Page 39 of Every Summer Since
“These are the good pancakes,” Ocean announced.
“All my pancakes are good,” I said.
River grinned. “Chocolate chips are my favorite.”
“I know.” I pushed the pancakes closer to her.
The table was quiet as we stuffed our faces. Feeding the kids chocolate chips drizzled in syrup was probably a bad move, but it was a treat.
“So,” I said casually. “Sounds like someone made a statement down at the construction site last night.”
Dad looked up from his plate. “Oh?”
“Heard it was pretty thorough.” I sipped my coffee. “Signs, spray paint. The whole nine.”
“Signs saying what?” River asked.
“That the beach belongs to everyone,” I said. “Which is true.”
River nodded like that was perfectly reasonable and went back to her pancakes.
Dad set his fork down and folded his hands on the table. “I heard something about it on my walk this morning. Sheryl mentioned it.”
“Sheryl’s already heard?” Becca asked.
“Sheryl hears everything,” he said with a small smile that I was choosing not to examine right now. “She said the Facebook page was lighting up.”
Becca already had her phone out. I watched her scroll, her eyes going wide. “Oh my God.”
“What?” I asked.
She turned the phone around and slid it across the table toward me.
The Surfside Cove Community Board had at least forty new posts. I scrolled through them with my thumb. Photos of the construction site, the spray-painted fence, the kelp draped over the orange netting. The hand-painted signs driven into the sand. Someone had gotten close enough to photograph the note in the sheet protector. Another person had taken a wide shot that showed the whole scope of it against the backdrop of the beach in the early morning light.
I scrolled further and stopped. There was Colt, standing at the edge of the site with his hands on his hips, still in his running clothes, sweat-damp and jaw clenched. A man in a suit stood beside him with his phone pressed to his ear, gesturing at the fence with his free hand. Someone had caught the moment from a distance.
I looked at the photo longer than I should have. He looked tired. And I actually felt a little bad for him. I could almost understand he believed he was doing something good. But hejust didn’t understand that we weren’t all like him. We didn’t all need the thrill of commerce. We lived here because we liked the way things were.
I handed the phone to Dad. He studied it for a moment, clicking his tongue, and passed it to Becca without comment.
“Keep scrolling,” Becca said.
I took the phone back. Below the photos, someone had shared an event. The profile was a cartoon wave with sunglasses. The account name was SaveSurfsideCove and it had been created sometime in the last twenty-four hours. The event was called Stand for the Shore and it was scheduled for Friday morning at the Front Street building. The group wanted people to bring signs and their voices. The post had over a hundred likes.
“Huh,” I said.
Becca raised her eyebrows at me.
“What’s that?” River asked, craning her neck.
“A community event,” I said.
“Like a party?”
“Sort of. People are going to get together to talk about something important that’s happening in town.”
Ocean looked up from his third pancake. “Like a protest?”
