dashed back to her plane, where Luke patiently helped her get onboard. We blew each other kisses until
she took off. And there I was, left standing on the beach by myself.
After a minute, I headed back toward the happy place, which was wonderful, but no substitute for the real SBB.
Chapter 12
SPEEDOS, TUXEDOS, AND PIGGYBACK RIDES
W hoa!" Meredith said when she came back, all wind-blown, from her yacht cruise that Tuesday afternoon. She stared up at the
steamer trunk in the living room and said, "Who moved in?"
"Oh, Sara-Beth stopped by," I said, trying to sound nonchalant.
"Oh man\ I can't believe I missed her." When Meredith and Judith first met SBB, they were so starstruck that they could barely talk
to her. By now, Meredith was pretty comfortable around her, but she was always overly eager to hear about our hangouts. I
knew that if there was one person Meredith was more stuck on than Kennedy, it was SBB. "Did you guys have so much fun?" she
asked.
"So much fun," I said. "You should have seen it— her plane landed right on the beach outside our bungalow."
"Ohhh," she whined. "I wished I'd been around."
Hmph!
"Yeah, she was telling me all about what it's like to work with Jake Riverdale on the new movie. Apparently, he's a total
disaster." I felt a little guilty rubbing it in, but I couldn't really help myself.
"So jealous of you right now, Flan." She stepped around the steamer trunk. "Is she still here? Do you guys have something
awesome planned for tonight? 'Cause I was thinking—"
"Actually, she had to jet. They're trying to wrap up the last few scenes. She just left the trunk as a little souvenir." It
felt strangely good to tell Meredith something that impressed her. The past couple of days, when we actually had been hanging out, she'd been so dismissive that I'd almost forgotten that she used to consider me someone who was worth talking
to.
"Kennedy said I should invite you to the beachside dinner party tonight," she said.
"Um . . . " I stalled. The way she said it bugged me. Kennedy said. . . . How nice that Kennedy gave Meredith her permission to include me.
"We both figured you'd have plans already, but she said to do my best to bribe you to come." Meredith sat down next to me.
"I think she's trying to reach out to you but doesn't know how, so she's using me to sort of . . . mediate?"
"Did she say that?"
"Not exactly, but . . ."
I sighed. Maybe SBB was right. There was no use starting World War III. I should focus on the things I could control—like
my own experiences on this trip, not anyone else's. I definitely wasn't going to blow off the only offer I had. If Kennedy
wanted to be bitchy, I could just ignore her, right? And consider it part of the growing experience?
"Sure," I said. "I'd love to come."
"Yay!" Meredith said, and she sounded genuinely happy. "I need some Flan time. Especially since Judith pooped out, us Stuy
girls have to stick together, right?"
I nodded and smiled and offered her the first shower—again—but what I was thinking was, am I really cut out to be a Stuy girl? Am I really cut out to "stick together" with Meredith?
I caught a glimpse of myself in the steamer trunk mirror: sitting on the couch, slumped over with a scowl on my face. Gosh,
if I had been looking like this all trip, I wouldn't want to hang out with me, either!
I sat up straight, put on a smile, and took a few deep breaths. It was amazing what it did for my appearance in the mirror,
and it made me feel a lot better inside, too. Maybe this was what SBB was talking about when she referred to "minor adjustments."
I felt a major attitude adjustment coming on. So what if the first twenty-four hours of the vacation had sucked? Maybe we
were just getting started.
After Meredith finished in the bathroom, I took a shower and let my hair air-dry in the warm sea breeze. I put on my favorite
Hollywould sequined flip-flops, a black Michael Stars tank top, and black hot
she took off. And there I was, left standing on the beach by myself.
After a minute, I headed back toward the happy place, which was wonderful, but no substitute for the real SBB.
Chapter 12
SPEEDOS, TUXEDOS, AND PIGGYBACK RIDES
W hoa!" Meredith said when she came back, all wind-blown, from her yacht cruise that Tuesday afternoon. She stared up at the
steamer trunk in the living room and said, "Who moved in?"
"Oh, Sara-Beth stopped by," I said, trying to sound nonchalant.
"Oh man\ I can't believe I missed her." When Meredith and Judith first met SBB, they were so starstruck that they could barely talk
to her. By now, Meredith was pretty comfortable around her, but she was always overly eager to hear about our hangouts. I
knew that if there was one person Meredith was more stuck on than Kennedy, it was SBB. "Did you guys have so much fun?" she
asked.
"So much fun," I said. "You should have seen it— her plane landed right on the beach outside our bungalow."
"Ohhh," she whined. "I wished I'd been around."
Hmph!
"Yeah, she was telling me all about what it's like to work with Jake Riverdale on the new movie. Apparently, he's a total
disaster." I felt a little guilty rubbing it in, but I couldn't really help myself.
"So jealous of you right now, Flan." She stepped around the steamer trunk. "Is she still here? Do you guys have something
awesome planned for tonight? 'Cause I was thinking—"
"Actually, she had to jet. They're trying to wrap up the last few scenes. She just left the trunk as a little souvenir." It
felt strangely good to tell Meredith something that impressed her. The past couple of days, when we actually had been hanging out, she'd been so dismissive that I'd almost forgotten that she used to consider me someone who was worth talking
to.
"Kennedy said I should invite you to the beachside dinner party tonight," she said.
"Um . . . " I stalled. The way she said it bugged me. Kennedy said. . . . How nice that Kennedy gave Meredith her permission to include me.
"We both figured you'd have plans already, but she said to do my best to bribe you to come." Meredith sat down next to me.
"I think she's trying to reach out to you but doesn't know how, so she's using me to sort of . . . mediate?"
"Did she say that?"
"Not exactly, but . . ."
I sighed. Maybe SBB was right. There was no use starting World War III. I should focus on the things I could control—like
my own experiences on this trip, not anyone else's. I definitely wasn't going to blow off the only offer I had. If Kennedy
wanted to be bitchy, I could just ignore her, right? And consider it part of the growing experience?
"Sure," I said. "I'd love to come."
"Yay!" Meredith said, and she sounded genuinely happy. "I need some Flan time. Especially since Judith pooped out, us Stuy
girls have to stick together, right?"
I nodded and smiled and offered her the first shower—again—but what I was thinking was, am I really cut out to be a Stuy girl? Am I really cut out to "stick together" with Meredith?
I caught a glimpse of myself in the steamer trunk mirror: sitting on the couch, slumped over with a scowl on my face. Gosh,
if I had been looking like this all trip, I wouldn't want to hang out with me, either!
I sat up straight, put on a smile, and took a few deep breaths. It was amazing what it did for my appearance in the mirror,
and it made me feel a lot better inside, too. Maybe this was what SBB was talking about when she referred to "minor adjustments."
I felt a major attitude adjustment coming on. So what if the first twenty-four hours of the vacation had sucked? Maybe we
were just getting started.
After Meredith finished in the bathroom, I took a shower and let my hair air-dry in the warm sea breeze. I put on my favorite
Hollywould sequined flip-flops, a black Michael Stars tank top, and black hot
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