Chapter 10
A.N.: It's admittedly been a while since I've seen "Summer Love" and I was unclear on how old exactly Summer and Sandy were supposed to be. Ultimately, I've settled on them being about 13-14 in the original.
Dipping your Toe in the Water
-HELGA-
The drive down to Spencer Beach was a lot less eventful than the last road trip I took with my mom. No crashing the car into a cornfield, for one. Mom's a lot more cognizant of her surroundings these days. What a difference sobriety makes.
It was also somewhat less awkward, seeing as I had Phoebe along to serve as a buffer. Of course, it wasn't always a positive thing, like when I discovered one particularly shameful secret of Phoebe's…
We had reached the edge of MROK (for some reason, Hillwood is in the one county in the country where radio call letters don't begin with W or K)'s broadcast range and the static was beginning to get annoying. I began to turn the dial looking for something listenable when the opening chords of a certain peppy 80's pop standard began to play. Nightmares of karaoke nights began to play back in my head as I hurriedly turned the dial forward, hoping that Mom hadn't heard –
"Oooh! Go back! Go back! I love that song!"
Resigned to my fate, I complied.
"Oh, I can't believe we caught it right at the beginning. C'mon, sing along, you know the words…"
"Pass."
"Oh, don't be such a grouch. Friday night, we're gonna party til dawn / Don't worry daddy, I got my favorite dress on…'"
Ugh, thanks, I hate it, make it stop…
And then Phoebe committed the ultimate betrayal of trust. She joined in.
"Roll into the paty, the boys are lookin' our way / We just keep dancing, we don't care what they say!"
"Oh, Phoebe, no… not you too…"
The two of them continued in harmony, just driving the knife in further. "And all the Boys are getting' up in my face, boys are a bore, let's show 'em the door, we're taking over the dance floor!"
"I don't know you. Either of you. You are strangers to me."
Obvlivious to my misery, my mother and best friend continued to twist the knife in my back. "Ohhh, girls do what we like, ohhhh, taking over tonight, ohhh, girls do what we like, ohhh, taking over tonight!"
"We're queens of the disco!" I shouted before clamping my hands over my mouth, realizing. Mom gave me a smug aside glance.
Okay, fine, it's a catchy song!
After the second stanza finished, Miriam glanced back at me. "There, that wasn't so bad, was it?"
"We will never speak of this moment again." I stated.
"All right…. We don't have to. Knowing that you had fun is all I needed."
"…yeah," I admitted. "But, seriously, we will never speak of this again."
Spencer Beach hadn't changed much in the six years since I'd been there. It was still the quintessential tourist-trappy beach town with all the amenities you would expect from that kind of place… cabin rentals, businesses selling local crafts and souvenirs to gullible tourists, attractions for the kiddies and bored grownups alike.
Unlike last time, Mom had rented one of the smaller cabins. There were two bedrooms and a kitchenette/dining space (Mom would get one bedroom and Phoebe and I would share the second). With just the three of us, we really wouldn't need much else.
Once we had unpacked and gotten changed, Mom said "Well, I'm sure you girls want to go off and do your own thing. I think I'm going to go check out the town. Why don't we meet for dinner at the Crab Shack later?"
"Sounds like a plan," I said, grabbing a lounge chair and the latest Cycle of DragonBane book, Crest of Bloodrock. "I'm gonna go get some sun, load up my 'chillin' on the beach' playlist, and catch up with my favorite barbarian maiden. How 'bout you, Pheebs?"
"Well, I checked the local weather report, and it turns out that climactic conditions should make for optimal surfing weather. Consequentally, I shall be signing up for surfing lessons. There's just one thing I want from you."
"And that is?"
"Come with me so I don't chicken out."
-ALEX-
I'd had been working as Spencer Beach's surf instructor for a year now. I'd always had a love for the sport; it was my way of achieving maximum chill. Chill had always been my way of life. Unfortunately, my last girlfriend had been the exact opposite of chill. Practically every day for five years, all she did was go on and on about how I'd blown her one chance at stardom. At first, I'd gone along with it because that's what you were supposed to do, right? But everyone had a limit, and I'd eventually reached mine. The past had to be let go, and that included her. Hopefully, one day, she would understand and move on.
Babewatch had been cancelled years ago anyway.
Two people had shown up for today's appointment.. One was petite and dark-haired with features that suggested at least partly Asian ancestry. She was cute enough, but it was her companion that really stood out. She was taller, curvier, but not in that soft way my ex was. Hers was a more muscular, athletic build. She looked like her body had been forged out of steel. Her features only contributed to that sense… the eyebrows a bit too heavy, the ears a bit too long and low-hanging, the nose a bit too bumpy, the upper lip a bit too outthrust to really reflect classical beauty. But then, my ex had been a classical beauty, and look how that had turned out. Her face wasn't perfect, but it was interesting. Combined with her stance, a defiant pose that suggested that here she was and if the world had a problem with that, it could take a hike, made me want to know more about her. And yet, there was a nagging sensation that somehow, we had already met.
"Welcome to Spencer Beach surf school, wahines," I began. "My name's Alex Shore, I'll be your surf instructor today." I glanced between the two… the smaller one eagerly clutched her rental board, clearly ready for lesson. The other one hadn't rented a board at all…. In fact, she didn't even look like she was dressed for surfing in the first place, with her one-piece, cutoffs, and sunglasses. "I… guess you two plan on sharing the board?"
"Hmm?" the blonde said. "Oh, ignore me, I'm not taking the lesson. I'm just here for moral support."
"Hi!" the dark-haired girl said brightly. "My name is Phoebe, and I've been wanting to learn how to surf for… well, almost a full day now!"
"Oh," I said, trying not too sound too disappointed. "You sure about that? We could totally hook you up with a board…"
"Really, no, surfing's just not for me. I'm really just here to relax and forget about life for a while."
"You never know until you try. If you want, I can comp you on the board and wetsuit rental. You can just try it out, no pressure."
"No, really… it's okay. I don't want to take your attention away from your actual student."
"Oh, I don't mind, Helga," the other girl… Phoebe? …replied. "It'd be nice to have the company."
Helga… what an unusual name, but then, she seemed like an unusual girl… shrugged. "Well, I guess if it's on Keanu's dime, I can roll along with it. Not like my book's going anywhere…"
As the lesson proceed, an unknown observer watched from her vantage point behind the pier, through the strongest binoculars she could afford at the town's military-surplus store.
It wasn't like she still cared about him, of course… as if. She simply wanted to know what he was up to every minute of the day so she would be able to avoid him. It was simple strategy. It's not like she gave a damn about any of those loser tourists he chatted flirted with every day. They'd all be here today, gone tomorrow, and she'd still be there. She could take him back any time she wanted – not that she wanted to. As if. Who cared about him? What was he calling himself now? Alex? Sandy was a much better name. She'd loved that name ever since she'd first seen Danny Hassenpfeffer play Sandy Sloane in that first episode of Babewatch back when she was ten. She had no idea why Sandy – her Sandy – would want to change it.
Not that he was her Sandy. She totally didn't care about him at all.
The observer watched as Sandy (no, Alex…. Oh, who cares) walked his two students through their poses. He seemed particularly focused on the tall blonde. Figures. He was probably still hung up on her. How pathetic. She tried to get a better look at the blonde's face but someone walked in front just as she turned. No matter. She moved around the pier's mooring to get a better look at-
HER.
She would know that face anywhere. Sure, its owner was older, taller, a bit more curvy and a bit less ugly, but just the same… it was her. It was the girl who had ruined her life so many years ago. The girl who, with that idiotic football-headed boyfriend of hers, had cheated her out of her one chance at stardom.
And now, she had her devious little hooks in her Sandy. Not that she cared. Sandy could chase after whatever hussy he wanted. It wasn't her problem. But not her. Not her. She had to draw the line somewhere.
As god was Summer Love's witness, that blonde bitch wasn't getting anywhere near Sandy Shore.
-HELGA-
"Did you see that, Helga? How great was that?" Phoebe prompted excitedly. The two of us were returning to the surf-rental shack post-lesson.
"I saw!" I replied, grinning in spite of myself. "You were upright for a whole forty-five seconds."
"I know!" responded Phoebe proudly. "I think I'm really getting the hang of this. Maybe tomorrow, I'll actually make it to a wave."
"Yeah. Well, I hope you have fun, 'cause I've fulfilled my friend obligation. This surfing thing is not for me."
"Are you sure? You seemed like you were enjoying yourself."
"Well… it wasn't that bad. Mostly, I think it was just the company."
She smirked at me. "And which company was that?"
"Um… which company would it be?"
"I'm just saying… that instructor was pretty easy on the eyes. And he was giving you a lot of attention."
"You're dreaming, Pheebs. No way a guy like that would be interested in me."
"Sure, surf instructors just randomly comp people for lessons and equipment just because."
"Could've been a promotional thing." I said, shrugging.
"Sure," she shot back, rolling her eyes. "He just randomly decided that today, he was going to run a promotion just for you, specifically. Come on. Is it really beyond the realm of possibility that someone would find you attractive? You're not exactly as, um, awkward as you used to be."
"It's your imagination. Besides, that guy's too old for me anyway."
"He looked like he was around Harold's age. That's not really that big a gap. It's around the same gap as Torvald and Darcy, and they're a pretty good match."
I shrugged back. "Doesn't matter, really… I've had my last surfing lesson. Tomorrow, the only date I have is with my lounge chair, my earbuds, and a dragon." We handed our surfing ger back to the rental shop and began the walk back across the beach.
"This is about ice cream, isn't it."
"No, it isn't about ice cream…"
"…because, if I remember correctly, you both agreed that during your break, you were okay with each other seeing other, uh, desserts. So, you shouldn't feel like you're betraying ice cream if you have a little fling with, uh… tiramisu."
"Tiramisu?"
"He's very tan."
"Labored metaphor aside, Pheeb, I'm just not there yet."
"How do you know unless you're open to it? It's not a big commitment, Helga… just think of it like dipping your toe in the water, to see if it's the right temperature."
"This is all moot anyway, Pheebs," I said. "Even if I was considering doing that, the fact is that there has to be something there, and I'm pretty sure whatever you thought you saw was all in your he-"
"Hey!" yelled a familiar voice from behind us. Phoebe raised an eyebrow.
"This doesn't mean anything," I insisted. "One of us probably dropped something and he's returning it."
I had to admit, the guy was definitely in good shape. He wasn't the least bit out of breath despite having run all the way from shoreside.
"So… uh… Helga?"
"That's what my dad named me."
"Yeah, so… um… this is a crazy thought, but, like, maybe you and me could hang out?"
"Um…" My eyes darted back and forth. "I'm actually supposed to be doing something with Phoebe… we're um… spider convention…" I panicked.
"Oh, that's okay, I can do something else," Phoebe said. "You two can go have fun." Traitor.
"All right, cool. We can meet on the boardwalk tomorrow morning at 9. See ya there!" he said as he jogged off.
"What the hell just happened?" I asked. "Did you just agree to me going out on a date with that surf bum?"
"Don't think of it as a date, Helga," Phoebe replied, oblivious to me irritation. "Think of it as.. an experiment."
"An experiment."
"Yes. An experiment. We are going to see how you handle hanging out with a boy who is not Arnold, with no commitment and no expectations. If you can handle that, it'll be a positive sign that your obsession is waning."
"I hate it when you're being logical," I huffed.
Summer scowled as she watched Sandy jog away. That ugly blonde harpy had her hooks deep in him, she knew it. Probably planning to use him and throw him away. That was Summer's job, dammit.
Just look at her. There was no way those tits were hers. They were way too firm. Summer knew a boob job when she saw one. Shame she didn't get that nose fixed while she was at it.
She followed along from a safe distance as the blonde and that mousy friend of hers departed the beach, shadowing them to the Crab Shack where they met up with what Summer assumed was Blondie's mom for dinner. She cursed herself for passing on the sound amplifier when she'd picked up the binoculars. The store clerk had tried to sell her on it, but she hadn't seen the need for it at the time. It would've come in really handy in this situation. She needed dirt on Blondie, but she couldn't risk getting any closer.
But she knew, just knew, that she had some nefarious plan. And as Danny Hassenpfeffer was her witness, she would find out just what it was that Helga Pataki was hiding.
A.N.: Like the name of the beach town, Summer's last name is courtesy of HumanDictionary's stories. I figured Alex/Sandy deserved an awful punny name to match hers, so he is officially Alexander "Sandy" Shore. And he ha a very famous cousin, buuuuuuuuddy, but we won't be talking about him.
The song the girls are singing early in the chapter is straight from Gravity Falls, and it is just the sort of catchy, mindless 80s pop ditty that Miriam would love and Helga would despise. The writers for the episode ("Scary-oke", 2x1) are listed as Alex Hirsch, Matt Chapman and Jeff Rowe, so I assume one of them is responsible for the lyrics.
Jose: That would probably be very cathartic for her, but the Joker is no laughing matter.
Next: Helga and Alex's "date", Summer's scheming, and maybe we even check in on Rhonda and Nadine at the spider convention. Maybe something interesting's going on there? Probably not.