I wake up with a jolt. It's always like this my first morning on Seagate. At first I think I'm in my New York City apartment, and then I look around. I hear the quiet, and I smell the ocean air wafting through my open window.
And then I know. I stay in bed, breathe it in, and appreciate the perfection that is the first Seagate morning.
"Remy." Mom knocks on my door and then comes in. "Dad and I are going for a walk on the beach. Want to come?"
"I want to stay in bed a little while longer," I answer. "I'll see you when you get back."
"Sounds good. MM has already been out and fed."
"Thanks, Mom." Even though Marilyn Monroe is really my dog, my parents help out and take care of her, too. They won't admit it, but I know they love having a dog in the house again. They practically fight over who gets to walk her in the morning, since they're both such early risers.
It's hard to believe that Marilyn Monroe's original owner, Amber Seasons, isn't here this summer. She's a Seagate lifer, but her husband got transferred to work in Australia for a few years, so that's where they are now. She finds time to video chat with Marilyn Monroe at least once a week. Mari still remembers her and gets so excited every time she sees Amber on the screen.
I roll over and check my phone. I have a text from Micayla, a text from Bennett, and a text from Claire. Micayla and Bennett are going to Mornings for croissants, and Claire's already at the community pool, working on her tan.
I don't know who to text back first or where I should go. Any girl would want this problem, but it still stresses me out a little bit. Bennett and Micayla don't really know that Claire and I got pretty close over the school year. She lives in Westchester, but both her parents work in Manhattan, so she comes in pretty often. She even slept over a few times. I shouldn't feel guilty about this, but I do. At the end of last summer, we were all friends, but it was still kind of an unspoken thing that Claire was more of a side friend, not part of the core group.
While I'm changing into my bathing suit and trying to cream cheese a bagel at the same time, my phone rings. It's Claire.
"Bring a towel," she says. "They haven't upgraded since last summer. They're still using the tiny washcloth ones, and they're super scratchy."
"Will do."
"Are you coming?" she whines.
"Yup. Leaving in five. Just finishing a bagel."
"Ooh. Bring me one?"
I tell her okay, and I pack my beach bag with a towel, snacks, a water bottle, sunscreen, a hat, and everything else I'll need for the day. I refill Marilyn Monroe's water bowl and leave a note telling my parents where I'm going.
Marilyn Monroe looks at me with sad eyes and makes me feel guilty for leaving her behind.
"We'll go to Daisy's later," I tell her. "I promise." Daisy McDougal owns a restaurant on Seagate, but unlike grumpy Beverly at Mornings, she loves dogs and always gives them treats.
Mari lets out a resigned whimper and hops up onto the couch by the bay window.
I walk over to the community pool wearing my brand-new paisley cover-up with my polka-dot one-piece. My silver flip-flops clop-clop against the sidewalk, already giving me a blister. I try to ignore it.
Micayla runs up behind me and taps my shoulder. "Where are you going?"
"Oh, um, to the pool to meet Claire. How was Mornings?"
"Delish, but Beverly is even grumpier than last summer. It's a little hard to believe."
I scowl. "What was she like during the year?"
"She wasn't here much," Micayla tells me. "She hired some people to run the place during the winter."
"Oh." I shrug. Since Micayla lives on Seagate all year now, I keep waiting for her to tell me some juicy year-rounder secrets, but so far she hasn't shared anything all that exciting. I also expect her to tell me she can't hang out because she needs to spend time with her year-rounder friends, but she hasn't done that, either. "Come with me to the pool," I tell her.
"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.
