Bluehour (A Watermagic Novel)

Bluehour (A Water Magic Novel)

Copyright© 2012 by Brighton Hill

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A Watermagic Novel

Brighton Hill

~Dreamspot Publishing, Inc~

1. Full Moon
   

“Okay! Enough already,” my mother said with
narrow eyes. “You can go to the beach party, but whatever you do,
don’t go in the ocean.” She was setting a plate of macaroni and
cheese on the kitchen table before my seven-year-old sister, Lucy.
The kitchen was a mess with stacked up dishes in the sink.

“I’m not going to go in the water, Mom,” I
huffed as I tucked my brown, straight hair behind my ears.

My well meaning friend, Agatha Obrien, who
was standing beside me, wearing only a bathing suit interjected,
“We would never swim in the Pacific Ocean, Carolyn. The waves at
Santa Monica Beach are so lame. You don’t have to worry at all. We
just want to roast marshmallows.”

I rolled my eyes at Agatha finding her
statement ludicrous. It was so obvious she was planning on swimming
considering how she was dressed. All my mother had to do was look
out the window and see Agatha’s surfboard tied to the roof of her
Volkswagen Bug.

“Agatha,” my mother laughed. “I don’t mind if
Grace swims. It’s just that her father will kill me if he finds
out.”

“I know all about that,” Agatha continued as
she repositioned her thick glasses on her round face. “Grace told
me how Mr. Waters is paranoid about the ocean ever since that
fishing boat he was on years ago wrecked at sea and most of his
shipmates drowned.”

My little sister, Lucy, turned to me in
protest. “You’re not supposed to tell people about that!” Her brown
curly cue ponytails bounced as she complained.

I shrugged my shoulders and tried to ignore
her. She was right. My father was overly sensitive to any mention
of the shipwreck. We never talked about it around him and he would
be furious if he knew I had discussed it with others. I should have
known better than to tell Agatha. As endearing as she was, she had
a big mouth and very little sense of proper social etiquette.

Apparently my mother didn’t mind that I had
confided in Agatha because she nodded her head agreeably and
appeared unfazed by Lucy’s reprimand. “Go on girls. Just leave
before Max gets back from Catalina and has a fit that I let you go
to the beach in the first place. If he catches you, you better tell
him I knew nothing about it.” She was plaiting her brown bobbed
hair with her acrylic nails. I noticed her jeans were a little too
tight, but they looked good on her slim figure.

“Thanks Mom,” I laughed lightly and kissed
her on the cheek as she shooed us out of our apartment.

I was making light of the situation, but I
knew that if my father ever caught me swimming in the ocean I would
be in serious trouble. He was a big, hulking man with superior
strength from his many years of commercial fishing. Certainly, he
wasn’t the kind of guy you wanted to anger. Just his sheer size was
intimidating enough and when he was inflamed with rage, his
presence overwhelmed.

“Can I drive?” I asked Agatha eagerly.

She tucked her frizzy brown hair behind her
ears, but it kept falling back in her face. “Sure thing.” To my
great thrill, she threw me her car keys. “Now if we make it there
alive, we won’t have to buy tickets for the rollercoaster,” she
snorted in her playful, goofy way. “Who needs an amusement park
when we have a speed demon behind the wheel.”

Now I laughed. She knew I was a devil on the
road and I appreciated her acceptance and even encouragement in my
reckless behavior.

We got in the VW and in no time I was tearing
up the road. I was an intensity junkie. I loved thrills.

“Hey, hey!” She squealed, throwing her hands
in the air. “Take those turns a little slower or you’ll lose the
surfboard.

“I thought you tied it down?” I put the gear
in neutral and rolled up to the stoplight. Just to rile her up, I
revved the engine as I stared at the red light anxiously.

“I did tie it, but I didn’t bolt it to the
roof.” From the corner of my eye, I saw her shaking her head in
disbelief. “Don’t get into an accident. I might be a geek, but I
still want to live.” She was a geek, but that’s what I loved about
her. Agatha was entirely genuine and the kind of friend I could
count on. And I especially liked that she let me drive her car even
when all logic should have warned her against it.

After a few close calls on Wilshire
Boulevard, we parked alongside the amusement park and headed out to
the sandy beach. We were on our way to the yearly end of the summer
bash before our junior year started on Monday. It was an open
party, so everyone was invited.

As we approached, I saw lots of kids from
Santa Monica High School where we attended celebrating on the shore
with loud music. The sun was setting on the ocean’s horizon. It was
a beautiful sight. The graying sky was lit with orange and pink
pastels.

Agatha and I weren’t popular, so after we
said hello to a few people, we laid our towels on the sand off to
the side by ourselves. As I looked around, I noticed some of the
cheerleaders and jocks were playing volleyball in a makeshift court
behind us, some student council members were kicking around a
soccer ball near the shore, and some band kids that Agatha was
friends with were building a bonfire to the side of us.

I waved to a cluster of my teammates from my
swim team who were playing cards on a big blanket they laid out on
the other side of the fire. They waved back, but didn’t call me
over. As usual I didn’t fit into any social group, but to me that
didn’t matter because I loved being at the beach. For me, the ocean
was paradise. And at least I had Agatha.

As I noticed a full moon in the dimming sky,
Danny Williams, a tall, lanky boy with sandy blond hair from my
biology class last year, came over. “Hi, Grace.” His cheeks blushed
lightly.

