Sunrise Page 4

  Sierra and Sasha, of course. Sierra was from Cali, and Sasha from Texas—they came to Ohana every year, and they always had Danica’s back.

  Then there was Emmy, a local Hawaiian, and not even a C.I.T.—she was just a lifeguard. Still, she was nice, and knew Danica well enough not to ever cross her. Danica gave Emmy a wave but didn’t scoot over to give her a spot on her picnic table. Charlie was the guy working in the office this summer, poor stiff. Then there was Ben, the new guy—blond, buff, tanned—that all the girls seemed to have their eye on. He was so full of himself, Danica just couldn’t see the attraction. Some other C.I.T.s were there; Danica looked them all over—shrug. No one here could compete with her for Micah.

  Notably missing from the group was Andi—she was from some landlocked state that Danica always forgot the name of. But the thing about Andi was that she was excessively good at whatever she did. The girl could Jet Ski and water-ski like she had a lake in her backyard. Which very well might be the case. Rumor was her parents were rich enough—so maybe she did. Also, even though she talked entirely too much, she was really pretty, with her curly red hair and her long legs and . . . let’s just say Danica hoped she wasn’t Micah’s type.

  Still, there was one other notable person missing from the rec hall. “Where’s that surfer girl?” Sasha asked Danica. “I thought you said she was a C.I.T.”

  “Is she a surfing C.I.T.?” Sierra asked innocently enough, but just the question itself put Danica on edge. She’d been trying to block out what the surfer girl had said when she was signing in: “I changed my mind.”

  She’d said that about being the surfing C.I.T. Like she’d been a shoo-in for the surf spot but was all, Oh, let some other girl take it, I’m sooo bored.

  Did she think being the surfing C.I.T. was beneath her? Was that it?

  “She has to be a surfing C.I.T.,” Sasha was saying. “That would be, like, so wrong if she wasn’t. Maybe we have three surfing C.I.T.s this summer. That would make sense, right, Danica?”

  “No, it would not make sense,” Danica said. She was trying to keep all expression from her face.

  Sierra and Sasha met eyes—they knew her pretty well; maybe they could see right through her. “What did you say her name was again, Danica?” Sierra said.

  Danica really did not want to say the name. It was bad enough she had to compete with the girl, an actual pro surfer, when she had always been the best surfer at camp. (Not to mention body-boarder, swimmer, Jet Skier—you name it, Danica killed at it.) But now they had to go on talking about the girl like she was some celebrity. Well, she was not.

  Sasha and Sierra were waiting for her answer. “Her name is Cassie,” Danica said at last. “Cassie Hamilton.” She’d seen the pictures in the surf magazines. She’d read the articles about how the girl had won her first contest at age twelve. Cassie Hamilton, Cassie Hamilton, Cassie Hamilton. Not a bona fide celebrity, but still . . . Just my luck she’s here this summer, Danica thought.

  “Cassie, that’s right!” Sasha said. “Where is she, anyway?”

  “How would I know?” Danica snapped.

  Sasha shrugged.

  Danica gazed out at the small crowd in the rec hall, effectively ending the conversation. C.I.T.s were sprawled out on the benches, some lying on top of the picnic tables, some stretched out on the floor. The room was lit only by lanterns that bobbed in the wind, giving the scene a disembodied glow. “Let’s start!” she called out suddenly, silencing the chatter. “Latecomers’ll just get the worst dares.”

  “The really disgusting ones!” Sasha chirped.

  “Yeah, let’s start the game!” Emmy yelled.

  That’s when Andi walked in the rec hall, Cassie in tow. Andi got waylaid by the door, and Danica noticed that Cassie was left to find a seat on her own. Danica made sure to watch her the whole way down the length of the floor, looking wildly around for someone she recognized—probably no one—seeking out an empty seat at one of the picnic tables—none were left—till she just chose a spot near the edge of the circle, on the floor. Danica elbowed Sierra and Sasha. “Look who’s here,” she whispered.

  “I like her shirt,” Sierra said. It was sleeveless, pale blue, nothing special.

