Page 30 of Rule 4: Never Get Stranded with a Sports Reporter

I stare at the machines. I’ve only ridden one on that one vacation in Florida, but this is the perfect time to go again. I feign disappointment. “Unfortunately, I can’t talk.”

“Oh.”

“Too bad, Prescott.” I grin and head toward the jet skis. Eight machines are lined up. They’re black-and-white. All sleek Fiberglass. Beside them are some kayaks and paddle boards. I’m more experienced with those, but right now I want something faster. Something tougher. Something that will distract me from thoughts of Cal.

I head toward a small hut. A guy sits inside. The prices are painted on a board on the side of the hut. “I want to rent a jet ski.”

“Sure. Room number?”

I tell him.

I sense Cal beside me. I almost smile, then turn it into a frown in time. I don’t like that he’s following me.

I glance at him. “You want to jet ski too?”

“Uh, yeah.” His voice wobbles slightly. “Huge fan. Major jet ski enthusiast.”

I blink. “Oh. Cool, then.”

“You can go to Mirror Island,” the guy in the hut interjects, handing me a lifejacket.

“What’s that?” I slip the lifejacket on, then zipper it up.

“Private island,” the guy explains. “We normally have tour guides there, but our guide is sick. You want? I show you map.”

I take the map. It’s bright and colorful.

“So we can just jet ski to another island?” Cal asks.

“Yeah. We do it all the time.”

“Isn’t the water bumpy?” Cal asks. “Like, with waves?”

The guy raises an eyebrow, and Cal’s cheeks redden.

“I’m not scared.” I saunter toward the row of jet skis. I turn back to the guide. “I can take any of them?”

“Yes, sir. Just grab a lifejacket.”

The jet skis bob in the water, like floating motorcycles. I straddle the seat. This is the life. I’m glad I wore my swim trunks to breakfast.

“Wait! I’m coming!” Cal rushes toward me, zipping up his orange lifejacket, and I groan.

“Can’t get rid of you.”

Cal plops onto the jet ski, and it sinks into the water. His face whitens, and I roll my eyes. I start the jet ski, then head toward the ocean.

The sun glints over the waves, and I stare into the distance.

“I can’t see a private island,” Cal says. “Is that real?”

“Yep. It was on the website. Fiji has over four hundred islands, many uninhabited.”

“Cool.”

“Let’s go. Unless you’re scared.”

His eyes narrow. “I’m not scared.”