by Lyle, D. P.
I nodded. He was right. Same with stoners and tweakers who ended up in the ER. It’s a judgment call.
“We almost always talk with the parents,” Hyatt continued, “but getting the police involved would probably complicate things and waste their time.” He spread his hands flat on the surface of his desk. “These aren’t bad kids. They don’t really harm anyone. Except themselves, of course. I like to handle these things as a family issue rather than a legal one.”
“Unless a fight or something like that is involved?”
“Exactly. Look. Most of them use alcohol, maybe drink a few beers at lunch, and come back in with alcohol on their breath. Some of them sit in their cars and smoke marijuana before coming to class. I’ve seen that myself.” He shrugged. “I don’t like it. I do everything I can to fight it. But at the end of the day I’d rather help them, or at least try to, than make a legal issue out of it.”
“I understand. And I agree. Most of this is harmless and experimental, and I would assume that most of them will outgrow it and move on with their lives. But I’m worried about this new combination. It has the potential to create some truly bizarre behavior.”
“You’ve made my day,” he said with a sad smile. “As if these teenagers didn’t have enough going on in their bodies and their brains with all the social and hormonal stuff, now they’ve got a new drug to throw into the mix.” His shoulders slumped and he settled back in his chair.
“I couldn’t have said it better.”
“I’ll keep my eyes and ears open and I’ll be a little quicker to call the police than I normally would.”
“Let’s hope this is a few isolated cases and not the start of something bigger.”
“You don’t believe that, though, do you?”
“No, I don’t. But maybe we can stop it early.”
“Let’s hope.”
Chapter 11
“Point your toes,” Danielle said.
“I am. They won’t fit through.”
“Didn’t you try this on at the surf shop?”
“It seemed easier then.” Evan struggled to pull on his wet suit, not getting very far. His left foot kept getting stuck, stretching the material. “My foot’s too big.”
“Bragger.”
“What?”
“You know. Big feet—”
“Funny. How come yours just slid right on?”
“My feet are smaller. Besides, I pointed my toes.”
“And your suit’s much cooler.” He flapped one of the arms of his wet suit. “All the cool ones were gone. Something about this being a holiday weekend. So I got stuck with this orange and yellow one.”
“It’ll be fine.”
“But everyone’s staring.”
“No they’re not. Now, let’s get you into it and get the lesson started.”
Evan sat on the rear bumper of Danielle’s SUV and continued his struggles.
“Let me help,” she said.
Evan extended his leg toward her. While she tugged and yanked each wet suit leg up over his feet, three teenage boys walked by, snickering and looking at Evan. Their eyes were glassy, pupils wide and black.
“Dude, you trying to get that on or off?” one of them asked.
The other two giggled.
“On.”
They burst out laughing.
The apparent leader of the group said, “Why? You’ll look like a parrot. A giant yellow and orange parrot.”
More giggles.
“A cockatoo,” one of the other boys said. “Not a parrot. A cockatoo.”
The leader landed a playful punch on the other boy’s shoulder. “Dude, you totally slay me.”
“Why don’t you guys move along?” Danielle said. “Do something useful.”
“Uh-oh, his mommy’s getting upset.”
More laughter as they continued across the parking lot, occasionally glancing back, stumbling as if drunk.
“The youth of America,” Danielle said. “And people wonder why we’re in trouble.”
“They looked stoned to me,” Evan said.
“You think? Or it’s possible they’re just losers.”
Danielle gave a final tug and Evan’s second foot popped through. “There you go.”
Evan rolled the suit up to his waist, leaving the arms dangling at his sides. He looked down at his orange and yellow legs. “I do look like a cockatoo.”
“It’ll keep you warm. That’s the important thing.”
“Hank said I’d be shark food in this color.”
“I think sharks are color-blind.”
“Really?”
“Actually, I don’t know, but I thought that’d make you feel better.”
“But they do like surfers.”
“That’s a myth.”
“Are you sure? Or are you still trying to make me feel better?”
“Both.”
A couple with two small children walked by, heading toward the beach. The man carried a cooler in one hand, his other arm hooked through two beach chairs. The woman had a stack of towels under one arm as she herded the children along. The adults eyed Evan as they walked by.
“People are still staring at me.”
“It’s your imagination. You look fine.”
“Easy for you to say. Your suit’s ultracool.”
It was. Solid black and form-fitting. Of course it was custom-made for her. One of the perks of being a pro.
“Look at it this way. With that outfit it’ll be easy for me to keep track of you in the water,” Danielle said.
“Are you sure I need this? It’s July.”
“The water doesn’t know that. You’ll be glad you have it when we get out there.”
Evan wasn’t convinced, since sweat was already collecting beneath the suit.
“It’s too crowded here. Let’s grab our boards and move down that way.” Danielle pointed toward a rock outcropping about a hundred yards away. The beach there had only a few sunbathers.
