Close Out by Todd Strasser Page A

slot.
    â€œWhat
were
you guys up to last night?” she asked.
    â€œPlaying Robin Hood.” Bean yawned. Heturned the key, started the hearse, and pulled down the driveway beside the funeral home.
    â€œPersonally, I always think using headlights is a good idea when driving in the dark,” Shauna said.
    Bean groaned and flicked on the headlights.
    By the time Bean pulled into the parking lot next to the boardwalk, the first dull hint of daylight had started to appear in the east. They got out of the hearse and went to the back to get their boards. It was Kai who noticed something different.
    â€œHey, guys,” he said.
    Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at the rows of shiny new green parking meters.
    â€œWhen did this happen?” Bean asked.
    â€œMust have been last week when none of us were surfing,” Shauna said.
    Booger went over to one of the meters and read the fine print. “Eight A.M. to six P.M. Twenty-five cents for ten minutes.”
    â€œThat’s a buck and a half an hour,” Bean said.
    â€œWhat a pain,” Booger said.
    â€œJust another way to give surfers grief,”Kai said. He went over and gave the meters a closer look. “See what they did? Made it an hour limit. Then you have to come back and feed in six more quarters.”
    â€œI get it,” Shauna said. “It’s a pain, but not that bad if you’re on the beach. You just walk up and feed in the quarters and walk back. But if you’re out surfing, it means coming all the way in, leaving your board on the beach, walking to the lot, feeding the meter, going back, and then paddling all the way out again.”
    The big yellow Hummer pulled into the lot. Lucas and Buzzy got out. Lucas was wearing surfing trunks, but Buzzy was in khaki slacks and a light blue polo shirt, so he was probably just dropping his son off. He saw Kai and his friends huddled around the meter.
    â€œResidents will be able to go down to town hall and buy a parking permit for the summer so they won’t have to feed the meters,” Lucas’s father announced as if he could read their minds.
    â€œWhat about nonresidents?” Kai asked.
    â€œThe resorts and hotels will issue temporary parking permits based on length of stay,” Buzzy replied.
    â€œAll the resorts and hotels?” Kai asked.
    â€œThose who are members of the chamber of commerce,” said Buzzy.
    Curtis, of course, was the last person in the world who would ever join a chamber of commerce, so anyone staying at the Driftwood would be unable to get a temporary parking permit, and thus would be forced the feed the meter all day. By now Lucas had taken his board, crossed the boardwalk, and started down the beach. Buzzy got back into the Hummer and left.
    Bean checked his watch. “Guess that means we can surf for free until eight. Then I’ll have to start feeding the meter. This afternoon I’ll go over to town hall and get a permit.”
    They picked up their boards and started toward the beach.
    â€œYou know what’s amazing?” Booger said. “It’s like Buzzy Frank has forgotten that he was once a kid who loved to surf. As long as Lucas can surf, he doesn’t give a crap what happens to anyone else.”
    â€œSurvival of the fittest,” Bean said.
    They crossed the boardwalk and headed down the beach. The waves were waist high, coming in sets.
    â€œOh, man.” Bean grunted in appreciation. “Am I glad to see this.”
    â€œThe intervals seem a little longer than usual” Booger said, referring to the time between the waves.
    â€œSo it gives you a little more time to get into position to catch a wave?” Shauna guessed.
    â€œYou got it,” said Kai.
    â€œPrimo conditions,” Bean said as he kneeled down and started to wax his board. “Thank you, Kahuna, for giving us this day.”
    Kai also started to wax, but out of the corner of his eye he noticed