“I'm not complaining,” says Sid finally. “I really appreciate your generosity in letting us come down here, but I think you should know that this place has some serious management challenges that you and Ed might want to check out.” She goes into some of the details, describing things we've experienced and observed. Finally she thanks Vicki again, then hangs up.

  “Poor Vicki,” she says as she slips her cell phone back into her purse. “She had no idea this place was such a piece of work.”

  “Well, at least she's not the one down here getting bumped out of her room.”

  Sid laughs as she unlocks our door. “You're right about that. I guess we were the condo guinea pigs, Maddie. Anyway, Ed's going to look into the whole thing. Maybe they'll try to unload their time-share now.”

  We gather our beach things, noting that our room hasn't been cleaned yet, either. Still, I doubt we'll be complaining. I just don't think Francesca can handle it. Then we head back to the Casa del Sol, which feels like heaven compared to where we're lodging.

  “Too bad Francesca can't get a job here,” I say as Sid parks her car at the luxurious resort.

  “Hey, maybe I should talk to my friend Juan,” jokes Sid. “He seems to know half the people in San Lucas. Maybe he could help her find a new job.”

  “Seriously, Sid, maybe you should.”

  We find Ian by the pool, and he explains that Ryan is down on the beach. “I'm sure he'd like you to join him,” he says to me.

  I get the clear picture that Sid and Ian would like to be alone. Well, as alone as you can be at a resort pool. But I take the subtle hint and leave to search for Ryan. I just hope I don't discover him in the midst of an intimate chat with Shelby.

  When I do find him, he's jumping around in the waves, trying to body-surf. “Come on in!” he yells with a big smile. So even though the water's pretty cold, I make the plunge and join him. We play around in the surf, allowing it to pound against us and even knock us down into the sand at times. I feel like a little kid as a particularly fierce wave tumbles me over several times and leaves me on my back in the wet sand, but I'm laughing so hard I can't get up. Ryan reaches out and gives me a hand. Just as I'm nearly to my feet, another wave comes in and smacks Ryan, plunging him straight into me. We both crash and tumble again, and I come up sputtering, all covered with sand. I can even feel it in my teeth. Now we're both laughing as he pulls me to my feet again.

  “Hello!” calls a female voice from the beach. I turn around to see a blonde in a bikini about thirty feet away. Shelby. She's waving and smiling and looking like a million bucks. Oh, well.

  Ryan calls out a hello back to her, and I attempt a feeble wave.

  “Had enough yet?” asks Ryan.

  Actually, I haven't. But since he looks ready to quit, I say yes, and we rinse some of the sand of T in the ankle-deep surf, then walk over to where Shelby is standing.

  “You guys are pretty brave,” she says. “There are surf warnings today. I guess there's some kind of undertow going on.”

  “It's pretty rugged out there,” admits Ryan. “I was a ways out, and it felt like I was caught in the spin cycle a couple of times.”

  “Still, it was fun,” I add as I pick up my beach bag and wrap my sarong around my wet legs. Of course, this makes the fabric stick, and now it's difficult to walk. But for some reason, which I'm guessing is Shelby, I feel the need to cover up.

  “Want to take a walk?” asks Shelby in a perky voice. “We saw some whales down there past the reefs a few days ago.”

  “Sure,” says Ryan. “How about you, Maddie?”

  Okay, I'm not sure what the correct answer is right now. Do they want to be alone? Is this their chance to have a “little chat”? Have I suddenly turned into a fifth wheel here?

  “I think I'll go rinse off,” I say in what I hope is a nonchalant way. “Then maybe I'll catch some sun and warm up. The ocean was pretty cold. You guys go ahead.”

  Ryan nods and smiles at me. “Catch ya later then, Maddie.”

  I smile back. “Sure.”

  But as I watch the two of them walking away from me, moving down the beach together like a couple, I feel this tiny lump in my throat. I tell myself not to be totally stupid here—not to go off the deep end. Still, seeing them walking together like that, I almost expect him to take her hand. Ryan looks fit and cool in his pale blue swim trunks; Shelby looks way too much like Paris Hilton in her bright, flowery bikini. It's like this picture-perfect travel postcard is being indelibly pressed into my brain. Just a little painful.

