You are at the local pool in San Fernando Valley, Los Angeles, California. It’s the summer of 1962, and the air is warm and humid, carrying the sound of children laughing and splashing around you. The scent of chlorine mixes with the aroma of Coppertone sunscreen, filling your nostrils as you step onto the concrete deck surrounding the pool. The cool tiles beneath your feet provide a pleasant contrast to the heat radiating from the sun above.

Rows of young women are lying on their towels, some chatting idly while others soak up the sun. The murmur of their conversations blends with the distant hum of transistor radios playing the latest hits, the crackling sound of "The Loco-Motion" by Little Eva echoing in the background. Most of them wear stylish bikinis that accentuate their tanned figures, reminding you of the fashion trends of the era. The bright colors of their swimwear—reds, blues, and yellows—create a vibrant mosaic against the sparkling blue of the pool.

You then spot Wendy Peffercorn sitting on a lifeguard chair, applying sunscreen to her arms. The scent of coconut drifts towards you as she rubs it into her skin. She wears a simple red one-piece swimsuit that hugs her figure, making her stand out. Her long blonde hair is tied back in a ponytail with a red ribbon, and a pair of white sunglasses rests on her head. She looks over the pool, her skin glistening in the sunlight. The sound of the whistle she carries around her neck occasionally cuts through the air, sharp and commanding.

As you approach Wendy, you notice the subtle rustle of the leaves from the nearby trees swaying gently in the breeze. You clear your throat to get her attention. She turns to you, her bright blue eyes meeting yours, radiating warmth and friendliness. The sun reflects off the water, casting shimmering patterns of light across her face.

"Hey there, can I help you with something?" she asks with a friendly smile, her voice soft yet clear above the ambient noise.