415.
In fact, it made negative sense. Becks had replied HUH? and assumed Ellie would call to explain that it had all been a typo and she had meant to write CU AT THE BEACH @ 415 and then they would go surfing in Malibu.
But no .
Instead the reply was:
C U @ QUIKSILVER STORE AT 415!
As if the added exclamation point made it make so much more sense. How would meeting at the mall help Ellie learn to surf? And why was Ellie suddenly obsessed with surfing? Becks arrived at Quiksilver at exactly four fifteen, only because she knew the other girls were upholding their ends of Pax Rubana.
Becks scanned the giant store, her eyes moving from the brown stone floor, to the racks of bikinis and wind-breakers, to the blown-up pictures of happy athletic models. Becks shivered—she always felt like a fish out of water in stores, even if they sold things she would wear. If Becks had free time, she spent it surfing, not shopping for things she could wear surfing.
Then her eyes landed on Ellie, waiting by a row of sandals with a perky smile and a Coffee Bean Iced Blended. She promptly threw away her barely touched drink the second she saw Becks.
“Hey, Becks, way to be on time!” Ellie said. When she wasn’t speaking in baby talk, she had a loudmouth voice, and sort of sounded like she was making fun of people.
They stood there while tanned girls passed by in velour sundresses and flip-flops. Becks was so disoriented that she barely noticed Zac Efron exiting the store clutching a huge white shopping bag.
Becks hung her hands in the front pocket of her baby blue Maui & Sons sweatshirt. “So I don’t get why I’m here,” she said slowly, trying not to sound witchy, since there was no point in making the experience even more brutal.
“I know, it’s totally weird,” Ellie giggled. It sounded like she said tolly weir. “I was going to meet you at the beach and then I was like . . . I can’t go surfing!” She paused as if reenacting her lightbulb moment. “I have nuh-thing to wear!” She tugged her white terry-cloth miniskirt so that it hung below her hipbones.
Becks wanted to be a team player for the Inner Circle, but this was ridiculous . Sure, she could surf, but what did she know about shopping ? And then, as if Ellie had ESP, she giggled. “You sooooo don’t want to be here right now.”
Becks shrugged.
Ellie smiled condescendingly, as if Becks’s discomfort was adorable. They walked past the shoes and the sundresses, and Ellie began looking at the racks of miniskirts. She held up a Roxy T-shirt and then, as if remembering she was there for surfing, she giggled and put it back. “For reals, Bexy, I want to look cuuute. I don’t want to look like some lame poser! Ugh.” She stuck out her tongue.
“Ellie, I can’t advise you about clothes.” Becks said. She was not about to admit that she e-mailed Mac photos every night of her next day’s ensemble. “When I surf, I just wear whatever feels right.”
“Don’t worry. I know what looks good on me. Duh.” Ellie pointed at herself. In addition to the miniskirt, she was wearing a tight white tank top that showed off her C-cups, and cream-colored Ugg boots, even though it was 82 degrees outside. She reached for a shiny metallic bikini.
“I just don’t know what’s surfer-y and what’s not. You need to tell me what are killer surfing clothes.” She flashed a bright white smile at Becks, who winced at the word killer and the term surfing clothes and especially their appearing right next to each other in a sentence, said aloud. But Becks didn’t correct Ellie and trailed behind her, glancing around the store, hoping they at least sold surf wax so something productive would come of this trip.
“Why do you want to surf so badly?” Becks asked as they moved toward a rack of tropical-print bikinis.
“I think it’s rad that you do,” Ellie said, without thinking. In fact, her reply came so quickly that for a second Becks thought she had to be
In fact, it made negative sense. Becks had replied HUH? and assumed Ellie would call to explain that it had all been a typo and she had meant to write CU AT THE BEACH @ 415 and then they would go surfing in Malibu.
But no .
Instead the reply was:
C U @ QUIKSILVER STORE AT 415!
As if the added exclamation point made it make so much more sense. How would meeting at the mall help Ellie learn to surf? And why was Ellie suddenly obsessed with surfing? Becks arrived at Quiksilver at exactly four fifteen, only because she knew the other girls were upholding their ends of Pax Rubana.
Becks scanned the giant store, her eyes moving from the brown stone floor, to the racks of bikinis and wind-breakers, to the blown-up pictures of happy athletic models. Becks shivered—she always felt like a fish out of water in stores, even if they sold things she would wear. If Becks had free time, she spent it surfing, not shopping for things she could wear surfing.
Then her eyes landed on Ellie, waiting by a row of sandals with a perky smile and a Coffee Bean Iced Blended. She promptly threw away her barely touched drink the second she saw Becks.
“Hey, Becks, way to be on time!” Ellie said. When she wasn’t speaking in baby talk, she had a loudmouth voice, and sort of sounded like she was making fun of people.
They stood there while tanned girls passed by in velour sundresses and flip-flops. Becks was so disoriented that she barely noticed Zac Efron exiting the store clutching a huge white shopping bag.
Becks hung her hands in the front pocket of her baby blue Maui & Sons sweatshirt. “So I don’t get why I’m here,” she said slowly, trying not to sound witchy, since there was no point in making the experience even more brutal.
“I know, it’s totally weird,” Ellie giggled. It sounded like she said tolly weir. “I was going to meet you at the beach and then I was like . . . I can’t go surfing!” She paused as if reenacting her lightbulb moment. “I have nuh-thing to wear!” She tugged her white terry-cloth miniskirt so that it hung below her hipbones.
Becks wanted to be a team player for the Inner Circle, but this was ridiculous . Sure, she could surf, but what did she know about shopping ? And then, as if Ellie had ESP, she giggled. “You sooooo don’t want to be here right now.”
Becks shrugged.
Ellie smiled condescendingly, as if Becks’s discomfort was adorable. They walked past the shoes and the sundresses, and Ellie began looking at the racks of miniskirts. She held up a Roxy T-shirt and then, as if remembering she was there for surfing, she giggled and put it back. “For reals, Bexy, I want to look cuuute. I don’t want to look like some lame poser! Ugh.” She stuck out her tongue.
“Ellie, I can’t advise you about clothes.” Becks said. She was not about to admit that she e-mailed Mac photos every night of her next day’s ensemble. “When I surf, I just wear whatever feels right.”
“Don’t worry. I know what looks good on me. Duh.” Ellie pointed at herself. In addition to the miniskirt, she was wearing a tight white tank top that showed off her C-cups, and cream-colored Ugg boots, even though it was 82 degrees outside. She reached for a shiny metallic bikini.
“I just don’t know what’s surfer-y and what’s not. You need to tell me what are killer surfing clothes.” She flashed a bright white smile at Becks, who winced at the word killer and the term surfing clothes and especially their appearing right next to each other in a sentence, said aloud. But Becks didn’t correct Ellie and trailed behind her, glancing around the store, hoping they at least sold surf wax so something productive would come of this trip.
“Why do you want to surf so badly?” Becks asked as they moved toward a rack of tropical-print bikinis.
“I think it’s rad that you do,” Ellie said, without thinking. In fact, her reply came so quickly that for a second Becks thought she had to be
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