“We say no more to plastics in our ocean. And we sayno more to corporations buying up our town to build on our beaches. Enough is enough.”
The angry singer chants into the mic. “Enough is enough. Enough is enough.” It seems like the whole town is here. It’s no surprise my dad didn’t want to come since he intends to develop the land I’m sitting on. The whole predicament I find myself in makes my chest tighten. If she knows who I am, that would explain why she hates me so much, but she didn’t seem to have a clue who my dad was last night. She can’t possibly know. If I’m to have any chance at gaining some pride back, I have to keep it that way.
Chapter Five
SHELLY
“What do you mean, you can’t do the kissing auction?” I hold my breath, waiting for Lisa to come on the screen. I pick up a menu from one of the hut’s cafe tables and waft it in front of my face to cool me down. Since receiving her text a second ago, I got straight on the FaceTime, but all I’m met with is her bedsheets and a tuft of blonde hair poking out.
Fingers curl over the white cotton, pulling the sheet down enough to see her blue eyes. “I can’t come out today. You’ll have to get someone to take my spot.”
I look around at the team. We all have assignments except for Derek and me, but with his halitosis, I don’t think we’d get many bids in the kissing auction. “Why, what’s going on? Are you ill?” She better be ill.
She pulls the blanket down farther to reveal a huge cold sore around the corner of her lip.
I wince and flinch back from the screen as if it’scatching. “What happened?”
“I get them when under stress. I don’t know.”
If anyone’s stressed, it’s me. “Get well soon.” I let out a long sigh as I stuff the phone into the back of my denim shorts.
“Don’t you get cold sores from blow jobs?” Tasha says. “I heard she went on a date with Bentley.”
I screw up my face, trying to remove the image that conjured. “Thanks Tasha. That’s a visual I didn’t need.”
“Are you filling her slot on the panel?”
I glance around one more time at the team. I can’t expect them to put themselves out there if I’m not willing to do the same. “Sure. I’ll get up on stage.”
Music plays from the beach, the fundraiser already in full swing with the local band, Siren Sisters, playing. The beach vendors have all agreed to donate their profits to the cause today. Nobody wants to see our beach turned into a private bit of real estate with apartments, no matter how luxurious. Our small, quaint little slice of paradise has already seen too much change in recent years, and more and more land is bought up by big city slickers wanting to flip it for a quick buck.
The money raised today will sustain our efforts for the rest of the season and any left over will fight the landowner and his plans to build right where the turtles lay their eggs. With no actual legal protection in this geographical location, I’m having to fight to protect the natural habitat here.
The nature reserve is farther down the coast, but turtles can’t read signs. And while there are plenty of wildlife and turtles in the nature reserve, this area is also their natural habitat, but it’s slowly being disrupted by all the tourists the town attracts. Hopefully, we’ll have enough funds to keep going with our efforts and get the Sea Oats Conservation Club to recognise this space needs protection, too.
I dance to the music, carrying merchandise along the beach. The kids go nuts for a paper flag, all made from sustainable sources, of course.
“Impressive speech, Shell.” Layton, our local firefighter, pats me on the back as he walks by.
“Thanks,” I say, dropping the bucket of flags at our Save Our Seas stall. I wipe my brow with my forearm, then tie my t-shirt in a knot, letting the light breeze swathe my skin.
“Hey, Shell, I got your fave smoothie from the van,” Oliver says, handing me my own personalised reusable cup with askip a strawslogan.
“You’re a starfish. Thank you so much. I need this.” I place the cool cup against my cheek, then the other one, before taking a long drink of the strawberries and peaches.
“You were great up there.” He points to the stage.
“Thanks. I’ve gotta get up there again.” I take another drink and gulp it down.
“You’re in the auction?” He chuckles.
“Lisa has a cold sore. Don’t laugh.” The kissing auction was her and Tasha’s idea, seeing as we planned our fundraiser on International Kissing Day. Secretly, I think Tasha just wants to hook up and hopes one of these rich billionaires will sail her away on their yacht. She is beautiful and I’m sure she’ll raise us a good sum of money.
Me, on the other hand…I haven’t even dressed for the occasion. I’d be lucky to raise five bucks in mykeep the sea plastic freeslogan tee and tie-dye denim cut-offs.
The Siren Sisters finish up their set and Harrison takes the stage, ready for his solo, but first, he’s hosting the auction. I wipe my clammy palms against my t-shirt and take another gulp of my drink, wishing there was a shot of vodka in here. Anything to calm my nerves.
“You’d better get up there. They’re lining up ready.”Oli points to the stage, our team waving and blowing kisses at the crowd.
