Wrecked Series - Wrecked Part 1

Wrecked.

Elle Casey.

DEDICATION.

This book is dedicated first, to my husband, who's been telling me for years to "write the d.a.m.n book"; and then, while I was doing it, wrangled the family, did the laundry and cooked spaghetti. We did it, babe!

This book is also dedicated to my kids who, if they were ever s.h.i.+pwrecked, I know would do just fine. Love you nuggets.

Last, but not least, this book is dedicated to my mom, Maggie Joy. You believed in me when no one else did, way back in the day. You have shown me what unconditional love is, and that love has given me wings. Love, Your Favorite Child - P.S. I told you I would finish it!

2012 Elle Casey, all rights reserved, worldwide. No part of this ebook may be reproduced or copied without author permission. If you did not pay for this ebook or receive it via a free, author-authorized promotion on Amazon, please support artistic expression and help promote copyright protections and anti-piracy efforts by buying a copy of this ebook at www.Amazon.com. The author thanks you deeply for your understanding and support.

CHAPTER ONE.

Business is Business.

"I can't believe you roped us into this stupid cruise," Sarah said in a tone of voice that clearly carried her frustration with parents who never appreciated her very important social calendar. She stood in the middle of her parents' bedroom with her hands on her hips, chin stuck out for emphasis.

"Sarah, we don't want to hear another word about this. You're going, and that's final. Now go pack your bag." Sarah's father turned his back on her to walk into his large bedroom closet. She lost sight of him as he turned the corner. The closet, trimmed entirely in dark cedar, was larger than many of her friends' bedrooms.

Sarah's mom stepped over and took Sarah's hands in hers. "I'm sorry, sweetie, but your father is right. We're all going, and you can't stay behind. It's important for your dad's business that we all be there. But don't look so glum it's going to be fun!"

Sarah knew her mother was trying to sell her on the idea by using her especially chipper, upbeat voice. The annoying one. She rolled her eyes and pulled her hands away. "Oh, please. Like being stuck out in the middle of the ocean with you guys and those loser Buckley kids could ever possibly be fun. Not in a million years, Mom. I'm not in the d.a.m.n chess club, you know." The thought of being on a cruise with the two Buckley nerds was too much. Sarah had a boyfriend and a convertible, neither of which was going on this cruise. What was so difficult for her parents to understand?

Sarah's mom sighed and walked over to the dresser without responding, putting her fingers up to her temples to ma.s.sage them. Confrontation wasn't her strong suit, and Sarah used this to her advantage as often as possible.

Sarah's father, on the other hand, wasn't one bit shy about going head-to-head. He stepped out of the closet carrying an armload of things for his suitcase. Without even sparing her a glance he said, "Don't talk to your mother that way, Sarah. Just go pack."

"But ... "

"Not another word, or you're going to be very sorry." He caught her eye, giving her one of his famous warning looks.

Sarah knew what that meant. Either he was going to take away the keys to her car and turn her into a social castaway or forbid her from seeing her boyfriend Barry.

"Fine!"

She turned and stormed from the room in a huff. She tried to stomp her feet for emphasis, but they didn't make a sound on the heavily padded, ultra thick carpeting. It was very unsatisfying.

On her way down the hall she stopped off at her twin brother's room and leaned in the doorway. Her eyes scanned the sports posters on the wall, the thirty or so perfectly arranged trophies on the shelves, and the small modern metal and gla.s.s desk with a computer sitting on it. He was always so neat with his stuff. "Kev, can you believe this c.r.a.p? It's total B.S., right?"

Sarah's brother Kevin was packing a duffle bag he used for rugby. She watched him move back and forth, grabbing things from different places. He always looked so at ease with himself. His muscled arms and back showed how hard he worked out so he could excel at his favorite sport. He was like most rugby players he laughed at football players because they had to wear pads and helmets. Rugby players had to worry every game about broken bones and ears being bitten off, or so he said.

He continued to open drawers, pulling out wads of clothes and shoving them into his bag as he responded. "Whatever. I'm gonna go to the all-you-can-eat buffets and put them out of business. Then I'm gonna drink beer until I puke. Then we come home. No big deal." He didn't bother looking up.

Sarah snorted in disgust, a look on her face as if she'd smelled something bad. "Is that all you ever worry about? Food and beer?"

