May 29, 2018

When I arrived home from school on Tuesday, most of the yacht club was crammed into our living room. Only the Sterling-Staffords and a few of their friends were absent when my dad told everyone who had arrived for the Keep Clearwater Clear cleanup where to go and what to do. Eden, Brooke, and I struggled to find a spot in the ongoing discussion - we had just come home on the bus, and none of us knew what we should be doing. I could only hope that Dad would let me clean up the lake with my friends.

To my disappointment, Dad decided that I would help pick up trash on the beaches on the north side of Clearwater Lake, along with the rest of my family. Although I wasn't exactly happy that I had to work with Everett, I was glad that I could participate in the cleanup. I personally didn't know that we would get such a great turnout, and I noticed Dad beaming every time he looked out over the small crowd that had gathered in our home.

Eden, Brooke, and I all went our separate ways, and I ran back into my room to put on my rain boots. My athletic shorts, bright yellow Keep Clearwater Clear T-shirt, and boots weren't the most fashionable outfit in the world, but it was practical for picking up trash on the beach and wading in the murky water of Clearwater Lake. Then, I went outside to meet the rest of my family.

"Dad, do I have to do this?" Everett complained.

"Don't you want to clean up the lake?" Dad said.

"Your father is right," Mom said. "This is going to be a fun bonding experience."

"You guys clearly don't understand the meaning of 'fun,'" Everett whined, but he still followed Mom and Dad to the beach.

For the next several hours, the four of us walked along the beach, collecting whatever garbage we could find. It was scary how many people littered on our beaches, and I found everything from perfectly functional pencils to styrofoam boxes to soda cans floating in the water. Everett complained the whole time about how he would rather be skateboarding, but all of his friends were cleaning up the lake too. He wouldn't have been able to have fun even if Mom and Dad didn't make him help out.

By the time the sun went down, the beaches on the north side were looking a little bit better. The lake still wasn't perfectly clean - that would be impossible to accomplish in a single afternoon - but there was less garbage on the shores, and that was certainly an improvement. The dozens of plastic trash bags that our team had filled was a testament to the cleanup's success.

I headed back towards my house with filthy, waterlogged boots, but I was still proud of myself, my family, and my yacht club. We had accomplished a lot in a few short hours, and as I looked back over the Clearwater Lake shoreline, I could see that it was even more beautiful than usual. As the sun set over the beach, I slowly walked back into the house.

I glanced towards the Ogdens' old house, and all of a sudden, I spotted something unusual. Our new neighbors had set up a hammock, and there was a girl around my age lying in it. The girl had brown skin and light purple hair styled into a pixie cut, and she was wearing a long sleeved purple shirt and black skinny jeans, despite the warm weather. A pair of rectangular glasses perched on her nose, and she was playing with her phone, looking quite bored.

This girl had to be Véronique Arkoun. I wanted to find out more about this already fascinating girl (who came to Clearwater Lake with dyed purple hair?), but I couldn't approach her like this. She probably had no idea who I was, and I didn't exactly like the idea of Véronique seeing me for the first time in a dorky T-shirt and soaked boots. I tried to sneak into the house without attracting Véronique's attention, promising myself that I would talk to her another day.

It was too late. Véronique's head turned, and she locked eyes with me. If I didn't want this to be the most awkward moment of my life, I had to say something. "Hi there," I said. "I...I'm Sylvie Morrison. I live next door. You must be Véronique. My old neighbors told me about you, and I'm very excited to meet you..."

"Call me Véro," she said as she went back to playing with her phone. Her French accent made my heart pound, and I looked back towards the door, unsure whether I wanted to continue the conversation or end it before I embarrassed myself further.

"Okay, Véro," I said. "What are you doing right now?"

"I'm texting," Véro said, still staring at her phone.

"Who are you texting?" I asked.

"Has anyone ever told you that you are very nosy?" Véro asked.

"No," I said.

"Well, you are," Véro said.

Véro's words hurt me, but her deep brown eyes and full lips drew me in. "I'm just curious," I said.

"I'm just texting some friends from Paris," Véro said. "I miss them."

"I'm sure that you do, but you could make some new friends here," I said. "There are plenty of high schoolers in the Clearwater Lake Yacht Club, and we have sailboat races and parties every weekend."

"I'm sorry, but I did not ask to live in a place where the only social events are sailboat races and yacht club parties," Véro said. "I only moved here because of my father's job, and I'm going to move back to Paris after I finish high school. This must be the most boring town in all of the United States of America."

"Clearwater Lake is great!" I exclaimed. "You just haven't explored it enough."

"There is nothing to do here," Véro complained. "At home, I had friends and places where we could dance and drink wine together. Here, there is nothing."

