Bridgette had weeks ago resolved to steer clear of the feud regarding Harold and his dirty undies. Like me and Harold, y’know? I don’t hate the guy, the dudes and I are just teaching him a lesson.” I mean, I’ve seen them fighting before, but I figured that’s just how girls are. “Uh, yeah? Courtney and I figured that out a while ago, and we’re not even on the same team as them.” “Gwen is great,” she continued, “but you know she and Heather hate each other, right?”īridgette’s eyebrows rose. She’d been impressed with both Gopher girls’ philanthropic passions-especially Gwen’s environmental awareness. “True…” Her mind jumped to three nights ago, the day before Courtney’s elimination, when Bridgette had bonded with Gwen and Leshawna over contraband s’mores and fizzy soda. “Really? She seems a little intimidating, but so does Gwen, and you and Duncan and DJ think she’s alright.” “Whatever,” Heather said, setting up her makeup pouch beside the left sink.īridgette didn’t speak she cradled her shells in her hands and pushed past the door into the afternoon sunlight.Īs they began their walk to the Arts & Crafts center, Bridgette blurted out, “Have you noticed how rancid Heather’s vibes are?” “Hi, Gerard,” Lindsay said, offering him a passing wave. “Hey guys,” Geoff said, totally oblivious to everything. Lindsay was okay, except for the company she kept. Geoff opened the door and his mouth, but he was saved from answering because Heather and Lindsay walked in, looking as pampered as ever. Sometimes Bridgette wondered if people ever made peace with endings. “He’d been diagnosed with leukemia for a while, so even though it was totally awful, at least it wasn’t completely out of the blue. Talking about it was never easy, but the sting had lessened over the years. “Right as rain.” Bridgette forced a smile. “My last trip was to Costa Rica, right before I turned twelve.” Bridgette leaned against the counter for support.
She liked Geoff-he asked a lot of questions, and his laugh was absolutely infectious-but did she trust him with the more somber truths about herself? Her reflection stared back at her, green eyes unblinking, and together they tried to figure out an answer. “Where was the last place you went to? You goin’ on any more trips soon?”īridgette turned her own faucet off. “That’s cool, Bridgette.” Geoff turned the faucet off. The Madagascar trip was when I was… it was April, so I had just turned ten, and my mom and dad were helping with housing efforts.” They’d always take my brother and sister and me wherever they went. Building houses, teaching kids, stuff like that. “Nope, it’s real! My parents used to do a lot of charity work. It didn’t matter if Geoff was serious or if he was joking either way, he was so funny. “So wait, why were you in Madagascar, anyway? I kinda thought they made that place up for the movie.”īridgette laughed. Another batch of fragments was washed, and she put them on the towel. “It’s nothing much,” Bridgette said modestly. “You’re, like, a shell expert or something.” He wasn’t even phased by the mention of slugs. They curl over themselves and have some really sick patterns on the outside. They’re really smooth, like the opposite of these ones.
“Madagascar…” Bridgette scrunched her nose, trying to remember which shells were from which country. Somehow, he’s soaked the front of his hat, and water droplets fell from the brim onto his forearms. She ran a hand over the back of her clean shell and set it aside. Some of them are ridged and bumpy, like these ones.”
My Costa Rica shells are spirally, like ice cream cones. I’ve only left the country a handful of times. “Yeah? You said you went to Costa Rica, right? Does each country have different shells?”īridgette inched the faucet knob further to the left, and the extra pressure was enough to send sand spurting out of her shell. I have a lot from all the trips I’ve been on.” She’d made it a goal: nab a new shell every time she headed down to the beach. “You collect? That sounds totally up your alley.” It just takes a little bit of elbow grease to clean them out.” “Need help?” Geoff offered an outstretched hand.īridgette smiled. “Man, the dirt is really wedged in there.” She held up a large intact shell up to the light and squinted into its interior.
#Passions soap opera stabbed with fork free#
They’d basically barricaded themselves in the washroom as they scrubbed the shells free of sand and debris. That didn’t stop Bridgette from fawning over them, though. The biggest in their collection were no bigger than a loonie. Their edges were jagged, their colors were dull and greyed.
Most of the shells they’d found were not exactly picturesque. They laughed together, and the sound was as fuzzy and warm as the surf washing over her. “Everyone’s gonna be so jealous when they see our finished mosaics.” “These are going to be so epic,” Geoff declared, setting aside washed shells on a spare towel.
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