by McKayla Box
“Presley,” Gerald says shaking his head. “I think we have a problem.”
My heart sinks. “We do?”
He nods. “Yeah.” He waves at his buddies on their boards. “You're better than all of us and now we feel like we better all just go home and let you have the water.”
I laugh. “There is no way that's true.”
He winks at me. “Maybe not completely true. Well done!”
“Thanks,” I say, relieved that there really isn't a problem.
I surf with them for an hour or so, listening to them laugh and tease one another. They are nothing but kind to me and it's a completely different experience surfing with people who are cheering one another on rather than trying to protect a break that they think they own. And Gerald is a liar because they are all better than I am, maneuvering their longboards through the water with their feet glued to them. They are fun to watch and I'd like to be half as good as they are.
When we're done, we paddle in. Several of them tell me I'm welcome anytime and that they hope I come out again. I thank them and tell them I'll try to get out again the next morning.
“Presley, that was fun,” Gerald says when we reach the shore. “I hope we didn't slow you down too much.”
“Please,” I say, picking up my board. “I was trying to keep up.”
He chuckles. “We aren't pretty, but we're consistent.” He runs a hand through his beard. “You guys staying until tomorrow?”
I nod.
“Well, keep your nose out of trouble,” he says. “We'll be out here again in the morning if you want to join us. It's a Sunday so someone will grab donuts and there will be one for you if you'd like.”
“Thank you,” I say. “I had a lot of fun.”
He smiles. “We try to be fun.”
I smile back. “You were. You've lived here your whole life?”
He nods. “Yes, ma'am. Born and raised. Graduated from UCSB, went up to Berkley for law school, then came back down here. Can't stay away too long.”
“You went to UCSB?” I ask.
He nods.
“I got in there,” I tell him. “I haven't decided where I'm going, though.”
“Congrats,” he says, grinning. “It's a good school.” He turns and points to the bluff. “You probably know this, but the campus is essentially just on the other side of that over there. Great views from everywhere. Toughest part is staying in class when the waves are really firing.” He smiles again. “Can't say I always adhered to that rule.”
I laugh. “Yeah, might be tough. And my dad's a lawyer, too.”
“You don't say?” he says, seemingly genuinely amused. “That's cool. What does he practice?”
“Mostly contracts and finance and other stuff I don't understand.”
“Aha. I probably wouldn't understand, either,” he says. “I'm a public defender here for the county. Not exactly the same thing as what your dad is doing.” He shrugs. “I like it, though. Helping out folks who need some help.” He nods at the water. “And gives me time to make a fool of myself out there.”
“You didn't make a fool of yourself,” I tell him. “You guys are all good.”
“Good takes different forms, I guess,” he says. “But I appreciate the compliment.” He glances up toward the lot. “Very nice to meet you, Presley, but I gotta get moving. You guys stay safe out here tonight. And I'll save that donut for you in the morning.” He waves goodbye and heads up the sand.
I watch him walk to his car, an old VW bus in the parking lot, throw his board in the back, and get into the driver's seat still in his full wetsuit. He backs up, waves again, and drives off.
I turn back to the water. The sun is sparkling off the surface.
I realize that I haven't had this much fun in...I'm not sure how long. Fun with my old friends and fun with Gerald and his gang. The surfing was rad. I'm in a good mood.
As I walk up the sand back to the tent, I want that mood to last forever.
FIFTEEN
I get back to the tent and the girls are finally starting to stir. I leave my wetsuit outside of the tent and change into dry clothes as they shake the sleep off.
Gina stares at me through half-open eyes. “Did you seriously get up and go surfing?”
“I seriously did.”
She falls back on her pillow. “You're a psychopath.”
“Possibly. I made friends with a bunch of old guys.”
“Old guys?” Bridget asks, sitting up and yawning. “What are you talking about?”
“These old guys who were out surfing,” I tell them. “They were pretty funny.” I grab Maddie's foot inside of her sleeping bag and shake it. “Are you dead?”
“Yes,” she mumbles into her pillow. “Let me be dead in peace.”
“Come on,” I say, shaking her foot again. “It's gorgeous outside. Let's go do stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?” Gina asks.
“I have no idea,” I say. “But get your asses up and let's find some stuff.”
“God, you're a morning person,” Maddie says, still face down in her pillow. “Morning people are the worst.”
I jump on top of her and shake my wet hair in her face. “You love me! Now get up!”
She squeals, but laughs.
Half an hour later, the three of them are up and dressed and we drive into town for breakfast. We find a small shack at the end of the street and buy four enormous breakfast burritos that taste like magic. Maybe I'm just starving, but it's the best breakfast burrito I've ever had. I tell them about the guys on the water as we eat and Bridget is putting together an itinerary for the rest of our day, searching for things to do on her phone.
After we finish our food, we walk up State Street, window shopping and browsing in the shops and art galleries. We grab some chocolates from the candy store and even though we're all full, we devour the chocolate before we've even walked another block. We walk back to the car on the other side of the street and then head to the old mission. The old Spanish architecture is over 200 years old and it's fun to think about who all might've been inside the building over the centuries. We take some pictures in front of it, then get in Maddie's car, and head up to Isla Vista.
