“I think she was a fairy in a previous life. Everyone believes she’s going to grant their wishes or something.” He gestures at the empty space on my driftwood log. I gesture back, Please, be my guest. ?e fragile wood creaks with his weight. He mimics my pose, digging his heels into the sand, folded arms on bent knees. Firelight dances over the patchwork of his scars, etching shadowy patterns over his shirt. Our elbows are close but not touching.
I’m relieved he’s not partaking in one of the various vices
oating around. At least, he seems his normal sober self. No
plastic cup in hand, no reek of smoke. Actually, he smells nice tonight, like soap. No coconut, though. I’m almost disappointed.
His head dips closer. “Are you sniffing me, Rydell?”
I rear back. “No.”
“Yes, you were.” He grins that slow grin of his.
“If you must know, I was just curious if you’d been drinking.”
“Nah, I don’t drink anymore.” He stares into the bon re, watching some idiots roasting marshmallows whose sticks catch on re. “I remember being a kid and my parents hauling Lana and me over to my grandpa’s house, and he’d have these wild parties on the patio. Surfers from everywhere came. I’m talking crazy stuff went down there. Drugs everywhere. Free- owing booze. People getting naked in the pool. Famous musicians dropping by and playing in the living room.”
“I can’t imagine growing up like that.” It seems weird. Foreign.
“Don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t like that in my house, or anything. My parents are the exact opposite. My pops, especially. I guess because he saw his dad partying all the time, he got sick of it. He’s insanely competitive and everything is about sur ng, so that means staying at the top of your game. No drugs, no drinking, staying in shape. Imagine an army drill sergeant and multiply that by fty.”
His dad and my dad couldn’t be more different. I’m completely thankful for that and once again feel a pang of guilt for lying to him about being out here.
“As for my mom,” he continues, “she’s just trying to keep the shop a oat, because after everything that’s happened, she’d rather have us all at home than on the water.”
I can understand why. “Do you … plan on sur ng professionally, like your sister?”
“?at’s a sore question, Rydell.”
“Sorry, never mind.”
He shakes his head. “No, it’s cool. It’s not that I can’t do it, physically. I’m pretty good.” He smiles a little, giving me a sideways glace, and then shrugs. “It’s just that for a while, after the shark, I had ?e Fear. And you can’t have ?e Fear. ?e ocean will eat you alive.” He blows out a hard breath, lips vibrating, and cuts his hand through the air as if to say, ?e end. “But I eventually powered through that. Funny thing was, once I did, I wasn’t sure if I cared about it anymore. I mean, I still like sur ng. I hit the waves almost every morning. But I’m not sure if I want to compete anymore. I want to surf because I enjoy it— not because I have to, you know?”
“I know exactly what you mean.” And I do, because he doesn’t light up about sur ng like he does when he’s talking about ocean currents and weather patterns.
Someone hollers Porter’s last name. He glances up and curses under his breath. A towheaded gure strides around the bon re.
“Hey, cow patty.”
Oh, terri c. It’s Davy. I think he’s loaded. Not like he was that time in the crosswalk, but he’s de nitely been drinking, because he stinks, and he’s got that stuttering laugh that stoners have when they’re high. He’s also not limping, which makes me think he’s not feeling much pain right now.
“What’s going on over here? You two look awfully cozy.”
“We’re just sitting here, talking, man,” Porter says, highly irritated. “Why don’t you go see Amy and we’ll catch up with you.”
“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“What are you talking about, Davy?”
“Trying to get me back for my past sins? Because I invited her here”—he nods lazily toward me—“but looks like you’re making a play for her, which isn’t cool.”
Um, what? Grace invited me, but no way am I getting in the middle of this.
“You’re wasted,” Porter says carefully, pointing an unwavering
nger in Davy’s direction, “so I’m going to give you ve seconds
to get out of my face.”
