Lizzie
Lizzie stood by the hotel vans checking her phone for the tenth time. Fifteen spring breakers were supposed to meet here at five thirty. It was five twenty-eight and only half had shown up. More importantly, Chrisla hadn’t shown up yet.
“Looking for someone?”
Lizzie turned. Sarah walked across the parking lot in khaki shorts and a white linen shirt, her hair down for once instead of in that sleek ponytail.
“Where’s Chrisla?”
“Sent her home. She was throwing up in the staff bathroom.” Sarah pulled keys from her pocket. “Food poisoning, probably. She ate gas station sushi someone brought her.”
“Oh no. Is she okay?”
“She will be. But she’s not driving a van full of college kids tonight.” Sarah unlocked the driver’s side door. “I’m taking you instead. You were only supposed to shadow her anyway. I’m not throwing you to the wolves on your first run.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t have to.” Sarah looked at her over the roof of the van. “But I’m going to.”
The rest of the spring breakers trickled over. Cynthia and Emma arrived last, both wearing sundresses that were so flimsya stiff breeze would probably rip them right off. Cynthia’s face fell when she saw Lizzie.
“Seriously? You’re our babysitter tonight?”
“Tour guide,” Lizzie corrected. “And if you don’t want to come, feel free to take an Uber.”
“Whatever.” Cynthia climbed into the van.
They loaded up. Sarah drove while Lizzie sat in the front passenger seat going over the itinerary in her head. An hour and a half at Mallory Square. Optional ghost tour that probably no one would sign up for. Return shuttle for anyone who wanted it.
She secretly hoped nobody would because that meant she could explore the town on her own for a bit. Or with Sarah. Which would be preferable.
The drive downtown took fifteen minutes. Sarah navigated the narrow streets with easy confidence, pointing out landmarks as they passed. The old cigar factory. The cemetery. Hemingway’s house with its white walls and tropical garden.
They parked the car and the group filed out. Sarah gave them an overview of the place. A few, those who’d just arrived, appeared genuinely thankful. Others, like Cynthia who’d been here a few days, rolled their eyes.
Mallory Square opened up ahead of them. Two massive cruise ships were docked at the pier, white behemoths that dwarfed everything around them. Tourists swarmed everywhere. Street performers had claimed spots along the walkway. A man juggled fire. A woman painted herself silver and stood motionless like a statue. Someone played saxophone badly.
“There’s a ghost tour starting at eight. Remember, if you want a ride back, let us know now or you will have to wait for the shuttle to drive back if you use the on-call service later.”
“Ghost tour?” One of the guys laughed. “Pass.”
“Same,” someone else said.
No one signed up for the ghost tour, but two timid girls requested the ride back to the hotel after dinner.
The kids scattered immediately, heading toward the street performers and souvenir shops. Cynthia lingered, fixing her makeup in a compact mirror.
“Must be nice,” she said to Lizzie. “Getting to babysit other spring breakers so you can pretend you’re having a real vacation.”
“Must be nice,” Lizzie fired back, “being on academic probation for being a lazy bum.”
Cynthia’s face went white. “That’s an old hat by now,” she hissed.
“Come on, Cynthia.” Emma tugged her friend’s arm. “Let’s go look around, leave her here.”
They left. Lizzie exhaled, her hands shaking slightly.
“You okay?” Sarah asked.