She pulled open the back door of her SUV, revealing half a dozen surfboards.
“Are all these yours?” Evan asked.
“Yeah.”
“Are they expensive?”
“Not for me. My sponsor gives me as many as I want. And wet suits and anything else I need.”
“That’s so cool,” Evan said. “I need a sponsor.”
Danielle laughed. “Let’s get you up on a board first. Then we’ll see about sponsors.”
“I’m going to shred it,” Evan said.
“Shred it?”
“I read one of those surfer magazines you gave me. Isn’t that the current lingo?”
“I think we’ll be doing more paddling than shredding today.”
“You’ll see. Evan R. Lawson is destined to be a great surfer.”
Danielle laughed again. “Here, Big Kahuna.” She lifted a red-trimmed white board and handed it to him. “This one should work for you.”
Evan took it from her and said, “It’s not as heavy as it looks.”
“Boards are lighter now. Not the old wooden logs of the past.” Danielle grabbed her board, ivory with two dark green stripes running its length. “These are my competition boards, so they’re very light.” She clicked the SUV locks, tucked her board under one arm, and said, “Let’s go.”
She headed down the beach. Evan followed. Danielle carried her board easily, casually, but Evan struggled with his, not sure exactly how to grip it. He managed, but did drop it a couple of times.
Before they had gone very far, two bathing suit–clad young girls—early teens, Evan guessed—intercepted them. They shielded the sun from their eyes and looked up at Danielle.
“Aren’t you Danielle Delaney?�
�� one of them asked.
“Yes. And who are you?”
“I’m Rebecca. This is my friend Alex.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“We’re big fans,” Rebecca said. Alex nodded enthusiastically.
“Do you young ladies surf?” Danielle asked.
“No. But we saw that meet you won. On TV. The one in Hawaii.”
“The Pipeline meet,” Danielle said. “That was a tough one. The waves were fierce.”
“Looked that way. I don’t know how you stay on the board with all that going on.”
“That’s the trick, isn’t it?”
The girls giggled.
“I can’t believe it’s really you,” Rebecca said. “I can’t wait to tell all my friends!”
“I’m flattered.”
The two stood awkwardly for a minute.
“Tell you what,” Danielle said, nodding toward the camera Rebecca held. “How about a picture together?”
“Really?” the girls said in unison. Their eyes could not have gotten any bigger without exploding.
“Really.” Danielle smiled at them.
“That would be so way cool,” Rebecca said.
Danielle took the camera and handed it to Evan. “Want to do the honors?”
“My pleasure.”
Danielle positioned herself between the girls and Evan took a series of pictures and then handed the camera back to Rebecca.
“There you go,” he said.
“Thanks you! Thank you!” Rebecca said.
The girls turned and took off, giggling, with arms waving, toward a group of adults, most likely their parents, who were gathered beneath a pair of umbrellas.
“You just made their day,” Evan said. “That was nice of you.”
“Fans are one of the things that makes pro surfing fun.” She looked at Evan. “And teaching new surfers, of course. Ready?”
“Let’s do it.”
They continued down the beach. When they cleared the crowd of sunbathers and neared the rocks, Evan headed toward the water.
“Where are you going?” Danielle asked.
“The water. Isn’t that where you surf?”
She laughed. “Not yet, Big Kahuna. We start here on the beach.”
Evan dragged his board toward her. “Why?”
“Slow down. We’ll get in the water soon. First you need to learn a few things.”
“Like what?”
“Like how to stand on the board.”
“Like this?” Evan dropped the board on the sand and stepped up on it. He wobbled a bit, lost his balance, and one foot slid off onto the sand.
“See?” Danielle laughed. “It’s not as easy as it looks.”
Evan shrugged. “Okay. What do I do?”
“Lie down on your board.” He did. Danielle walked around him. She nudged his foot with her toe. “Move up a little. So you’re balanced in the middle.”
He wiggled up into position.
“That’s it. Now, this is how you’ll lie on the board when we head out and when we paddle to catch a wave. Make sure your arms can move freely.”
Evan mock-paddled.
“Perfect. Now watch me.”
Danielle lay down on her board. “When you catch the wave you’ll want to jump up on your knees.” She deftly pushed up to a kneeling position. “Make sure you’re centered when you do. Now you try it.”
“On my knees?” Evan asked. “I thought we were going to stand up.”
“Later. You have to crawl before you can walk.”
Evan sprang to his knees several times.
“Bet this is easier in the water,” Evan said.
“It isn’t,” Danielle said. “Here the sand balances the board for you. Out there’s a different story.”
Evan jumped up to his knees and then back down. Then up on his knees again.
“That’s it,” Danielle said. “Work on that for a few minutes and then we’ll try it in the water.”
Evan made the move twenty or so times. While he was doing it, he noticed the three teen boys who had harassed him earlier. Up near the edge of the beach, standing next to a van, talking with a couple. The guy was tall and thin, with a ponytail down to the middle of his back; the girl was shorter but also thin and with long, dark hair.