“Hi,” I said as I wiggled out of my shorts
and shirt exposing my bathing suit. I was anxious to get in the
water.

The warm evening wind blew through his short
hair. “How was your summer?”

“Boring as usual,” I laughed, wondering why
he was talking to me.

He smiled nervously as he sat down on the
edge of my towel without invitation. There were perspiration marks
on his t-shirt under his armpits. “What did you do?”

I did so many boring things—I didn’t know
where to start. “Mostly I just babysat my little sister and studied
for my SATs.” I was searching through my pockets for my ponytail
holder.

“That’s right.” He nodded in approval. His
eyes were blinking kind of fast. “You’re trying to get into
Berkley, right?”

Now I smiled. I was surprised he knew where I
was dreaming of going. “Yeah. There or UCLA.” I noticed his two
front teeth overlapped. I liked unique qualities in people, but he
wasn’t my type.

“I hope you go to UCLA.” He puckered his lips
slightly like he was trying to subdue a smile.

His statement irritated me. I wanted to go to
Berkley more. “Why do you want me to go to UCLA?” I asked wondering
why he cared. I looked at Agatha who wasn’t paying attention to us
at all. She was rubbing sunscreen all over her fair skinned body
even though there was no way in the world she could get a sunburn
in the evening.

“Cause that’s where I plan to go. I want to
go to UCLA too.” He blushed even more now as he watched me tie my
brown medium length hair into a ponytail.

“Oh,” I said in a sort of sarcastic, but
playful tone. I didn’t want to go to the same school, but I also
didn’t want to hurt his feelings. He was a nice guy, even if I
wasn’t interested in him. Some girls might find him cute.

A bunch of people were gathering around the
bonfire the band kids built now. The music was louder and some
girls were dancing barefoot on the sand.

“Did you hear about the new exchange students
from France?” Danny asked as he repositioned himself on my
towel.

“Oh, yeah,” Agatha blurted out as she turned
to Danny. “Somebody told me about them.” She looked excited by the
turn in the conversation.

He blinked several times again. “Yes, yes.
They are all in advanced placement. We’ll probably have them in our
classes.” I could tell that he felt more confident now that Agatha
was interested in what he was saying.

“I heard they speak perfect English and
hardly have any accents at all,” Agatha continued. “I think that’s
kind of strange considering they grew up in France.” She looked at
me.

“I don’t know anything about them,” I said,
wondering why she was looking at me for information.

“They’re supposed to be coming to the beach
party tonight,” Danny added in a quieter voice as if he was telling
us a secret. “They are kind of weird.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “Did you meet
them?” His statement peeked my curiosity because I liked unusual
and different people and situations. Curiosity was my Achilles Heel
and unique experiences flamed my desire for excitement.

Danny wiped the sweat from his forehead with
the back of his hand and smiled. Apparently, he was happy that I
had taken an interest in his conversation too. “I can’t explain it,
but there is something frightening about them.”

“You’re afraid of them?” I asked, surprised
by his admittance.

He looked uncomfortable. “Oh, no—I guess
not.” He looked around like he was concerned someone might be
listening. But, nobody seemed to be paying attention to us. The
music was drawing people to the bonfire and now more kids were
dancing under the now black sky. Danny continued, “They eat several
times a week at Sea View Chateau where I bus tables…”

Agatha and I turned to him in greater
interest now. The smell of smoke was strong in the night air. “Go
on,” I encouraged, trying not to seem as eager for information as I
was. It seemed like I knew everyone around town and new and
different people fascinated me.

“There are six of them and we call them the
‘très beaux’ which means ‘lovely ones’ in French. They are Marcel
Paradis, Laurent Moreau, Pascal Beaudoin, Brigitte Couture, Marine
Thibault, and their chaperone Ms. Josette Bellerose. They dress in
fine clothing, are unusually attractive, and dine on the most
expensive delicacies we offer…”

“Really?” I asked, finding the information
interesting. Most kids I knew just ate fast food. There were
students at Santa Monica High who had parents in the music and
movie industries and those kids ate in fine dining restaurants, but
not several times a week. And they weren’t ‘unusually attractive’,
as Danny described the French exchange students or the très beaux
(pronounced
tray boo
), as he called them.

“Yes—
really
,” he nodded. His
expression was animated. “Most often they make special requests for
raw meat or raw seafood with gourmet sauces and embellishments, but
nobody minds catering to their specific tastes because they spend a
lot of money and they tip BIG!”

Agatha tried to push her frizzy hair behind
her ears, but the locks fell back into her round face as usual.
“That’s bizarre that they eat raw meat!”

“Isn’t it?” Danny responded enthusiastically.
“They like the meat to be bloody.”

I wrinkled my nose, but Agatha started
cracking up in hysterical laughter. “Crazy people!” She was kicking
her suntan lotion globbed legs in giddiness.

Her laughter was contagious. Danny and I
started snickering too. The idea of eating raw meat was so
outlandish, but mostly I was chortling at Agatha.

Finally, after the laughter waned, Agatha
asked excitedly, “Tell us more about them.”

Danny looked down at his hands, thinking. His
lips were still in a half-smile. “They have a sort of formal way
about them, not like American kids.”

“What do you mean by ‘formal’?” she asked,
lifting up on her knees and leaning closer to him.

Danny’s eyes widened. He thought about it for
a moment before continuing. “They sit up straight and have perfect
dinner manners. Teenagers aren’t usually like that.”