“I figure we should go take a look at the campus if this is where you're gonna end up,” Bridget says.
“Who says I'm gonna end up here?” I ask.
“No one,” she says. “But we've all been to USC and UCLA. We know what they're like and the two bozos in the front can fill you in on what you don't know.”
“Hey!” they cry in unison.
“And we're not going to let you leave and go to Virginia,” she continues. “So we should probably check out this place so you can decide which school in California you want to be at.” She smiles. “The End.”
I laugh and shake my head. “Whatever.”
We take the exit off the freeway and head west, past the big signs welcoming us to the school. The campus sits on the edge of Isla Vista, a small beach town perched on the cliffs above the Pacific. People are riding bikes and walking everywhere and the main streets are crowded with small restaurants and bars. The houses in the neighborhood are small, low slung ranch homes, and most look like they belong to college kids. The front yards are unkempt, the furniture on the front decks is old, and more than one yard had a beer keg in it.
Maddie finds a visitor parking lot after we tour Isla Vista and the campus is amazing. The old Spanish architecture has been incorporated into the campus and there are lots of arches and stucco. The campus is quiet, but there are some people out walking around.
Bridget says her phone is telling her that we have to see the view from the top floor in the library, so we locate the library and take the elevator to the eighth floor.
Her phone isn't wrong. The sky is clear and we can see all the way out into the Pacific through the windows.
“Holy crap,” Gina whispers. “This is gorgeous.”
“It is,” I say. “Wow.”
“I'd
never get any studying done if I sat up here,” Maddie says. “I'd just be looking out the windows.”
“Seriously,” Bridget says.
I look around at the couches and study desks. It's easy to picture myself sitting there.
We go back down and walk around the rest of the campus. The people are friendly and the vibe is just super laid back. There's no hustle and bustle.
I like it. A lot.
We walk back to the car and the girls are chatting about what we've seen. I'm quiet, thinking to myself about everything I would've missed if I hadn't come on the trip. I'm starting to think it's a sign. Santa Barbara feels like it's signaling me.
Maybe this is where I belong.
SIXTEEN
I'm waiting for my hamburger to be done when I hear the motorcycles.
After UCSB, we drive back to the beach, change into our swimsuits, and spend the afternoon laying in the sun. A group of boys spend the afternoon setting up grills and by dinnertime, they've got burgers and hot dogs cooking on them. They smell incredible and I'm starving, so I get in line to grab one and that's when I hear the motorcycles.
I turn to the parking lot.
Trevor is at the curb, Jake and Brett behind him. They all rev their engines for a moment, then shut them off. The silence is almost as loud as the bikes.
Butterflies take up residence in my stomach.
Trevor steps off the bike and shrugs out of the backpack strapped to his shoulders. He's in a black long-sleeved T-shirt and gray shorts. His hair is windblown from the ride and the mirrored sunglasses hide his eyes. He says something to Brett, who smiles and nods. Jake makes a face, then looks toward the beach. He scans the crowd and when he sees me, he holds up a hand.
I wave back.
He says something to Trevor and Trevor turns in my direction. He pushes the glasses up onto his head and squints.
I hold up my hand.
It takes him a moment, but he holds up a hand and waves back.
“He came,” Bridget whispers in my ear.
Her voice startles me and I jump.
“Sorry,” she says. “I saw him and came and jumped in line behind you. He came.”
“Yeah.”
“Did you know he was coming?”
I shake my head. “No. He said he might, but he never said for sure.”
“Are you alright?” she asks.
“I'm fine,” I tell her. “Why?”
“I don't know,” she answers. “Just because he's here.”
“It's fine,” I say again. “We're okay. I mean, we're friends.”
“That's it?”
The line inches forward.
“I guess,” I say. “I don't know. It's weird. But we talk. I don't avoid him. I mean, you saw me go talk to him at lunch the other day.”
“I know,” she says. “I just don't want it to be awkward for you. That's all.”
I look at the lot again. He slings the backpack over his shoulder and pulls another bag off the back of the bike. He walks over to Jake's bike and I see that he's got these weird racks attached to the side and rear of the bike that are holding their surfboards.
Of course.
The boards are in what look like fabric zip cases and Jake hands one to Trevor, then one to Brett. Jake pulls the last one off the rack and grabs his own backpack. They walk toward the beach, then turn right on the sand, setting up their stuff at the far end. I watch as they situate all of their stuff, then unzip the bags and pull out their boards. They take off their shirts, pull on their wetsuits, then head down to the water.
I can't lie.
I wish he was coming over to talk to me rather than heading for the ocean.
But at least he's here.
The line moves forward again and I get a burger off the grill and a bun off the small table at the end of the line. I put it on a small paper plate, grab a napkin, and head over to where Gina and Maddie are sitting.
Both of them are eyeing me.
“I saw him,” I say before they can ask me anything. “I saw him.”
Gina raises an eyebrow. “I wasn't gonna say a word.”
