"Where were you?" Kristy blurted out. Her voice was so quavery she barely recognized it. Even Jackie looked surprised.

"I was taking a shower. I wanted to get some of that chlorine out of my hair." He was looking at the lifeguard, who was going back to his post. "Were you guys actually worried about me?"

"We were paging you. For ten whole minutes."

"I couldn't hear you with the water running."

Kristy stared at him for a moment. There were a million things she could say to him, but what would be the point? Jackie was Jackie. A walking disaster!

"Look, there's Mom!" Shea yelled. "She's parked outside."

Kristy ordered everyone to pack up their beach towels and head toward the car. Four-thirty. It was hard to believe that only a few hours had passed. She stifled a yawn and helped the kids pile into the backseat. Another day with Jackie Rodowsky was finally over.

Chapter 7.

I reread my postcard and decided that it was extremely boring. It was also totally impersonal — if you knew what was really going on. It didn't give a clue about the exciting something in my life. Why? I'm not sure. Maybe because I wasn't exactly sure what was going on myself. I felt confused and happy at the same time, and it's all because of what happened at the beach today. . . .

The day started out in a very ordinary way. Stacey and Mal and I had just spread out our blankets on the sand, and the younger Pike kids were getting ready to hurl themselves into the water. The Pikes may be a laid-back family, but there is one hard and fast rule — no one can go in the water before nine A.M. or after five P.M. That's because those are the only hours the lifeguards are on duty.

The moment the lifeguards climbed into their seats, the kids raced down to the ocean. I put another coating of zinc oxide on my nose and pulled my straw hat down over my face. Then I put sunblock on my arms and legs, and made sure my caftan covered my knees.