poured everything out. Sifting through it, my fingers closed around a chandelier earring, and I held it up triumphantly for T.J. to see.
He smiled, studying the curved wire the earring hung on. “That will make an excellent fishhook, Anna.”
I took everything out of the suitcase: toothbrush and two tubes of regular toothpaste, plus a tube of tooth-whitening Crest, four bars of soap, two bottles each of body wash, shampoo, and conditioner, lotion, shaving cream, and my razor and two packages of replacement blade cartridges. Three deodorants—two solids and one gel—baby oil and cotton balls for taking off my makeup, cherry ChapStick, and—
thank you Jesus
—two boxes of tampons. Nail polish and polish remover, tweezers, Q-tips, Kleenex, a bottle of Woolite for hand-washing my swimsuits, and two tubes of Coppertone with an SPF of 30. T.J. and I were already so dark, I didn’t think the sunscreen would make a difference.
“Wow,” T.J. said when I finished sorting all the toiletries.
“The island we’re supposed to be on didn’t have a drugstore,” I explained. “I checked.”
I’d also packed a comb and brush, hair clips and ponytail holders, a deck of cards, my datebook and a pen, two pairs of sunglasses—Ray-Ban aviators and a pair with big black frames—and a straw cowboy hat I always wore to the pool.
I picked up each item of clothing, wringing the water out and spreading it on the sand to dry. Four swimsuits, cotton lounge pants, shorts, tank tops, T-shirts, and a sundress. My tennis shoes and several pairs of socks. A blue REO Speedwagon concert T-shirt, and a gray Nike one with a red swoosh that said JUST DO IT on the front. They were size large, and I wore them to sleep in.
I threw my underwear and bras back in the suitcase and closed the lid. I’d deal with those later.
“We’re lucky this is the suitcase that washed up,” I said.
“What was in the other one?”
“Your textbooks and assignments.” I’d made careful lesson plans, organizing all the work T.J. would need to complete. The novels I’d planned to read over the summer were in that suitcase, too, and I thought longingly of how much they would have helped pass the time. I looked at T.J., my expression hopeful. “Maybe we’ll find your suitcase, too.”
“Not a chance. My parents took it with them. That’s why I had some clothes and my toothbrush in my backpack. My mom wanted me to have something with me in case we got delayed and had to spend the night somewhere.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Huh. Imagine that.”
I gathered up everything I needed. “I’m going to take a bath,” I said. “You can never go down to the water when I’m down there. Are we clear on that?”
T.J. nodded his head. “I won’t. I promise. I’m gonna see if I can make a fishing pole while you’re gone. I’ll go when you get back.”
“Okay.”
When I reached the shore, I stripped off my clothes, walked into the water, and ducked my head under. I washed my filthy hair, rinsed, and washed it again. The shampoo smelled incredible, but maybe that was because I smelled so bad. After I put the conditioner on, I soaped myself from head to toe and sat on the shore, shaving my legs and underarms. I walked into the water to rinse and floated on my back for a while, content and clean.
I put on my yellow bikini, slicked on deodorant, and untangled my hair, putting it up in a twist and securing it with a hair clip. I chose the black sunglasses, deciding that T.J. should have the Ray-Bans.
He did a double take when I walked up. When I sat down beside him, he leaned over, sniffed me, and said, “The mosquitoes are going to eat you alive.”
“I feel so good I don’t even care.”
“What do you think?” he asked, holding up the fishing pole. He had made a hole at the end of a long stick and tied the guitar string to it. He threaded the other end through an open loop in the wire from my earring.
“Looks great. When you get back from
He smiled, studying the curved wire the earring hung on. “That will make an excellent fishhook, Anna.”
I took everything out of the suitcase: toothbrush and two tubes of regular toothpaste, plus a tube of tooth-whitening Crest, four bars of soap, two bottles each of body wash, shampoo, and conditioner, lotion, shaving cream, and my razor and two packages of replacement blade cartridges. Three deodorants—two solids and one gel—baby oil and cotton balls for taking off my makeup, cherry ChapStick, and—
thank you Jesus
—two boxes of tampons. Nail polish and polish remover, tweezers, Q-tips, Kleenex, a bottle of Woolite for hand-washing my swimsuits, and two tubes of Coppertone with an SPF of 30. T.J. and I were already so dark, I didn’t think the sunscreen would make a difference.
“Wow,” T.J. said when I finished sorting all the toiletries.
“The island we’re supposed to be on didn’t have a drugstore,” I explained. “I checked.”
I’d also packed a comb and brush, hair clips and ponytail holders, a deck of cards, my datebook and a pen, two pairs of sunglasses—Ray-Ban aviators and a pair with big black frames—and a straw cowboy hat I always wore to the pool.
I picked up each item of clothing, wringing the water out and spreading it on the sand to dry. Four swimsuits, cotton lounge pants, shorts, tank tops, T-shirts, and a sundress. My tennis shoes and several pairs of socks. A blue REO Speedwagon concert T-shirt, and a gray Nike one with a red swoosh that said JUST DO IT on the front. They were size large, and I wore them to sleep in.
I threw my underwear and bras back in the suitcase and closed the lid. I’d deal with those later.
“We’re lucky this is the suitcase that washed up,” I said.
“What was in the other one?”
“Your textbooks and assignments.” I’d made careful lesson plans, organizing all the work T.J. would need to complete. The novels I’d planned to read over the summer were in that suitcase, too, and I thought longingly of how much they would have helped pass the time. I looked at T.J., my expression hopeful. “Maybe we’ll find your suitcase, too.”
“Not a chance. My parents took it with them. That’s why I had some clothes and my toothbrush in my backpack. My mom wanted me to have something with me in case we got delayed and had to spend the night somewhere.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Huh. Imagine that.”
I gathered up everything I needed. “I’m going to take a bath,” I said. “You can never go down to the water when I’m down there. Are we clear on that?”
T.J. nodded his head. “I won’t. I promise. I’m gonna see if I can make a fishing pole while you’re gone. I’ll go when you get back.”
“Okay.”
When I reached the shore, I stripped off my clothes, walked into the water, and ducked my head under. I washed my filthy hair, rinsed, and washed it again. The shampoo smelled incredible, but maybe that was because I smelled so bad. After I put the conditioner on, I soaped myself from head to toe and sat on the shore, shaving my legs and underarms. I walked into the water to rinse and floated on my back for a while, content and clean.
I put on my yellow bikini, slicked on deodorant, and untangled my hair, putting it up in a twist and securing it with a hair clip. I chose the black sunglasses, deciding that T.J. should have the Ray-Bans.
He did a double take when I walked up. When I sat down beside him, he leaned over, sniffed me, and said, “The mosquitoes are going to eat you alive.”
“I feel so good I don’t even care.”
“What do you think?” he asked, holding up the fishing pole. He had made a hole at the end of a long stick and tied the guitar string to it. He threaded the other end through an open loop in the wire from my earring.
“Looks great. When you get back from
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