I look at her.
“Okay, I was gonna say a few words,” she admits.
I laugh and shake my head. I pick up the burger, take a bite, and set it back down on the plate.
I look down the shore line.
I see the three of them wading into the water, then paddling out.
I think for a moment about grabbing my board and joining them.
But I decide against it.
Instead, I sit there, eating the hamburger, talking with the girls, and glancing in their direction.
And waiting.
SEVENTEEN
It's dark when I see him walking toward me.
We eat dinner, then I go for a walk with the girls up toward the harbor. We get ice cream again on the pier, and watch the birds stalk the tourists who are eating on the pier. They circle overhead, then dive bomb as soon as they see a morsel of food on the ground. People shoo them away and the birds just repeat the whole process again. We finish our ice cream and head back up the sand, the sun disappearing behind the bluff, and the wind picking up off the ocean. We're almost back to the tents when I see him walking along the water toward us, then veering in our direction.
“Uh oh,” Maddie says. “Mr. Robinson has you in his sights.”
“It's fine,” I say.
“He's fine,” Gina says. “I know I keep saying that and I know he's your boyfriend, but good lord. He's like a giant walking sexual stimulant.”
I laugh. “He's not my boyfriend.”
“Right now,” Bridget says.
I elbow her.
Trevor stops just short of us. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I say.
“I ended up coming,” he says.
“I see that.”
He laughs. “Yeah. Guess so.”
“We're gonna get out of your way,” Bridget says, corralling Gina by the arm.
“What?” Gina says. “No. Let's stay.”
Bridget frowns at her and pulls her away. “No. We were heading back now anyway.”
Maddie takes Gina by the other arm. “Come on, bitch. Let's go find you a boy or something.”
Gina twists around. “Don't do anything I wouldn't do.”
“That doesn't leave much,” Maddie says.
Gina smiles. “Exactly.”
I laugh and shake my head and watch them walk away.
Trevor and I stand there awkwardly for a moment.
“I didn't think you were coming,” I say.
He shoves his hands in the pockets of his shorts. “I wasn't. I kinda didn't see the point.” He shrugs. “But then Jake wanted to come and Brett said he'd go, so we just decided to do it.”
“A long way for just tonight,” I say.
He shrugs. “Nothing else to do.” He lifts his chin toward the pier. “You wanna walk?”
“I just walked down there,” I tell him.
“If we walk the other way, we'll be on display for everyone to fucking gawk at us,” he says.
“Good point,” I say.
I turn and we walk slowly back toward the pier. He pulls the hood on his sweatshirt up over his head and sticks his hands in the pocket of the sweatshirt. “You guys do anything fun?”
I tell him about walking around Santa Barbara and the campus and the guys I surfed with and the race the night before.
He laughs. “You raced? Like the fucking Olympics or something?”
I nod. “Or something.”
He laughs again. “I'm sorry I missed that.”
“I'm sure someone has it on video.”
“I'm sure,” he says. “What was the campus like?”
“Fucking awesome,” I say, then laugh. “It's literally up on the cliffs above the water. It's like going to college at the beach.”
He gives me a small smile. “Yeah, I've heard it's cool. I've had a couple of friends go there. Not sure how much they go to clas
s, but they've surfed every break they can find up here.”
“Did you apply there?” I ask. “I don't...I don't really know where you applied or what you're doing.”
There's an opening there for him to tell me that that's my fault that we haven't talked about that and it wouldn't be entirely wrong.
But he doesn't go in that direction.
“I applied a bunch of places,” he says, shrugging. “I have no clue what I'm fucking doing.”
“Why not?”
He makes a face. “I don't know. Just...I don't know. I can't figure it out.”
“Can't figure what out?” I ask.
He thinks for a moment as we walk. “What I should do. What my dad wants me to do. All that shit.”
“What do you want to do?” I ask.
He stares straight ahead. “I'm not even sure anymore. My dad wants--”
“I don't care what your dad wants,” I say, cutting him off. “I'm asking what you want.”
He smiles like it's a hard thing to do. “Not really as easy as that, Pres.”
“I'm not asking you to actually make the decision,” I say. “I'm just asking what you want.”
“I don't really know,” he answers. “Because I haven't really thought like that in a long time, I guess. So it's a hard question to answer, even if you're telling me you won't hold me to it. And no mater what I say, my dad gets a say, too.”
“Why?”
He laughs. “What do you mean why? Because he's my dad. Because he's paying for school. Because that's just the way it is.”
I shrug. “Does it have to be?”
He laughs again and shakes his head. “Not all dads are like yours. My dad is absolutely not like him. He's got a plan for me and that's that. There's no arguing or negotiating. That isn't how it works in my house.”
We walk a bit further.
“Okay then,” I say. “Then what do you even have to figure out? If that's the way it is, then it sounds like you don't even have any decisions to make. You go where he wants you to go and study what he wants you to study.”
He doesn't say anything for a moment.
“Maybe there's still a tiny fucking part of me that is thinking about going in another direction,” he finally says.