“Hey, what happened to Blue?” Hannah said.
They listened. Silence.
“Blue!” Maya called.
Still nothing.
They got up, went to her last known location in the driveway. The elderly couple across the way saw them searching and pointed politely to a body in the grass.
The girls approached Blue, who was lying on her back, one arm strung over her eyes. “Who’s up for breakfast?” she said, without moving.
“Not you,” Hannah said.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re light green.”
“But she was forest green a half hour ago,” Maya pointed out. “Also, I have bad news.”
Blue squinted up at her.
“We have tickets for the whale watch in an hour.”
MAYA
Maya insisted they make a quick stop at the farmers market for breakfast just as they’d done twelve years before. There they browsed the kaleidoscope of shiny fruits picked from nearby fields, sampled the thick loaves of butter-brushed bread and gourmet jellies in homemade jars, ogled the chocolate scones and crumble-crust pies, everything fresh and sweet, the tastes of summer. They made their selections, and Maya coerced Blue into buying her an everything bagel with cream cheese. Then they all sat cross-legged on the grass, people watching amid the bustle of morning traffic in town.
Mostly they were quiet, letting the day wake them slowly, fixed on their coffee and food. Maya noticed Blue holding her fist to her mouth as if she might be sick again.
“Blue, eat something,” Maya said.
She held out a piece of her bagel. Blue glanced down. Suddenly her eyes bulged and her cheeks ballooned like a pufferfish.
“Oh no,” Maya said, yanking the bagel away.
Blue’s face settled back. “False alarm.”
“You’re in bad shape, my friend,” Maya said, but Blue wasn’t listening. She was staring off into the distance, her mind carried elsewhere.
Maya followed her gaze to a quaint old restaurant across the street with a for-sale sign on the front.
“I used to love that place,” Blue said wistfully. “Best fried shrimp ever. And Nana always let me order two desserts. Can’t believe they’re selling it. The hipsters will probably turn it into a bowling alley.”
“Or something French and overpriced,” Hannah said as she peeled a banana and took a bite.
“Or a fedora shop,” Renee said.
“The freaking fedoras,” Maya said. “What is with that?”
“Literally no one looks good in a fedora,” Renee said.
“I mean, I do,” Maya said. “But I get your point.”
“What they should really do is turn it into a bar,” Blue said. “There’re no good divey bars in town.” As soon as she said it, she gagged again.
“Maybe not a good time to be thinking about alcohol,” Maya said. “What time is it?” She grabbed Renee’s wrist to check her watch. “Crap! We gotta go.”
They gathered their trash, fled back to the car. Blue trailed them, one arm covering her eyes, the other outstretched to ward off the sun. “I’m going to die,” she moaned repeatedly to no one in particular.
Maya took Old West Lake Drive to the docks, passing the sleepy bay, the wind soft through the open windows, the morning light wan and tired as a mother before coffee.
“Look,” she said as they passed Surf Lodge. “Scene of the crime.”
“Ugh,” Blue said, without looking. “Kill me.”
Maya and Hannah exchanged pitying glances in the rearview mirror.
“I have aspirin if you need it,” Hannah said, rifling through her purse and showing Blue the bottle.
“Got anything for self-loathing?” Blue asked.
Hannah seemed to consider this, handed her a pastry.
The air changed as they neared the docks, salt thickened and fishy. They passed the bait and tackle shops, the dilapidated restaurant where old local fishermen hunched over the dark bar to day drink.
Maya parked in the lot and then they dashed toward the boats, their beach bags bouncing, their flip-flops nipping at their heels.
“Too much running!” Blue groaned as she pulled up the rear.
Soon the old wooden planks were underfoot, the bay sloshing and slurping beneath them, the squawk and glide of seagulls overhead.
Just ahead of Maya, Hannah stopped abruptly to gape at an enormous, lifelike great white shark hanging by the entrance, its jaws open, mouth painted blood red. “Uh...”
“Cool!” Maya said, dragging Hannah along before she could have second thoughts. “I hope we see a live one today. Look! There she is!” She pointed at an old white boat with aqua trim bobbing and creaking against the timbers, the words Viking Star painted across the cabin. It was already loaded with tourists in beach gear and binoculars, a scrawny teenage deckhand untying the line from the docks.
“Wait!” Maya called to him just as they reached the boat.
He paused, held out his palm, eyed them impatiently. “Tickets,” he said.
Hannah bit her lip, looked nervously out at the water. “Is it safe?” she asked.
“Put it this way,” he said. “If you were actively trying to die, whale watching probably wouldn’t be an efficient way to do that.”
Maya laughed. “I like you. Are you single?”
He raised an eyebrow.
“He’s twelve, Maya,” Renee said as she handed him her ticket.
“Seventeen,” he corrected her indignantly.
“I can’t personally think of a more efficient way to die today than whale watching,” Blue said, shuffling up behind them, her face scrunched with misery. “Bury me at sea, please.”
“It would be an act of compassion,” Maya said to the deckhand. She turned to Blue. “I’m not convinced you’re not already dead. I’ve seriously never seen anyone that color before. Your face is like a mood ring the way you go from green to gray.”
“What mood is this?” Blue said, holding up her middle finger.
Renee laughed, looked sympathetically at Blue. “You sure you want to go? It’s only a four-hour wait in the car.”
Blue gave a thumbs-up. Continued her slow death march onto the boat.
Suddenly Maya felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned.
“Looking for me?” he said.