Page 1 of Beaches, Bagels & Babes

Daisy

T he shoreline glimmered like an ocean of diamonds as the sun bore down on the water’s surface.

It was a gorgeous sight, the kind some people dreamed of seeing their whole year, maybe their whole lives.

It wasn’t the Florida Keys, California coastline, or some tropical island paradise.

Even so, “shoobie” vacationers paid good money to take a break from their regular routine and experience the New Jersey coast like this.

For Daisy, this was as regular as things got.

At twelve years old, she had more responsibility than your average pre-teen. More than some adults, too, leaving her jaded before she knew what the word meant. However, her parents’ business on the bustling Wonderwood Boardwalk needed all the help it could get.

Thankfully, the menu was simple enough that just about anyone could keep the place running—bagels, plain hot coffee, and cold fountain drinks.

Only the basics, but they did the basics well.

The stall was simple, too. A single countertop set with four plush pleather stools, a refrigerated display window, plus a prep area and register, all painted bright 90’s fluorescent greens and pinks.

Despite its small scale, Bagel Bombs! had been an institution of the community for years. Her parents worked hard to make the place popular with their unique take on the humble breakfast food and, once she was old enough, Daisy did, too.

Usually.

Today, things were dragging.

After waking up at the crack of dawn, she pulled herself out of bed and biked to the boardwalk from her parents’ bungalow on the far side of the island.

That alone left her panting since it was “soupy,” as her mom called it.

Hot and humid with breeze-less air, it was the kind of day that started with everything covered in a thick layer of dew.

Still, by the time the first glimmers of dawnlight peeked over the horizon, the boardwalk was teeming with people.

Bikers and runners getting their morning exercise, beachgoers looking to claim their prime spot, and your average amblers taking in the sights streamed past the mostly-shuttered boardwalk storefronts.

It might be soupy, but Daisy could tell right away it would be packed.

As soon as she hauled up the security chain and flipped on the styled “DA BOMB!” neon open sign, she was met with a line of hungry customers.

Like a true pro, she powered through the morning rush to the lunchtime pop.

Nothing out of the ordinary happened apart from running out of sesame bombs.

She served one very cranky lady who perked right up once she got her coffee, but that was as exciting as things got.

Now, there was nothing to do but wait until shift change.

Her mom, who was busy running errands and doing adult business during the day, would arrive soon to take over for the rowdier night crowd.

Then, Daisy could go be a normal kid. Not that she was normal in any sense of the word, but it might be nice to pretend.

What would she do with her freedom, though?

The brand-new fishing wharf-turned-amusement pier, Perry’s Pier, was across the boardwalk. All day, all summer, it blasted her with a barrage of arcade sounds, rushing coasters, and other people enjoying themselves. Maybe she could join in the fun.

Then again, by the time she closed up, she would be even more tired. What was the point of paying to ride a ride she would fall asleep on? She would probably go home, nap, and get roped into helping her dad pre-make more batches of bagel bombs. Just like yesterday and the day before.

Daisy didn’t mind too much. She loved it when her parents praised her or when customers told her how good she was. She loved being responsible and independent. Getting paid helped, too. But, sometimes, she felt bitter about being one of the only kids in a vacation town not having fun.

A yawn escaped Daisy’s mouth.

The rolling churn of the waves was hypnotizing. Back and forth, a great rush followed by a crashing release. Everything else, even the intermittent, screeching gull calls, faded under the soothing rhythm.

Daisy’s head bobbed in her hand. Slowly, her eyelids drooped past the point of no return. As she imagined all the excitement going on at the pier, she joined in hazy half-dreams.

First, she played Dance Dance Revolution .

They had real machines, unlike the other boardwalk arcades with their knock-off diagonal arrows.

After that, ice cream was a must. She heard their Kohrs Bros stand had six different soft serve flavors as opposed to the normal three, and, of course, she would have to sample each one.

She would ride all the rides, saving the best for last: the Mouse Kart. Secretly, heights scared her, so the tiny two-person coaster was right up her alley. Or, she thought it would be if she ever got the chance to ride.

ClackClackClack…

The clanging of the coaster gears made its way into Daisy’s dream.

Up, up, and up, Daisy could feel herself inside the goofy-looking mouse ascending the track. At the top, it paused, and she saw the endless, glimmering ocean.

Was this what shoobies felt like? Full of hope and carefree bliss?