One of the boys exchanged something with the man, both stuffing whatever it was into their pockets. The couple then climbed into the van and drove away while the boys turned back up the beach.
“Looks good,” Danielle said. “Let’s hit the water.”
I found Divya at the HankMed booth.
“How did your meeting with the principal go?”
“He didn’t put me in detention, if that’s what you mean.”
Divya laughed. “That would be more Evan’s style.”
“True. Jerry Hyatt is as disturbed as we all are over this new drug. He’s going to keep an eye out for it and be a little more proactive about calling in the police.”
“Maybe the police can find out where this stuff is coming from and put a stop to it.”
“Let’s hope. How’d the visits go?”
“Fine. I completed my notes if you want to see them.”
“Later.”
“I’ve been thinking about how best to configure the booth,” Divya said. “I think the desk is fine there. Maybe an exam table along each side. We’ll need some privacy screens, though.”
“I’d bet Jill has some we can use.”
“Probably. If not, I’ll rent them.” Divya pointed to the two rear corners. “The portable X-ray can go in one of those corners, and we can stack consumable supplies in the other.”
I looked around. “It’ll be tight, but we can make it work.”
“We can park the van right there, can’t we?” She pointed toward the back of the booth. The two rear flaps were tied open, revealing a grassy area.
“I think so. We’ll ask Jill.”
“That would make things much easier. We can leave some of our equipment in the van that way.”
“Maybe keep the X-ray unit in the van until we need it,” I said. “That’ll open up more space in here.”
“Good idea.”
I walked to the front of the booth and gazed across at the Hamptons Heritage booth. Several people were working there, but I didn’t see Jill among them. “Have you seen Jill?”
“No.”
“Let’s go find her.”
We went out into the middle of the football practice field and turned toward the opposite end, moving along one set of hash marks. The health fair setup was well under way. Each of the goalposts was wrapped in red, white, and blue. Canvas booths completely circled the track that bordered the field. Some sat empty, but others were filled with people prepping for the weekend. A long-jump pit, an obstacle course, a pair of trampolines, a scaffold with three dangling ropes for climbing competitions, and a cluster of gymnastic bars and beams dotted the field itself.
We found Jill near the gymnastics equipment. She gave us a tour, showing us where booths would be for CPR instruction by the American Heart Association, child safety, bicycle safety, skin cancer protection and prevention, home health and safety instruction, smoking cessation and a Tobacco-Free Youth program, drug use intervention and prevention, back health, diabetic testing, hearing testing, eye exams by two local ophthalmologists, nutritional counseling, lung function testing by one of the hospital pulmonologists, and even insurance counseling. There were also commercial booths: Marcy’s Bodyworks, Wiggins Waters, Good Vibrations Massage Chairs, Verona’s Health Foods and Vitamins, and of course, Fleming’s Custom Shop. None of these had been set up yet.
“We’re going to have races for the various age groups,” Jill said.
“Nothing longer than a mile, though. Some relays, too. On Sunday afternoon we’ll have Evan’s fund-raising walk.”
“How are the sign-ups for that going?” Divya asked.
“It’s been unbelievable. We have all three hundred slots filled and a waiting list. Thanks to Evan.”
“He’s obsessed about it for two months,” I said.
“His obsession has paid off. He’s rounded up folks from various businesses, social clubs, even the PTA and the Chamber of Commerce.”
“Maybe that’s his true calling,” I said. “Maybe he should be a professional fund-raiser.”
“Don’t forget superspy,” Divya said.
“How could I?”
We completed our lap around the field and reached the HankMed booth. Jill pointed across the end zone toward the Hamptons Heritage booth.
“I thought putting the two medical booths near the front and one on each side of the field would be best. That should make them easy to find since everyone will see them as they come in.”
“Good idea,” I said.
“Of course it is.”
“Modest, too.”
“I learned it from Evan,” Jill said.
“My brother. The king of good ideas.”
“Spare me,” Divya said.
“A couple of our ER docs will man our booth,” Jill said.
“And we’ll be here,” I said.
“Unfortunately so will superspy Evan R. Lawson,” Divya said.
Jill laughed. “You probably won’t have to worry with him. Somehow I can’t see him hanging around the booth all day. Evan has to schmooze.”
“It’s what he was born to do,” I said.
“What do you think of the space?” Jill asked.
“Love it.”
“Besides the desk and the exam tables do you need anything else?”
“Privacy screens,” Divya said. “Do you have any of those lying around?”
“I think so. I’ll check.” She pulled a notepad from her purse and scribbled on it. “I’ll add it to the list.”
“Don’t go out of the way,” I said. “We can easily rent them.”
“Trust me, it’s no problem. We have more stuff in storage than you can imagine. Anything else you can think of right now?”