I make my point at the beach? What actually happened was I kissed his cheek, thanked him and ducked inside.

  Mom was waiting up for me. “Jane? Where’s your dress?”

  There was this big silent pause, like someone hit the mute button on the TV.

  “That’s the other dress you tried, isn’t it?” Mom’s volume was on, but mine was still off. “Why is there seaweed on your dress?”

  Mute.

  “Are you going to answer me?”

  I’d have liked to but wasn’t sure exactly how to say things.

  “Where’s my necklace? Do you still have that?”

  Oh, God. Now that would be the end of my life. I looked down at my chest. Luckily it was there — all tangled with the seashell mermaid necklace. “Yes,” I managed.

  Mom slumped back in her chair and drew her robe tighter. Her fingernail tapped on the upholstered arm. I hadn’t moved from my spot, frozen in the entry hall. “Just go to bed,” she said. “We’ll discuss this tomorrow.”

  I slunk off to my room.

  “And try not to track sand all over. I mopped today.”

  So, this is what my day holds. No wonder I lost hope when my memory kicked in.

  Rolling out of bed, I step on my pale aqua gown, which lies in a heap totally crusted in seaweed and sand. When I pick it up to hang it, sand sprinkles onto the floor. Ugh — more mess.

  As I hang the mermaid gown next to Dolphin Girl at the back of the closet, I reflect on everything that had gone right and wrong last night. Going to the Snow Ball with Travis — what was I thinking? Kissing him on the beach — definitely a huge error. The slow dance with Sam was A-okay. And, I still don’t think the aqua dress was a mistake. However, not changing back into the black one was a huge one. A mistake, that is.

  I shower, spending extra time washing my hair to get the mousse out that’s made it feel all stiff. Then I throw on board shorts, a pink tee, and slip into my pink and tan polka dot Vans. After sprinkling a few flakes for Flipper, I head to the kitchen.

  Dad sits at the table with the Sports section spread out and a cup of coffee in his hand. When I pour a glass of OJ, he says, “Your Mom left you a list. She’s at her book club.”

  The book club is a bit of a joke, since I’ve never seen Mom actually read one. It’s just an excuse to get together and gossip. But today, I’m glad she’s gone all literary. That means our talk is postponed.

  “Lexie and I are going Christmas shopping.” I take a swig of juice. “I’ll do it later.”

  “Okay. Have fun.”

  I wonder for the millionth time if he’s mellow or apathetic. Like the way he acted about my costume or even about John’s news. Either way, it’s a good balance to Mom, because later today we’ll have WWIII over my dress. And the list.

  A piece of my hair flops down and hits him when I smooch his unshaven cheek.

  “Your hair’s still wet,” he says.

  “It’ll dry in the Jeep,” I explain as the doorbell rings.

  Lexie bursts in with the black dress on a hanger. “You’re not gonna believe what’s on TV! Remember Kelsey Davis?”

  Kelsey went to elementary school with us and moved away before middle. She’s John’s age.

  Lexie follows me to my room and grabs the remote while I toss the dress onto the bed. “She’s on Parental Control.”

  Omigod! How mortifying for her. It’s almost like something Mom would do — not approve of the guy I’m dating and then set me up on dates with other people. Come to think of it, she probably would’ve done it to John and Desiree, too.

  We stand in front of the TV and a local news broadcast comes on. I grab the remote from her before she can change the channel. “Wait,” I say. “Look.”

  On the screen, there’s a reporter with mic in hand. He says, “They’ve been out there for two days now, and it has some local marine biologists concerned.” The camera zooms in to show two dolphins at the edge of the sand bar, circling.

  “I saw them last night. That’s where we went after the dance.”

  The screen switches from the dolphins to a headshot of a marine biologist. “It’s not their normal habitat and, of course, we’re concerned about a possible stranding. If they don’t head back out to sea soon, we’ll need to lure them there.”

  They’re fine. They spoke to me. I don’t know how I know this, but I do.

  The news shifts to a traffic accident in Miami. I hand the remote back to Lexie so she can put on MTV. We watch the end of Kelsey
’s Parental Control episode and even though her boyfriend is a real jerk, she stays with him. Duh. Who’s gonna date a guy their parents handpicked?

  ~~~

  After shopping, Lexie drops me in the driveway. As I grab bags of Christmas presents from the backseat, I know my liberty from Mom is over.

  “So you’re coming to Willow’s later, right?” she asks.

  “It probably depends on how the ‘gown discussion’ goes.”

  I gave her all the post-Ball details while we shopped: Travis at the beach, Mom when I got home. After my sad tale, she simply said, “You have the worst luck.”

  It’s not about to improve.

  When I walk in, déjà vu. Mom’s sitting in the exact same spot as last night, except she’s not wearing her bathrobe. Instead, she holds my Fallopian Tubes artwork on her lap. “What’s this?” she asks.

  She had to go into my room to get that. Typical and oh-so wrong.

  “It’s some art I did. It’s for Lexie’s band.”

  “I can see that. The Fallopian Tubes — right? I heard all about it at book club from Mrs. Atwood.”

  I didn’t know Alana’s mom was in the book club. Alana! She’s behind this.

  “She told me this was unveiled for the whole school last night.” A fingernail tap. “Don’t you think this art and the name of the band is completely inappropriate for young ladies?”

  Lexie and I aren’t young ladies. But I don’t say that. What is Alana trying to do to me? “The name is just funny, Mom. Don’t you think the art is a good way of showing fallopian tubes? I didn’t know what to draw. It’s abstract. It used to be a butterfly.”

  “I think the name is bad. I think the art is bad. And I think your friend is a bad influence. I think I’ve known this ever since her piercing and hair cut last year. And I think I should have taken action then. That’s what I think.”

  Action? What is she talking about, action?

  “You will not associate with this girl anymore.”

  What the—?

  “Am I clear? You will not go places where she will be. She brought you that other dress. I heard all about that too.”