Free Picture Perfect by Catherine Clark Page A

stood in the water just five minutes ago. Wasn’t I ready to take more risks than that? Did I have to stand there and wait? Couldn’t I just jump right in, like everyone else?
    Maybe it was time to start doing things first, and worrying about them later.
    “So.” Heather swam over to me while I was contemplating how I could change my life. “What time are we going to go over to Blake’s tonight, and what are you going to wear?”
    I appreciate friends who can keep things in perspective.
     
    We got out of the water after swimming for about twenty minutes. I felt like a prune. A very cold prune.
    “You might have given up ballet, but you still have ballet belly,” Adam commented as we walked up toward where we’d left our outer layers.
    I laughed. “What’s ballet belly?”
    “No belly. A complete lack of belly.”
    I felt myself turn red. “Oh. Thanks. I guess.”
    You know how sometimes when certain people make comments, you really aren’t sure if it’s a compliment or not? That’s how it was with Spencer and Adam. They were so used to teasing me and Heather, making fun of us, that you couldn’t take anything they said seriously. They’d always follow it up with a quip about something we were doing wrong.
    Then again, we weren’t exactly kind to them, either. Over the years we’d learned to give back as good as we got.
    Adam spread out a large T-shirt on the sand and sat on it, while Heather unfolded a beach towel. I grabbed the towel from where I’d tossed it in the sand, being careful to take out my camera first and place it carefully on top of my tank top.
    Spencer dropped right onto the sand, soaking wet. “You look almost blue.” He reached out and touched my arm. “You know what it is?You’ve got that ballerina skin. Gets cold faster.”
    “I know, I’m pale and—look, would everyone quit with the ballerina comments already? I’m not a ballerina!” I laughed, but I was serious. You know the expression, beating a dead horse? This was the same thing. It hadn’t even been all that funny—or true—the first time.
    “Maybe you just have thin skin,” Adam said.
    “Ballerinas don’t have thin skin and neither do I,” I said.
    “Could have fooled me,” Spencer commented.
    I turned over and buried my face in the towel, wishing that everyone would stop talking about me. I was so tired and sleepy from getting up early that morning, and the sun felt so warm and nice…I could almost fall asleep, right here. In fact, I should.
    “Let’s not just sit around,” Adam said. “Let’s do something. I know—I stashed a Wiffle Ball and bat in my bike bag—I’ll go get it and we can play Wiffle Ball.”
    “How about playing the napping game?”I mumbled into my towel.
    “How about the game where we find a beach with other people on it?” Heather asked. “I’ll go with you, Adam. I left my bike bottle on the bike and I need some water.”
    Spencer sifted grains of sand onto the back of my feet while they were gone. “Come on, get up.”
    “Why?” I muttered, still facing the sand.
    “You know Adam—you have to play Wiffle Ball whether you want to or not. Besides, if you just lie here, facedown, you’ll miss something else. I’m not sure what, but something. And everyone at home will ask how your amazing Outer Banks vacation was, and you’ll have to say, ‘Um, I slept through it.’ Then you’ll get to Linden and everyone will have to sit around in a circle during orientation and talk about their summer. Everyone will be bragging about canoe trips and mountaineering and NBA basketball camp—”
    “How do you know all this?”
    “I’ve, you know. Talked to friends. I’ve heard that’s what they do,” Spencer said.
    “Oh.”
    “You won’t have anything meaningful to say. You’ll start yawning, thinking about this trip.”
    I sat up and rubbed the side of my face. “Well, whose fault would that be?” I readjusted myself so I was comfortably facing the ocean, and leaned