Chapter Two

August 1998

It felt more like an October afternoon instead of an August one that day on Huntington Beach, but Mandy couldn't have cared less. Her parents had finally given her and Isa permission to walk down to the beach for an hour by themselves. With no adult supervision. And it was glorious.

It wasn't that Mandy didn't like her parents. Actually, she loved them very much. And if she was being completely honest, she— occasionally —liked spending time with them; not that she'd ever tell them that. But Mandy was in middle school now. She was practically an adult, so it was time for them to stop treating her like a baby. Today's excursion, with the salty breeze biting at her cheeks, felt like a step toward independence.

"What do you want to do now?" Isa pulled at Mandy's arm, imploring action with her whole body. Her best friend was a doer, not an overthinker like Mandy, which normally was a difference in personality that served them well.

Mandy wiggled her toes in the sand, digging them down to the cold layer underneath. "That's the best part." She let the sea air fill her lungs. "Anything we want."

Isa cocked a dark eyebrow at Mandy—raising just one—how did she do that ? "Okay. Well, you have any ideas?" Isa spread her arms out, gesturing at the mostly deserted beach. Long stretches of sand and foamy surf lay in front of them, but all Mandy could see was possibilities.

A couple walked hand in hand along the shore. Every so often one of them would bend over and pick something up—collecting shells, most likely—and show it to the other. Mandy liked collecting shells—but she was particular about the ones she would bring home and display on her dresser. Plus, the water had to be freezing. Okay, not freezing freezing, but much too cold to swim in without a full wet suit, and even the idea of walking in it to look for shells sent shivers up Mandy's spine.

She glanced around, her gaze sweeping over the long pier that jutted out into the ocean not far from them—Mandy could almost smell the funnel cakes mingling in the salty air. She instead focused on what looked to be an abandoned bucket buried in the sand, likely left by a small child. Mandy was not a small child…but she did have an idea. "Let's build a snowman."

There went that eyebrow of Isa's again. Her tell that something Mandy said sounded ridiculous.

"Fine. A sandman then." Mandy made her way over to the purple bucket and dug it out, the sand burrowing under her fingernails in the process. A yellow shovel was attached to the handle, and it was completely intact, which was serendipitous. Like this was what they were meant to do.

Isa smiled and shook her head a little. Another one of her tells that she still thought the idea was silly, but she was more than willing to go along with it anyway. "Fine."

That's how their friendship had been ever since that fateful day Marisa Jiménez walked into Mandy's kindergarten class—the pair had been inseparable. Mandy and Isa just got each other. They had a way of communicating that didn't always require a lot of words—which was good, because Isa didn't talk much back then, and Mandy never learned how to stop talking. They were perfect for each other. Isa was the cheese to Mandy's macaroni. The peanut butter to her pickles. The salsa to her chips. Her best friend knew how to keep Mandy together when she felt like her world was falling apart. And even back in those kindergarten times, there were plenty of days where Mandy's world was shaken and cracked, and Isa was there to put it all back together.

Things had gotten much better since then. Her parents went to marriage counseling, and Mandy got a therapist of her own—Miss Heather—whom she still saw regularly.

But today, a day of independence from adult supervision, all was well in Mandy's world, and she was ready to enjoy the heck out of her afternoon with her best friend.

Even though Mandy had thought the water would be too cold to stroll in, they switched off subjecting their feet to the frigid water, turning their toes into ice cubes, filling buckets from the incoming tide to complete their project.

"Making a man of sand is a lot different than making one out of snow," Mandy babbled on. "For one thing snow is a lot colder, and you have to wear gloves. Maybe we should bring gloves with us next time we do this. And if the snow is too wet or too dry, it doesn't really work. And you can't just add water like we can here." She loved making a snowman with her parents almost every winter when they took trips to go skiing pretty much anywhere white stuff fell from the sky—Switzerland, Colorado, Canada, Italy, and of course Tahoe for quick weekend getaways. Isa nodded along like she knew what Mandy was saying even though Isa had never seen snow herself.

"Maybe your mom will let you come with us next week." Mandy patted down a clump of wet sand on their second mound and smoothed out the side. Not that there would be any snow this time of year, but there were other fun things to do in Lake Tahoe, and it would be cool to hang out with someone other than her parents while she was there.

