7 Andrea and the L Word

Chapter 7 Andrea and the L Word Great news! The next day, my parents said my friends Ryan and Michael and Neil could come and spend a week with us at our beach house. Yay! I guess my parents felt bad about sticking me with Andrea all summer. I was so excited when Michael's dad pulled his car into the driveway. Me and the guys went right out to the beach to play football. Our Pee Wee football team lost every game last year. But we are getting a new coach this year named Coach Hyatt. So maybe we'll be better. "Go out for a long bomb!" I shouted to Ryan. Playing football in the sand is cool because you can dive for the ball like they

do on TV. And when you're all hot and sweaty, you can just jump into the water to cool off. When me and the guys got tired of playing football, we walked down the beach. Mr. Sunny was working on his sand castle. He had rulers, buckets of water, Popsicle sticks, and lots of other carving tools. And guess what brownnosing know-it-all was helping him?

Andrea, of course. "Hi, Mr. Sunny!" I said. "These are my friends Ryan, Michael, and Neil. We call Neil 'the nude kid' even though he wears clothes." "I'm sorry, Arlo," Andrea told me, "but

Mr. Sunny cannot talk to you right now. He is a sand artist." Except that she said "arteest." What's up with that? "The sand is my canvas," Mr. Sunny said without even looking at us. "The sand is Mr. Sunny's canvas," repeated Andrea. "I must have just the perfect mixture of sand and water to create my sand masterpiece," said Mr. Sunny. "I call it my sanderpiece." "Mr. Sunny must have just the perfect mixture of sand and water to create his sanderpiece," repeated Andrea. "I am one with the sand," said Mr. Sunny. "The sand speaks to me." "Shhhhhh!" said Andrea. "Mr. Sunny is speaking with the sand." Mr. Sunny closed his eyes and was

mumbling something to himself. I couldn't hear all the words, but it had something to do with sand. Sheesh! People who talk to sand are weird. Andrea stepped away from the castle and pulled me aside. "Arlo, I'm in love!" she whispered. Ugh! Andrea spoke the L word! "With who?" I asked. "Besides yourself, I mean." "Who do you think?" Andrea said. "Mr. Sunny! He's brave and handsome, and he's an artistic genius! See how he leans his cheek on his hand? 'O that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might touch that cheek!' Shakespeare wrote that, you know." Oh, brother! That Shakespeare dude was annoying. The guys came over to hear what Andrea

was whispering about. "Mr. Sunny is sixteen years old," I told Andrea. "He's way too old for you." "I already figured it out," Andrea said. "Mr. Sunny is seven years older than me. So when he's thirty, I'll be twenty-three. That's not so bad. And when he's fifty-eight, I'll be fifty-one. And when he's—" "Okay, I get it," I said. "But he's too old for you now." "I don't care," Andrea said. "'Love is blind, and lovers cannot see. The course of true love never did run smooth.' Shakespeare wrote that too." "Did that guy ever write anything in English?" I asked. "Shakespeare was English, you fobbing, toad-spotted, maggot pie!" said Andrea. "Oh, snap!" said Ryan. "Are you gonna take that, A.J.?" Michael