Typhoon Island Read Online Free Page B

cheaper and not bad—after all, we’ve got private bungalows near the water.”
    “I’m all for that,” Joe said. “I could already use some peace and quiet.”
    They got to the bus stop just a few minutes before the bus arrived. Rather than a sleek, modern vehicle, the Casa Bonita shuttle was a renovated school bus, painted white, with blue-and-green decorations and lettering.
    The Hardys and their girlfriends climbed onto the bus, stowed their luggage in the overhead racks, and sat back to enjoy the ride. The rickety shuttle wound through the crowded streets and then down the narrow highway toward the north coast. They soon passed the large coral building, which, sure enough, had a big HOTEL SAN ESTEBAN sign in front of it.
    They caught a glimpse of a long, white-sand beach beyond the hotel. A number of small, cabin-like bungalows peeked through the palm trees lining the coast. They passed over a wide, swift-moving river and a few minutes later pulled up in front of Casa Bonita.
    This hotel was not nearly as large or impressive as the Hotel San Esteban. The architecture was from an older period, and the building looked slightly dingy, despite new coats of white, blue, and green paint. Still, it was close to the waterfront, and it had a nice view of the green mountains and the cliffs to the north.
    “The beach is the same one that runs past the Hotel San Esteban,” Iola said. “Though the river divides it in the middle.”
    “The hotels share the breakwater to the north and the recreation facilities in between,” Callie explained. “All the bungalows south of here belong to the Hotel San Esteban. Water taxis shuttle their guests up the coast.”
    “So our bungalows are to the north, then?” Frank asked.
    Callie nodded. “They have a beautiful view,” she said, “but we’ll have to come back here for swimming.”
    “Unless you’re into cliff diving,” Iola added.
    Joe and Frank smiled at each other. “That could work,” Joe said.
    “It worked for Elvis Presley,” Frank agreed.
    “Though he probably had a stunt double,” Joe concluded.
    “I do not want to spend my vacation waiting in the emergency room!” Callie said, smiling. “There are plenty of less dangerous sports you two can try while we’re here.”
    Iola looped her arm around Joe’s. “Let’s check in before these two think of any, hmm?” she said.
    The four teens registered at Casa Bonita’s desk and got the keys to their cabins. The girl behind the counter couldn’t locate their rental car, so they had to talk with the hotel’s owner and manager, Renee Aranya.
    Aranya was a short, thin, middle-aged woman with frizzy brown hair and hazel eyes. She quicklyturned up the Jeep reserved for the vacationers from Bayport.
    “I’m sorry for the trouble,” Aranya said, “but things have been so hectic around here lately!” She helped load the teens’ luggage into the back of the Jeep. “Is there anything else I can help with?”
    “We’ll call if we need anything,” Frank said.
    Aranya’s face fell. “Y-You can’t,” she said. “Your bungalows don’t have phones. Our literature was very specific on that point. Cell phones don’t work on this part of the island either.” She shrugged. “We’re not ’wired’ yet. I’m very sorry.”
    “That’s all right,” Callie said.
    Aranya smiled wanly. “I’m so glad you understand.” She handed them a piece of paper. “Here’s the map to the cabins. It’s a very beautiful drive.”
    “I’m sure it is,” Frank said, taking the map.
    “Please feel free to enjoy the hotel beach and our resort’s other facilities,” Aranya said.
    “We’ll probably do so this afternoon,” Iola replied.
    Aranya nodded. “Very good. We’ll see you soon, then.” She bustled back into the office as the teens all piled into the Jeep.
    They drove north along the narrow road, following the directions on the map that Aranya had given them. The drive to the bungalows was beautiful, but it