Riptide Summer

by Lisa Freeman

  I was not going to give up my position on the board. There would be no more sacrifices in this girl game. I was not going to protect the Red Queen ever again. I looked at the scar on my arm and picked off what was left of my scab.

  I felt dizzy as Rox walked around the corner into the parking lot. She stood in front of me, slowly lighting a cigarette then tossing the still-lit match at my feet. I shivered when she said, “Everybody has put two and two together.” I wondered if she meant about us. I felt a pit in my stomach.

  Then there was maluhia—silence—and everything went slow. Rox had gone into Obliterator Mode. She was taking aim—like in Vietnam. Soldiers said the maluhia just before an ambush was the most terrifying part of battle. It meant the Vietcong were coming up through tiny tunnels to drag soldiers down by their boots into a hell no religion could prepare you for.

  I saw nothing but hatred in her eyes. I was taking my love back, and there was nothing she could do about it. I felt a volcanic rage that almost brought me to the point of tears. But there was no way I’d ever spill a tear over her again.

  I feared if I didn’t do something, I would get stuck right here—in a parking lot of heartache with a lump in my throat. I turned to walk away.

  Rox raised her voice, “You screwed Jerry, didn’t you?”

  “Do you really think I’d do that?” She’d never come to her senses.

  She just went off. Rox had to be right, even when she was wrong. “You’re a liar, a cheat, and a two-timing bitch.”

  I was glad to finally tell her off. “If I’m a two-timing bitch, and you two-timed on Jerry with me, Scotty, AND a fellow Sister of Sand before me, that makes you—what?”

  Rox didn’t answer. So I answered for her, “That makes you a four-timing bitch.”

  “Only guys count. Which means you don’t count for anything.” An Obliterator like Rox could make cruelty so deliberate, it was an art form.

  I felt like she’d slapped me. Her fury was inexhaustible. Even though I deserved some of it, I didn’t deserve it all. Rox sank her teeth into me with one unholy word after another. It was as if her mouth was synced up with someone else’s mind—or maybe this was the real her. I wanted to cover my ears and sing loudly. But it was Rox. So I couldn’t.

  “We don’t use words that start with c and end with t,” I yelled.

  “How many times do I have to tell you? There. Is. No. We.” Her cheeks were blotchy red with the anger of an Obliterator coming in for the final kill. “I’m going to tell everybody about you,” she said.

  This time I knew she was talking about girl love. I felt shattered. And then—set free. Because I had the same dirt on her. She couldn’t hurt me. I matched her fire with fire as I told her, “Then I’m going to tell everybody about you!”

  I froze her without saying another word, and I circled round with a polar freeze. I gave her the stink eye the way she had given it to so many others. Like a sailboat in a windless sea, she waited before me, motionless. She would not meet my eyes. Her sizzle and sense of self-importance were suddenly gone.

  “We’re pau,” I said.

  “Speak English.”

  “Why? I’m not American.”

  Rox held up her middle finger in my face, and then with a fast jerk of her hand, she ripped the dolphin necklace off and threw it as far as she could. She turned and stormed away.

  She really was the Red Queen, and she had lost. That’s how it works in chess when everything you did to screw up somebody else ends up screwing you.

  As I looked down at my arm, at the scar I’d carry forever, I noticed her cigarette smoldering on the cement, like one last memento. I wanted to pick it up and touch my lips to where hers had been. Instead, I dug the heel of my sandal into it and rubbed side to side until it was obliterated—not me.

  III

  August 5–August 14, 1973

  Red Moon

  NEVER GIVE UP.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Little Lightning Bolts

  Jerry cancelled our surf session. We were planning on hitting State after he got back from the concert, but like I figured, Rox didn’t waste any time before officially getting back together with him. She probably went right to State from the market, so everyone would see that she and Jerry were a happy couple again. It freaked me out to think of them together; now they both had a secret about me, and I wondered if they would tell. The question was, who were they more loyal to: me, or each other?

  I absorbed every mean word Rox had said the way a sponge soaks up dirty water. My lower back had stiffened up, and my face felt like my skin was breaking out. I had survived a sneak attack—nothing like they have in Vietnam, but something more personal.

