Taylor hadn’t had to tell that she still wet the bed. And in front of Molly Cates, too! Molly’s mom already let her have sleepovers where they’d do each other’s nails and watch Raiders of the Lost Ark and Return of the Jedi. Molly’s birthday was next week, there was no way she’d get an invitation now.
Phoebe looked back at the wide-roofed pavilion at the foot of the pier. Taylor wouldn’t be long, he’d even left his line in the water. He was just going to get a lemon ice with the money Mom had given them that morning. She’d spent hers on a jar of polished shells. “Dumb girl,” Taylor told her. “You’d fill that jar a hundred times over just walking down the beach.”
The fish in Taylor’s bucket made a slapping sound. Phoebe peered inside. It was getting dark but it was still light enough for her to count the fish. Four smallish brown ones and one great big silver fish with a shiny speckled side. They were still alive, all of them. They had a few inches of water, but they couldn’t turn around too much.
No sign of Taylor yet. “Probably talking to girls,” Phoebe muttered to herself. The sun was almost gone.
They’d have to be back soon, Mom had said. “Mrs. Cates and Molly and me are going back to the hotel. You remember the number?” She’d made them both say it five times over. Molly’d stuck her tongue out as they’d walked away.
“Probably talking to girls,” she said again. One of the brown fish flopped over on top of the others, like it was trying to get out. Phoebe watched as its mouth opened and closed desperately.
Without thinking about it she picked up the bucket and lifted it onto the rail that ran all the way around the pier. She tipped it over, mouth down, watching the five fish tumble back into the sea. She smiled.