  Danica gave her a look as if to say, No you don’t. But as she did, she noticed someone else admiring Cassie’s shirt—or worse—the person inside the shirt. Micah. He was at a picnic table across from Cassie, looking right at her.

  Then—horrors—Cassie was looking back.

  Danica got a sinking feeling. Did they, like, like each other or something?

  This would mess with all of Danica’s plans. This would send her world spinning. Sure, she thought there was a chance that Micah might not be into her again, not at first. She knew it could take some time, some effort. But she didn’t expect someone else to get in the way, not so soon.

  “C’mon, let’s start the game,” Ben said. “Truth or dare, who’s first?”

  “Hey, Cassie,” Danica said before she thought it through. “You go first.”

  Cassie flinched, turned pale. All eyes in the rec hall were on her. “Me?” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever played this game before . . .”

  “Sure you have,” Ben said. “Who hasn’t?”

  Cassie shrugged, eyes at the floor. Danica watched her carefully, trying to see through the innocent act to what was really going on in there.

  “Don’t worry,” Andi told Cassie, taking a seat on edge of Danica’s picnic table. “You’ll love this game. It’s fun.”

  Danica gave a well contained smile. “Truth or dare, Cassie?” she said lightly.

  Danica wanted her to say truth, and she wanted to ask the question. The girl was hiding something—she could see it plain as a bright, hot Hawaii day.

  But Cassie didn’t give her a chance. “Dare,” she said too quickly. She looked up, gazing around at the circle of C.I.T.s, her eyes settling at last on Danica. “Dare,” she repeated, this time with determination.

  Something inside Danica clicked. It was her comfort zone, being in control like this. Putting someone in their place, letting them know who was the real someone to watch around here. Call it a defense mechanism, call it whatever. But sometimes, when Danica was feeling threatened and off-kilter and uncomfortable in her clothes and unsure of where she stood, sometimes she acted the only way she could act. That is, mean. Who wouldn’t do the same if they could?

  She gazed back at Cassie and contemplated her many options. Dare, it is.

  Cassie chose dare. She had to. It was bad enough Danica had picked her to go first, but for Cassie to get truth and end up somehow revealing her secret straightaway, in front of all these kids she barely knew . . . who wouldn’t pick dare over truth in her shoes?

  When she said she wanted a dare, all the other C.I.T.s in the rec hall let out a great, long “Oooooooooooooooh.” Clearly, they were trying to make her nervous.

  “Hold it!” Danica called out from across the circle. “It’s Cassie’s first night here—her dare’s got to be something good.” Her eyes narrowed, and it occurred to Cassie that this particular dare might mean way more to Danica than any harmless “fun.”

  Is it what I said about the surfing C.I.T. position? Cassie wondered. She should be more careful when she talked about surfing here—she didn’t want anyone to think she was bragging. Especially after what happened a few months ago . . . now who would walk around bragging about that?

  She glanced away from Danica and—zing!—met eyes with Micah, who was sitting on a picnic bench nearby. This kept happening. She’d look somewhere and end up in an eye lock with him. Now his lips twitched in a small smile and instead of smiling back she pulled her gaze away. She forced herself to turn back to Danica, to be sentenced with whatever dare they’d choose for her, and go on and get it over with.

  Danica was across the rec hall, sitting atop a picnic table with Andi and two other friends. Their C.I.T. leis said Sierra and Sasha. Sierra had long, dark hair and Sasha had a cute c
hestnut brown bob. They were exceptionally pretty, of course, just like Danica. The four girls huddled together, whispering. Cassie, sitting on the floor on the other side of the room, felt very alone. Andi had been friendly enough at the bonfire, but clearly she was way better friends with Danica. Cassie found herself wishing that her cousin were here for the game. If only Tori was a C.I.T., she thought. Why does she have to be just fourteen!

  “C’mon!” one of the other C.I.T.s called out. “Pick a dare already!”

  Suddenly, Sasha leaped up from the huddle. “I have Cassie’s dare!” she cried. “I just thought of it. Okay, Cassie, you go to the camp kitchen. You break in however you can, ’cause they lock it up at night. And you bring us something for dessert. Go!”