"What else is there to worry about?" he asked, dead serious.

"What about Gretchen? She's not going to be there."

"But there will be other girls, and Gretchen isn't the only fish in the sea." He sn.i.g.g.e.red at his own poor cruise joke.

"I'll bet she wouldn't be so thrilled to hear you say that."

He looked up at his sister to fix her with his threatening look. "She's not going to hear anyone say that, or else."

He sounded just like their dad. Sarah was sick of being threatened, but she knew that Kevin meant either he would share one of her secrets or he'd tackle her and mess up her hair totally not worth it.

Gretchen probably had no clue that her brother was just using her like he did all the girls before her. The only thing he really cared about was rugby and food and beer, of course. When he went to rugby parties, there was always beer there, provided courtesy of the older alumni of the team who still came to watch matches and party afterwards.

Sarah continued, "Whatever. I'm not going on this cruise and pretending like I'm having fun. We're gonna be stuck with those Buckley idiots the entire time, I just know it."

She paused in her ranting to carefully admire her latest manicure. Her nails were a rosy pink with white tips flawless. Her skin was already very carefully bronzed to match her summer outfits. Her hair was expertly highlighted. All of it was going to be wasted on this stupid business cruise.

Kevin paused in his packing to spare her a glance. "Don't worry about it. We'll ditch 'em as soon as Mom and Dad aren't around, and I'll make sure they keep it to themselves and don't rat us out."

Sarah stood up straight and took a step into the bedroom. "Ooh, are you going to threaten them? That should be entertaining."

"No, I'm not going to threaten the twerp or his sister. I'm just going to explain to them that they'll have much more fun doing things with other kids more their speed." He stopped, pointing a finger at his sister. "And don't take another step into my room, or I'm gonna tackle your scrawny b.u.t.t and mess up your hair."

She gingerly stepped back, knowing her brother wasn't kidding. Then she continued, "Awesome. That's one issue out of the way, at least." Sarah was picturing Jonathan and Candace Buckley, who she saw from time to time at school in the hallways or at lunch. What is it with those people who can't even look in the mirror and see what they're wearing, anyway? she thought to herself.

"Consider it done." Kevin finished packing his duffle bag, zipped it up with one quick, practiced motion, and threw it over his shoulder.

"Sounds like a plan," said Sarah, holding her hand up for a high five as he came towards the door.

Their hands met with a loud crack. "I'm outta here. Tell Mom I'll be back before four."

"Tell her yourself. I have to pack for this disaster." She pushed off the doorframe, stepped around him, and went into her room across the hall.

"You're a serious pain in the a.s.s, you know that?" he yelled after her, shutting his door behind him.

She didn't bother to answer, other than to slam the door in his face as he walked by. She could hear him muttering behind the door, walking down the hallway towards the stairs.

She reached under her bed, pulled out her Louis Vuitton suitcase and carry-on make up case and put them on the bed. She turned towards her huge closet, throwing open the doors. So, what does a girl wear on a cruise from h.e.l.l? As her eyes landed on the short, black skirt her aunt had bought for her on their last shopping spree, an evil glint came into her eye. Well, this little number for starters...

Her parents were going to be sorry they forced her to go on this stupid trip. She laughed out loud thinking about her revenge.

Thirty minutes later her bags were packed and sitting in the hall by her door. She knew either her father or brother would take them down to the car for her. In her house, the men did the heavy lifting. As far as Sarah was concerned, there was a time and a place to a.s.sert one's power, and when manual labor was needed, it was not one of those times.

She checked her watch and realized it was a lot earlier than she had thought. I still have time! She sped down the stairs, grabbing her car keys off the ring by the door as she went by. "I'm going over to Barry's house!" she shouted up the stairs, not waiting for a response. She ran out the door and got into her Volkswagen convertible, heading to the neighborhood nearby.

As she drove, she was thinking about how excited Barry was going to be to see her. Usually she called or texted him before she came over, but she wanted to surprise him before she left for the cruise. He had asked her to come over earlier, but she had told him she couldn't because she had to get ready for the cruise. Lucky for him, she had some time to spare.

She pulled up in front of his house, paying no attention to the cars in the driveway. She walked up the front path and rang the doorbell. Within a few seconds, Barry's younger brother Sherman was there to answer it. Sherman was wrestling with the beginnings of p.u.b.erty. He was about a foot shorter than Sarah, covered in peach fuzz and freckles, with a voice that always cracked on every third syllable or so.