  At 3:10 a.m., I did the only thing I could do: I retreated into the ocean. I needed to clear my mind of how much I despised Rox. Jerry stood me up–and I knew, somehow, that she was behind it. Surfing would make me whole again. It would rekindle my faith in myself and the universe. It would heal me.

  I liked the dark water now. It forced me to be more focused and determined. The break at State had become really shallow; if I fell, I’d have to be careful not to crack my neck. As I walked out, floating my board to my side, I bowed under a little two-footer and let Rox wash away. I emerged baptized and cleansed. I imagined that all her hatred had gotten caught in the rip and was lost forever at sea.

  I gave thanks to my protectors: Nāmaka, Mahina, and the stars. I could see they would not leave or change their direction because they are immortal—not man or woman, dad or mom. In the stillness of the water, they always returned, and I knew they forgave me and loved me just the way I was.

  The ocean was pierced by dim moonlight and a white mist that lay beyond the break. Real Sweethearts is what I called the small waves I walked out into. There is a holy silence in the ocean when each wave moves delicately and barely breaks when it reaches the shore.

  I sang “Lady Stardust” to myself, just loud enough so the Oscars could hear. I knew now they were State Beach’s ‘aumakua, spirit protectors. My song drew them so close to my board, I could have touched their noses. I knew better, but still, I reached my hand out.

  A flash from the beach, like an angry spirit or ghost, surprised me, and then there was another one—like little lightning bolts. The Oscars dipped away. I lay low on my board and paddled quietly.

  Everything was blurry. I wasn’t sure if it was a car in trouble on the highway, or maybe fireworks. And then something ran across the beach. There was another flash and a beam of light, this time from the lifeguard station, and that’s when I knew for sure: it wasn’t a ghost; someone was there watching me. I’d been spotted.

  If they were going to murder me for surfing, at least I would die on a wave.

  I saw the shadow of water coming. It lifted me up. I dropped into the little squeezer and just tucked myself right in, crouching without ever standing. The dark water blocked the moon and made a curtain of ocean moving around me. For a second I felt safe, totally tubed. I shot out of the curl. It was unreal. I couldn’t believe I was surfing, just like Gerry Lopez. Then there was another flash. It put an end to my flow, but I still rode the wave till I could walk off my board and onto the sand. Freedom and victory reigned.

  It was the greatest moment of surfing I’d ever experienced.

  “Hey! You!”

  There was no time to celebrate. It was Glenn from Tubed snapping away. I recognized his English accent before I saw his face. My baseball cap fell off as I ran to the far side of State, and I didn’t dare stop to pick it up.

  “What’s your name?” Glenn yelled.

  I held my knotted hair tightly to one side so he couldn’t see, and bent my head way down. Since I’d been jogging all summer, it was easy to outrun him, jam up the stairs, and hide in Mrs. Kinski’s yard until the dogs stopped barking and the birds began to sing.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Initiation I: The Rules

  I had one day left to find Windy. Lisa and Jenni were not h
appy. No one was. Except Melanie Clearwater.

  The morning after the big T. Rex concert, everyone was wearing their tour shirts, eating watermelon slices, and talking about how amazing Marc Bolan was. I wasn’t sorry I didn’t go because everyone was also gossiping about the blowout Rox and Jerry had.

  The VPMs were goofing off, doing somersaults and cartwheels, and seeing who could do the longest handstand. Baby was picking her back tooth. She dug her hand almost all the way into her mouth, saying, “I forgot to floss. I don’t want Lisa and Jenni to see any food in my teeth again.”

  I gave her a look. That kind of behavior would make it easy for Rox and Claire to give her a thumbs-down. Lisa glared at Baby and crossed her arms. “Do something,” she told me. “You’re the babysitter. You explain.” Lisa made it clear that, as the leader, she couldn’t be bothered. She and Jenni headed down to the water, where they strolled along the shoreline, watched Coco and Johnny surf, and flirted with every poor, unsuspecting guy in their wake.

