Island Peril by Jill Sorenson Page A

that. Ella had met her last boyfriend in one of her science classes. He’d been a video game addict who spent too much time indoors.
    “Kayaking does a body good,” Abby mused.
    Ella didn’t want to continue this conversation. They’d be spending the whole day kayaking with Paul. If Ella acted interested, Abby might do something embarrassing like try to push them together.
    Brooke crawled out of the tent to join the perusal, her pretty face alight with mischief.
    Ella escaped further comments by heading toward the restrooms. Abby and Brooke joined her, chatting about their breakfast plans. The campground had running water and flush toilets but no electricity. Cell phones worked here, which was important to Abby. She’d gone through an ordeal during the San Diego earthquake. Since then, she liked to stay connected, driving Brooke and Ella crazy with constant checkups.
    As Ella washed up, she studied her reflection in the stainless steel plate above the sink. She was cute in a geeky way, with smart brown eyes and sleek brown hair. Her figure was slight, curvier below the waist than above.
    Brooke came out of the stall, adjusting her long ponytail. She was blonde, blue-eyed and gorgeous, like Abby.
    Ella and Brooke didn’t bother to wait for Abby, who was far more meticulous about her appearance. She always took pains with her hair and clothes. Even while camping, she wore bras and underwear that matched. It was a sickness.
    “Did she bring makeup?” Ella asked.
    “Of course,” Brooke said, shaking her head. “She wanted to pack a blow dryer, too.”
    “You’re kidding.”
    “No.”
    They shared a grin at Abby’s expense. Ella was only seven years older than Brooke, so she felt more like a big sister to her than an aunt. Brooke was a star athlete and honor student, poised to start her first semester at Berkeley.
    At the campsite, Brooke fired up the little propane stove, and they heated water for coffee and oatmeal. By the time Abby came out of the restroom, hair braided and skin glowing, they were ready to eat. The carrot-walnut-raisin mix was Abby’s concoction, delicious as usual. After breakfast, Abby scrubbed the dishes with industrious vigor.
    “OCD,” Brooke mouthed to Ella, who smothered a laugh.
    Abby noticed the exchange but didn’t comment. When she finished rinsing, she walked behind Brooke with a cup of water, pouring a splash down her back.
    Brooke leapt to her feet, squealing. “Hey!”
    Abby almost dropped the cup in her haste to get away. Brooke started to chase her around the tent, stopping short when Paul appeared at the edge of the campsite. He smiled at their antics. Ella rose from the rock she’d been sitting on.
    “I know it’s a little early,” he said, clearing his throat, “but the weather conditions are perfect for kayaking right now.”
    Brooke did a cheerleading jump kick. “Let’s go.”
    “Fifteen minutes?”
    They agreed to that time frame and collected their supplies. Each kayaker needed drinking water, snacks and extra clothing. They changed into bikinis and shorts with rash guard surf shirts. Neoprene booties and fleece jackets went into the packs.
    When Paul came back to check their gear, he nodded his approval. “You ladies have done this before.”
    Ella put on her backpack. “The trip isn’t for beginners, right?”
    “Right, but some people lie about their experience. They think it’s easy.”
    “How hard is it?” Abby asked, winking at Ella.
    “Harder on some days than others,” he said, taking a small spiral notebook from his pocket and flipping it open. “That’s why I have to factor the SCRS before every trip.”
    “What’s that?” Ella asked.
    “Sea Conditions Rating System.”
    They gathered around while he pointed out numbers for wave height, wind speed and water temperature.
    “Where do you get the data?”
    “Ocean buoys and weather reports. I have an app on my cell phone. I can also do a rough estimate on my own.”
    Ella was standing