Noah leaves me alone. He must sense that I’m liable to crack if he’s not careful while handling me.
After lunch, the students disperse again. A few take naps on the loungers. Some head right back into the water. I take a group of girls out on a walk along the shore. We pick our favorite umbrella colors and pass around what’s left of the cherries. I ask them if they’re enjoying Rome.
“It’s different than I thought it would be,” Lizzy says.
“I didn’t think I’d miss my parents this much,” Alice admits sheepishly.
“I feel the same way,” I assure them.
“But even if I am a little homesick, Rome is so cool,” Millie adds.
“Yeah,” Alice agrees. “We’re going to have so many stories to tell everyone when we get back to school in the fall.”
“And Millie totally has a crush on one of the Trinity boys!”
“LIZZY!”
“What?! It’s true! Ms. Cohen doesn’t care. She’s cool!”
“Yeah, well YOU also have a crush on one of them. So there!”
“It’s not like anything is going to happen anyway.” Lizzy rolls her eyes. “They don’t even know we exist.”
I don’t bother reminding them that relationships between students in the program are prohibited. They know that. It’s all in good fun. When I was their age, I would have been doing the same thing. Those Trinity boys are like little Justin Biebers—I get why they’re all freaking out over them.
When our loungers are nothing but specks in the distance, we turn back, taking our time, scouring the sand for seashells, stopping for some Italian shaved ice when we pass a man working hard, pushing a cart along the beach.
“Don’t tell the others I got us these!” I warn them, and we all pinky-promise to keep our secret.
We finish our treat before we make it back to the group, disposing of the evidence in a trashcan a few yards away from our loungers. Then we apply more sunscreen and head right back out into the water.
Noah and some of the guys are boogie boarding. He’s gotten pretty good at it over the day, flinging the board down and running after it, hopping on and riding the little crests of the incoming waves before stumbling off with a confident burst of laughter.
It’s getting close to dinner time, but no one’s all that anxious to leave. In fact, I’m about to start a second crossword puzzle when the sky turns. It’s as if someone waved a magic wand and brought on the black rolling clouds all at once. One second, the sky is a picturesque blue, and the next, it’s black and ominous. Torrential rain comes on so suddenly there’s nothing we can do but call out for the kids, get everyone out of the water, and try to scramble and pack everything up.
Beachgoers perform a mass exodus. The kids are squealing, laughing, complaining as they try to find any cover they can.
“Don’t stand under the umbrellas!” I warn, worried the metal will attract lightning. That’s how it works, right? Who knows—I teach English, not science. I’d rather be safe than sorry though.
It’s pure chaos.
How did we manage to bring so much stuff!?
The beach toys are spread out everywhere. Towels and snacks and phones and books and everyone runs around trying to pick up anything they can get their hands on. My arms are laden with sopping-wet towels as we start to make a mad dash back to where the vans and car are parked. It didn’t seem like all that long of a walk when we got here, but now it’s somehow morphed into miles.
“Come on!” Noah shouts to everyone. “We’re almost there.”
At the vans, each chaperone is counting heads, trying to confirm we have everyone.
“We’re missing Lee and Chris!” I shout to Noah.
He curses under his breath and runs back to the beach. I go with him, worried we might have lost them. Oh crap. Oh crap. There! Lee and Chris are helping an elderly couple fold up their chairs and pull up the umbrella they brought down to the beach with them. Noah rushes down to help speed things along.
All the while, the rain doesn’t let up.
It’s coming down so hard, so fast it’s almost impossible to see more than a few feet in front of me. The sand turns to mud. My feet sink in and I lose a flip-flop. I growl and turn back, freeing it with a hard yank.
When we finally make it back to the parking lot, everyone’s still loading up into the vans. There’s a problem because we have coolers and overstuffed bags filled with snacks and beach balls and towels and boogie boards. Everything’s been packed up haphazardly so it doesn’t fit properly in the trunk space. Lorenzo is doing most of the heavy lifting, but I don’t want to leave him with everything, so I grab whatever I can. We’re nearly done. I’m struggling with one of the last bags when Noah comes up behind me and takes it, lifting it up and over my head.