  I turn away, trying to block the scene out. I even try to put some spring in my step, a challenge considering the damp sarong that's clinging to my knees like stubborn Saran Wrap. Still, I manage to make my way to the outdoor shower at the foot of the stairs.

  I peel off the soggy sarong and rinse the sand off my arms and legs and out of my curly hair, which will probably look wilder than ever now. Then I rinse off my sarong, wring it out, and give it a shake. I'd tie it back on, but I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be able to walk at all. Instead, I wrap the beach towel around me like a skirt, then head off, hoping to find an unoccupied chaise lounge not too far down the beach. Unfortunately, I have to walk for quite a ways, nearly to the edge of the resort's beach area, before I finally find a cluster of chaises tucked beneath a big white umbrella. I move one of the chaises more fully into the sun and apply some sunscreen to my arms and legs, since I did get a little pink yesterday. Then I arrange my towel and finally stretch out and take a slow, deep breath, but I don't feel the least bit relaxed.

  What is wrong with me? I mean, good grief, what's so bad about this? I'm out on a gorgeous beach, the temps are in the eighties—and it's December for crying out loud! Still, something is eating away at me. And it's hard to erase the image of Ryan and Shelby gracefully moving down the beach as a couple, almost as if they were meant to be together. Old lovers reunited on the Sea of Cortez. Suddenly I remember there's a beach around here called Playa del Amor, which means “Lover's Beach.” I hope this isn't it.

  I get up and adjust the back of my chaise to a better position, resisting the urge to peer down the beach to see if I can spot them. Instead, I sit back down, clean off my sunglasses on my towel, and tell myself, Just chill. In no big deal Just take another deep breath and simply relax. Enjoy this fantastic day My friend Katie would kill to be here right now. I look out at the gorgeous water in front of me, so clear and blue it almost seems unreal, except I still remember how cold it was. Why not just enjoy the view? Simple, right?

  But as I try to appreciate the scenery, all I can see is what suddenly appears to be a pair of humongous, pale thunder thighs. Ugh! When did I get so fat? Okay I tell myself, do not obsess over this. I am not fat. If anything, ?? probably just average, and I know when you sit like this, your legs tend to flatten out and look fatter than they really are. But this reality check doesn't work for me. 1 feel fat. Fat and ugly. I reach down and poke my midsection, which feels a little loose and mushy just now. Maybe it was that gargantuan dinner Sid and I scarfed down last night. Or maybe it's because it's the middle of winter and I've been living on the farm and eating like a horse and haven't worked out in ages. Maybe I should get up off my fat rear end and go in search of an exercise room and see if I can work out until I sweat and lose a couple of pounds. Or maybe I am simply obsessing.

  I suddenly remember an incident when I was fifteen, a season in my life I'd just as soon forget. I honestly thought I'd left it far behind, but this memory is haunting me now. It was summer, and my friend Katie and I both decided to go on a diet. For some reason (most likely our skinny new friend Lucy, who looked awesome in the bikini she had ordered from a Victorias Secret catalog), we both decided we were way too fat. In actuality, I think we were just envious. Anyway, we went on this vegetarian diet and combined it with lots and lots of exercise as well as lots and lots of water. Katie had read about it in a fashion ragazine. Our goal was to lose about twenty pounds each by the time school started. It was like our secret summer project—we were going to become babes. Skinny babes.

  The problem was that I really got into the project. To my dismay, Katie pretty much gave up after a week or two of self-imposed starvation and no visible results. But I persevered. Not only did I persevere, but I got extremely serious about it, weighing myself every day, working out and doing farm chores, and drinking gallons of water. After a couple of months, I managed to take off about fifteen pounds and was really proud of myself—that is, until my mom confronted me on my way out of the shower one day. Worried that I was becoming anorexic, Mom got my dad and brother to assist her in a lame sort of intervention thing that same night. Of course, I was totally furious about their interference, and I swore to them that I was not anorexic and that they should all get a life. But in my heart I knew something was wrong. I knew I was pushing the envelope. Maybe I hadn't become a real honest-to-goodness anorexic yet, but I knew that might be right around the corner. I was even a little scared.

