Chapter Thirteen
I pulled the first load of lifeguard flags from the drying machine, lifting a yellow one to the ceiling. Only a few traces of the poodle sketch clung to the nylon. I grabbed a red one next. Hmm—the lines of an F were barely visible. Rummaging through a few more, I searched the fabric for more evidence of the drawings. On some, the ink had washed off completely. Perfect.
I folded the flags before setting them into a laundry basket, then moved back to the washing machine. One last load of pre-soaked flags to go. Tossing them into the washing machine, I poured Tide Plus into the detergent drawer and pressed the heavy duty button.
The washing machine rumbled awake. Suds began to fill the washtub, the bubbles not unlike ocean water frothing on the shore.
Did doing laundry remind Javi of the beach? His knowledge about laundry tips piqued my interest. The possibility that he may also like watching foam scrub away stains, enjoy restoring things to their former glory, kept it.
When should I return these to him?
If I asked Po for advice, she’d probably say something like, Don’t put off today what you’re going to do tomorrow. This time, I actually agreed. Weird.
Picking up my planner, I scrolled down tomorrow’s hourly time slots. Different colors coded various activities.
Green for SBA events. In a few days, the committee would be back in room 237 to finish organizing the art auction—our next summer event.
Gold for Paulina. Research designers and confirm with Marcus about dance rehearsal.
Purple for Po. She’d promised to finish her early action templates by 12:45 p.m. I’d proofread them at 1:00 p.m. Confirm that she’d started drafting her admissions essay by 5:00 p.m.
Time slots were wide open afterward. Wouldn’t it be practical to drop off the flags then? I tapped the pencil against my temple.
Which color should I fill this block with? Brown to match his hair? Ooh. Blue to twin with his sling bag? Or what about the color of my cheeks whenever his infectious laugh-snort echoed inside my head? Pink.
The snap of me shutting the planner burst my bubble. What was I thinking? Lifeguards didn’t have evening shifts. Plus, that chunk of free time ought to be reserved for planning Paulina’s quince. Not arranging my own after-party.
Setting the planner to the side, I reached for the personalized mug clattering on top of the washing machine. Back when birthdays used to be a big deal around here, I’d gifted this to Mom.
In a contest between Disney and real princesses, Tiana and Diana tied for her favorites. Both of them smiled from the sides of the mug. But none of Mom’s café con leche or green tea filled it. Only a huge serving of uncooked jasmine rice covering most of my phone.
Would this cell-phone-in-dry-rice trick work as well as Javi’s other tips? I tugged my phone loose. Fought the urge to close my eyes when I pressed the side button.
Oh my gosh. Javi’s advice actually worked. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
“You okay in there?” Po yelled from the kitchen.
“Uh-huh.” I flicked through Po’s and Callie’s missed calls and messages from earlier. Scrolled down the new likes and comments on SBA’s Insta page. Whoa.
Classmates loved the flag sketches. The strung-together-triangle-flags-as-a-jump-rope idea was proving to be as repostable as the tearaway banner.
“I’m more than okay, actually.” Even on my personal page, new DMs flooded my inbox. No party requests. Only tons of classmates asking if I could sketch their pets in a similar style.
My chest ballooned with pride. Pride over another memorable event in the books, over people wanting me to immortalize their fur babies. Maybe I should start—
The washing machine whirred, signaling the next phase of the wash cycle. Signaling me to scrub my former hobby from my mind.
Even back when I used to paint, blank canvases were places to experiment with messy colors and imperfect lines. Not something to exhibit, let alone make for other people.
I began kindly turning down offers, when the phone chimed with a text from an unknown number.
Unknown
Did your phone rebound?
Something prickled across my fingertips. The sensation traveled all the way up my arms, like that wave of pins and needles when sleepy limbs woke up.
I texted back.
It made a comeback.
Thanks for the phone and laundry tips. How do you know about this cleaning stuff anyway?
Almost immediately, typing bubbles appeared on the screen.
My mom’s a cardiac nurse at Hoag and works long shifts. Dad usually took care of the housework, so after…
After. The magic word to twist my stomach into instant knots.
I took up lots of those cleaning duties.
Though the bulk of my schedule was always devoted to getting our HEA back on track, cleaning came in handy whenever an empty slot in my planner needed to be filled. The less the pages resembled the hollow chambers inside my heart, the better.
Ditto. So many duties all the time.
Oh Sith Lord. Had I said that in person it would’ve sounded super cringe.
The phone chimed again—with a voice note from Javi. “In the span of three seconds, we’ve said doodie twice. A side effect of those hot dogs, perhaps?”
A belly laugh broke through. I voice-noted back, “You’re the worst,” saving his message before it vanished.
Typing bubbles rippled across the phone.
PS If you want to drop off the flags, I’ll be back at the beach tomorrow
Suds frothed inside the machine. At the possibility of seeing Javi again, everything in me fizzed, too.
I opened my planner again. The empty slots glared harder than football field floodlights. Before I talked myself out of filling it with something Javi-related, I texted, I can drop them off after 5:15 p.m. Will you still be at work then?
The typing bubbles reappeared. I’ll be off my shift but…
No words or bubbles came. The screen began to dim. I shook the phone and muttered, “But what, dammit? What?”
Po poked her head through the door. “Are you sure you’re okay in here?”
I flinched back, nearly dropping the phone. The rice trick had worked its magic on a doused phone. I doubted it’d fix a cracked one. “Yeah, totally fine.”
She glanced at the screen. I flipped it over in the nick of time.
Not handing you fodder for cheesy CPR/lifeguard jokes, thank you very much.
“All right, then. Keep your secrets.” She wiggled her eyebrows before pounding down the hallway. Her steps clomped loudly like always, but not loud enough to drown out Javi’s incoming text.
Do you want to meet up after my shift?
Afterflipped my stomach again. Only in a happier, more fluttery way. I never imagined that was possible. Not with the Pavlovian response tied to it.
They started a Movies at the Beach right by the pier this summer.
A movie at the beach? Blood rushed to my head. Was Javi asking me out on a date? I wanted to call for Po, have her barge back in here to decode this message ASAP. Except…
She’d probably only answer my question with one of her own: Do you want it to be?
Hmm. If I had to make a list of qualities for a first date, Javi checked the boxes for lots of them.
Funny. Useful in all sorts of binds. Unflappable (mostly) in the face of Hurricane Po. His philosophy of having a smile wherever he went. And topping the list: his fluency in Parental Past Tense.
This attribute hadn’t been on the first-date Pinterest board I’d made way back when: an Italian place for dinner (Lady and the Tramp forever!), cute dress, curls styled by Mom, makeup courtesy of Po.
Well, no Italian place graced the shoreline. The constant breeze by the pier rendered a dress completely impractical—unless I wanted to be blasted on Hot Goss as the Matteo Beach Flasher. No Mom around to help me embrace my hair. Sure, Po could apply makeup ten times better than I ever could, only I had zero interest in a spiel about how fast her Little Cuchara was growing up in exchange.
So many of the details weren’t matching up to the original board in my head, and yet… a flicker of surprise trailed the realization that pieces could be rearranged. Or swapped out for new ones.
My thumbs hovered over the screen.
The red flags in the laundry basket gave me pause. But within the washing machine, the last load beckoned. Lucky for me, most of those swished green.