Page 7 of Absorbed

“Hey, Stacey! Early-bird gets first pick.”

“First pick of…what?” Stacey asked.

Other voices boomed into the lobby. There were bursts of laughter and a big guy with shaggy, sun-bleached hair and a goatee yelled out, “I call hosing the deck!” The group filed past Stacey without acknowledging her.

Stacey slithered into the room behind everyone else and shrank against the wall.

When she was a kid, the guard shack seemed like a secret haven where mysterious, cool lifeguards ate take-out and were the gatekeepers of band-aids and lost goggles. Now, she wouldn’t want to walk barefoot on the filthy, threadbare carpet. A few of the plywood locker doors hung crooked, and the beige and brown plaid couch looked like it had been pulled from a dumpster.

“Every morning, we divvy up the jobs before we open the pool,” Bob told the group as they settled into seats. “Today you learn what those jobs are. Mark, you have seniority; sure, you can hose the deck. But first you’ve gotta show ‘em how to get the covers off, and lane lines in and out.”

Mark, the big guy with the goatee, was nodding, his sunglasses still on. He wore a faded and stained City of Mesa Valley logo T-shirt and a large-brimmed thatched hat hung down his back. He wore red trunks. Panicking, Stacey looked around the room. Only one other guard seemed to be wearinga red swimsuit. Fortunately, she wasn’t the only one in street clothes.

“No way am I cleaning bathrooms,” a lean brunette girl said, crossing her arms. Perched on the edge of the couch cushion, she looked as though she was posing for a magazine, and above menial labor. Stacey recognized her. She’d just graduated and ran track. She had thighs with huge oval muscles on top that created perfect definition along the side, like racing stripes.

The lobby door swung open. “I’m here!” a voice yelled out. Jessie entered the guard shack panting and leaned his skateboard against the desk. Stacey’s stomach flipped.

“Thank you for joining us, Jessie,” Bob said. “Have a seat.” Bob turned his attention back to the track star on the couch. “Melissa, all the guards take turns cleaning the bathrooms. Taking care of this place is part of your responsibility.”

Jessie crossed to the other side of the room, flipped a folding chair around and sat down backwards. Stacey sunk further into the corner, hoping she was out of his line of sight.

“It’s not so bad. We mostly only hose it out and take out the trash,” Mark said. “Don’t forget your flip flops and rubber gloves.”

Melissa narrowed her dark, stormy eyes, sneering at him.

“This is as good a time as any to establish the most important aspect of working here,” Coach Bob said, standing in the center of the room. “I expect you all to work as a team to keep our facility clean and safe. If anyone isn’t pulling their weight, you will address that as a team as well. That includes ALL cleaning duties,” he said, looking in Melissa’s direction. Then he turned toward Jessie. “And being on time for each shift.” He moved to stand beside the desk. “Now, let’s go around and introduce ourselves. I’m Bob. I’ve coached and taught at the high school for twenty-five years and been pool manager during the summersfor the last ten. This is Mark, assistant pool manager. You’re up, Sport.”

“Yup, I’m Mark,” he said, moving the sunglasses to the back of his neck. “This is my third year at The Plunge and I’m lucky enough to work here year-round. Just think, if you become a college dropout, you too could be living the dream like me.”

Everyone else laughed. Stacey nervously chuckled along. Is he serious?

“Funny guy,” Coach Bob said, clapping Mark on the shoulder. “Mark handles pool maintenance for the swim team September through May. If I’m called away, Mark’s in charge.”

Mark pulled the straw hat onto his head and slumped back into the office chair, both feet up on the desk. He aimed finger guns at a petite girl in a red athletic two-piece.

“Hi, I’m Tiffany!” She bounced on her heels and smiled brightly, her short, white-blonde curls swaying. She was like a Drew Barrymore clone. “I know most of you, but…” Tiffany looked at Stacey.

The other guards gazed in Stacey’s direction. She stood taller and sucked in her stomach.

Tiffany went on. “I’ve been swimming at The Plunge my entire life. I was varsity swim captain and this is my second-year lifeguarding.” Tiffany looked around the room. “It’s going to be such a great summer!” she added, like she was the official Plunge mascot.

Stacey wondered what brand Tiffany’s bathing suit was and whether the other girls would also be in bikinis. Before she went home, she needed to find a way to ask Tiffany about where she’d bought it.

“Mark and Tiffany will be training the rest of you over the first week, until you’re all up to speed,” Bob said. “And of course, if there’s anything these two veterans can’t answer, then come to me.”

Melissa stood, pursing her lips. She had glowing skin the color of damp sand and her long dark hair reached almost to her waist. “I’m Melissa Phillips. I’m attending ASU in September on a full track scholarship. I’ll study business and in four years I’m going to law school to become a private practice corporate lawyer.” Her tone was serious and she lifted one eyebrow as she spoke. With her hands on her hips, her cropped tank and micro denim shorts revealed her taut abs. “I’ve never been a lifeguard before, but the past two summers, I worked at Baskin Robbins. I can still use my discount, if anyone’s interested.”

Stacey wished she liked running if it meant she could eat Baskin Robbins regularly and still have zero body fat, like Melissa. She figured the running and the perfect body must be genetic anomalies.

“Are your parents those Pakistanis who work at the Baskin Robbins in Red Hills?” the guy seated on the couch asked.

Melissa glared at him. “We’re NOT from Pakistan,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “We’re Indian, you dumbass. And we OWN three stores, actually.” She kept her eyes locked on his as she sat back down.

“That’s a very generous offer, Melissa. Thank you,” Bob said before he waved his hand to the guy seated next to Melissa on the couch.

The guy cleared his throat, then leaned back and pulled on the end of his shorts. “Hey, I’m Chad,” he said without getting up. He had a dimple in his right cheek and a crooked smile. He reminded Stacey of Christian Slater. “I play soccer. I was in ASB. I’m going to Cal State in the fall. It’s my first summer guarding and it’s great to be here.”

Despite how friendly and easygoing Chad seemed, the girl on his other side was leaning away from him onto the arm of the couch. She was petite, busty, and biting the inside of her cheek, looking up at the ceiling. Her nose and cheeks were coveredin faint freckles. She looked almost as uncomfortable as Stacey felt. Chad put his hand on the girl’s thigh, saying, “And this is Desiree.”

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