Turtle Bay Page 2

  "We've got that money earmarked," Butch said, shaking his head.

  "For what?"

  "For you and your future college education."

  "Oh, well, I appreciate that, but you're assuming a college will let a troublemaker like me in." I was only teasing, even though my stomach twisted up inside. When I decided to deflect everyone's focus off Butch and Buttercup, I didn't give much thought to how it could potentially hurt me. I guess I assumed my mostly harmless pranks would be dismissed as juvenile antics, but after getting kicked out of Huntsville High, I felt a true sense of fear. For years, I had expected college to be my ticket to something and somewhere better—my shot at a normal life. Without a high school diploma or even worse, having a record, the only future I had would be glum at best. That's why after I settled down over the news about the move, I vowed that Turtle Bay would be different. No more trouble for me. My weirdo parental figures would be their own problem from now on.

  "That money should be for you and Buttercup," I insisted. "It's not like we're sitting on an acre of land here to plant tomatoes on, so you're going to need to supplement that cash."

  "Au contraire, Worry Bear, we no longer have to pay rent. We'll also save on gas since we don't have to commute so far. We're actually saving money as long as you keep your nose clean," he said, not so subtly reminding me what my last prank had cost us.

  "Yeah, but you have no idea if your jewelry will sell as good down here," I pointed out as the voice of reason.

  "Oh ye of little faith. I'm sure Floridians will appreciate our craftsmanship as much as they did back home," he said, sounding wounded.

  I patted his arm to reassure him. "I'm sure you're right. Now, about the garage…"

  "Fine," he sighed. "Let's go check it out, but if you get all scaredy pants and want to move back in, you get the nightmare garden," he said, heading down the hall.

  "Fair enough," I agreed, dancing out the door behind him.

  Butch unlocked the narrow door on the side of the garage using the spare ring of keys we received from the lawyer. A stifling whiff of closed-up warm air greeted us as we stepped into the dusty lair. The concrete floor had been glazed and cobwebs were scattered throughout the rafters, but I didn't mind. A few area rugs would soften up the floors and a broom would remove the cobwebs and unwanted creepy-crawlies. In my mind, this was already my room.

  "Looks like there might be some space in the rafters to store boxes," Butch said, walking around the space and checking it out for possibilities. "Feel how hot it is? It's only going to be worse during the summer," he pointed out.

  "I'll get a fan," I countered.

  "Might work," he said, prying one of the windows open. "With the ocean breeze and all the windows open, it might not be too bad."

  "And you can add a bathroom there," I added, pointing at the sink in the far corner of the space.

  "It's doable. Couple of walls and a door," he said, looking at the piping under the sink. "Might have to hire out for the toilet though."

  "Is that a yes?" I asked, kissing his cheek impulsively.

  "Let's see what Buttercup thinks."

  I smiled, knowing I had a victory. Buttercup was all about finding your joy. She was torn up after I had so passionately opposed the move. Not having harmony in our house was enough to send her in a candle-and-incense-burning frenzy for days until she was satisfied our aura was cleansed. I knew she was hopeful that Turtle Bay would grow on me. Once she found out living in the garage would make me happy, she would quickly approve. Buttercup didn't disappoint, and within hours we had switched around the furniture to our liking. The daybed, desk, and dresser from the guest room were moved to my new room in the garage, and the queen-sized bed and its matching counterparts were moved out of the nightmare garden and into the guest room. The scary room was closed up with all our extra junk. Buttercup planned on turning it into a workspace for their jewelry and beading, but Butch told her she would have to do something with the creepy wallpaper first.

  The sun was beginning to set in the horizon, so I slid my feet into my flip-flops and hurried down our short street and across the main road that separated us from the beach. The sight of the wide expansion of water with soft churning waves nearly took my breath away. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined it to be more beautiful than any pictures I had seen. I slid off my shoes and stepped onto the soft sand for the first time in my life. My feet sank until my toes were covered. I wiggled them around, feeling the grains between each toe. The feel was new and intoxicating. Everything about my surroundings was new. New state, new room, new life. With any luck I'd survive this move after all. Maybe Buttercup was right. This was my opportunity to turn over a new leaf. No more trouble. I could start over here.

  Chapter 2

  Bright sunlight streaming through my windows woke me the next morning. I sat up, stretching, and flipped my legs off the bed to step on the concrete floor when I felt something move under my foot. Belting out a few choices words, I jerked my foot up so abruptly I tumbled backward on my bed. I peered cautiously over the side of my bed just in time to see the largest, ugliest, and most likely deadliest beetle I had ever seen scurry across the floor. Oh, holy hell no. Like my parents, I was a lover of most living creatures, with one exception—bugs. Something about them gave me the major willies. Having a beetle in my room the size of our van was a no-go.

