Der gehimnisvolle Surfer
Excerpt
"How could you possibly forget, Stew?" Bridget stomped her foot. "The surfing competition among the guys ended right before Susannah got to the party late. She'd gone to the grocery store at the last minute to pick up ten dozen hot dogs and ten dozen buns. The Weenie Roast hadn't delivered them on time. The propane gas grills were sizzling. Everybody was starved. And —"
"You do have a wild imagination, Bridget!" Stew shook his head. "If this is some practical joke, please get to the punch line."
"You mean, you don't remember the hot dogs either?" Her voice squeaked.
"Susannah was at the party the whole time. The Weenie Roast made their delivery on time as promised. I even paid the delivery man on behalf of the senior class student council."
"No way!"
Stew fished down into his pocket. He pulled out some receipts. He finally found the one he was talking about. He handed it to Bridget.
She gaped at the receipt a few seconds. It had the date and the time on it, June 5 at eight P.M. sharp. It was for ten dozen hot dogs and ten dozen buns just as Stew had said. There could be no mistake about it. The credit card receipt even had Stew's signature, Stew Pullman. He had signed on behalf of the student council. He did not belong to it. But he was a kind of unofficial member. He did odd jobs for the school to pay for community college.
Bridget stared up at Stew. She shook her head in disbelief.
"Susannah got back with the food right as the dancing was starting." She said. "The band struck up playing Shake Your Bootie! on their guitars. That's when I was dancing with the surfer. I introduced him to all my girlfriends. They all took turns dancing with him. Even Susannah did."
Stew clapped his big hand over Bridget's forehead. "I think maybe you had one too many beers last night."
"But —"
He shrugged. "I know students are not supposed to have beer. School policy. But it gets smuggled in anyway. Everybody knows that. Last big blast of the senior year."
"I never drink beer!"
"There wasn't much chance to dance last night, Bridget, maybe only half an hour at most. The party broke up shortly after the hot dogs were delivered."
"Oh?" This got stranger and stranger!
"Don't you remember? The weather changed. It started to pour."
He talked to her the same way that someone would talk to a kindergartner. He was careful to talk slowly and explain everything carefully to her.
Bridget gaped around her in amazement. The wind was now starting to blow stiffly from the sea. The sun had disappeared. White fingers of fog had begun to curl around them where they stood on the beach. Pretty soon they were going to have to get out of here. The surf was advancing. Sometimes it came in with a vengeance, all in one big wave.
Next Stew was probably going to tell her that yesterday's and this morning's glorious sunshine had been just her imagination, too!
"But — but the surfer!" She pleaded desperately. "Surely you at least remember him! He had big shoulder muscles, black hair, and dark eyes."
"Sorry, there weren't any surfers at the party last night. Nobody went surfing."
"How could you possibly forget, Stew?" Bridget stomped her foot. "The surfing competition among the guys ended right before Susannah got to the party late. She'd gone to the grocery store at the last minute to pick up ten dozen hot dogs and ten dozen buns. The Weenie Roast hadn't delivered them on time. The propane gas grills were sizzling. Everybody was starved. And —"
"You do have a wild imagination, Bridget!" Stew shook his head. "If this is some practical joke, please get to the punch line."
"You mean, you don't remember the hot dogs either?" Her voice squeaked.
"Susannah was at the party the whole time. The Weenie Roast made their delivery on time as promised. I even paid the delivery man on behalf of the senior class student council."
"No way!"
Stew fished down into his pocket. He pulled out some receipts. He finally found the one he was talking about. He handed it to Bridget.
She gaped at the receipt a few seconds. It had the date and the time on it, June 5 at eight P.M. sharp. It was for ten dozen hot dogs and ten dozen buns just as Stew had said. There could be no mistake about it. The credit card receipt even had Stew's signature, Stew Pullman. He had signed on behalf of the student council. He did not belong to it. But he was a kind of unofficial member. He did odd jobs for the school to pay for community college.
Bridget stared up at Stew. She shook her head in disbelief.
"Susannah got back with the food right as the dancing was starting." She said. "The band struck up playing Shake Your Bootie! on their guitars. That's when I was dancing with the surfer. I introduced him to all my girlfriends. They all took turns dancing with him. Even Susannah did."
Stew clapped his big hand over Bridget's forehead. "I think maybe you had one too many beers last night."
"But —"
He shrugged. "I know students are not supposed to have beer. School policy. But it gets smuggled in anyway. Everybody knows that. Last big blast of the senior year."
"I never drink beer!"
"There wasn't much chance to dance last night, Bridget, maybe only half an hour at most. The party broke up shortly after the hot dogs were delivered."
"Oh?" This got stranger and stranger!
"Don't you remember? The weather changed. It started to pour."
He talked to her the same way that someone would talk to a kindergartner. He was careful to talk slowly and explain everything carefully to her.
Bridget gaped around her in amazement. The wind was now starting to blow stiffly from the sea. The sun had disappeared. White fingers of fog had begun to curl around them where they stood on the beach. Pretty soon they were going to have to get out of here. The surf was advancing. Sometimes it came in with a vengeance, all in one big wave.
Next Stew was probably going to tell her that yesterday's and this morning's glorious sunshine had been just her imagination, too!
"But — but the surfer!" She pleaded desperately. "Surely you at least remember him! He had big shoulder muscles, black hair, and dark eyes."
"Sorry, there weren't any surfers at the party last night. Nobody went surfing."