Fern lay on her side, rubbing her pinched asscheek. She couldn't quite see where Penny had pinched her, but she was positive that the spot had already turned black and blue.

"I wish they'd hear us," Fern said. "I'd love to see them come up here and take care of you."

Penny smiled wickedly. "They'd take care of you, too."

"I'd run away," Fern said. "Then I'd sneak back and hide in the sea grass, and I'd watch them take care of you."

"Mmm! Heaven!" Penny said. "I'd love it."

"That's what you say now," Fern said.

"That's what I'd say then, too."

"They're mean. Daytona boys are tough. And the surfers are the toughest." Fern wasn't sure about her statements, but they sounded good.

Penny rolled her eyes and sighed. "Mmm! Just how I like 'em – mean and tough. I can handle it honey."

Fern wrinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue at her cousin. Penny was a hopeless case. Whatever Fern said, Penny knew better. Typical Chicago girl, Fern thought, and she thanked God she'd gotten out of that city before she'd turned into a smart-mouthed Chicago girl herself.

Penny smiled triumphantly and slipped back onto the blanket. Before Fern could resist, Penny threw her arm over her cousin's shoulder and pulled her close.

"Sorry," Penny said. "Forgive me?" And she kissed Fern on the nose.

"I suppose," Fern said, resting her chin on her hands and pretending to relax.

But she wasn't relaxing. She was tense, coiled up inside, ready to spring on Penny if she should try anything funny again. She was half hoping Penny would make a move. She'd be ready for her this time.

"Good," Penny said, parting the sea grasses and looking out over the scene below.

Warily, Fern looked out with her. The Atlantic was green today, and glittering with sun. A half-dozen young surfers bobbed up and down in the surf, each waiting for his own personal wave. The boys looked like shiny bronze birds way out there perched on their boards of yellow, blue, white, green, red.