Most of them pick it up instantly, and I quickly become a fan of the shy girl, whose name is Rebecca. I notice the change in her attitude with every bit of success, and it reminds me even more of the nine-year-old version of me.

The only one who struggles getting the hang of it is Ben. First he has trouble catching a wave, and when he finally does get one, he lies too far up on the board and winds up going face-first into the sand. The kids all get a kick out of this, and the thing that’s great about Ben is that he does too. A lot of guys would get embarrassed and try to act cool, but he just goes with the goofy, and the kids love it.

By the middle of the session I am certain that it’s more than a crush for me. I really like him and I would love for him to like me. But the problem is that I just can’t tell if he’s even remotely interested.

He’s relaxed when we talk, which makes it seem like he is, but then he’s all goofy with the kids, too, so maybe that’s just him. Furthermore, he seems to have no idea that Kayla is a shark in surf clothing and seems mighty comfortable talking to her, too. I don’t have the body or confidence to do what she’s doing and begin to think that I may be in beyond my depth.

In fact, I don’t get a good read on the situation until the lesson is done and we’re all carrying our boards back up to the shop. Ben walks next to me.

“This was great,” he says. “The kids loved it. I loved it. Obviously, I need a lot of practice and coaching, but it was great.”

I can’t tell if he’s opening the door for me to offer to help him get that practice and coaching or if he’s just making conversation. I walk quietly for a moment before I start to stammer, “Well, you know . . . if you really want to get better . . . I could always—”

And that’s when Kayla drops in, just like Sophie warned me she would. She sidles right up next to him and grabs him by the elbow with an effortlessness that is as impressive as it is evil.

“Ben, you are so great with these kids,” she says, all dimples and boobs. “Don’t you think so, Iz?”

I cannot believe that she is calling me “Iz,” like we’re old friends or something. Of course there’s nothing I can do about it but agree.

“Terrific,” I say. For a moment she and I lock stares, and I know that war is at hand. Before I can say anything else, one of the campers comes running up to Ben.

“Ben, Ben, Ben,” he says excitedly. “You won’t believe it. There’s this dead fish and its guts are exploded all over the place. It’s totally disgusting.”

“Well, if it’s TOTALLY disgusting,” he says with an exaggerated expression, “then I have to see it.”

They hurry off and leave me alone with Kayla. Neither of us says another word for the rest of the walk. We’re just a shark and a dolphin swimming side by side across the sand.

You’re my daughter and I love you,” my dad says with total tenderness before he flashes an evil grin and adds, “But first I’m going to demolish you, and then I’m going to destroy you.”

Welcome to game night with the Lucas family. Always fun, always competitive, always full of trash talk. At the moment we’re in the middle of a particularly intense game of Risk, and Dad is about to attack my armies in Greenland. He’s feeling good about it until my mom interrupts.

“You know that ‘demolish’ and ‘destroy’ mean the same thing,” she says, tweaking him.

He stops just as he’s about to roll the dice. “What?”

“You can’t destroy her if you’ve already demolished her. Your threat doesn’t make sense.”

“Donna?” he whines. “I’m going for an intimidation thing, and you are literally raining on my parade.”

“You mean ‘figuratively,’” she says. “Or is there actual rain falling on a parade I don’t know about?”

“You’re doing it again,” he says, getting flustered. “You’re doing it again.”

“I’m sorry, but I think if you want to be a global dictator, the least you can do is use proper grammar.”

My parents totally crack me up. They’re both teachers at Pearl Beach High School. Mom is the chair of the English Department, hence the grammar, and Dad teaches history and coaches cross-country, which explains the competitiveness. At school I might have a slight tendency to avoid them, but they’re actually very cool and fun to hang out with. During the summer we usually play board games around the kitchen table a couple nights a week.

“What if I say this?” he offers, having fun with it. “First I’m going to invade your country, and then I’m going to destroy it?”

He looks at her hopefully, but she just shrugs and replies, “It’s not great.”

“Why? What’s wrong with it?”

“Why invade the country if you’re going to destroy it? I think you may mean that you’re going to invade the country and destroy her army, but that’s not what you said. Your command of pronouns is about as strong as your armies in northern Africa.”

He’s trying to think up a comeback when the doorbell rings. “Saved by the bell,” he says. “Literally.”

“Thank you,” she replies. “In that instance ‘literally’ is correct.”

She stands up and adds, “I’ll go answer the door so you can keep up your attacks on Greenland and the English language.”

“English teachers,” he says under his breath as he shoots me a wink.

Just as he’s about to roll the dice, I hear a familiar voice talking to Mom at the door and signal Dad to stop.

“Wait a second. Is that Ben?”

“Ben?” my father asks. “Who’s Ben?”

Suddenly visions of embarrassment dance through my head. I turn to him and give my most desperate face. “Don’t be you. Don’t tell bad jokes. Don’t tell embarrassing stories. Just once, try to be normal.”

“I am offended,” he says indignantly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I give him a look and he returns it in kind.

“Really?” I ask.

“Really.”

I hear them walking toward the kitchen and I know I’m running out of time. “If you’re good, I’ll promise not to attack you in northern Africa and we can gang up on Mom in Asia.”

“Deal,” he says with a grin.

We shake on it just before Mom walks into the room with Ben.

“Hi, Izzy,” he says sheepishly.

“Hey, Ben,” I say, trying to figure out why he might be here. “Mom, Dad, this is Ben. He’s down for the summer from Wisconsin. Ben, these are my parents.”

“Nice to meet you,” he says. “I’m sorry to interrupt your game.”

“That’s okay,” says Mom. “We were just about to take a break.”

“We were?” asks my father, no doubt disappointed that his plans for global domination keep getting interrupted.

“We were,” she says, “so that you and I could head over to the Islander and get some ice cream.”

“That’s right,” he replies, suddenly pleased. “We absolutely were going to get some ice cream.”

Without missing a beat Mom picks up her purse and beelines for the door with Dad right behind her. Just before he leaves, though, he turns around and pulls out his phone to take a picture.

“Dad?” I say, suddenly worried. “What are you doing?”

He takes a picture of the game board and gives me a look. “Just in case someone accidentally ‘bumps’ into the table while I’m gone, I want to make sure we can put all the pieces back where they’re supposed to be.”

Rather than reply, I just shake my head and let them leave.

“I really am sorry to just drop in like this,” Ben says once they’re gone. “But I don’t know your phone number and I need to ask a favor.”

“Sure,” I say, trying to sound confident and cool, neither of which remotely describes my current state of being. “But if you didn’t know my phone number, how’d you figure out where I live?”

“I stopped by the shop to see if you were working, and one of your friends was there. She told me how to find you.”

“Would that be the really tall one?”

“No, it was the one who says I wear the wrong clothes on the beach.”