Moonglass

season.”
    I nodded, figuring he was seventeen or so. You could start lifeguarding at sixteen years old, something my dad had hassled me about doing this summer.
    “How do you like it?”
    “It’s a pretty kill er job. Last summer kind of sucked, being a rookie. They do stupid shit—’scuse me, stupid stuff—to you, but it’s that way everywhere. This year’s better, except we have a new boss who’s a totall ass.”
    I cringed a little. “Really? What’s his problem?” I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know the answer, but I was morbidly curious at the same time.
    “I don’t know. He’s totally old-school and worked here forever ago. He started out when he was, like, fifteen or something and worked his way up, so now that he’s back, he cruises around like he knows everything.” He stopped, checking to see if I was interested—which, of course, I was. “Anyway, it just sucks because none of us ever know when he’s gonna come by and harp on us out of nowhere. He’s just a pain in the ass, is all.”
    I opened my mouth to say that I could sympathize, but he went on. “Like today, I ran down to those rocks all day long because he wants us to be
    ‘proactive,’ because he thinks that if someone has to be rescued, the guard wasn’t doing his job in the first place. Then I look like a dumb-ass, telling people they need to come in from the rocks, when they can see there’s no problem.” I nodded, able to recite my dad’s philosophy about lifeguarding in my mind.
    “So today he comes down to my tower as I’m getting back from one of my laps to the rocks, and he tell s me that every time I run down there, the rest of the water isn’t being watched. You just can’t make the guy happy. I don’t know what his problem is.” Tyler shook his head. “He needs to get laid or something.” I laughed, a little too loudly. “Anyway, that’s the story of my life. What’s yours?”
    “Well —” Before I could get anything else out, I heard behind us the familiar hum of a truck on the sand. We both stopped, and I hoped desperately it was the other lifeguard. For the last few years, every summer had begun with a lecture about staying away from the guards on the beach. They were only out for one thing, etcetera, etcetera.
    “Shit,” Tyler said under his breath. “Speak of the devil.” The truck pulled up next to me, and my dad stuck his head out. Of course.
    “Hey, hon. See you met one of our rookies.”
    I cringed, probably visibly, both at being outed and at my dad’s obvious inability to remember little details. I smiled tightly and snuck a sidelong glance at Tyler, who was fumbling for his composure. Funny, considering the way he had carried himself a few seconds earlier.
    “Yeah. Dad, this is Tyler. It’s actually his second year here, so technically he’s not a rookie anymore. He was just showing me around.” Tyler gave a nod.
    My dad looked at his red trunks, unimpressed.
    “Huh. well, if you’re gonna walk around here off duty, you need to change out of your uniform first.” Tyler stammered. “Oh, y-yeah…. Sorry. It won’t happen again.” We were all silent for a few awkward seconds.
    “Well, I’m headed home, hon. Why don’t you hop in and I’ll give you a ride back to the house?” He smiled broadly, but it wasn’t a question.
    “Nah. I think I’ll walk.” It was worth a try, seeing as we were being so civil at the moment.
    He cleared his throat. “Nah. I think you should get in.” still smiling … “We’ve got a few things to take care of this evening.” He looked at me straight on.
    Tyler shifted next to me. I was beat, unless I wanted to start a battle.
    I turned back to Tyler and rolled my eyes before putting out my hand. “Well, thanks for the tour. It was nice to meet you.” The faintest trace of a smirk crossed his face before he cleared his throat and shook my hand.
    “You too. Stay off the rocks next time, or your dad’ll kill me.” We all forced a little laugh, and I walked around the truck and hopped into the passenger seat, dropping my stuff beside me. My dad pulled a U-turn around Tyler, gave him a wave, and we trundled away. I waited until we were a short distance off.
    “Nice, Dad. Thanks.”
    “Don’t start,” he said flatly. “He’s a lifeguard. And you’re my daughter. That’s as good as it gets.”
    “And that makes sense how again? I don’t get it. I really don’t.” I paused. It was always right there, on the tip of my