“Nope. I’m C too, actually.”
Umm, okay. I’m not sure I believe that. Then again, it’s his day off, and he’s hanging out in a video store by himself, which isn’t how I pictured him. “Oh, look!” I say, gazing down my side of the chairlift. “We’re almost above the Ferris wheel now.”
The boardwalk looks weird from here, just small bursts of color, and the tops of buildings. Cars rush by on my left, but who wants to look at the town? Unfortunately, I can’t help but glance forward and catch the couple in front of us with their hands all over each other. I think there’s more than kissing happening—wow. I quickly look away.
“These lifts sure are slow, aren’t they?” I complain.
“I’ve taken naps on here,” Porter says. “No lie. Next question. ‘If one of us has a problem, we will: (A) keep it to ourselves; (B) immediately come to the other for advice; (C) drop hints and hope the other figures it out eventually.’?”
“Put me down for selection A.” Delicately, I dip my hand into Porter’s gaping jacket until my fingertips hit the waxed-paper bag and find another muffin. It isn’t until I’m pulling it out that I look at Porter’s face and hesitate.
“No, please, go on,” he says. “Do help yourself.”
I give him a self-conscious grin. “Oops.”
“You always go around sticking your hands down boys’ clothes?” he asks.
“When they’re full of baked goods.”
“Tomorrow I’m coming to work with ten pounds of pastries in my pants,” he mumbles to himself, making an ooaff! noise when I punch him lightly in the arm.
“Next question, for the love of vanilla,” I beg. “How long is this quiz, anyway?”
“Back up—you chose A for the last one? I chose B,” he says, and I struggle to remember what the question was. “That probably screws up our compatibility factor. Last one. ‘The most important quality in a . . . uh, friendship is: (A) that we share the same interests; (B) that we like each other; (C) that we’re always there for each other, no matter what.’?”
I swallow the last of my muffin. “What kind of question is that? Shouldn’t there be another option, like, (D) All of the above?”
“Well, there isn’t. So you have to pick one.”
“I refuse.”
“You can’t refuse.”
“Think I just did, Hot Stuff.”
He snorts at that. “But how will we know if we’re compatible?” he moans. I can’t tell if he’s only teasing me, or if there’s something more beneath the silliness.
“Gee, I don’t know. Guess we’ll have to actually be friends and find out for ourselves instead of taking a quiz.”
He shuts his phone off dramatically and shoves it in his pocket. “No one appreciates the fine art of a good quiz anymore. Oh, here we go. Buckle your seat belt; it’s about to get weird. Hope you’re not scared of the dark, or anything. Feel free to stick your hand inside my jacket again if you need to.”
Just in time, I turn my head forward as the lift enters the thick bank of fog that’s rolling off the ocean. Porter was exaggerating. It’s not pea-soup fog. We can still see each other. But the couple in front of us is a little hazier, and except for the occasional truck or tall building, the ground below, too. And it doesn’t really have a scent, exactly, and it’s not wet, either. But it feels different in my lungs.
“Why is it so foggy here in the summer?”
“You really want to know?”
I’m not sure how to answer that. “Uh, yes, I guess?”
“Well, you see . . . fog forms over the water because it’s cold. And the Pacific stays cold here for two reasons. First, cold air from Alaska comes down along the California Current, and second, cold water comes up deep from the bottom ocean by something called upwelling, which has to do with wind blowing parallel with the coast and pushing the ocean surface southward. This stirs up the Pacific and brings up icy brine from the bottom of the ocean, which is so cold, it refrigerates the ocean air, condenses, and creates fog. Summer sun heats the air and makes it rise, and the fog gets sucked up.”
I stare at him. I think my mouth is hanging open, I’m not sure.
He scratches his forehead and makes a growling noise, dismissing the whole speech. “I’m a weather nerd. It’s because of surfing. In order to find the best waves, you have to know about tides, swells, storms . . . I guess I just picked up an interest in that stuff.”
I glance at his fancy red surf watch peeking out from his jacket cuff with all its tide and weather calculations. Who knew he was such a smarty-pants? “I’m seriously impressed,” I say, meaning it. “Guess you’re the guy to sit next to if I need to cheat in biology.”
“I aced AP Biology last year. I’m taking AP Environmental Science and AP Chem 2 this year.”
“Yuck. I hate all the sciences. History and English, yes. No sciences.”
“No sciences? Bailey, Bailey, Bailey. It appears we are opposite in every conceivable way.”
“Yeah,” I agree, smiling. I’m not sure why, but this makes me sort of giddy.
He laughs like I told a great joke, and then leans over the bar.
“So what do you think of our California fog now? Cool, right?” He cups his hand as if he can capture some of it.
Testing, I stretch my hands out too. “Yeah, it is. I like our fog. You were right.”
We sit like that together, trying to catch the ocean in our hands, for the rest of the ascent.
? ? ?
At the end of the line, a waiting chairlift operator releases our bar and frees us. We made it to the top of the cliffs. Along with a tiny gift shop called the Honeypot—I really hate to break it to them, but bumblebees don’t make honey—there’s a small platform here lined by a railing and a few of those coin-operated telescopes that look out over the ocean. If it were a clear day, we’d be looking out over the Cavern Palace, but there’s not much to see now, so only a few people are milling about. It’s also breezy and chilly, especially for June.
I never knew California had such crazy weather. I ask Porter to tell me more about it. At first he thinks I’m making fun of him, but after not much prodding, we lean against the split-fence cedar railing, and while we polish off the last of the muffins, he tells me more about ocean currents and tides, redwood forests and ferns and ecosystems, and how the fog has been declining over the last few decades and scientists are trying to figure out why and how to stop it.