by Lisa Freeman
Lord Ricky was waiting. If I wanted to get off the beach in one piece, I had to do what he said. I gave him a thumbs up and pushed my way back into the water. Claire was acting all corpse-like, floating facedown with her arms spread wide. I tied a doubled knot into my suit top before I reached for her. I pulled her up by her hair. I looked at her face. Her eyes were not focused. She didn’t even put up a fight or say anything mean. I turned her over and put my hand up to her mouth feeling for air. Her front teeth were chipped in half and when I pushed my fist hard into her stomach, water and barf came out. It wasn’t an act this time.
Claire pleaded with me, “Don’t let anyone see me,” and barfed again.
She hung onto my arm as the throw up floated past us. I wanted to let her wash up on shore like the shipwreck she was, but I couldn’t. She lay in my arms with her nipple poking out of her top. Sure, she was a world-class bitch, but she was in trouble. Still, I had certain conditions.
“Say I’m not a dork,” I insisted.
Claire couldn’t stand. I held her until she looked up at me and slowly said, “You are not a dork.”
“I gotta fix your top.”
“Hurry,” she answered.
I didn’t. My hands and her body were underwater. No one could see me move my fingers slowly over her nipple, tucking the cloth over her breast.
“Am I in?” she asked.
“Sort of.” I waved at Lord Ricky and told Claire that he was watching.
She closed her eyes and struggled to breathe. Claire needed me. We both knew it. What a great way to get thrown off the beach, carrying my executioner back to the chopping block. What planet was I on?
Just then I remembered the rule about not outshining the main girls on their own turf. I looked at Claire long and hard. Then I gently smoothed her hair back over her head and helped her to her feet. She wasn’t even paying attention.
“Oh no,” she mumbled, “It’s Bob.”
It made me happy to see her bummed out with sand grinding between what was left of her teeth. Bob was a lifeguard and clearly a regular fixture at State. He looked like a lumberjack with his huge barrel chest, baseball bat–like arms, long stride, and jet-black hair. He came toward us with a red buoy over his shoulder, looking official. When Bob jogged past the surfers, they all booed. Bob ignored them.
“Pretend you like me,” I told Claire.
By the time he reached us, Claire and I were arm in arm.
Claire smiled and put her head on my shoulder. Even with a mouth full of busted teeth and barf breath, she was still totally hot. Trying to trudge out of the water, she wobbled like a drunk and tripped face-first into a ditch. I picked her up and let the fast-flowing tide push us forward. We sat down below the sand drift, using it to shield us from the locals’ radar.
Bob stood in front of us looking pissed off. He didn’t notice what a mess she was. He was too busy chewing her out for being stupid enough to go into such rough surf.
“That was your last drowning,” he said.
“No problem, Bob,” Claire said without opening her mouth or moving her lips.
Even then, under the most extreme circumstances, she could act totally cool. Her bikini looked glued onto her rock-hard body. Her out-of-focus eyes were beautiful. To me, she was still the star of State and the queen of Haolewood.
“That was quite a save,” Bob told me.
Looking down at Claire, he pointed at me and said, “You should be nice to her.”
I wondered if his words meant anything to Claire.
She nodded and slipped her hand into mine. I knew she wasn’t for real but it felt good to feel her trembling fingers. Claire hated me. But if she’d just like me for the rest of the afternoon, I would die happy.
“What’s your name, Five-O?” Bob asked me.
Why did everyone get off on that television show? It must have been the wave in the opening credits or something.
“Nani,” I said, smiling.
“That means ‘beautiful’ in Hawaiian, right?” Bob asked. My jaw almost dropped off my face. “Surprised you, didn’t I?”
He continued and shifted the buoy from one shoulder to the other, exposing the black hair in his armpits.
“Well, if the bikini fits …” Bob said, thinking he was funny.
I wondered if I was supposed to say something but before I could, Bob said, “wear it,” finishing his own sentence.
Bob was one of the reasons beach people had a reputation for being stupid. He strolled back to his station tower, pointed his finger at us like a gun, and shot. Then he blew the smoke from the muzzle and slipped it in into his imaginary holster.
“‘Book ’em.’ Aloha,” he said.