  Just a couple of weeks before school was to start, my frustrated mom, in a desperate move, sent me off to spend a couple of weeks with Aunt Sid. Really, it was a smart move on her part. Sid was just what I needed. Oh, I doubt I ever admitted that to my mom. Maybe I will someday. And I barely discussed my little problem with Sid, although I'm sure she got me. As I recall, we ate out a lot, had pizza delivered, got popcorn with extra butter at the movies, and indulged in some pretty yummy flavors of ice cream late at night. But more than balancing out my extreme eating habits, Sid helped me to feel good about who I was and how I looked and who ? was becoming. She's the one who got me to start writing in my journal. In fact, I think it was that summer I decided I wanted to be a writer like her. Anyway, by the time I went back home, I was pretty much back to normal. Perhaps a little thinner than at the beginning of summer but eating more like your average teen. It was like, “Adiós, anorexia.”

  So why, I ask myself, am I thinking about all this right now? I mean, I'm obviously not anorexic. And here I am on this gorgeous Mexican beach with a beautiful aquamarine ocean and a clear sky overhead. And yet I am still staring at my flabby thighs and totally hating my body. This is not good.

  I'm tempted to go find Sid and confess my stupidity to her and beg her to straighten me out. But she's with Ian, and this is a special time for them—a time I will not mess with. I'm a big girl. Actually, a really BIG girl. Okay, don't go there, Maddie. Just knock it off Grow up!

  I close my eyes and try to think happy thoughts. I think about transferring to the university and the classes I'm going to take. I focus on the fact that Lydia will be in Seattle too and how cool it will be to live with Sid. Really, life is good. Isn't it? Finally I'm beginning to relax. I feel myself drifting off to sleep with the sound of the waves and the surf swishing back and forth on the beach…back and forth.

  ey, Maddie,” says a male voice. I open my eyes and look up to see a shirtless Ryan standing over me. His sandy hair is mussed up, and his blue eyes are sparkling.

  “Huh?” I sit up and blink, wondering if this is a dream.

  “It looks like you could be burning,” he tells me.

  I look down at myself, still in my swimsuit, and I do look a little pinker than yesterday. I feel something cool on my cheek and realize I must've been slobbering in my sleep. That's great.

  “Come on over here,” calls a girl's voice. I turn to see Shelby comfortably situated on one of the chaises. Only she's in the shade. And it looks like Ryan has been using the chaise beside her.

  “You were sound asleep,” says Ryan as he helps me move my chair closer to theirs so it's mostly in the shade. “I hated to wake you up.”

  “Was I snoring?” I ask, only partially kidding.

  He laughs. “Not that I noticed.”

  “You have to watch out for the sun here,” warns Shelby. “Too much is really bad for your skin.”

  I glance at her sleek and tan body, glistening with oil. “It looks like you've had a fair amount of sun yourself,” I point out.

  “Yes, but I tan regularly at home. And I've been here almost two weeks already. Its not good to try to get it all at once.”

  I nod as I drop my beach bag by my chaise. “Yeah, you're probably right.”

  “You've been here almost two weeks?” says Ryan.

  “Yep. My parents and I came on the fifteenth, right after finals week. We weren't supposed to go home until after New Year's, but my dad had a work emergency. He and Mom flew home yesterday.”

  “So you're here by yourself?” I say.

  “Yep. Five glorious days without my parents around.”

  “Hopefully you're not planning anything crazy,” I say.

  She laughs. “No. I've done crazy before. My friends and I came down here for spring break last year—not here at the resort, thank goodness. My parents would've had a fit if they had seen the way we left our hotel in town.”

  “So youre the ones we hear about on the news?” says Ryan. “Tear up the town and get drunk and end up in jail?”

  “Well, we didn't end up in jail. But the rest might be accurate. I guess it's something everyone needs to do once in a lifetime.”

  I consider this. “Not me,” I say flippantly, rolling onto my stomach in hopes the backs of my legs will catch a little sun, although most of me is in the shade now.