"There's a Culver's at the other end of the lake, plenty of nice people to hang out with, and you could learn to sail," I suggested.

"Sylvie," Véro said, putting an odd emphasis on the second syllable of my name, "why should I learn to sail if I'm going to be here for two years at the most?"

"Because it's fun," I told her.

Véro rolled her eyes and then asked, "How long have you lived here?"

"I've lived in Clearwater Lake for my whole life," I said.

"That explains a lot," Véro said. "You don't know anything else."

Admittedly, Véro was right. Growing up, my parents expected me to be a sailor, so I had ended up as a sailor. I didn't know much about the world outside of Clearwater Lake, and I didn't particularly want to. Perhaps I would see another corner of the world in college, but my dreams of the future always involved returning to Clearwater Lake, Wisconsin. However, I knew that Véro was suffering from the same affliction. "How long did you live in Paris?" I asked her.

"Sixteen years," Véro said.

"You're just being a hypocrite then," I said.

"What's a hypocrite?" Véro asked.

"You've never known anything outside of Paris," I said.

"You're right then, but that doesn't change anything," Véro said. "Clearwater Lake is still boring."

"Clearwater Lake isn't boring, and I'll prove it to you," I insisted.

"Yeah, right," Véro scoffed. "Prove to me that this is not the worst decision that Papa has ever made."

"It isn't!" I said. "I just got back from helping my dad clean up the lake, and it was a lot of fun."

"That's not a bad idea," Véro said. "When my parents said that we were moving to Clearwater Lake, I thought that this lake would be a lot more beautiful."

"Hopefully, it will be cleaner someday," I said. "That's why we have Keep Clearwater Clear. It's an organization to stop pollution in the lake."

"That's nice," Véro said as she returned to her phone. "I would still rather be in Paris."

"I think you'll grow to like Clearwater Lake," I said. "You just have to give it a chance."

"That's what Maman and Papa said, but I've been here for three days, and I still hate it," Véro said.

"You've been here for three days?" I said. "I haven't seen you around. Are you going to West Clearwater High School?"

Véro nodded and said, "Today was my first day."

"We must have missed each other in the hallways," I said. "Maybe I'll see you tomorrow."

"Or maybe not," Véro said. "It is nice that your school year ends earlier though. If I were back in Paris, I would still be in school until July."

"See?" I said. "That's one good thing about Clearwater Lake."

"It's the only good thing about Clearwater Lake," Véro said.

"I think you'll change your mind by the end of the summer," I said.

"Sylvie!" I heard my mother shout. "What are you still doing out there? Dinner's almost ready!"

"I have to go," I told Véro. "I'll talk to you later."

"Goodbye, Sylvie," Véro said. I ran back into the house, and Véro collapsed on her hammock and promptly fell asleep. I tried to wave to her, but she obviously didn't see me. I pushed Véro out of my mind as I caught a whiff of the dinner that Mom was making for us. A plate of rice and vegetables was waiting for me, and I sat down and quickly ate my dinner. I savored the taste of a homemade meal and tried to block out Dad and Everett's argument over whether or not Solo was any good. It had been two weeks since they had seen the movie together, and for some reason, they still couldn't come to a consensus on its quality.

After dinner, I returned to my bedroom, where I changed into my pajamas and crashed onto my bed. All of a sudden, my phone buzzed, and I saw that I had a text from Eden. "How did the cleanup go?" she asked. "I was stuck on a motorboat with Mrs. Holloway's daughter for three hours, but we took a whole lot of garbage out of the lake."

"We found a lot of trash too," I replied, debating on whether or not to mention that I had finally met Véro Arkoun.

"It's just crazy what people are throwing into our lake," Eden wrote. "Also, is anyone surprised that the Sterling-Staffords didn't show up?"

"I'm kind of glad that they didn't come," I wrote. "It would have been awkward to see Quentin again."

"I agree," Eden wrote. "You're going to run into him again eventually though. He is in the yacht club, after all. You'll be around each other all summer."

"That's true," I replied. Eden's mention of the yacht club reminded me of Véro's refusal to learn to sail. Her family had lakefront property now, so why wouldn't she take advantage of it? Nothing about Véro Arkoun made sense.

I glanced towards my dresser, where there was a miniature statue of the Eiffel Tower. Mom and Dad had gotten it for me when they had gone to France for their twentieth anniversary - Everett and I had to stay with Grandma and Grandpa for the week, but at least we had gotten a few small souvenirs, and the statue was one of them. As I looked at it, I realized that it was something that Véro might like. Maybe it would remind her of home.

I promised myself that I would give Véro the Eiffel Tower statue the next time that I saw her. Until then, I had to get her out of my head. There were other things in life that deserved my attention more than a standoffish, purple-haired girl.