Isa chewed her lip. "Maybe." That meant the likelihood was slim, but there could always be a chance. The truth was, Isa never liked to leave her mom and abuela for very long—this was something Mandy knew well. While she was like a bird ready to spread her wings and fly, Isa was more like a rabbit. She was curious about the world but never liked to stray too far from home. Mandy had slept over at Isa's at least a dozen times before Isa ever slept over at Mandy's. The first time she didn't even make it all the way through the night, Mandy waking to an empty bed and Mom telling her Isa had gone home but that she would be back for breakfast. The second time Isa got lost coming back from the bathroom—luckily Mandy got impatient and went looking for her. It of course got better with each visit, but it was clear Isa preferred her own casita—that's what Isa called it.

Mandy really liked spending time at Isa's too. At Mandy's house she always had to wear socks or slippers, otherwise her feet would get cold, but at Isa's it was always warm and cozy. Abuela always had something delicious cooking and ready for taste testing—which Mandy loved to do. It was a well-established fact that no one volunteered to taste test Mom's cooking. It was pretty bad—okay, it was awful. Nothing had any flavor. At least not the way Abuela's food did. It wasn't as if Mandy didn't like her own house; there was just something special about being at Isa's. Mom and Dad were always busy, and Abuela always had time to do things with them.

The wind along the shore started to pick up, blowing sand into Mandy's eyes. She pulled the sleeve of her hoodie over her hand to wipe her face, and when she glanced up, there he was. Brandon Martínez. He and Clay Anderson tossed a football back and forth not far from where Mandy and Isa were getting ready to put the head on their sandman. Brandon's dark brown hair and bronze skin seemed to shimmer in the late afternoon sun. Or, at least, he shimmered to Mandy. Brandon was the only boy in her class who had dimples—one in each cheek—and every time he smiled, they sucked in, in the most adorable way.

As though Isa already knew what Mandy was thinking, she said, "Ugh, please don't invite them over here."

"Come on, they aren't that bad," Mandy retorted. But they were. Most boys in the sixth grade were just…different. Like for some reason they needed to show off, and they thought being rude was funny, and when they ran around a lot, they smelled kind of peppery. But Brandon—even though that described him perfectly—had those amazing dimples.

Mandy had heard all about the "talk" Isa got about boys. It sounded embarrassing and awkward. Mandy was glad her parents never sat her down the way Isa's mom did. But ever since then, Isa had been way too cautious; and where was the fun in that?

"We don't have a lot of time before we have to get back. And we can't leave Sandman here without a face," Isa rationalized, but a rogue football toss had Brandon and Clay already heading their way. Isa huffed, but Mandy ignored it.

"Hey," she said as she scooped up the ball. She didn't throw it back though. Mandy had no idea how to throw a football, and she wasn't about to embarrass herself by trying for the first time in front of Brandon.

"Hey," Brandon said back, but Mandy heard, Wow, it's so good to see you . It was finally happening. The cute boy with the dimples was taking notice of her, Amanda Elizabeth Dean. This was one of those moments in the movies her mom watched, the meet-cute that indicated the two characters were meant to be. And it was happening to Mandy, on today of all days, her first day of independence.

Heat rose in Mandy's cheeks as she passed him the ball, swooped her ponytail over her shoulder, and ran her fingers through her wind-tangled blonde hair.

"Are you making a snowman out of sand?" Clay asked.

"Well, we can't make one out of snow." Isa didn't roll her eyes, but everything in her voice said she really wanted to.

"Cool." Clay seemed oblivious to Isa's annoyance. He didn't know her the way Mandy did.

"Yeah, great." Brandon nodded.

"I think I saw some driftwood back there you could use as arms." Clay pointed.

"We're supposed to be practicing." Brandon spun the ball on his hand. Did pro football players do that? Mandy bet they did. It looked so cool.

"We have to leave soon anyway," Isa said.

"Then we should help you finish," Clay said as he scooped a handful of wet sand from near Isa's feet and added it to their creation. "I think that's, like, a rule of sand building."

That rule didn't exist—Mandy was sure of it—but Clay's braces-filled smile made her not want to argue. Clay wasn't like most of the sixth-grade boys. This was probably the most Mandy had ever heard him say at one time, actually. Isa looked like she'd eaten a rotten tomato.

Brandon grimaced. "Fine. I'll go get the stupid wood." He dropped the ball and turned to head down the beach.

"I'll help." Mandy caught up to him. This was her chance to hang out with the Brandon Martínez.