  That’s it? Cassie thought. What with all the hype, she figured they’d go for something at least a hair more . . . dangerous. She’d never done any breaking-and-entering before, but this dare at least seemed harmless.

  In fact, Danica seemed disappointed. “Sasha!” she hissed. “I said not that one!”

  “I’m hungry,” Sasha said with a shrug.

  “Fine,” Danica said. Her bright, intensely fake smile turned in a flash on Cassie. “You heard the dare,” she said. “So go.”

  Cassie stood. All eyes were on her, but this was nothing, nothing at all.

  All she said was, “Where’s the kitchen?” She was pointed in its direction and went off to find it. It turned out that the door, though locked, had an open window just beside it, so it was easy to get in and out without any broken glass or forced dead bolts. When she returned to the rec hall it was with an armful of whipped cream cans that were passed around the circle and sprayed into everyone’s mouth. The “dessert” was a big hit with the C.I.T.s, all except for Danica. Cassie noticed that when a whipped cream can came her way, she wrinkled her nose and waved it on to the next person like she was being asked to eat a mouthful of insecticide.

  Now that Cassie had gotten her dare over with, she began to relax. That’s when the game got interesting. It all started when the lifeguard, Emmy, was dared to spend five minutes alone with one of the guys and “whatever happens” behind closed doors “happens.”

  “With who?” Emmy said. She crossed her arms over her chest, clearly not pleased by the dare. But seeing as this was the first night of camp, it was not a good idea to back out of a dare in front of the other C.I.T.s, even Cassie could see that.

  “Me,” said a voice. Ben stepped up and did a half bow like he was being all gallant. From the way she’d heard other girls talk about him, Cassie knew he was considered one of the cutest guys at camp. Problem is, he sure acted like he knew it. In Cassie’s eyes, this made him, like, twelve times less attractive.

  Emmy made a face as Ben took her hand, but Cassie thought it was all for show. Something told her—the flush creeping up Emmy’s cheeks maybe?—that Emmy was psyched beyond belief to spend some time alone in a dark room with Ben. Even if the room itself was the supply closet crammed full of brooms, mops, buckets, and broken surfboards. Cassie watched with curiosity as Emmy and Ben entered the dark closet and closed the door behind them. Then all was quiet.

  Is this what normal kids did? Forced each other into confined spaces with the lights off while everyone stood outside trying to listen in? It seemed absurd.

  Cassie realized she’d missed out on a lot of things by becoming a pro surfer so young—there just hadn’t been time for games like this. Then again, maybe it was a good thing that she’d avoided being imprisoned in a closet. So far, at least.

  After Emmy and Ben emerged from the closet—amid giggles and fruitless shouted requests to reveal what went on in there—the game took a turn for truth. Danica’s truth revealed she was single. So did Andi’s, though she said that what she had back at home was “complicated.” Truth revealed that Charlie had never been in a relationship, like, ever. (Me either, Cassie thought but didn’t say out loud.) Sasha and Sierra were both fresh from breakups. They wanted to keep things open for the summer, they said. Ben didn’t have a girlfriend—neither did Micah. Pretty much everyone was single and wanted the whole room of C.I.T.s to know it. Cassie figured that would be her question, too. Did she have a boyfriend? That’s an easy one! No.

  Then again, they could ask her something else. She had a sinking feeling they would. So when it was Cassie’s turn once more, she opened her mouth and found herself saying, “Dare.” Again.

  “What, are you afraid of truth or something?” Danica called. Probably she’d meant it as a joke—like, Ha-ha! She doesn’t want anyone to know she’s single!—but Cassie couldn’t keep her face neutral. Something twitched. Something gave her away. And she knew Danica saw it.

  “No, I just want another dare,” Cassie said quietly.

  “Five minutes in the closet with . . .” Danica started, making a big show of looking around the circle at all the C.I.T.s on offer. Her eyes lingered on Micah. Cassie could see that’s where her eyes were lingering, and, knowing this, having the possibility dangled out before her, Cassie found herself feeling something she could only call strange. Something was making itself known in her chest. A physical something. It was weird and fluttery, like a living creature hopping around inside her chest.

