Prologue. Girls Just Want to Have Fun

PROLOGUE

Girls Just Want to Have Fun

Summer 2004

"Happy birthday, sunshine! Give it to me straight. Is thirteen freaking magical? You're totally a teenager now."

I sink back against the far wall of the boathouse, my sun-freckled legs sprawled carelessly in front of me, and groan into my flip phone. "Shelb. God. Today was a complete disaster. Thirteen sucks butt. Stay twelve forever."

"What?" my best friend's voice chirps through the speaker. "No way! What happened? What about Operation Get Aiden to French Me?" I can practically feel Shelby's indignation all the way from the set of the kids' show she works on in La La Land LA.

"It was a complete bust. He has a girlfriend back home he just happened to forget to mention the last two weeks he's been flirting with me on vacation."

"Yeesh. What a capital-L loser."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Well, it's still early, right?" Shelby starts murmuring and I can tell she's subtracting the time difference between LA and Wisconsin. Math has never been her strong suit. Singing, acting, looking gorgeous, and crying on cue maybe, but not numbers. "Find another cute boy to be your first kiss."

"Right. You make it sound so easy. Not all of us are surrounded by cute showbiz boys all day, every day, you know."

"True, but they're like my brothers. My very annoying brothers, even."

"I don't know, Cameron got pretty cute last season—"

"Anyway!" she cuts me off and I smirk to myself. "I think my mom is calling me back to the set. I better go."

"Yeah, yeah, okay. Thanks for calling, Shelb."

"Happy birthday, babe! I'll talk to you soon!"

I end the call and tuck my phone into my pocket. Well, technically, it's not even mine. It's on loan. I asked for my own cell phone for my birthday and my mom laughed in my face. Oh-for-two on the birthday wishes, now that I think about it.

The woods beyond the boat livery lean-to are calm, the giant pines casting deep shadows in the late-afternoon sun. There's an occasional pop from tree limbs as squirrels chase each other up and down the branches, along with the muffled rustle of birds lifting to take flight. For a minute I consider hiding here, behind the stacked canoes, for the rest of the night. I've been looking forward to my thirteenth birthday for months and now I just want it to be over. I'm ready for tomorrow. It will be a regular old Sunday and the rest of my family and especially that jerkface Aiden and his family will be on their way south and out of my hair. But just as I'm wondering if anyone will care if I curl up to sleep in one of the old wooden canoes, the familiar rumble of Fost's fifteen-horsepower outboard motor hits my ears.

Perhaps all isn't lost.

I crawl out from my place and jog down the shoreline toward the docks, dodging nets and dangling stringers full of today's catch.

"FOST!" I yell, still three docks away from where he's puttering with his boat lights.

" Fost! Wait for me!"

I make it in time to hear Fost's fond chuckle skitter over the sound of his motor. "There's the birthday girl. Where'd you get to?"

"Had a phone call. Got room for me?" I'm not trying to hide my pleading look, but it's not necessary. Fost never turns me away.

He shoos me off with a liver-spotted hand. "You'll need to chase down a jacket. I'll wait."

I reverse motion and skip back toward the cute red-and-white double-wide trailer my parents have rented at Cole's Landing Resort for more years than I've been alive. They're sitting in the screened-in porch with the neighbors. Cocktail hour , they call it. By the softness in my mother's face, I'd guess she's two amaretto stone sours in. Perfect.

The screen door slams shut behind me and I reach for my life jacket hanging on a hook just inside. "Gonna go out fishing––"

"—with Mr. Foster," my dad finishes for me. "We heard you, princess."

"The entire resort heard you," my older brother teases from his place on the floor picking through his tackle box. Liam is eighteen and thinks he knows everything. He used to go out with Fost on his boat. All my brothers did, but then they grew up and started caring more about meeting girls at the lodge instead of chasing musky. Their loss, I say. As much as I wanted to kiss Dumb Aiden on my birthday, no smelly boy who can't even grow armpit hair will ever replace fishing.

"Not too late, Maren," my mother reminds me. "We still have your cake and presents and we've got an early start tomorrow."

Tomorrow my mom and dad are leaving with two of my older brothers, Brett and Kyle, because they have to return to work, but Liam is staying and so am I. He has a job as a dock-boy-slash-bartender with his best friend, Josiah, whose parents own the whole dang resort. I convinced them all to let me stay with Liam so I can fish. I'm so close to my first giant musky, I can taste it.

"Okay, Mom," I agree, careful to keep the exasperation out of my tone. My parents have been on me about my snark all summer and I don't want to risk them making me leave with them tomorrow. "I gotta run. Burning daylight."

I dash out the screen door without another glance and sprint for the water, gear in tow.

"Where's the fire, Jig?" Josiah Cole yells after me.

Normally I'd stick around to answer as it has recently come to my attention that Joe is pretty cute and it annoys the heck out of Liam when I talk to him. Not to mention, the nickname Jig is kind of insulting because jigs are small and no one catches a big musky on a jig. Spinnerbait, bucktail, jerkbait… but no. He calls me Jig . Always has. Tonight, though, I'm too busy to argue, even if he does have big muscles and the bluest eyes I've ever seen in my life.

I nearly skid right over the edge of the dock before righting myself and passing my pole and tackle to Fost. Mom says Mr. Foster was old when she was a kid, which makes him nearly ancient now. He has a tuft of pure-white hair that he covers in a faded blue Cubs hat and gnarled joints in his hands that somehow don't keep him from tying on lures. Though he lets me use my tiny fingers when we're in a hurry.

"All right there, birthday girl?"

"Tonight's the night, Fost. I can feel it." Maybe two of my birthday wishes were a bust, but there're still a few hours of light left and I'm feeling lucky.

After all, the fish are waiting.