"Is Barry here?" she asked in a breathless voice, excited to see the boyfriend she'd worked all year to win over. She craned her neck to peer over Sherman's head, looking to see if Barry was maybe down the hall in the kitchen or in the family room to the left.

"Oh yeah, he's here." Sherman nodded his head up and down while slowly running his eyes over her body, his right eyebrow lifted in an obvious positive a.s.sessment of her short skirt and low-cut top.

Sarah huffed out a breath of impatience and put her hands on her hips. "Well? Are you going to let me in?"

"What's your hurry, babe?"

"Outta my way, little t.u.r.d." She pushed him into the hallway to get past him and climb the stairs.

Sherman tripped over a potted plant just inside the front door, falling on his rear end. "Fine ... go ahead. Have fun!"

He sounded a little too enthusiastic for someone who was yelling from his b.u.t.t on the floor, but Sarah brushed it off. She hated Barry's little brother; he was such a little creep. Barry wasn't like Sherman at all. He was caring and sweet, plus he really loved her and ...

Sarah reached the top of the stairs and eagerly threw open Barry's door, ready to see him smile in surprise and happiness. She was planning to give him a very memorable kiss goodbye.

She stood in the doorway, shocked, unable to comprehend at first exactly what she was seeing. The door had swung in to reveal her loving boyfriend, lying on his bed, tangled up with ...

"Gretchen?!"

"Sarah! What are you doing here?!" yelled Barry, trying to jump up off the bed and lift his pants at the same time. He failed miserably, falling to the floor with his jeans around his ankles.

"Oh, my ... oh my G.o.d ... Barry ... Gretchen ... you ... you ... a.s.sHOLES! You cheating, lying, complete a.s.sholes!" Sarah turned and ran down the stairs, past a smirking Sherman, out the front door and into her car. It was then that she recognized Gretchen's stupid Nissan sitting in the driveway, plain as day. The b.i.t.c.h wasn't even trying to hide her deceit.

Sarah heard Barry yelling after her. She started her car and threw it into gear, grinding them in her hurry.

"Sarah, wait!"

She stopped the car in the street at the end of his driveway. Barry reached her window with his pants still not zipped or b.u.t.toned, gasping for breath. "Sarah, just stop, I can explain ... "

She struggled with the ring on her left hand. "Explain it to this, a.s.shole!" She launched the puny promise ring he had given her last month at him, watching it hit his chest and bounce off to the ground. "And you can tell Gretchen the first person I'm going to go talk to right now is my brother!"

She slammed her foot down on the accelerator, tearing off towards home. Tears were streaming down her face as she alternated between sobbing and feeling like she was going to throw up. Her whole high school life was pa.s.sing before her eyes; she couldn't stop thinking of all the time she had wasted on wors.h.i.+pping that jerk thinking he was so amazing and sweet and honest. He sure had her fooled. The more she thought about it, the madder she got.

She pulled up to the stoplight a few streets over from her house, waiting for it to change to green. Her face was hot from all the crying and tears, so she rolled down her window to catch a cool February breeze. As the window lowered, she heard the sound of a small engine coming near. She looked in her side mirror, seeing what looked like a large bug coming up next to her car. She squinted her eyes to focus better, and realized it wasn't a bug it was none other than Jonathan Buckley, king of the nerd herd. She would recognize that stupid lime green scooter and helmet with orange flames anywhere.

Jonathan was riding his Vespa and wearing his really safe, really big flame-painted helmet. He pulled up next to Sarah and looked over at her. After a second, he lifted his gloved hand to push up the visor of said helmet.

For a moment he just stared at Sarah with his big, blue eyes and impossibly long eyelashes. He swallowed a few times she could see his Adam's apple moving up and down with the effort. He was nervously squeezing the handle of his scooter. Tentatively, he asked, "Hey Sarah. Uh ... what's up? Are you okay?"

"Of course I'm okay, don't I look okay?!" she screeched back. All she could think was that it was a really s.h.i.+tty day when the king of the nerds, wearing corduroys and velour, asks you if you're okay. Holy c.r.a.p, my life sucks.

"Wh ... well, yeah, you look fine. I mean you look great. I mean, you look sad too, and you look great." He was clearly fl.u.s.tered, trying to think of the right thing to say.

"Well, I'm not sad, I'm very happy, so thank you very much for pointing out that I look like c.r.a.p!"

The light turned green, and without saying another word, Sarah raced off, leaving Jonathan behind.

"I didn't say you look like c.r.a.p," Jonathan said to the cloud of exhaust she left behind. He sighed as he revved up the engine of his Vespa, dropping his visor back down, and slowly pulling out into the intersection.

Well this cruise is going to be interesting, Jonathan thought as he tooled along towards home. He wasn't an expert on girls by any means, but he knew that when they got moody, anything could happen. Living in his house with his mother and sister had given him a certain understanding of the female species. Like, for example, the fact that they were totally unpredictable so he'd stopped trying to figure out what they were going to do or how they were going to react a long time ago.

He pulled into the driveway of his parents' modest two-story house and got off his scooter. He pushed it into the garage, shutting it off at the same time. He took the grocery bag out of the little lockbox on the back and went into the house through the side door, hitting the garage door b.u.t.ton as he went in.

"Mom! I'm back!" he yelled from the mudroom. He took his shoes off and lined them up neatly next to the others.

A voice responded from upstairs, "Hi, sweetie! Bring the stuff up to my room, would you please?"

He ran through the kitchen and up the stairs, taking two at a time, managing to trip halfway up, knocking a framed family photo off the wall. Luckily, he caught it before it hit the stairs and broke. "Yessss ... cat-like reflexes, once again," he murmured to no one in particular.

"What, sweetie?"

Jonathan sauntered into her room with the bag of things he had bought dangling from his finger. "Oh, nothing. Just practicing some ninja moves out in the hallway."

"Oh, that's nice," she replied absentmindedly, pus.h.i.+ng a few more items into the corner of her already full suitcase. She stopped and looked up to see her son standing in the doorway, staring at her suitcase with a serious, calculating look on his face.

She moved over closer to where he was standing and took the bag from his finger, putting her other hand on his shoulder, snapping him out of his trance. She was smiling, looking him right in the eye.

"Thank you so much for getting this for me, Jonathan. You know how easily we burn." She went back to the bed to resume her packing, a small smile playing on her lips.

Jonathan took a step forward to stand next to the bed, looking down at her open suitcase. "Hey Mom, you know, if you want I can re-pack that bag for you so you can fit more stuff in it while also remaining under the fifty-pound weight limit required by the airlines at check-in."

She smiled, knowingly. "No, that's not necessary. I've got it handled." She started digging through the grocery bag. "Oooh, boy ... wow, you got a few kinds here. Oh, and one of them has SPF 50 ... I didn't even know they made it that high."

Jonathan grasped his hands behind his back and began rocking up on his heels and then his toes, back and forth with a regular rhythm. "Well, you know SPF is really an imperfect measure of potential skin damage because invisible damage and skin aging are also caused by ultraviolet type-A light, you know ... 'UVA' ... which is on a wavelength of 320 to 400 nanometers, by the way, and does not cause redness or pain; conventional sunscreen blocks very little UVA radiation. These broad spectrum sunscreens that I bought are designed to protect against both UVB and UVA light." He smiled, very satisfied with his product choices.

Jonathan's mom patted his shoulder absently as she looked at the sunscreen label. "That's nice sweetie." Her touch seemed designed to neither encourage nor discourage his factoids. If she acted more interested, which she sometimes did when he gave her the science behind his choices, he would elaborate; but he wasn't getting that signal right now.

Jonathan continued, "I bought some for Candi and me too. I'm going to go give it to her unless you need me to do anything else for you. Like ... re-pack that bag maybe?"

"No, no, that's okay. You go ahead and see your sister. I'm going to finish up here. Do you need any help with packing your things?"

"Nope, I'm all done." He smiled, proud of his organizational skills. He didn't want to hurt his mother's feelings, but it was obvious she had no idea how to pack a bag, so she would be the last person he'd ask for help. Her stuff was all wadded up with s.p.a.ce around the edges. If she removed the air around her fluffy clothes and filled the s.p.a.ces with smaller items and shoes, she'd have a much more efficiently packed bag, but it was useless trying to explain it to her because she would just brush it off. Jonathan was fully aware that not everyone shared his desire to be as efficient as possible, and he was okay with it.