Free Notes from a Spinning Planet—Mexico by Melody Carlson Page A

but my dad had a work emergency. He and Mom flew home yesterday.”
    “So you're here by yourself?” I say.
    “Yep. Five glorious days without my parents around.”
    “Hopefully you're not planning anything crazy,” I say.
    She laughs. “No. I've done crazy before. My friends and I came down here for spring break last year—not here at the resort, thank goodness. My parents would've had a fit if they had seen the way we left our hotel in town.”
    “So
youre
the ones we hear about on the news?” says Ryan. “Tear up the town and get drunk and end up in jail?”
    “Well, we didn't end up in jail. But the rest might be accurate. I guess it's something everyone needs to do once in a lifetime.”
    I consider this. “Not me,” I say flippantly, rolling onto my stomach in hopes the backs of my legs will catch a little sun, although most of me is in the shade now.
    “Me neither,” says Ryan. And I smile to myself.
    “Well, it's not like I'll be doing that again,” says Shelby. “Hey, I wonder what it takes to get service down on this end of the beach. Where are those cabana boys when you need them?”
    “Want me to go get you something?” offers Ryan.
    “No,” she says in a slightly spoiled tone. “I want
them
to bring drinks to us. Don't you guys want something to drink too? Their margaritas are killer. And their pina coladas aren't too shabby either, although I hate to think how many calories are in one of those.” She laughs. “But, of course, this is a vacation. No time to be counting calories.”
    I bite my tongue. No time for me to be saying something lame and regrettable, either. Still, like Shelby really needs to be counting calories! Give me a break.
    “Hey!” yells Shelby, making me jump. “Amigo! Over here!”
    I turn over in time to see Shelby on her feet and waving with both hands to a guy down the beach. He has on a white shirt and is carrying a tray. He hurries over and greets us with a friendly
“Buenas tardes,”
and Shelby immediately orders a pina colada. “And what do you guys want?” she asks. “It's on me.”
    “I'll have a Corona,” says Ryan.
    I'm tempted to pass, but I'm actually pretty thirsty. The taste of salt water is still lingering in my mouth. “I'll have an iced tea,” I say.
    “No way,” says Shelby, shaking a finger at me. “You cant have a plain-old iced tea down here. You need something more festive, Mad-die. This is Mexico, and you're on vacation. Lighten up, girl.”
    “Maddie isn't much of a drinker,” says Ryan.
    For some reason this irritates me—or maybe it's just everything in general that irritates me at the moment. “Just because I didn't like Guinness in Ireland?” I say to him defensively.
    Shelby makes a face. “I
hate
Guinness. It tastes like an old boot.”
    I nod at Ryan. “See?”
    “Have a pina colada,” she urges me. “Trust me, you 11 like it.”
    “How about some bottled water too?” says Ryan.
    “And a plate of nachos and guacamole,” says Shelby to the waiter guy.
    He gets this all down, and I tell him, “Muchas gracias,” and smile, which he seems to appreciate. Then he hurries off to fetch our drinks.
    “Do we need ID?” I ask, which makes Shelby laugh.
    “The drinking age down here is eighteen,” says Ryan. “And I think they hardly ever card Americans.”
    “Oh.”
    “So what's this about Ireland?” asks Shelby as she sits back down on her chaise, gracefully crossing her long, tan legs at the ankle. “You guys went there together?” She removes her sunglasses, and her thin, arched brows lift with curiosity as she studies the two of us. I wonder what she thinks.
    “Sid invited us to go with her,” says Ryan. “It was a business trip for her, and we just sort of went along for the ride.”
    Shelby smiles and replaces her sunglasses.
    “That's how Sid and Ian were reunited,” I tell her. I'm not even sure why I'm telling her, maybe just to fill up the space. “They went out together when they were in