  Excitement—that’s what it felt like, the way surfing used to be. She’d never felt anything close to that in relation to a boy. Why in the world did she feel excited to be locked in a supply closet with Micah?

  But before Cassie could wrap her brain around this revelation, Danica pulled her eyes away from Micah and settled them on someone else. This new guy of choice was the plainest, skinniest, most pasty guy in the room. “Five minutes in the closet with Charlie!” Danica announced. Then she winked at Cassie as if to say, Have fun!

  Inexplicably, Cassie felt disappointed. She tried to keep that off her face. Charlie had stood up. He was holding a hand out to her. What else could she do but take it?

  Once the closet door was closed, the lights down, they each found a place on the grimy floor. Cassie couldn’t see, but it felt like something sloshing and wet was just beside her. A bucket of mop water? It did smell a lot like Lysol.

  “So, I guess we’re supposed to, um . . .” Charlie said.

  She couldn’t see him in the dark, but she moved her foot and it seemed to hit his foot. “I guess, I mean I’ve never done this before—” Cassie meant not just sitting in a dark Lysol-scented closet with a strange boy, but the this that made it so she had to stop talking. She was sixteen and she’d never actually kissed a boy before. Strike that. Because now, in the dark of this closet, it was suddenly actually happening.

  In the deep darkness, Charlie had somehow found her face. His mouth touched hers and held onto it for some long seconds. She kissed back for some more seconds, but it felt forced, it felt too weird for words—it also somehow tasted of Lysol. Cassie pulled away at the same moment he did. Awkward.

  Then they both sat there in the dark, trying to silently wipe the other’s spit from their chins, except that when she lifted her arm to wipe her mouth he also lifted his arm to do the same. They ended up hitting each other and then apologizing profusely. All that took up a whole minute. Then he said:

  “You know, we don’t have to do this.”

  “We can just say we did,” Cassie said. “If they ask . . .”

  “Yeah.”

  “Yeah.”

  Good, we’re in agreement on that, at least, Cassie thought with relief.

  “I should tell you I’m sort of taken,” Charlie said then.

  “You have a girlfriend? I thought, out there, I thought you said you didn’t.”

  “I don’t,” he said. “Not exactly. But there’s someone here I . . . you know.”

  There was a moment of quiet between them. Outside the closet they could hear the other C.I.T.s talking, laughing. Maybe they forgot Cassie and Charlie were in here.

  “Who?” she said. Danica, she thought immediately. She was so pretty—probably all the guys were crushing on D
anica.

  But Charlie said, “Andi.”

  “Oh,” she breathed.

  “But please don’t tell her, okay?”

  “I won’t. I swear.”

  “Good, because I have no idea what she’d think, you know? She was looking at me before across the circle, but maybe she was just, I don’t know, looking at me?” He seemed a bit lovesick. Cassie thought it was adorable.

  She spent so much of her time surfing—her whole life, it seemed—that she never had time to like someone that much. What would that feel like? she was wondering when, without warning, a face came to her mind. Micah’s face.

  But along with that face came the memory of a certain gold bathing suit and just as quickly both thoughts were banished from her mind. She and Charlie spent the rest of their time in the supply closet talking about Andi—about how nice she seemed, how cheerful she was, how she was a good wakeboarder. Cassie imagined that Charlie could talk about Andi for hours if she let him.

  When they emerged from the closet, the game of truth or dare was in full swing. Apparently, Ben had chosen dare, and Danica had just finished telling him what the dare would be.

  “What do you think, Benny, brave enough to take that one on?” Danica said.

  Cassie and Charlie took their places back in the circle—no one had even asked what happened in the closet. Either they assumed it was nothing worth mentioning or they were just too preoccupied with Ben’s dare.

  Cassie, for her part, wondered what the dare was. Her eyes shot to Ben. He was standing up, in the middle of the circle of C.I.T.s, his overly bright smile faltering, just a little. “I’ll do it,” he said. With that, he ran off.

  “Where’s he going?” Cassie asked a C.I.T. who sat near her.

  “The kitchen,” the C.I.T. said, eyes twinkling.

  As they waited for Ben’s return, Sierra turned to Danica. “You’re not serious about this, are you?” she asked.