Meet Me at the Boardwalk by Erin Haft Page A

distinctly un-Megan-like voice. “She’s going to love it. Calypso, Prada, Gucci…” They disappeared around the corner, onto Main Street.
    Jade’s face looked like an old beach towel.
    “I can’t take the Jupiter Bounce anymore,” Jade said. “I think I need to stop working. Why work? Why not plot our escape from this heinous town? Everyone is being corrupted. Even Megan.”
    “Jade, come on. Lily-Ann isn’t so bad.”
    “She isn’t?”
    I gulped. “Well, think of some of the other tourists Megan has had to work for. Maybe you both should switch jobs.”
    Jade glanced at her watch. “That would be great, except that I got fired from my first job, and nearly got Megan fired, too, by association. Speaking of which, I better get back to work. Sarah’s gonna get pissed.”
    “Jade, you’re lying.”
    “Why do you think I’m lying?”
    “Because Sarah isn’t even there. ” I nodded toward Amusement Alley. The gates were still padlocked. “You’re a better liar than that.”
    “What, do you know everything about me?”
    I shook my head nervously. “Not by a long shot.”
    She took a deep breath. “Thank you. So stop giving me advice. Or name one thing you don’t know about me. And it has to be big. Bigger than that I don’t trust Lily-Ann Roth.”
    I wracked my crowded head. It was sort of like looking for a lost friend in a mosh pit; it was mostly shoving away. Not to make excuses, but it is a weird thing being asked what you don’t know. All I could think of was what I did know: thatshe and Turquoise had different mothers whom neither of them had ever met (tourists, no doubt, who hooked up with Mr. Cohen during yoga instruction, isn’t that “tantra”?); that her father was an unabashed hippie and was always struggling to make ends meet; that she had a crazy grandmother…and then, of course, the normal stuff; that she’d always stuck up for Megan; that she was stubborn to a fault; that she’d never say anything bad about anyone she loved, except Turquoise—
    Suddenly, it hit me.
    “Why did your father name you guys after gemstones, anyway?”
    She giggled. “Are you serious?”
    “Yes! And don’t tell me ‘because he’s a freak.’”
    “I never told you? He never told you? Well…it’s not because he’s a freak, even though he is. It’s because of our eyes. He named us after the color of our eyes.”
    I didn’t quite believe her, so I took the opportunity to jam her skateboard back into my backpack. “But you both have brown eyes.”
    “Yeah, but when Turkey was born, she had these really beautiful blue eyes.”
    “Wow. I can’t believe you said ‘beautiful’ and ‘Turkey’ in the same sentence,” I marveled, with just a hint of sarcasm.
    Jade gave me a blank stare. “You’ve been to our house at Thanksgiving.”
    I laughed. “That’s the Jade I know. So what about you? Why Jade?”
    “I had green eyes. Come on, Miles. I’ve shown you my baby pictures. I actually showed them to you at Thanksgiving. Last year, remember? I had these bright green eyes when I was an infant.”
    “So what happened? Why do you both have brown eyes now?”
    She sighed and touched my arm without looking at me. “We changed, Miles. It happens.” Then she turned and walked back toward Amusement Alley.

Jade
    I arrived home at around six P.M. —starving and disheveled after an insane day full of screaming toddlers—only to find Megan and Turquoise sitting at our kitchen table, poring over some article on Turquoise’s laptop. Megan has been replaced by an alien , I thought, roaming around town with Lily-Ann Roth and now looking up God-knows-what with Turquoise.
    Turquoise had also undergone some sort of radical transformation this year. I really hadn’t noticed it until that moment. I couldn’t have noticed. We were proverbial ships passing in the night, which was fine. But her perky little prepster outfits were gone. The crisp pants, the spotless white tops—the whole professional