  Contemplating my options, I warily moved from my bed, keeping an eye out for any other multi-legged critters that planned to murder me in my sleep. I tiptoed ninja style toward the door, feeling the less of my feet that touched the floor, the better. To make matters worse, I had to pee. Like, bad. Making it to the door, I did a small victory karate chop even though I knew nothing about karate, so it could have looked like I was having a seizure. Before my celebration could continue, the beetle scurried out from under the desk and across the floor toward me, making me squeal as I fumbled with the knob to open the door. My squeal neglected to suspend the beetle's forward progress as it homed in on me like a dog that had been offered a bone. Racing from the space I'd previously considered my new sanctuary, I barreled through the side door of the house that opened up into the kitchen.

  Buttercup and Butch jumped as I blew through the door like a hurricane. "Big ass bug in my room. Have to pee bad," I called out, tearing down the hall to the bathroom. Several minutes later, my bladder was much happier and I vowed not to drink anything after six o'clock until I had my own toilet.

  "You can't have our room," Butch greeted me as I pulled a coffee mug out of the cabinet.

  "Are you telling me you would rather leave me with bugs big enough to carry away my body than give up your room?" I implored.

  "Absolutely. A deal's a deal. Never fear though, the nightmare garden is free."

  "Some father you are," I grumbled, pouring coffee in my cup and joining them at the table.

  Buttercup wrinkled her nose at the smell of my coffee as I sat down. She preferred the herbal tea that she grew herself versus the "tar" we drank, as she referred to it. I thanked my lucky stars Butch liked to drink the tar as much as I did or I would have been SOL.

  "Can we at least buy some bug spray? Hey, maybe I can get a cat," I added. Butch was allergic to cats, which had always squashed that childhood dream, but now that I was in a separate space, it could work.

  "I'm allergic," he reminded me.

  "It can stay in my room," I pointed out, stealing one of the veggie sausages off his plate.

  "Maybe that could work," Buttercup replied, sliding a plate of food my way. "We have to go shopping to replenish some of our dwindling food supply. I'm not looking forward to buying store-bought vegetables and fruit, but until I get my garden going, I guess I have no choice. Maybe we can find a local animal shelter while we're out," she added, rising from the table with her empty plate in hand.

  "I need to find a hardware store too if I'm going to get to work on that bathroom. We'll need to see about finding something to remove that wallpape
r," Butch said.

  "Like a blowtorch," I piped in around a bite of my toast.

  "If that's what it takes," he said, winking at me, which made me a little nervous. I was ninety-nine percent sure he wouldn't really use a blowtorch, but it was the remaining one percent that had me worried. I'd like to say he'd never done anything like that before, but there was the time he mixed his own homemade concoction of polish for the floors in our old house. Thankfully, we discovered the toxicity of his home remedy rather quickly and it only eroded a two-by-two-foot section of the floor.

  "No blowtorch," I said for good measure, popping the last piece of toast into my mouth. "Can we stop at a store so I can get a new swimsuit too?" I asked.

  "Don't you still have one?" Butch asked, cleaning off the table with a hand towel before snapping it at Buttercup, who darted out of the way just in time.

  "Watch it, or you'll find yourself tied up with that towel," Buttercup threatened.

  "Do tell," Butch countered, winking outrageously.

  Gag. They were like horny rabbits or something.

  "I need a new one," I said, not acknowledging their innuendos.

  "Seems like the one from last year would still have some life in it."

  I grimaced at his words. He was right. My old swimsuit did have some life left, but it was more appropriate for a sixty-year-old woman than a teenager who had just celebrated her sixteenth birthday.

  "I was hoping for something that wasn't trendsetting during the Fifties," I answered dryly. "Or at least something someone in their fifties wouldn't consider the perfect suit," I added hastily before he could lecture me on styles, fads, and how they all had a way of coming back around.

  "Clothes don't define a person. It's what lies beneath the skin that matters. The world would be a better place if we could all shed the clothing that binds us," Buttercup sang as she washed our plates.

  "Yes, we know. Besides, you tried that and look where it got you," I muttered, remembering very well the day she decided to stroll down Main Street half naked. To cause a traffic jam in a town that only had a handful of traffic lights was quite a feat, but Buttercup rose to the occasion. For weeks afterward, the male leeches I went to school with taunted me to flash my goods like my mother had. I plastered a smile across my face, acting like their words didn't matter. It was around that time I pulled out the can of spray paint for my first prank.

  "You might be able to find a kitten in the newspaper. I think I saw one or two in the driveway," Butch said, changing the subject as he slid his arms around Buttercup's waist. I averted my eyes as he placed a kiss on the back of her neck, making her giggle.

  "That's a good idea," I said, leaving the kitchen before they could get too frisky in front of me.

  An hour later, we piled into our empty van to run our errands. It turned out Butch was right about finding free kittens in the newspaper. I circled a few ads and we searched for the addresses after finishing up our other shopping. After a couple wrong turns and one house that appeared to be empty, we finally located a family that was all too willing to hand over one of the kittens their mama cat had delivered eight weeks ago. I was instantly drawn to the runt of the litter that seemed content to remain on the outskirts as he watched his siblings scamper around. He reminded me of myself by the way he sat back observing. When I picked him up he snuggled in my cupped hands and purred loudly, like that was his intended destination all along. I couldn't help feeling like I had been played. In that moment, I knew he was the cat for me and I named him Player since he managed to con me from the beginning.