  “Me neither,” says Ryan. And I smile to myself.

  “Well, it's not like I'll be doing that again,” says Shelby. “Hey, I wonder what it takes to get service down on this end of the beach. Where are those cabana boys when you need them?”

  “Want me to go get you something?” offers Ryan.

  “No,” she says in a slightly spoiled tone. “I want them to bring drinks to us. Don't you guys want something to drink too? Their margaritas are killer. And their pina coladas aren't too shabby either, although I hate to think how many calories are in one of those.” She laughs. “But, of course, this is a vacation. No time to be counting calories.”

  I bite my tongue. No time for me to be saying something lame and regrettable, either. Still, like Shelby really needs to be counting calories! Give me a break.

  “Hey!” yells Shelby, making me jump. “Amigo! Over here!”

  I turn over in time to see Shelby on her feet and waving with both hands to a guy down the beach. He has on a white shirt and is carrying a tray. He hurries over and greets us with a friendly “Buenas tardes,” and Shelby immediately orders a pina colada. “And what do you guys want?” she asks. “It's on me.”

  “I'll have a Corona,” says Ryan.

  I'm tempted to pass, but I'm actually pretty thirsty. The taste of salt water is still lingering in my mouth. “I'll have an iced tea,” I say.

  “No way,” says Shelby, shaking a finger at me. “You cant have a plain-old iced tea down here. You need something more festive, Mad-die. This is Mexico, and you're on vacation. Lighten up, girl.”

  “Maddie isn't much of a drinker,” says Ryan.

  For some reason this irritates me—or maybe it's just everything in general that irritates me at the moment. “Just because I didn't like Guinness in Ireland?” I say to him defensively.

  Shelby makes a face. “I hate Guinness. It tastes like an old boot.”

  I nod at Ryan. “See?”

  “Have a pina colada,” she urges me. “Trust me, you 11 like it.”

  “How about some bottled water too?” says Ryan.

  “And a plate of nachos and guacamole,” says Shelby to the waiter guy.

  He gets this all down, and I tell him, “Muchas gracias,” and smile, which he seems to appreciate. Then he hurries off to fetch our drinks.

  “Do we need ID?” I ask, which makes Shelby laugh.

  “The drinking age down here is eighteen,” says Ryan. “And I think they hardly ever card Americans.”

  “Oh.”

  “So what's this about Ireland?” asks Shelby as she sits back down on her chaise, gracefully crossing her long, tan legs at the ankle. “You guys went there together?” She removes her sunglasses, and her thin, arched brows lift with curiosity as she studies the two of us. I wonder what she thinks.

  “Sid invited us to go with her,” says Ryan. “It was a business trip for her, and we just sort of went along for the ride.”

  Shelby smiles and replaces her sunglasses.

  “That's how Sid and Ian were reunited,” I tell her. I'm not even sure why I'm telling her, maybe just to fill up the space. “They went out together when they were in their twenties. But then they were apart for years.”

  “So are they pretty serious now?” she asks.

  “I don't know,” I admit. “I mean, I know they like each other. But I think it's kind of like starting over for them.”

  “It was amazing that Ian was able to come down here,” says Ryan. “And amazing that he invited me to come with him.”

  “So you guys are like one happy family then?” says Shelby. “Ian and Sid are like the parents, and you two are like the kids?”

  Ryan kind of laughs. “Well, we could do worse.”

  I'm curious as to whether Ryan has told Shelby about losing his mom yet. Somehow I don't think so. I wonder what they did talk about on their beach walk.

  “So you and your aunt are staying at a different place?” says Shelby.

  “Yeah. It's not too far from here, but there's been a mix-up in our reservations, so we need to find another hotel.”

  “Yeah, how's that going?” asks Ryan.

  “So far, not so good. It'sounds like everything anywhere near San Lucas is booked right now. We're waiting to hear back from Sid's travel agent.”

  “Yeah, it's kinda like spring break during this time of year,” says Shelby. “The peak season. My parents have had their time-share here for ages, and they still have to book the holidays years in advance.”