He kicked the sand and flipped his hair out of his face as they walked toward the water, with the salty air growing thick around them. Brandon always wore the newest Air Jordans, but today he was barefoot, and somehow his feet were flawless. Unlike Mandy, whose toenail polish was beyond chipped—a couple of toes didn't even have any polish left. What was Mandy thinking? Sure, she'd been paired up with kids she didn't really know all that well for class projects, but this was Brandon Martínez , and there were no grades at stake, no instructions to discuss or tasks to distribute. What was she supposed to say? How was she supposed to act? How did the characters move on from the meet-cute in the movies?

That's when she noticed his T-shirt.

"I can't believe they traded Piazza." Given the amount of time Dad had spent bemoaning the trade, it felt like a pretty safe thing to kick off an actual conversation with.

Brandon's head pivoted in her direction. " You like the Dodgers?"

She wouldn't say she hated the Dodgers, but technically she wasn't exactly a fan. If she was being truthful, she didn't care one way or the other about baseball or about going to the ballpark with Dad. She loved the snacks and the people watching, but she didn't pay much attention to the actual game. "My dad's company has a box, so we go all the time." To Mandy's ears this sounded like the dumbest thing to say, but from the way those dimples in Brandon's cheeks made an appearance, it must've been good. Mandy's heart fluttered.

"Really? Do you ever get to take people with you?" Brandon asked.

Mandy shrugged. Isa didn't really like baseball either, so on the rare occasion Mandy was allowed to bring someone, she would drag Isa along with the promise of popcorn—even though it was better at the movie theater. But Mandy supposed that Dad wouldn't mind someone new, especially if they were actually into the sport; then maybe he wouldn't be so annoyed that she didn't watch much of the game. "Yeah, sometimes."

Those dimples seemed to grow a little deeper, and Brandon's smile got a little bigger. "Awesome." The way he was looking at her was awesome—very, very awesome. "Did you see the way Adrián Beltré—"

"Oh, look." Mandy pointed at the driftwood floating in the surf just ahead of them. She would have to ask Dad for more details about the Dodgers before she could have a conversation with Brandon about baseball. Dad would be elated, but Mandy wasn't sure she'd done the right thing. Now that she thought about it, learning about baseball sounded more like homework than something fun to do.

"I got it." Brandon ran out into the tide, splashing water all the way up to his athletic shorts, and grabbed what would become the arms of their sandman.

As the pair walked back to the others, they didn't talk about baseball, but Brandon did seem to be a lot more interested in their current sandman-building project. And right before they got into earshot of their friends, Brandon turned to Mandy and said, "You know, you're pretty cool." He handed Mandy the wood they'd just collected. "Here."

Wow.

Did the Brandon Martínez just tell Mandy she was cool?

Mandy had to be dreaming. But no, Brandon and Clay worked on getting one of the pieces of wood just right for Sandman's arm, and Isa had that eyebrow cocked at Mandy, so she moved toward her with the other piece.

It wasn't much longer before they were finished with what had to be the best sandman Huntington Beach had ever had on its shores. Too bad they didn't build it farther back so the tide wouldn't wash it away. But nevertheless, it had been fun.

As they all said their goodbyes and went their separate ways, Mandy got one last display of those dimples.

"I don't know," Isa said as they used the showers at the edge of the parking lot to wash the sand from their feet before putting their flip-flops back on.

"He's nice," Mandy said. "And he's cute."

Isa pinched her lips together.

"I think Clay likes you." Mandy raised her brows—both of them, because she couldn't do that one-brow thing Isa could.

Isa frowned. "No thanks."

Mandy shook her head. "Okay, but we could totally double-date. It would be sweet." Mandy pictured them all together hanging out, and those dimples. Oh, they were just so amazing.

"I'll think about it." Isa dropped her shoes to the ground with a slap and slipped them back on. "I almost forgot." She handed Mandy a fully intact sand dollar.

"Oh my god, it's beautiful. I know just where I'll put it." Mandy hooked her arm with Isa's, and they headed back toward Mandy's house.

Isa would eventually come around and understand what Mandy saw in Brandon. He wasn't so much like all the other boys the way she'd thought before. Plus, he didn't make a single fart joke like he always did at school—that had to mean something, right?

Clay was nice too. Isa was just being cautious, as always. Mandy was sure it would all work out. She was just sure of it.