White Cloud

10- Together Forever

I don't want to be a lifeguard. I can think up a long list of reasons why I have given up on my attempt to become a lifeguard but the biggest one is that I'm a terrible swimmer. Sure, I can reach the bottom of a pool but I, for the life of me, cannot swim long distances. I've tried practicing in the indoor pool and I've tried breathing as I swim but most of the time, I just end up choking on chlorinated pool water. So I'm convinced that I'd never make it as a lifeguard. I also realized that the lifeguards really do spend most of their time just sitting in that lifeguard chair, blowing their whistles at kids who are trying to break the rules.

It looks incredibly boring and I don't think that I can endure that kind of boredom for such long amounts of time. Sure, the employees here are motivated by a pay check but since I'm not getting paid, I don't have enough motivation to get me though eight hours of one shift.

Another big reason as to why I gave up on my mission to work as a lifeguard is because I'd probably have to work with Vincent. It's not that I don't like Vincent, it's kind of the opposite really. The only way that I can get better at swimming is with his help but I think that if we work together any more or if I end up working with him then I'm going to end up wanting to be his friend and now, thanks to my father's newfound ridiculousness, I can't be friends with any of the employees here. Like I said earlier, I'd rather have many little conversations with him instead of my dad thinking that I'm getting too close to another employee and then he'll threaten Vincent's job and I'll lose him altogether. I don't want that to happen.

So I won't be a lifeguard and I'm absolutely not brokenhearted by that. Tonight, I'm going to try helping the cleaning crew by cleaning up the lobby. Going back to being a maid but this time, I won't be cleaning rooms so the threat of finding a used condom is relatively lower than it was before. And I think that I'm good at cleaning. If I fail at cleaning the lobby, I've decided that I'll try to be a front desk clerk but I just don't think that I do too well with people so I'm trying to hold out on that one.

During the day though, I've been ordered by my mother to take Dylan to the grocery store. She needs another spa day and Dylan needs more pop to "drink" and I use quotation marks because he doesn't drink soda and he hasn't for two years now, since he realized how much sugar goes into just one can of the stuff. Despicable. So he asks our mom for pop and then he sells it for twice the price per can at the beach.

Most of his clients are children his age or a little older but there's also the occasional adult who gives in to him not for the ridiculous price but because they think that he's adorable. Maybe raising money for a summer camp? I don't know what they think to make them want to give him money when they could easily just go to the store and buy a twelve pack.

So my mom gave me the money and the keys to the car telling me that I have to take him to the store for soda and that I can buy some snacks as well.

Dylan, however, is still angry at me for retaliating against him for telling my dad about Lionel. Since I got my revenge on him, I've moved on though, so I don't mind taking him to the store. I haven't really been out of the hotel or off of the beach since we got here so it'll be nice to see other people and to feel real land under my feet instead of sand.

"Did Mom give you enough money for a twenty-four pack or just a twelve?" Dylan asks me once we get in the car.

"Twenty-four," I explain to him and I know that he can sell a twenty-four pack in a week so I wonder how our mother doesn't notice that Dylan's supposedly drinking a twenty-four pack of pop in a week and how she's okay with that. When I was little, I was only allowed one can of pop a month. Granted, right from the start, my mom knew that she was going to turn me into a model so I guess it makes sense that she'd push stricter health regulations on me but that's still ridiculous.