The locals booed him again as he passed in front of them and Bob ignored them.
I stuck my finger down my throat. Claire smiled.
“Claire, isn’t your dad a dentist?” Bob shouted, turning back to us one more time.
“He’s an ophthalmologist, you dweeb,” Claire said. As she spoke, little flecks of bloody spit sprayed onto my arms.
“Sorry,” she groaned, putting her head down on her knees.
I couldn’t help but wonder if she was sorry for spitting blood on me or if she was sorry for being a royal pain in the ass. Obviously I would never say the “c word,” but honestly, I couldn’t find a better one to describe her. She was looking more like a rebel Gemini and less like a Pisces every minute.
Claire pointed to my knee.
“Oh no,” I said.
My knee looked like it had gotten its period. Clumps of thick blood trickled down the side of my leg. It was hard for me to imagine how something that looked that scary hadn’t hurt enough for me to notice.
“Is it bad?” Claire asked. Of course it’s bad, I wanted to say. Just open your eyes. But then I realized she wasn’t asking about me. She wanted to know about her teeth.
“You look like Red Skelton,” I told her. I didn’t have to remind Claire what a freak he was, in his clown costume with blackout gum across his front teeth.
We sat for another moment in silence. Then Claire did something extraordinary. She reached over and gently pulled a blade of sea grass from my bleeding knee and threw it to the side. That tiny gesture changed my world.
Bob was hoisting the surfing flag. We were in the stampede zone. If we didn’t move quickly, at least one of us would get run over. Claire raised her index finger like she was summoning a waiter at a fancy restaurant.
“Can you walk on that mess?” she asked.
“If you can talk, I can walk,” I said.
What a great line. But it was not so easy to get up or extend my hand to Claire. Before we both stood, Rox was standing over us, jaw tight, tilting her head.
“What’s going on here?” she asked, her hands on her hips. Then she did the eerie stare thing with her eyes. Mary Jo called it freezing. That’s when she stopped blinking and twisted her lips into a tight little grin. I felt tongue-tied looking up at her. Then Claire broke out in a big smile.
“Holy crap. What happened to you?” Rox asked.
She helped Claire stand up and said, “Now you and Shawn really do make the perfect couple. Neither one of you have all your front teeth.”
“Shhh. That’s a secret,” Claire said.
I watched them walk back to their towels.
Of course Rox and Claire wouldn’t let me in the lineup. What the hell was I thinking? Guys ran past me into the water. I had to dodge their surfboards and look casual at the same time. I strolled up the beach trying to figure out how to get my stuff and how long it would take me to swim home to Hawaii. When I heard someone whistle, I turned around and saw Claire and Rox.
“Are you coming or not?” Rox barked.
She stood there, arms folded tight across her chest, pushing her giant boobs up under her chin. That’s when it hit me. Rox was waiting for me. This meant only one thing for sure: the initiation had just begun.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Secrets
>
The lineup was like a surf intelligentsia. They questioned me about everything. But there were five secrets they’d never get out of me. These five things I would go to the grave with before I told anyone, especially the lineup:
1. All the stuff about stealing my dad’s ashes.
2. I’m afraid of the dark. I wake up every single night at 3:10 a.m. It has been that way ever since Dad’s heart attack. There was nothing I could do to keep from waking up. I had the creeps, that’s what I called it. It was like a switch went off in my head in the middle of the night. A memory grabbed me and took me to spooky places. Sounds came from everywhere in the dark and held me down. I thought of vampires, ghosts, and snakes. There weren’t any snakes on Hawaii. In fact, I have never seen a real snake, but I was still terrified at 3:10 a.m.
I was too scared to move. I was a prisoner in my own bed. I just wanted to suck my thumb or rock back and forth until someone came down the hall to comfort me.
Since Jean went back to nursing, her shifts were often from seven at night to seven in the morning. The creeps were the worst when Jean wasn’t home. I actually missed hearing her snore like a storm off Hilo in the winter. She snored so loudly that I imagined the sound knocking small birds out of the sky to their deaths. Regardless of whether Jean was home, it was Dad who used to stay with me until I fell asleep. I hugged Mrs. Beasley and watched the shadows on my walls.
