Chelsea led the way as they walked on a small strip of sand that connected the little island to the mainland. It was fun to be so close to the ocean without actually being in it. Laurel liked the tangy smell of the salt water and the fresh breeze that caressed her face and sent Chelsea’s curly hair swinging. It was ironic, really, that she enjoyed the smell of the ocean when she hated salty water.

When they reached the island, there was a gravel road that led up a hill. It was only a few minutes before they came around a small bend and the lighthouse came into view.

“It really is just a normal house,” Laurel said, surprised.

“Except for the light,” Chelsea said, pointing.

Chelsea played tour guide, under the watchful eye of a security guard, as she showed Laurel through the small house and explained the history of the lighthouse, including its role in the tsunamis that Crescent City fell victim to every few years. “They’re awesome,” Chelsea said, “at least, when they don’t get too big.”

Laurel wasn’t sure she shared Chelsea’s enthusiasm.

Chelsea took her out to a small yard and pointed out the purple flowers that grew up the rocks on all sides of the tiny island. “They’re really pretty,” Laurel said, bending to touch a small patch of the tiny blossoms.

Chelsea pulled a blanket out of her bag and spread it on the soft grass. They sat together, watching the sea in silence for a few minutes. Laurel felt so at peace in this rugged, beautiful place. Chelsea dug into her bag again and brought out a Snickers bar for herself and handed Laurel a small Tupperware.

“What’s this?” Laurel asked.

“Strawberries. They’re organic, if that matters,” Chelsea added.

Laurel smiled and popped the top. “Thanks. They look great.” A million times better than the candy bar Chelsea was enjoying.

“So what’s up with you and David?”

Laurel choked on the strawberry she had just started chewing and coughed energetically. “What do you mean?”

“I just wondered if you guys are a couple yet.”

“Well, don’t beat around the bush about it or anything,” Laurel said, more to her strawberries than to Chelsea.

“He really likes you, Laurel.” Chelsea sighed. “I wish he liked me half as much.”

Laurel poked at her strawberries with her fork.

“I think I’ve liked him since the day he moved here. He and I used to be on a soccer team together,” she added, smiling.

Laurel could see in her mind a ten-year-old Chelsea—opinionated and outspoken just like now, and not really fitting in—meeting David for the first time. Nonjudgmental, accepting David. It was no wonder Chelsea had latched on to him. But still…“Chelsea, no offense, but why are you telling me this?”

“I don’t know.” They were silent for a little while. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad or anything,” Chelsea assured her. “David doesn’t like me that way, I know that. Honestly, if he’s going to have a girlfriend, I’d rather it was someone like you. Someone I’m friends with too.”

“That’s good, I guess,” Laurel said.

“So…are you his girlfriend now?” Chelsea pressed.

“I don’t know. Maybe?”

“Is that a question?” Chelsea asked with a grin.

“I don’t know.” She paused, then glanced sidelong at Chelsea. “You really don’t mind if I talk about it?”

“Not at all. It’s like living vicariously.”

“You say the weirdest things sometimes,” Laurel said ruefully.

“Yeah, that’s what David says too. Personally, I don’t think enough people say what they really think.”

“You definitely have a point there.”

“So, girlfriend or not?” Chelsea asked again, refusing to let it drop.

Laurel shrugged. “I really don’t know. Sometimes I think that’s what I want, but I’ve never had a boyfriend before. I’ve never really even had a guy who was a close friend. I like it a lot…I don’t want to lose that part.”

“Maybe you won’t.”

“Maybe. I’m just not sure.”

“There could be fringe benefits,” Chelsea said.

“Like what?”

“If you guys were on kissing terms he might do your bio homework.”

“Tempting,” Laurel said. “I suck at bio.”

Chelsea grinned. “Yeah, that’s what he said.”

Laurel’s eyes widened. “He did not! Really?”

“It’s hardly a secret—you moan about it almost every day at lunch. I think he’d be a great boyfriend,” Chelsea added.

“Why are you encouraging this? Most people in your position would be trying to break us up.”

“I am not most people,” Chelsea said defensively. “Besides,” she continued in a lighter tone, “it would make him really happy. I like it when David’s happy.”

“I’m home,” Laurel yelled as she entered the house, tossed her backpack on the ground, and walked into the pantry in search of a jar of canned pears. Her mom came in a few minutes later as Laurel was nibbling on a pear half straight out of the jar. But instead of the “Mom look” Laurel usually got for not using a bowl, her mom only sighed and smiled wearily.

“Can you fend for yourself for dinner tonight?”