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“Alex?”
“Coming!” Her voice is a little squeaky.
She enters the kitchen and stops in front of me, dipping her head. She’s got a one-piece on that’s covered in purple sparkles, and she’s chosen a pair of loud flip-flops.
“You look friggin’ amazing,” I say. “Wow! You’ve got to be, like, the coolest kid in school.”
Alex’s head snaps up. “You think?”
“I know.”
“I’m not the coolest kid in school. Like, at all.”
“Then you’re going to be the coolest kid on the beach today,” I say.
Alex rewards me with a grin.
“First things first,” I root around in the tote, “sunscreen.”
“Boo!”
“It’s a necessity. It’s in the Excel spreadsheet and linked Google Doc. And the manifesto.” Cash has provided me with a Taylor family manifesto that is equal parts cute and alarming. Chief among the family goals? Keep Alex’s skin safe from harmful UV rays.
“But I don’t want to be pale,” Alex whines. “You’re all tan.”
“Self-tanner,” I say. “Not for kids, before you get any wise ideas.”
Alex giggles, and I help her put sunscreen on.
I make a big show of putting on some myself. Just before we leave, I bring out my phone and dutifully shoot Cash a text, my insides betraying me at the sight of his name on the screen.
Alex and I are going to the beach today. We’ll probably pop by Marci’s diner for lunch.
Two ticks show the message has gone through. They turn blue. He doesn’t reply.
I stow my phone, trying not to let the lack of response get to me. I’m the nanny, and he’s working with his dad. Just. A. Kiss.
“All right,” I say, “let’s show the sun and sand what we’ve got.”
I lock the door behind us and we climb into Ol’ Rusty. I spare a glance for my mother’s house, but her curtains are shut.
I make sure Alex has got her seatbelt on, and then we putter off down the road together, the windows rolled down letting in the salty air. I switch on the radio, and Alex jams out to a rock song enthusiastically. I turn it up real loud so she can enjoy it to the max.
She drums on her knees, shaking from side to side. Just two girls on the loose, enjoying our freedom, no concerns for “the man” and what’s expected of us.
We park along the winding road that looks down on the bay. Alex runs down to the sand, shrieking, and collides with the water like it’s a long-lost friend.
I set up on the beach, grabbing the umbrella from the back of Ol’ Rusty and pegging it into the sand. I keep an eye on Alex as she plays, splashing in and out of the waves. A couple of kids around her age are building a sandcastle, but she doesn’t even look in their direction.
After twenty minutes, she joins me, out of breath and excited. I wrap a towel around her and sit her down in our spot under the umbrella. “There are some kids over there if you want to build a sandcastle.”
Alex shrugs, accepting a bottle of water from me.
“You know,” I say, “just because Leah’s a bully, doesn’t mean those kids will be. Do you know them from school?”
“No.”
“Must be from out of town then.” Still, some social interaction with kids her age would be better than no social interaction. I’m not going to force it, though. Kids tend to balk at being told what to do at this age. At least, I did. “Have you put any thought into the talent show at the end of the summer?”
