by Vivian Wood
“No way,” she says, shaking her head. “That’s the whole point of us studying together. When we’re done, you will ace the tests. First time’s the charm.”
I roll my eyes. “You seem pretty sure of the outcome.”
She looks thoughtful. “You need some kind of encouragement. Something big, when you take the test. A reward for your diligence.”
“Like what?” I say, giving her a skeptical glance.
“Hmm. I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it. Do you have any big purchases planned this year?”
“Not really. I have several surf boards. I have a car. I have my bike. I have the bar. Really the only things I want, I have already.” And it’s mostly true. I do have almost everything I want.
Well, except for a girlfriend, but that’s complicated. I broke up with my last girlfriend a few months ago. Between Cure and the GED, I haven’t thought about dating since then.
Not that I would say any of that to Emma. I clear my throat, shifting a little to put an extra inch between us.
“Well, think about it. This has been an information-gathering session, more than anything. It will help me formulate a plan of attack.”
“Just… don’t set the bar too high.” I rub the back of my neck. “Remember, I’ll probably fail. I dropped out of ninth grade for a reason.”
Emma looks immediately scornful.
“Yeah, you dropped out to make sure that Forest and Gunnar had someplace to live. I just—” She pauses, then puts her hand on my knee. It feels warm through my jeans. “I hope you realize that leaving school early doesn’t make you dumb.”
I get fidgety, hearing her say those things, and stand up. I know it’s rude, but it’s better this way. “Yeah, all right. Are we done here for tonight?”
If she’s surprised by my reaction, I can’t tell.
“Yes. Of course.” She stacks my textbooks, handing them to me. I grab them, picking up my book bag and stuffing them inside. “Hey, when are you going to start teaching me to surf?”
I shrug. “Whenever you want. Not tomorrow, but maybe… the next day?”
Her sunny smile returns. “I would like that!”
“I’ll text you.” I shoulder my back pack, ready to go. I pause. “And Emma? Thanks.”
She blushes. “No problem. Next time we meet to study, I’ll be more prepared. I’ll get a set of flash cards, I think.”
Fuck, she is really taking this shit seriously. This is probably not going to end how she thinks it’s going to end.
I just incline my head and head off the porch, through her sandy lawn. I glance back once, and see her watching me, those bright blue eyes taking everything in.
This was not a good idea, I think as I head home.
4
Emma
I glance at my phone for probably about the five thousandth time, though I don’t really expect anything new to come across the screen. Everything exciting has already happened. I got a much anticipated text from Jameson, roughing out the details of this afternoon.
Surf lessons today?
Totally! Where and when?
Then there is a lapse, with just those three dots, indicating that he’s texting. I friggin’ hate those dots. Then, he finally texts me back.
Meet at Joe’s Surf? Let’s shoot for 2.
Definitely! I immediately text back.
That was at noon. Now it’s one fifteen, and I am squeezing into my teeniest tiniest bikini. I look in the mirror in my messy bedroom, scoping out the pale pink triangle top against my suntanned skin.
I turn and check out my ass, indecisive. I glance at the pile of other swimsuits I own, sucking my bottom lip in between my teeth. I might be wearing the smallest one, but it’s kind of impractical for anything other than sunbathing. One wave gone awry, and the top will be nothing but a memory.
I heave a sigh just as Evie knocks on the open doorway of my bedroom. She is dressed up like she’s going to work, in a little black dress and heels. Her coffee creamer skin is all but glowing, and her dark hair is medium length, done in natural waves. She looks like a million bucks, which is good since knowing Evie her dress and shoes probably cost as much as a car.
She gives me a once over. “Who are you planning to seduce? Is it Jameson?”
I wince. “Is it that obvious?”
“Yeah. I mean, if that bathing suit top were any smaller, it would cease to exist.” She looks faintly amused. “He is really ridiculously hot though.”
I collapse onto my bed. “I know. But Asher has declared me off limits to him, for whatever reason. I’m like… who cares though, really?”
Evie scrunches her nose. “Are you really into Jameson? I thought you just thought he was hot.”
“I do,” I reassure her. “I would just like the option to bang Jameson, if that’s what I want to do.”
“So wear a slightly more normal bikini to the beach with him then,” Evie says. Then she frowns, putting her hand in front of her mouth. “Man, I must’ve eaten something that didn’t agree with my stomach.”
“Are you okay?” I ask, sitting up.
“Yeah. I’m just nauseated. Anyway, I have to get going. I have to take my car in to the shop.” She smiles at me. “Good luck with the seduction, I think?”
I blow out a breath and nod. “Thanks. See you later.”
She nods, her mind obviously elsewhere. I poke through the pile of bikinis, and end up with a white bikini with a hint more coverage. