Turtle Bay by Tiffany King Read Free Book Online Page A

square in the face before he could reach me. "Water fight," one of the twins bellowed. I think it was Steve.
    "You're dead," I said, flipping him off his raft before he could paddle away with his hands.
    Steve's brother, Trevor, dove off his own raft and an all-out water fight ensued with lots of splashing and dunking. It was lighthearted and fun. Only when I was gasping for breath did I throw in the white flag and stagger toward the steps to leave the pool. Water dripped from my body, and I couldn't help noticing Evan and the twins eyeing me as I wrung the water from my hair with my hands. Maybe they thought they were flattering me, but it felt kind of creepy. I had a strong urge to wrap a towel around me as their stares not so subtly rested on my chest. Turning away from them, I looked to Farrah, Leslie, and Paris, who had removed their cucumbers sometime during our water fight.
    Leslie eyed me critically as I stood near their lounge chairs, dripping water on the deck. "You guys just wake up?" I asked, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. Girls had been judging me for years, so Leslie's attitude was nothing new.
    "Cute," she said, setting her phone to the side.
    I returned her look balefully. I wasn't looking to make any enemies, especially since I'd just arrived in Turtle Bay, but I also wouldn't bow down to the apparent queen. Just when I thought neither of us would budge, she looked away with disinterest, giving me a mild victory.
    "Do you want to sit with us?" Farrah asked, smirking like my mild standoff with Leslie had amused her.
    What I really wanted was to high-five someone or chest bump in celebration of my victory, but I settled for accepting Farrah's offer. "Sure," I answered.
    "Are you coming tonight?" she asked brightly as Leslie and Paris began talking between themselves.
    "I might swing by for a while," I answered. I liked Farrah. She was the most approachable and easygoing of the trio of girls.
    "You should. Evan's parties are usually pretty legit. His parents aren't around, so we have the house to ourselves. My parents would rather have their fingers gnawed off by sharks before ever allowing me to throw a party," Farrah admitted wistfully. "How about you?"
    I shrugged. Butch and Buttercup would probably be thrilled if I threw a party. I just wasn't sure how this crowd would fit in with them. It would be like trying to mix oil and water. "Our place is too small for a party," I answered honestly. "Plus, we don't have a pool."
    "For some people, that hardly matters," she said, looking pointedly at Leslie and Paris, who were still ignoring us. "My parents love our pool though. It was a must-have when they bought the house. They're both writers who sit in front of their computers most of the day. They claim swimming and the ocean keep their creative juices flowing."
    "Writers?" I asked, jumping on her statement. Writing was my passion. I had stacks of journals sitting in two boxes in the corner of my room. They were filled with short stories I had been working on all my life. Writing was my way to escape. When you read them in order, you would see how my interests changed during the years. Like my walk among the exotic animals of the jungle when I was nine. When I was ten my stories moved to the paranormal, where I became a superhero everyone looked up to. Puberty introduced stories about love and first kisses. Each story I penned contained elements from my innermost thoughts, almost like a diary. As much as I enjoyed writing, I had never reached the point where I felt comfortable letting anyone read my stories. Not even Buttercup and Butch. Thankfully, they had always been the types to respect my privacy. As far as they were concerned, whatever I was doodling or writing, at least I was being creative.
    "Yeah, lame, right?" Farrah asked, looking over her shoulder to see if Paris and Leslie were listening.
    "Why would it be lame?"
    "Because it's not a real career," she said quietly, shooting another glance over her