The Worst Beach Trip Yet!

"Well," said Snowcube as we finished setting up our beach umbrella. "We made it." She glanced around. She was right for once: we had made it to Waxing Bay, somehow intact. Did I mention that Snowcube is almost as bad a driver as Snowball?

"Waxing Bay! The most cursed beach in the world!" Snowball added, in case we had somehow forgotten where we were in the 20 seconds it has been since her last reminder. "The four of us are gonna have so much fun! I just know it!"

That's right: four of us, she said. Not wanting to take the risk that coming here represented on my own, I had invited my best friend Fence along. Luckily, he gladly accepted. I hadn't known he was such a beach person. Go figure. Or maybe it was just cause he goes along with just about anything, even if it sounds insane, like taking a trip to a cursed beach.

Speaking of which, I had to wonder just how this place was cursed. Looking around, it just looked like a normal beach. Stupid annoying sand. Stupid annoying sun. Stupid annoying all-the-best-spots-being-already-taken. The usual. Where this whole "cursed" thing came into play was still a mystery, but some mysteries I could live with. If this ended up just being a normal, low-key beach trip, I'd have been more than fine with it.

"Normal, low-key beach trip." Ha. Why oh why did I think I was going to be that lucky?

"Yeah, about that," Snowcube said. "You guys can go on without me."

"What?" Snowball's jaw dropped. She looked devastated. She had replaced her usual bottle-thick glasses with a pair of decidedly unstylish shades, but even then I could tell they were fogging up underneath, and her lower lip began to quiver. "You're… you're… you're… you're not gonna play with us?!"

Snowcube shrugged. "This whole beach thing isn't really my thing. But I'm not leaving, obviously. I still have to drive you guys back. I'll just be over there somewhere" — she gestured broadly to one of the more populated patches of beach — "working on my tan."

I sure hoped she brought sunscreen in that case. Snowcube was as paper-white as Snowball, if not more so. And she spent even more time indoors.

"Ok!" Snowball was beaming ear to ear all of a sudden. That was just like her, changing moods faster than you could blink. She waved as Snowcube walked off to do her own thing. "Well, have fun! Oh, that's right! I have to go change! Stay right here, guys. I'll be back in one sec."

"I mean, we're not going anywh—"

I didn't even finish my sentence before she was gone — and back, all at once. I guess she wasn't kidding about only taking one second. That was the day I learned Snowball can change more than just her mood in the blink of an eye.

"Well? Hehehe. What do you think?" Her sunglasses now resting on her forehead, Snowball winked and struck a pose, one hand on her hip and the other behind her head.

Speaking of eyes, I rolled mine at the sight. Fence snickered, but I wasn't really sure whether it was at me or Snowball, and I didn't really care.

What we were reacting to, and what Snowball was trying to show off, was her swimsuit. Except it hardly looked any different than her usual attire. She was wearing flip-flop versions of her usual pink bunny slippers. And she still had on her usual white lab coat that came down to her ankles, just with red and white striped floaties around her arms. As for what was underneath, it was a basic one-piece swimsuit with legs down to just around the knees, like the kind they wear in competitions and stuff. Not very risque. Especially on someone like Snowball. Let's just say, uh, her paleness wasn't the only thing Snowball had in common with a piece of paper.

"I think," I finally said, "that you'd better put your glasses back on." Without them, Snowball was as good as a blindfolded bat. I sure hoped those glasses she brought were prescription. In the end, they seemed to be, since she spun around to face us as soon as she put them on. "You guys should have told me I was talking to an umbrella! I'm trying to be sexy here, you know!"

"Yeah, yeah." Me and Fence just peeled off our shirts and started setting up all the rest of our stuff. Towels; beach balls; a durian-scented body board Snowball had gotten from somewhere. We had a picnic basket full of food too, but my multiple bouts of carsickness on the ride here, and my split-second decision to chuck my breakfast into the container where our lunch was, had seen to it that lunch was probably going to be off the menu. And that was fine by me, cause it meant we might not have to stay here as long.

But man. Taking a good look around, I noticed the beach was actually pretty packed. The area we had chosen was still fairly empty, but people were funneling in, and fast. In the time it took us to set up, at least half a dozen more groups had done the same in the immediate vicinity.

I had to wonder: why? Was the Guinness World Records-esque marketing hook of "most cursed beach in the world" really so enticing that people couldn't help but bite? I didn't think so, personally, but if not, then why come to a cursed beach? Why not just go to a normal beach? Better yet, why not just stay home with the fan on? Was everyone here as batty as Snowball and eager to uncover whatever this stupid curse was? If so, this was one crowd I was completely incompatible with. I didn't want us to stick around here a second more than we had to.

"The less time we're here, the less chance there'll be we fall victim to the curse or whatever…" I muttered as I finished unpacking.

"What?" Snowball was still kind of pouting.

"Nothing, nothing."

I don't think she even heard me though. As usual, she had the attention span of a goldfish with a dementia diagnosis, and she was already off on something else, that being the volleyball matches happening nearby.

All of a sudden and all at once, Snowball's sulking was replaced by one of her more common — and more dangerous — emotions: excitement.

"Ooooh, look at that! Volleyball! Let's go play!"

Before I could even think of a reason to object, she was already halfway there. Me and Fence rushed to follow. We both knew that the only thing worse than being caught up in Snowball's antics was letting her go unsupervised in public.

Snowball skidded to a stop by the volleyball nets. How do you even skid on sand? She never failed to impress me.

"He, can we play?" Snowball asked, stars in her eyes. All the players on the sand court stopped and looked at her all at once like she was nuts. Little did they know they were right.

I thought they were going to give us the metaphorical boot — or maybe even the literal flip-flop — and tell us to buzz off. But suddenly they all broke into smiles almost as big as Snowball's. "Sure!" one of them, a buff guy wearing a tank top and a backwards hat, said. "The more the merrier!"

"Yay!" Snowball jumped a little and punched the air in excitement.

Me and Fence looked at each other, and I guess we were both guessing that we were both playing too.

… Why was I getting the feeling things were about to go horribly wrong?"

To be continued!