Beach Lane - By Melissa de la Cruz Page 0,19
familiar-looking rugby shirt.
back at the beach, mara got blown off so eliza could blow out her hair
MARA COULDN’T BELIEVE THEY PULLED THIS ON THE first night. She packed up the picnic basket, trying to keep an eye on the one-two-three-four (thank God they were all there!) kids. “All right, everybody, follow me.”
“Don’t want to go! Want to stay play ou’side!” Zoë whined.
“Can we go over there? There’s ice cream,” Madison said, pulling at Mara’s hand.
“Why you want ice cream for? Porky Pig Porky Pig!” William jeered. He started snorting and making noises with his armpit.
“William!”
“William!”
“WHAT???”
“STOP MAKING THAT . . .” Mara clapped. “Arrrghh!”
William, who was clearly enjoying torturing his sister, cackled. Madison was nearly in tears.
“Hey, buddy, that’s not nice.”
Mara looked up to see Ryan Perry standing next to her, holding a death’s-head skateboard in one hand. He wore a faded Groton sweatshirt over his frayed shorts. He smiled at Mara, then put a hand on William’s head and turned the kid around. “Apologize to Maddy.”
“Erm sorry.” William sniffled.
Madison stuck a chocolate-covered tongue out at her brother.
“I saw Eliza and Jacqui back at the house. I figured you might need a hand,” he explained.
“Oh—that’s so nice. Really, though, it’s all good,” she said, just as William wrestled Madison to the ground and the two of them began rolling down the hill toward the ocean.
“No—no—no—come back!” Mara cried.
“Don’t worry, they won’t get far,” Ryan promised as he picked up the picnic basket. “Hey, cool, you brought the Scrabble,” he said when he spied the board game among the Tupperware.
“I thought it might be fun, you know, to teach Zoë about letters.” Mara shrugged. “I found it in the closet in our room.”
“You any good?”
“I’m not bad.” Mara smiled.
“Bet I can beat you.”
“Oh, I don’t know—I do a mean triple-triple. I know all the words that begin with x.”
“All of them?” Ryan cocked an eyebrow.
“Try me.”
“I’ll take you up on that challenge.”
“Deal.” Mara smiled even more broadly.
Ryan tucked the box under his arm along with his skateboard and began to push Cody’s stroller. He lifted Zoë on his shoulders.
“Giddyap, Ryan!” Zoë said.
“Hang on, Zo.”
The four of them walked down the hill toward the mini–death match.
“WILLIAM ADDISON PERRY! MADISON ALEXANDRA PERRY!” Ryan roared.
William and Madison immediately froze.
“That’s enough of that!” Ryan scolded.
“You’re not really mad, are you, Ryan?” Madison asked, releasing her hold on William and getting up to take his free hand.
“Me! Me! Me!” William whined, trying to find something of Ryan’s to hold on to. With no available hand in sight, he grabbed the edge of his big brother’s T-shirt.
“Easy, big guy,” Ryan said.
They headed back to the Range Rover. Ryan stashed his skateboard in the back and they drove the half mile back to the house.
“Sorry they’re so out of control. It’s really not their fault. No one’s ever taught them any boundaries.”
“The kids?” Mara asked. “Don’t worry, I’ve taken care of worse.”
Mara told Ryan about the neighborhood nightmare—eight-year-old Tommy Baker, who was famous for locking himself in the bathroom for hours, only to emerge as his parents were pulling back into the driveway. At which time he would pee on the floor, leaving a disgusting puddle for her to mop up.
“It happened every time I babysat him and his parents never even tipped!”
“Bastards,” Ryan said.
“Look,” Mara whispered, turning to look at the backseat, where the children were all sleeping. “Like angels. You’d never think—” But she cut herself off—they were still his siblings.
Ryan glanced at them from the rearview mirror. “Angels with dirty faces,” he surmised, giving Mara a warm smile.
They pulled up to the driveway. Mara carried Cody to his crib, and Ryan walked the rest of the sleepy trio back to their rooms.
“I’ve got to make a couple of calls, then I’ll be in the kitchen,” he said. “Think you’re up for a game later, Madame X?”
“Yeah, sure,” Mara agreed.
“Don’t stand me up, now,” he teased.
“I won’t,” she promised, flushing a little.
She tucked the kids in, and after she was satisfied the four were safely in dreamland, she tiptoed down the stairs toward the kitchen.
“Hey, they’re totally out—do you want to bust out the Scrabble? Ryan? Ryan?” she called, a little short of a stage whisper. But he was nowhere to be found. She wandered in and out of the darkened rooms for a while, thinking he might magically pop out of one.
But he wasn’t anywhere. Mara felt her good mood deflate. A wave of homesickness hit her in the middle of the perfectly spotless kitchen when