Float

Original Edition: Chapter Four

One word. Bacon.

I wouldn't have seriously considered getting out of bed if it hadn't been for the smell of bacon grease that drifted up to my bedroom from the kitchen downstairs. When I came padding into the kitchen, I found Rachel standing at the stove, a spatula in her hand and her body wrapped in a fluffy white robe.

"Good morning, Waverly!" she greeted.

"What time is it?" I yawned and rolled up onto my tiptoes to peerover at the strips of bacon laid out in the pan she was tending to.

"It's almost eight o'clock," Rachel told me, pointing towards the clock mounted over the kitchen window. "You should have some breakfast and go get dressed as fast as you can. I'llgive you a lift into town before I drive down to Marlin Bay."

Right. Rachel had that mural to work on.

We sat down together at her kitchen table and feasted on bacon, toaster waffles, and coffee. When we were stuffed, Rachel gave me a pair of large khaki shorts and a short-sleeved shirt. It wasn't too hot outside yet since the sun had only been up for two or three hours, but it was still warm enough that I started sweating the second I stepped outside onto the front porch. Rachel hurried down to her neon green Volkswagen, tangled brown curls bounding around her shoulders and her purse tucked underneath her arm.

"Come on, Waverly! Lots to see, lots to do!"

As we pulled out of the driveway, I glanced back at the pale green house next to Rachel's. For a second, I held my breath, wishing that the front door would swing open and a certain blue-eyed boy would be standing there.

Why was I like this?

I closed my eyes and turned forward in my seat, sinking down into the soft leather. Blake Hamilton did not want to see me again. He'd made that pretty clear. So why did I want to see him? Why did I feel like, if he just talked to me for more than thirty seconds, maybe I could prove I meant no harm. I was being stupid. But before I had too much time to start overanalyzing every word Blake Hamilton said to me the day before, Rachel made a sharp turn, sending me flying towards the car door with a smack. I moaned and cradled my head where it had made contact with the window.

"Oops," Rachel said, "Sorry."

I had almost forgotten how bad of a driver Rachel was. Almost.

"It's okay," I told her, forcing a smile. Ithink it ended up looking more like a grimace.

"Are you alright? No concussion or anything?" she asked.

"I'm fine," I told her, gingerly prodding the spot on my forehead where I could already feel a bump forming, "Really.I'm sure I can walk it off."

"Yes! Walking's good. Lots of walking to do in town. Maybe you can do some shopping today, get some ice cream, sit on the beach. I want you to have fun here in Holden. Maybe you can go buy yourself a bathing suit today!"

I opened my mouth to remind Rachel that I didn't need a bathing suit because I couldn't swim to save my life, but suddenly the car lurched to a stop. I flew forward and my seatbelt knocked the air out of me, leaving me gasping.

"We're here!" Rachel announced.

"Great!" I croaked happily, less excited about arriving in town and more excited about not having to be in a car with Rachel, the world's worst driver, anymore. 

We'd stopped along the curb in the middle of the Holden town center, the ocean to our left and a line of shops, each one painted a different pastel color, to our right. I watched people walk up and down the sidewalks and wished I'd stayed at Rachel's house all day.