Island Girls (and Boys) Read Free Page B

mattered�not a silly room. I didn�t want to be sad or missing my friends before we�d even left for college!
    It was frightening to think that in only three months, I�d be separated from them. We were going to different universities in the fall. This summer was our last chance to be totally devoted to one another, to share our dreams, to start preparing for the bright future that all the graduation speeches talked about.
    ï¿½What are we doing?� I shouted. �Why are we unpacking while the sun is still out? This is insane! Let�s go walk on the beach!�
    Amy bounded down the stairs, laughing. �I was just thinking the same thing.�
    ï¿½Me, too,� Chelsea said as she came out of my grandparents� bedroom.
    Be nice , I told myself. It was her bedroom, not my grandparents�. For a month. She was coming out of her room.
    I grabbed the keys out of my backpack and stuffed them into the front pocket of my shorts. We each had a key to the house�not that I thought we�d ever be separated, but somethingmight come up. Like one of us walking on the beach, while the other two were napping or�well, anything. �Be prepared� was my motto.
    Although I certainly hadn�t been prepared for Chelsea to want the bedroom that I wanted. But this was also a summer of learning to adjust. I�d be sharing a dorm room with a complete stranger. Surely I could share a beach house with my friends.
    ï¿½Let�s go!� I exclaimed.
    We turned for the door. A cell phone chirped out a rendition of the musical score from Jaws .
    ï¿½Hold on, that�s mine,� Chelsea said. She ran back to her bedroom.
    ï¿½Hi!� I heard her exclaim. �I�m so glad you called.�
    She appeared in the doorway. �Just a sec,� she said into the phone. She looked at us, pleading for understanding with her violet eyes. �It�s Noah. I�ll catch up with you.�
    Then she disappeared back into the bedroom.
    I looked at Amy. �I guess it�s just you and me, girlfriend.�
    We headed down the stairs. I opened the door, and we stepped outside. I was hit by the smell ofthe sea. Not completely pleasant, but not totally icky. I could smell fish and salt and brine.
    Amy picked up an old metal bucket that was sitting by the door.
    ï¿½What�s that for?� I asked.
    ï¿½I want to decorate my room with seashells. That�s about the only souvenir I�ll be able to afford this summer.�
    ï¿½Your money might go farther than you think. I�ve worked up a budget for us. But I�ll wait until tomorrow to show you. I don�t want Chelsea going ballistic because I made a plan.�
    I was expecting to major in business. I loved figuring out budgets, working with columns of numbers, especially when those numbers translated into money.
    ï¿½We�re all in this together,� Amy said. �We have to keep things fair. And you�re the one who aced math.�
    ï¿½Still, we can talk about it tomorrow. And how we want to divide the chores. There�s probably a hundred things I haven�t thought of.�
    ï¿½Relax, Jen. Everything will be fine.�
    I wanted it to be. I really did. But I couldn�thelp feeling responsible. After all, it had been my idea.
    I shoved my hands into the front pockets of my shorts and started walking along the sand-packed road toward the beach. Amy was walking beside me, the bucket swinging, occasionally clanging as it bumped against her leg. She was the shortest of the group, so I shortened my strides so she could keep up more easily. It was a habit I fell into naturally.
    I could see the sand dunes in the distance. Beyond them, the brown waves rolled onto the shore. Here the water wasn�t blue and clear, like I�d heard it was on tropical islands. Far out in the distance, it looked blue, but near the shore it was brown. Not dirty or polluted. Just