Now when I worried, nobody came. And it didn’t matter. I was almost sixteen for Christ’s sake. I didn’t need someone to put a cool towel on my forehead or tell me I was loved. Three ten in the morning belonged to me and the ocean. With no street traffic, I could hear the waves at State crashing. Their rhythm relaxed me just the way Dad’s voice used to do. If I woke up from a bad dream, he’d tell me, “No worries.”
3. I totally eavesdropped on the lineup to get State wired. This might not sound like a big deal, but it is. If I blew their trust, I blew it all. I was careful. I sat quietly next to Mary Jo with my eyes closed. The lineup relaxed around me. They were chatty and impressed that I had survived Claire’s cannibalistic charm. I acted more like a rescued pet in need of companionship than the newest member of the Bod Squad. In my mind, I filed away each of their secrets, knowing it would help me maintain my spot among them.
Lisa Yates was the intense party girl with a voice that sounded as if she’d smoked fifty packs of cigarettes a day. When she talked, her lips pressed forward as if they had gotten stuck halfway through a kiss. She always wore Indian print bikinis. Lisa had OD’d on baby aspirin in the third grade because she thought they were candy and almost blew herself up with fireworks in the fourth. No one knew she had permanent eye damage but refused to wear glasses. That’s why she was always arm-in-arm with the other Lisa and sometimes looked klutzy. She was a Capricorn and had the best sense of humor in the lineup.
Lisa Haskell, on the other hand, was a Sagittarius. She was spontaneous and hated rules. She was always scheming ways to get cigarettes and knew every bit of gossip from State to Malibu. Lisa Haskell was a Mormon and coveted her autographed copy of the Osmond Brothers’ Hello album. One of her brothers went on his mission in Las Vegas and met all the Osmonds. Lisa H.’s biggest secret was that she had to leave her house wearing a Jantzen one-piece with a modesty panel. She changed when she got to State into her ridiculously small checked bikini. No one knew this but the Lisas and me.
Suzie Quinn was being groomed to rule State after Rox graduated. She looked like a stick of gold with thinly plucked eyebrows and super wavy long hair. Suzie was not thrilled about hosting a new girl, but she was glad Rox snapped me up before the Topangas got their dibs on me. Suzie’s biggest secret was that she had broken a major rule by going all the way with a surf god at State before she was officially his girlfriend. She was planning on going all the way with him again before the summer was over. But she refused to name the guy. Suzie was an Aries like Uncle Mike, charming, determined, very ambitious, and quick-tempered.
Jenni (with an “i” not “y” or “ie”) Fox was Suzie’s best friend. Jenni was beyond beautiful. Guys called her Jen or Fox and loved her because she was super shy and blushed when they talked to her. Jenni never bickered with anyone and was always in a good mood. Even Rox loved her. Jenni was graceful, willowy, and always talked in a soft voice. No one thought she ever got angry, but I learned that if she had the hiccups, it meant she was pissed off. Jenni was a Libra. For her it was all about looking patient, calm, and most importantly fair to everyone. She was the nicest to me, and I loved her violet bikinis and Yardley Eau de London perfume. It was like sitting next to a field of clover and jasmine. But what impressed me most about Jenni was that she thought about her future. She was going to become a stewardess and live in Paris.
KC Smith was a tomboy and the dark cloud in the group. She always wore tight-knit bikinis and was an Aquarius, which is a notoriously difficult persona. She had broad butterfly shoulders, a tiny waist, no hips, long legs, and a flat chest. She had been banished to the far side of the lineup after she cut all the highlights out of her long blonde hair into a shoulder-length shag. Now it was too dark to be called blonde. Rox was barely talking to her. I think if KC weren’t captain of the Pali High volleyball team, she would have been out altogether. Cutting her hair was a big mistake. It reminded me that a lot of rules are worth saying again and again:
Never cut your hair.
That first week at State, the waves were small and summer school had started. It was no secret that surfers weren’t into IQ status and most of them ended up repeating a class or two. We had the beach to ourselves until noon. The silence reminded me of military maneuvers on Pearl Harbor Day. Those peach-fuzzed sailors would stand absolutely still in the noontime sun while ceremonies on the USS Arizona dragged on and on. They were stiff as statues dressed in white cotton pants that flapped in the wind. With their arms tight behind their backs and chins raised, the sun scorched them like burnt Wonder Bread.
