Aisling's Summer Diary

Chapter 22 | The Ugly Truth

With a new charge of confidence, the Shark’s Tooth Surf Shack opened its doors for business (again)!  Ciaran got to work tracking down his contacts at the newspapers, Ali and I put our heads together dreaming up a new menu complete with tableside entertainment, and Siobhan snuck off to Dún Mártain to bag her mystery vandal... 

 

2 p.m.

Ali and I had tried to talk her out of it.  I mean, we had so much to do, couldn’t she just let it go already?  But you know Siobhan.  Once she gets an idea in her head, it’s there for good.  And what was I afraid of, anyway?  That I was wrong about Slater?  And Celia too?  I couldn’t say for sure.  

I took the chance to talk to Ali while Siobhan was out.  What was going on with Fiona???  He sighed and told me she hadn’t answered any of his messages.  “What do you think that means, Aisling?  You’re a girl.”  I laughed—“Yeah, but I’m not Fiona.  Who knows what she could be thinking and feeling.”  Ali sunk down on a chair and put his head in his hands.  

“She likes you, Ali.  She’s probably just confused.  The whole Gavin thing, you know,” I said.  “But it wasn’t like I was trying to be somebody else,” he groaned.  “No?” I asked.  “Well, not all the time.”  “Just with Fiona,” I said and knelt down by his side.  “You ARE Gavin, Ali.  And I’m pretty sure Fiona likes Gavin.  Give her a chance to get to know you—even the bits you think aren’t cool or mysterious or whatever.”  Ali leaned into my shoulder.  “You’re right.  But first I have to get her talking to me again.”  “You’ll figure something out, I’m sure,” I said.

3 p.m.

Siobhan came back from her manhunt with a huge smile on her face.  “I have it here!  The hard evidence!”  It was a data-disc of still shots taken from one of the shop’s CCTV cameras.  Siobhan popped the disc into her laptop and ran off the prints.  “See anyone you recognize?” she asked us.  Ali and I peered at the grainy photo.  There, dead center, was a lanky guy—dark hair, dark jacket—shredding one of the posters from the shop wall.  “C’mon Siobhan,” Ali said.  “That could be anyone.”  “But it’s NOT anyone.  It’s the only boy on the beach with a leather jacket and a €10,000 motive.”  

Could Siobhan be right?  Would Slater really do something like this?  I thought we were friends.  Maybe that was it.  Maybe he was mad at me for sort of dumping him.  I had to be sure, so I grabbed the prints from Ali and ran down to the beach. 

It didn’t take me long to find Slater.  There’d been a clean three foot swell all day, and he was just coming out of the water near the jetty.  He trotted up to me, his surfboard under his arm, a wide grin on his face.  “Heya, Cinders!”  “Hey,” I said and then asked him flat out where he’d been the night before.  He said some party.  Very convincing alibi.  

I handed him the photos, and his smile evaporated.  “And you think that’s me?”  “You’ve done worse, remember?  And this time there’s €10,000 at stake.”  He flinched and took a step back.  “None of that has anything to do with me.  I like you is all, Aisling.  If you don’t believe me, I don’t know what to say.”    

I wanted to believe him, but Siobhan’s story made so much sense.  And the pictures—they did sort of look like Slater.  I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything.  Slater gave me one last look, then turned and trotted off, his head hung low.  “We can’t be friends anymore, Slater!” I called after him, regretting it as soon as the words were out of my mouth.  He was right.  If I really was his friend, wouldn’t I trust him?  But then did I know him well enough to take his word over Siobhan’s???                 

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