  And so, it was up to me to pass The Rules down to Baby. In the course of two summers, I had gone from the bottom to the top, like cream rising.

  “Am I in trouble?” she asked.

  This was an opportunity to give her my version of The Rules, not Annie’s, and not Rox’s and Claire’s. By then I had really thought them through, and this would be the one time I’d say them out loud. The part I liked most was that it gave me a chance to help Baby be the best she could be.

  I waited until Julie, Ms. ERA, and Mary Jo had joined Lisa and Jenni down by the water. I could tell from their looks they were really worried about the Topangas situation. The time was almost up.

  I sat down beside Baby and looked right into her eyes. “This is mega important,” I told her. “Here’s how it goes. We live by a set of rules that are never written down or spoken about, and I’m going to tell you some of them now. Listen very carefully because you won’t hear them again.”

  1. We are not chatterboxes. We don’t gossip or talk about other people unless it’s one-on-one, and you’re in an enclosed environment.

  2. Whenever you talk, make your words count. We don’t say every little thing we think.

  3. Never talk in the stalls or go into a bathroom alone.

  Then, I added a rule just for Baby:

  4. Never pick your teeth again.

  Jean once told me something that remained so true I made it a rule:

  5. You can only make a first impression once, so make it count.

  Then I went back to my own rules:

  6. Stay in tune with the rhythms of the ocean, and you’ll find your own.

  7. We’re organic, glowy, shimmery girls.

  “What does that mean?” Baby asked.

  “Well, for example,” I explained, “we all have beauty secrets. Mine is a little ritual that goes like this: Beauty Secret #1: Right after I shower I take some baby oil that has lavender in it, put it on a loofah, and give myself a brisk scrub to get rid of the old tan and make room for the new. Never use shea butter or that lemony citronella stuff. That’s Rox’s smell. Mine is Fireballs and primrose.” I didn’t tell her what was really amazing: that ever since I stopped smoking, people could actually notice what I called Eau de Nani. I continued:

  8. Carry extra money.

  Baby looked confused. “In case your date is a cheapo,” I explained, “and so you can always make your own choices.”

  Then there were my die-hard rules:

  9. Locals rule.

  10. Keep your hair long; it has special power.

  That brought me to Beauty Secret #2: “To brush long hair, use a wide comb and always start at the top, holding the center of your hair tight, to get rid of all tangles.” Then I gave her the secret to super-shiny hair: “Rinse with vinegar and add a little fresh-squeezed lemon to enhance highlights.”

  Baby asked, “How come you don’t have any pimples?”

  “Pimples are a state of mind,” I told her. “But when in doubt, there’s Beauty Secret #3: Once a month I take an avocado and honey and make a beauty mask. Sometimes I get plain yogurt and mix it into the avocado and honey. If I want it to stick really firmly, I whip up some egg whites, add a dash of almond oil, put it all over my face, and lie still in the sun for forty-five minutes. It’s messy. And to get my skin super clean, I add Vitamin E and fresh ginger juice, but not too much. It stings.” I couldn’t imagine Baby being more beautiful than she was today. She’d never need a facial. But I wasn’t going to be the one to tell her. I didn’t want her head to swell before initiation. I clapped my hands together to keep her attention, then continued.

  11. Always have a bathing suit with you.

  (That one was worth repeating.)

  12. No sex until a guy is one hundred percent your boyfriend. And you only get ONE throughout high school, so choose well.

  Baby asked, “Did you do it with Nigel?”

  Finally, an opportunity to tell the truth. I was relieved to get to say, “No. Just because I had a boyfriend didn’t mean I had to do it with him. I’m not rushing.”

  Baby laughed. “I thought you said I’m not Russian.”

  “Didn’t you hear anything I said? Listen, if you’re gonna be Little Miss Sassy, you’ll get eaten alive at the initiation. Another thing: You have to wait for the higher-ups to talk to you. Think of it like crossing a dangerous street. You have to stop, look, and listen. Promise me you will?”

  “Promise.”

  Baby swatted at a bee. I watched, mortified, as it landed upside down next to me. Then to make matters worse, she poured sand over it and threw a rock on top.