However, Daisy wasn’t on vacation. She was at work. Her budding customer service instincts snapped her back to focus as someone approached the counter.

And, by snapped, it happened literally. The arm Daisy had propped against the counter gave out, dropping her chin onto the hard, peach-pink laminate. It hurt. Yet, the girlish giggle from her would-be customer brought an extra sting.

At least Daisy was wide awake now.

With her jaw buzzing, she garbled out, “Canni-takyerurder?”

The girl giggled even harder while Daisy flushed.

They had to be about the same age. That, though, seemed to be the only thing they had in common.

People used the word “gawky” to describe Daisy.

She was the tallest in her class, with muscle from trekking all over the island and a distinct tank-top tan from her work uniform.

Her angular face was one her parents promised she would grow into, made more awkward by her most recent haircut.

She’d asked the stylist for “Trinity, from The Matrix ,” and ended up more like an athletic Julia Robert’s Tinker Bell thanks to her ash blonde hair.

This girl, meanwhile, was the complete opposite.

She looked like a doll, tiny and cute, with silken ringlet curls tied into effortless pigtails.

Her entire outfit was like something from a pre-teen fashion magazine, with low-cut whitewash jeans, a matching halter top, sunflower yellow Converse sneakers, and expensive-looking big movie star shades.

Her smile, with perfect, pearly teeth, made Daisy feel all squirmy.

In an instant, the girl’s expression dropped. She covered her mouth and spoke through her fingers with polka dot-painted nails.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to laugh. Are you okay?”

“Um, yeah. I’ve got a hard chin.”

DUMB . Dumb, dumb, dummy! Daisy’s internal voice chanted. She swallowed the lump in her throat and willed the transaction to move faster.

One of the girl’s eyebrows arched.

“But, like, you’re bleeding.”

Daisy did not know why, but the words failed to register. She stared at the girl, and the girl stared at her like they were waiting for someone to tell them what to do next.

Then, the girl figured it out.

Dropping her Coach purse onto the countertop as if it weren’t a $500 bag, she dug until she found a pack of tissues. She reached out, offering one.

They stood there like that until Daisy remembered how to be a not-awkward, hormone-ridden mess.

She took the tissue and pressed it against her chin.

Thankfully, the damage wasn’t too bad; she dabbed away the worst of it and slapped on a bandage from the emergency first-aid kit.

The dull, throbbing pain was a distant afterthought as she fell back into service-mode.

“Er, thanks. I think I’ll live. Can I take your order?”

“Oh! Um…” The girl bit her lower lip, messing up her shiny gloss. “I’m sorry, I was just looking. I don’t have any money. I have to ask my uncle if I want stuff.”

Daisy followed the girl’s hesitant gaze to a group of adults near but not in line for the fun pier’s ticket counter.

They did not look like shoobies; they looked like businesspeople in their definitely-not beach wear.

Something about one tall, stark blond-haired man was familiar, but his back was turned, so she could not see his face.

Without thinking, Daisy offered, “How about a free sample? I’m allowed to give away one per customer.”

“They do smell good. But…”

The girl cast another furtive glance back at the adults. She propped her sunglasses on top of her head to look at the bagel bombs under the counter window, revealing bright seafoam blueish-green eyes.

“You’ll eat it in one bite,” Daisy promised. “I’m no narc, they’ll never find out.”

“Well,” the girl asked with an interested tilt, “what are “bagel bombs?”

“They’re like bagels, but DA BOMB! ”

Daisy spun in place and snapped her fingers, doing a little dance just like her parents taught her. Again, the girl giggled. Daisy’s heart, which had not stopped its wild beating, kicked up even harder. Normally, she hated putting on a show, but she liked making this girl laugh.

In a rush, she added, “They’re like mini hot pockets or doughnut poppums. Bite-sized bagels stuffed with different cream cheeses or jellies. We’ve got savory and sweet, your standard favorites, along with the random flavors my dad feels like trying out.”

“Poppyseed, cinnamon raisin, lemon glaze… ‘Peanut butter and jelly?’” The girl read with an arched eyebrow.

“Oh. I made that batch. Yeah, I know. PB&J is a little kiddish, but I thought it would be fun and—”

“I love PB&J! It’s my favorite. What kind of jelly did you use?”

“Um, it’s blueberry and cream cheese mixed with chunky peanut butter. It’s best toasted.”