The Shore by Todd Strasser Page B

that would be great. Thanks!” Polly said, thinking, I may not have met a guy but at least I’ve made a friend. Things could be worse.
    “I don’t think I ever thanked you properly for getting me the job,” Avery said.
    “You’re welcome,” Polly said.
    “No, I owe you. Suppose I make it my mission to help find you a guy.”
    “Serious?” Polly asked, excitement running through her.
    “Dead serious. If I can’t find a guy in this town who would want to be with a sweet and pretty girl like you, then there is no justice in this world.”
    Polly hugged Avery. “That would be the best present ever.”
    Avery patted her shoulder. “You deserve it.”
    A few minutes later they arrived at the restaurant. The exterior was made up of dark wood and brass, and a sign declared in delicate pink letters the seashell restaurant. Large, round windows rimmed in brass faced the beach and the surrounding pier. There was an indoor seating area and an outdoor one. The tablesand chairs outside stood on a deck that ran halfway around the restaurant.
    Next door was the Surfin’ Spot, a bar with live music where a lot of people, including Owen and his friends, often hung out. The bar was always loud and rowdy with people crammed inside and out. Anthony managed both places.
    Polly slipped on her white Keds and Avery a pair of white strappy sandals. They climbed the steps that led up to the pier and to the entrance to The Seashell. Inside, the air was cool and the lighting muted. The nautical theme carried on with starfish, large shells, and red plastic lobsters scattered among fishnets hanging from the ceiling. Three other waitresses were already seated at a table, all wearing the same pale pink skirt and midriff shirt that Polly had on. Being a redhead, Polly had always avoided wearing pink and she knew that the outfit didn’t look that great on her. As hostess, Avery wore a simple, strapless, white cotton dress that offset her smooth shoulders. Polly would gladly have changed places with her.
    Anthony, the manager, came out of the kitchen and ran an eye over all of them. He was just over six feet tall and had the sandy blond hair and tan that would have made him look like a beach bum were it not for the pleated linen white pants and a white long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. As Polly had said, he was gorgeous.
    “Okay, ladies,” Anthony said, addressing them all. “We open in twenty minutes. Susie, Sandy, and Sarah will work thedining room for lunch. Polly, you work the deck, and if Terry ever shows up, she’ll be out there with you.”
    Polly sighed, frustrated. She hated working the deck alone, and she was pretty sure she was stuck because Terry was a flake and often missed work. The other three, or the Triple S Threat, as they were called, couldn’t be counted on to help. Susie, Sandy, and Sarah were triplets and they hated one another. They did, however, work well together in some sort of freaky superconnected way. Bottom line was that guests inside would be well taken care of. Polly and the guests outside would be miserable. It’s going to be one of those days.
    It’s one of those days, Curt thought as he stared in frustration at his bandmates. Bobby, the bass player and songwriter, was sitting sullenly in a corner, his hand bandaged. The idiot had cut himself on a broken beer bottle. Austin, the lead singer, hadn’t hit a single note all morning. Darek sat by his drums, his long brown hair flopping into his eyes, and glared out from beneath his locks.
    “All right, guys, come on,” Curt urged them. “Tonight’s the night. We came here for the chance to play, and we’ve got to take advantage of it.”
    “I don’t think we’re in a position to take advantage of anything,” Darek said quietly.
    “Except maybe some hotties after the show,” Austin said with a grin.
    “If I were you, I’d be more worried about hitting notes than hitting on chicks,” Bobby said.
    “Maybe if you wrote