  Player quickly made himself the new boss of my room, claiming ownership of my bed, the desk, and everything else he managed to climb on. He was inquisitive and chased anything that moved. With him around I knew bugs didn't stand a chance. I decided to let him get the lay of the land while I took advantage of the sunshine and hit the beach. Pulling my new bikini out of the bag, I couldn't help admiring the hot pink suit I had picked out earlier. No saggy bottom or stretched-out bodice with this suit. My granny days were over. Slipping it on, I felt like a different person. Clothes weren't supposed to define us, but seriously, hot pink was better than my drab navy blue granny suit any day. Back in Kansas, my friend Trina had pushed me to steal a new swimsuit since my parents wouldn't buy me one. I was big on my pranks, but two things I loathed were ratting on your friends and stealing. Not that I held shoplifting against Trina. That was her thing. It just wasn't for me. Each of my friends had vices, but that didn't mean we judged each other for them.

  I pulled on a pair of cutoff jean shorts from my limited wardrobe and a white tank top. The last items I scooped up before heading out were an old beach chair I found in the garage and an oversized towel I had conned out of Butch and Buttercup. I double-checked to make sure the door was tightly closed before leaving, not wanting Player to get out.

  The beach was crowded with swimmers and sunbathers scattered about. Scooting around a family that looked like they had brought everything but their television set with them, I walked several yards before finding a clear spot that gave me a little breathing space. Opening my chair, I covered it with my towel before removing my shorts and tank top and sank down while noticing that I had become the object of attention for a group of guys tossing around a Frisbee.

  It wasn't like I hadn't grown accustomed to being stared at, but this was different. They weren't giggling and pointing at freako-parents girl like kids did when I was younger. And they weren't watching to see what grand prank I had planned next. The guys throwing around the Frisbee were staring appreciatively without mocking or negativity.

  I considered standing up to talk to them as part of my turning-over-a-new-leaf plan for life, but by the time I worked through my inner monologue, the guys had moved down the shoreline. Well, attempt number one to introduce myself as normal was a failure. I sighed as I stood up and walked past sunbathers and kids chasing each other with half-filled buckets of water until I reached the incoming waves. The shallow water at my ankles was warmer than I expected, which explained why a lot of the smaller kids had chosen to dig and play there. Each time the waves rolled in, the water uncovered what looked like millions of seashells in the sand. I became enthralled with the different types of shells in various colors and sizes. Never having been to the beach before, I wasn't sure if collecting them was allowed, but my thought was they would look great packed inside a clear vase to decorate my room.

  The strong pull of the waves rolling back into the ocean dragged me forward until I was in up to my knees. Peering down into the water, I noticed tiny fish darting between my legs as my feet stirred up the sand with each step I took. Over to my right, a kid who couldn't have been much older than eight or nine lay flat on a styrofoam boogie board riding a small wave that carried him all the way to shore. Watching the way he high-fived his friends when he stood up reminded me of the fun my friends and I would have at the pond that bordered our property back in Kansas. We would go swimming and launch ourselves into the water from the rope swing that was attached to a large tree.

  The ocean waves became more aggressive the farther I waded out. By the time the water reached my waist, I felt like I was being pushed and shoved from different directions. After dipping down beneath the surface to wet my hair, I flipped over to float on my back, allowing the current to carry me along as the sun beat down on my face. With my ears in the water, the ocean provided a sense of tranquility by drowning out the sounds of the other beachgoers around me.

  The serenity of the moment was ruined when a rogue wave crashed over my face and dragged me under the water. I sputtered to the surface in shock, trying not to swallow any water, when a second wave cascaded over me. Saltwater burned my throat and eyes as I broke through the surface for the second time. I struggled to keep my composure as my lungs instinctively caused me to cough to expel the disgusting saltwater I was swallowing.

  Son of a bitch. The ocean was trying to drown me. Just as I began to upright myself, another wave woul
d take me under the water again. My body felt weightless and useless beneath the crushing force that worked to hold me down. I tumbled around like a load of laundry in a dryer. Finally, the current propelled me sideways to a spot where I was barely able to secure my footing in the sand below. With the water nearly up to my chin, I still had to use my arms and legs to keep myself afloat above the waves while trying to regain my bearings. The bright sun reflecting off the water made it difficult to see, but as I squinted toward the shore, I was surprised to find how far out I had drifted. Propelling myself forward, I began swimming while fighting the persistent choppy waves that tugged and pulled at my bikini, forcing me to adjust my top several times to avoid a truly embarrassing moment. I could just imagine Buttercup's amusement if I got busted for the same indecent exposure rap she had gotten arrested for back in Kansas. Wouldn't that be a perfect Gilmore Girls type of mother-and-daughter moment for us? Determined not to give the ocean the swimsuit it so desperately seemed to want, I defiantly fought the current that dragged me back two strokes for every forward attempt I made.