At times during the day, I sunk so low and lay so still in the sand I felt invisible. Claire and Rox would talk like I wasn’t there. Of course, Rox and Claire were the most interesting to listen to. They were stoked because their boyfriends, Jerry and Shawn, were finally coming back from surfing down in Ensenada. The main order of business was to get seriously tan. That took concentration. Two hours on the front, two hours on the back, tops untied, until they were well roasted.
Here’s what I saw during the tanning time: Rox checked her tampon string when she rolled to her left. Claire rubbed Sun-In on her treasure trail to keep the thin hairs between her belly button and bikini white. Claire also needed help retying her top, and if she fell asleep sitting up, she had a tendency to leave her mouth wide open. Rox, on the other hand, never slept; she was like a hawk waiting for something weak and easy to tear apart. I learned both Claire and Rox carried nail scissors in their bags to clip roving pubic hairs that snuck out of their suits, and they checked each other’s teeth for leftover food, even though I never saw them eat. Seriously, Rox never ate.
Rox was also so terrified of bees, she’d hide under her towel if she heard anything buzzing. Claire called it melissophobia. That word would have really impressed Miss Meli once upon a time. The lineup’s number one job was to be Rox’s lookout. No bee ever came within ten feet of us.
Claire would brush Rox’s hair as she chatted on about the spider veins in her mother’s nose, her fear of getting pockmarks from pimples, and her total hatred of the paddle tennis tournaments she was forced to play at the Bel-Air Bay Club. Claire also hated her house on San Remo Drive. She hated the fake geraniums in terra-cotta planters outside the front door and her little brother’s oversized iguana tank that made the hall to her room smell like fish food.
I found it amusing that Claire had a Steiff puppet collection in her bedroom and mounted them on Coke bottles to show off her favorites. Hansi the parakeet, Gatty the gator, and Cocki the puppy were above her bed, but the love of her life, after Shawn McBride, was Jacko the mo
nkey. She loved Jacko so much that she carried him in her purse. To protect him from the sand, she wrapped him in Saran wrap so he had his own little wet suit. That was her big secret, before her new teeth.
Rox acted like a member of the Russian Intelligence or KGB; she spoke softly and never talked if someone was standing too close. Her perfect white teeth rarely showed because Rox never smiled. And she never ever spoke about her parents’ deaths. I learned about the car crash from listening to the Lisas.
“Here today,” Lisa H. said.
“Gone tomorrow,” said Lisa Y.
I knew what that was all about because it was the same for my dad. One minute he was on his way to work to open the bar and have a beer, the next minute he was lying on the ground, in a coma before they even got him to the hospital.
Rox never shed a tear about her parents dying, but she sobbed endlessly when Jerry Richmond dumped her after their first hot date, which left a permanent stain on her sister’s new couch. That was the start of their on-and-off romance. Right now it was on, but when it was off, Rox cried, and when she cried she looked like a heaving sack of bones.
She said their last breakup happened because Jerry was a horny Taurus. That made me gag because my dad was a Taurus, too. I thought of Taurus men as hard-headed, consistent types, not sex fiends.
The tone of Rox’s voice totally changed when she described getting back together with Jerry and her first time in the fort. She said Jerry’s skin felt like velvet.
“Yeah. The fort,” said Claire, “that castle in the sky. The best place in the world.”
The fort was a secret hideaway at Claire’s boyfriend’s house. It was off-limits to everyone except Claire, Rox, and Jerry.
The weirdest thing about Rox and Claire was their relationship to the ocean. It accounts for almost two-thirds of the earth’s surface and was crashing right in front of them, but they only seemed to notice it when guys were surfing. The Pacific with all its unseen truth was like wallpaper to them, and the sound of waves seemed no more important than the hum of an air conditioner in their biology class. I don’t think they even realized there were fish and a whole lot of other living things out there. It was obvious that neither of them had ever been on a board. It was a prime rule: