Crashing Into Blue

Chapter 9

It's the end of the first official week of summer, and to mark this momentous occasion every year there's a beach bonfire to celebrate our newfound freedom. Usually only the townies go, mostly the juniors and the seniors of the school year that just passed and college kids who are home for the summer, but some of the resi's, if they've been coming around long enough and have a townie connection, are extended an invite. Patrick used to come with us every summer as a part of our group, but as I'm standing on the beach in front of the fire in my white peasant dress, trying to warm up, with my hair being thrown around by the wind that's rolling off the water, I hope he doesn't show.

I rub my arms up and down, knowing the chills aren't from the cold but most likely from nerves at the thought of seeing Patrick. Hopefully he thinks that without us, he's not invited. He only ever came because we brought him every year; without us, he never would have even known about it. He would have stayed on his side of the metaphorical line in the sand with the others, never learning about our small town rituals. But gnawing at the back of my mind is the fact that Patrick is pretty well integrated with our town and with us.

We did too good of a job with him, I think to myself sullenly. I feel my teeth starting to chatter, my chills growing, when I see Indigo walking up the beach towards me, in a black and white stripped tee and denim capris.

"Are you okay, Lia? You don't look too good." She puts her hand to my forehead and nods her head slowly. "Ah yes, just as I suspected; you have a serious case of I'm-nervous-to-see-my-ex-for-the-first-time-in-a-year-itis."

"That's a ridiculously long name for an illness," I say as she drops her hand from my forehead.

"Thankfully, I have the cure." She holds out the beer bottle that she's holding to me.

"Seriously, Indi? I feel nauseous enough as is; beer isn't going to help improve the situation. Where did you get that anyways?"

She nods vaguely to the side.

"Bingo's brother Boingo is home from college and he got a couple of packs."

I look over to the general area Indigo indicated, and I see Bingo (real name Kyle) manning the beer cases. Bingo is your essential beach bum, right down to the floppy hair and the fact that he's forever living in his swim trunks. And I mean, we all call him Bingo. How much more of a surfer dude could you get?

"You shouldn't drink that Indi; besides it tasting like hot pee since it's not even in a cooler, which in that case it's just cold pee, you know you're a light weight."

"Don't worry, it's not for me; I got it for Samson since he's running late from closing up his cotton candy stand."

"What can you do, the people of this town are cotton candy heathens."

"You said it, sister."

The laugh that was working its way up my throat is pushed back down by the sight of Patrick walking down the beach, a beautiful brunette in tow.

"That asshole," hisses Indigo as she spots what caught my attention. "Doesn't he know if he doesn't come with us, he doesn't come at all?" I sigh at the expression of my own thoughts while Indigo continues, seething.