Page 31 of Alice & Meg: Summer Vacation
“Well,” I said and wrapped my arm around her shoulders.“At least they’re cute.”
“True.But the next one I’m going to shove up someone’s nose.”
“Please not mine,” I laughed.
With that, we grabbed the last of the cooler bags, flicked off the patio lights, and called it a night.
Tomorrow was Friday.
And the mystery of the turtles?Still unsolved.
Friday
Alice
Friday mornings at the Flamingo Inn hit differently.
The sun peeked in through the slats in the blinds.The room still smelled faintly of chlorine, sunscreen, and Wrecker.I stretched lazily in bed and savored the slow start.After everything we’d packed into the last few days, a laid-back morning felt like heaven.
We eventually made our way to the breakfast buffet around nine.The usual suspects were already there, piled into three tables pushed together in the gaudiest pink breakfast room known to man.Pink flamingo statues watched over us from every corner, and the smell of bacon and coffee was practically intoxicating.
“Why do they have to have such delicious muffins?”Greta asked, holding up a chocolate chip one in one hand and a lemon poppyseed in the other.“How am I supposed to decide?”
“Because vacation calories don’t count,” Meg said through a mouthful of scrambled eggs.
“I’m going to eat them both,” Greta declared, setting both muffins on her plate on top a small stack of pancakes.
Slayer leaned over to peer at her plate.“Planning on sharing?”
“Not a chance,” she replied.“Get your own carb tower.”
Cyn, sitting across from me, laughed so hard her orange juice came out of her nose.“Oh, gross,” she whined, grabbing a napkin.“Greta, you really remind me so much of Meg.You just reminded me of the donut house ramble she had once.”
“Thank you,” Greta said proudly, already chewing on one of the muffins.“I’m pretty cool with being like Meg.”
After breakfast, we all headed to the pool.Some of us lounged in the chairs, others dove straight in.Wrecker did a few laps before hauling himself out and sprawling on a lounger next to me.I had my sunglasses on and a fruity drink in hand, feeling like a damn queen.
Meg was crouched beside her beach bag, digging through it with laser focus.
“Looking for treasure?”I teased.
“Sunscreen,” she muttered.“I bought a bulk pack of mini bottles because someone,” she looked meaningfully at King, “always loses the full-size ones.But now I can’t find the damn—oh wait.”
She held up a tiny bottle triumphantly.
Then another.
And another.
She started lining them up on the pool deck like a sunscreen army.
“Why do I feel like you’re about to sell those like a shady dealer?”Reva asked.
“Five bucks each,” Meg said.“Premium SPF.”
Raven snorted and tossed one at Clash.“Here.Sunscreen or shots, I’m not picky.”
As we lathered up, or in Meg’s case, passed out sunscreen like it was contraband, I heard a familiar gasp.
