July/August 2011

We left the adults talking and took off running down the beach to the cottage I shaded my eyes against the Saturday morning sun, then snuck another peek at my watch. It was already ten o’clock, and Isabella Hohenstaufen had yet to appear. Every summer, for two weeks, my parents and I vacation at Carrie Ann Bay, where we own a beach house. This is the part of summer that is devoted to family time, when me, Mom, and Dad get to spend some quality time together. However, for one weekend, I get to invite a friend over. We stay in a congenial white cottage next door to the beach house, and for two days, we get to do whatever we want. Popcorn, movies, late nights, surfboarding, you name it. Usually, I take my best friend, Jessica, but she had moved to Kansas this spring, making it “highly impractical for her to come,” as Mom said. So this year, I invited Isabella. See, Isabella is my pen pal. My whole seventh-grade class had been assigned to someone from another school district. Most kids had stopped after two letters, but not me and Isabella. We’d been corresponding for about a year, and even though I’d never seen her face-to-face, I could tell she was the kind of person I would want to be around. Her letters were long and detailed, but not painfully so, and her stories were always entertaining, like the time she and her younger siblings tried making their own glue and ended up pasting their fingers together. But the best part was that she answered my letters almost immediately. Her favorite food was strawberry ice cream, and she liked to read books, like me. I felt I could tell her anything, things I didn’t even tell Jessica, because I knew Isabella wouldn’t laugh, at least not to my face, and she always had a kind word. So, this summer I thought Isabella would be the perfect choice for a cottage-mate. I squinted at the road, and my heart leaped in my chest. I saw a red minivan approaching the beach house. It stopped in the path, and a girl got out of the passenger’s side. She slung a red backpack on her shoulder and started walking quickly towards me. I waved energetically at her, and she waved back, even faster. Finally, when we came to the middle of the path, I got my first good look at my pen pal. She had curly blond hair and warm hazel eyes that laughed and sparkled. She was wearing denim shorts, a white T-shirt, and a vivacious, effervescent grin. “Hi,” I smiled, “I’m Crystal.” “Isabella,” said Isabella shyly. I heard the screen door bang shut, and my parents came out. “You must be Isabella!” bubbled Mom. “We’ve heard so much about you!” “Isabella, welcome,” said Dad, gripping my pen pal’s hand in a hearty handshake. “I’m Mr. Glassman, and this is Mrs. Glassman. Now, did your mom bring you?” “Y-yes,” stammered Isabella, obviously overwhelmed by all this attention. “She’s coming j-just now.” Sure enough, a woman who looked just like Isabella walked up behind her daughter. “Sorry we’re so late,” she said. “We got lost on the highway. The road really twists and turns, doesn’t it.” “Yes, especially if you’re not used to it,” said Mom. “I’m Paige.” “Amy.” Dad held out his hand. “And I’m Mark.” They then proceeded to talk about boring adult stuff, like where Isabella and I would be staying, when she would be picked up, etc., etc. I turned back to Isabella. “Wanna see the cottage?” “You bet,” said Isabella. “Hey, Mom, I’m going up to the cottage. See you Monday.” “OK, sweetheart,” said Mrs. Hohenstaufen. “I love you. Be good, now. I don’t want you getting into any mischief.” “Mom!” Isabella shot me a quick “can you believe her?” look. I shot her an “I know, my parents are the same way” look, and grinned. She grinned back. We left the adults talking and took off running down the beach to the cottage. *          *          * The cottage wasn’t much by Carrie Ann Bay standards, but it was just right to me. It had two rooms, a living room and a bathroom, a small television, a microwave, a pantry, a refrigerator, a couch, and a vase of seashells. I could tell that Isabella thought it was the best thing since sliced bread. She stared at everything open-mouthed, even peeking in the bathroom three times. “So, your parents let you stay here? With a friend? For a whole weekend?” “Yeah,” I said, “it’s pretty sweet.” “Sweet? It’s wonderful! I don’t even have my own bed. I have to share one with my sister, Casey. And she drools!” Isabella had never told me this in her letters. “I think you’re lucky to even have siblings. It gets kind of lonely being an only child.” Isabella shrugged. Then she grinned brightly. “So, can we go exploring? I’ve never been to Carrie Ann Bay.” “Sure. We can go boogie-boarding. You brought your swimsuit, right?” “Of course!” She unzipped her backpack, took out a blue one-piece, and threw her backpack near the door. It was clear that Isabella knew how to travel light, as her backpack seemed to float to the ground. “Great! You can get changed in the bathroom, and I’ll change out here.” As Isabella shut herself in the bathroom, I found myself smiling. Her exuberance was infectious. Even though it just started, I could tell this would be a great weekend. *          *          * “So what’d you think of the waves? Pretty awesome, huh?” I asked as Isabella and I made our way back to the cottage. We had been in the water all day and were tired and dripping wet. We had wrapped towels around ourselves, but that didn’t stop the chilly Carrie Ann Bay winds from creeping in and making us shiver. “Awesome doesn’t cover it!” said Isabella, laughing. “Only, I still have water