  “Don’t be a bee killer,” I demanded. “Mana lives in everything! Who are you to take it away? Everything has a spirit.”

  I dug the poor little bee out and sent it on its way.

  She looked like she was going to cry. Lessons like these aren’t easy, but they’re the kind you never forget. My dad had taught me about life’s energy after I intentionally stepped on a spider, and I had felt as bad as Baby did right then.

  She was such a clean slate, like a younger version of myself. I put my arm around her and comforted her. That’s when I added some new rules:

  13. Don’t lie. Unless it’s the little white kind that you tell so you won’t hurt someone’s feelings.

  “What’s the difference?” Baby asked.

  “One is Watergate lying, and the other is when you tell a girl you really like her lip gloss but you really hate it. Okay,” I continued, “here’s the most important rules:”

  14. Think for yourself and dream big.

  15. Never swear.

  16. Start trends, don’t follow them.

  17. We don’t toot our own horns.

  18. We don’t fight—and that way we never lose.

  19. We support each other.

  Baby put her head on my shoulder. “I love you, Nani,” she said. “And I hope you find Windy, so we can stay friends.”

  I tried not to think too much about what she had just said, and I smoothed her hair the way Annie used to smooth mine. “I saved the biggest rule for last.” I explained what a Honey Girl is: magical, strong, and kind. I told her the rule that goes with that:

  20. We never call ourselves Honey Girls. It’s an honor given to us by others.

  We sat there silently for a few minutes as Baby traced a heart in the sand. Then we heard drums banging in the distance. Everyone at State looked down toward the Jetty to see the Hare Krishnas jumping in a frenzy, singing as they splashed their way through the shallow water.

  The Topangas danced to the shoreline, tossing sand on our towels. “Looks like we’re going to win,” Melanie said, sticking out her tongue. I was totally screwed, and it was Windy’s fault.

  Who cared about the Krishnas? Why did they all have bald heads, white dots painted between their eyebrows, and sing the same words over and over again?

  Hare Krishna,

  Hare Krishna,

  Hare Krishna.

  Bob pushed
into the crowd with his life preserver, trying to get the Krishnas off State for good. Everyone cracked up when he tripped and landed in the water. From behind me, I heard someone say, “Lord Ricky’s laughing so hard. It looks like he’s gonna fall off his board.”

  I turned to see who was talking. It was Claire! I ran into her arms, then instantly apologized for getting beach oils all over her.

  But what made me almost scream and tweak my neck was seeing Rox, standing next to her, smiling at me, a towel wrapped low around her waist. My knee-jerk reaction was to run, but Rox tightly locked her arm into mine and gave me a hard little kiss that singed my cheek.

  I knew her air of friendliness was BS. Just beneath the thinnest layer of skin was a massive plane of hot, molten lava, ready to erupt.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Initiation II: The Royal Eight

  Rox was here to judge the recruits. I had to hold my breath and count to ten, fighting off the desire to start the battle right where we’d left it. But instead, I just sort of looked at her and thought, Oh, I see. She would never expose the grisly falling-out we had had. As far as Rox was concerned, when it came to the lineup, everything had to look status quo.

  Claire seemed more centered, not in a hurry. She was truly enjoying State, watching it as if it was a circus she went to as a kid that had just come back to town.

  “I’ve missed this place,” she said.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jerry and Shawn intensely throwing a Frisbee back and forth. It gave me the feeling that neither of them was too happy about having their girlfriends back.

  Jenni and Lisa ran out of the water, leapt into the air, and yelled, “Claire!” at the same time. They ran over to us and respectfully kissed Claire on her cheek. Rox, on the other hand, didn’t touch anyone. She just sashayed around, acting all slick, and bumped her hip into Claire’s when she wanted her to sit down. The rhythm was off between them, but no one else seemed to notice.

  Claire showed Lisa and Jenni her hand-painted Monet slippers and how to kiss on both cheeks when you say hello. “That’s how they do it in Paris,” she told us. We do that in Hawaii, too, but I let Claire think it was a French thing.