Spring Break Secret by Holly Rayner
Tom
Tom and Louisa finished their snack and returned to their cleanup efforts, but within an hour or so, the beach was nearly pristine. Not wanting his time with Louisa to end, Tom continued to scour the beach for as much leftover trash as he could find, resorting to digging up minor scraps of fishing nets and individual pieces of paper, sticking close to Louisa and continuing their conversation.
After a while, though, Louisa put her hands on her hips and surveyed their small patch of beach. “Looks like we’re about done,” she said, her voice triumphant.
Tom felt disappointed. “Are you sure? We could head out farther that way and see if there’s anything left to pick up.”
Louisa shrugged. “We could, but our bags are already full, and it’s getting pretty hot. Probably best to pack it in and call it a day.”
Tom knew Louisa was right. It was very warm out, and although Louisa looked adorable in her floppy sun hat, there was no shade here and her pale, freckled skin was turning pink. Still, he hated for their time together to end so soon.
“What if we go into town and get some lunch together? My friends and I went to this cute little cafe by the boardwalk where all the food comes on these giant seashell plates.”
Louisa laughed. “All the tourists love that place, but if you want real, good, local food, let me take you to my favorite spot.”
“Sure!” Tom felt a little embarrassed to have suggested a restaurant that Louisa didn’t consider a local staple, but he hadn’t gotten the feeling that she was laughing at him or judging him. Back home, making a social faux pas was dangerous, and his father had always taught him to be precise in his words and pristine with his manners. But Louisa was just honest, and fun, and sweet. It was refreshing, and Tom found himself wishing there were more girls like her at his prestigious college.
They helped Ellen pack up the cleanup supplies, stacking their trash-grabbing poles in a neat pile in her truck and tossing the bags of trash in after them. Ellen would haul them to the dump, but she didn’t need any more volunteers to help, so everyone drifted off to their own cars.
Louisa led Tom back up the beach, her gait confident. She clearly knew exactly where she was headed, and Tom liked being shown around by a local. Her little hybrid car, its rims rusted by the salty ocean air, was sitting in the parking lot. Tom had taken a taxi to the beach that morning, so he hopped into the passenger seat as Louisa started the engine. It hummed with a very soft sound, completely unlike the loud, flashy sports cars Tom was used to back home. His father would never be caught dead in a car like this—plain, utilitarian, with scratched-up paint and sand on the floorboards.
“I’m going to show you my favorite place to eat in all of La Vega,” Louisa said, pulling out onto the road. “A lot of the restaurants in town have gotten a bit touristy, but this one is really just for locals. Fishermen coming home after work, single moms who need a quick dinner.”
Tom couldn’t wait. Every time his family traveled anywhere, his dad insisted on going to the fanciest restaurants. The food there was always good, but it was usually the same type of food, and he knew it wasn’t representative of the area’s traditional cuisine. He often wished he could try out the smaller, cheaper places they saw on their drive through town.
When Louisa pulled up in front of a shack-like structure with a neon sign that said FINS ’N’ FISHES above it, Tom immediately knew that his dad would hate everything about the place.
Tom loved it.
Louisa greeted the man behind the counter with a friendly smile. Behind him, a letter board with a few missing letters contained the menu items: variations on fish and chips, with a handful of different dipping sauces.
“Tom here has never had your excellent fish and chips,” Louisa said, leaning against the greasy linoleum counter. “He’s just visiting.”
“Any friend of yours is a friend of mine,” said the man, whose stained red apron read JOSEPH in faded embroidery. “I’ll bring you two each a house special, on me.”
“Thanks, Joe!” Louisa bounded over to one of the few tables inside the cramped space. Each was covered in a plasticky tablecloth with red and white checker patterns.
The food arrived shortly, two baskets piled with thick, hearty French fries and fish coated in a golden batter. Joseph returned almost immediately with another small tray full of little cups of dipping sauces.
“This one is my favorite,” Louisa said, pointing to a cup with what looked like tartar sauce inside. “They make it from scratch, and it’s extra lemony. Perfect on a hot day.”
Tom picked up one of his pieces of fish and dipped it in the sauce. It tasted divine. The fish was flaky and fresh, the batter crispy and salty. “Mmmm,” he said, trying out another one of the sauces, this one with a spicy horseradish kick. “This is really good!”
“Knew you’d like it.” Louisa nibbled on a French fry. “My dad and I used to come here every Friday to pick up dinner. Ever since I moved away for college, I really miss the fish and chips here.”
Tom really, really did like it. He had to stop himself from scarfing the whole thing down; he hadn’t realized how hungry the morning’s work had made him. “Other than missing the fish and chips, do you like it in California?”
Louisa nodded. “I really like my study program. We get to learn about the environment and marine ecosystems. But I do miss life in La Vega, and might come back here after I finish my degree. It’s just…home, you know?”
“Maybe.” Tom wondered what it must be like to call such an amazing place home.
They finished up their lunch and Louisa dropped a big tip in the jar next to the door on their way out. “Bye, Joe!” Louisa called, waving. “I’ll see you next time I’m back in town!”
Tom felt a small pang of jealousy, not of Joe, but of the entire town of La Vega, everyone who could count on seeing the incredible Louisa again.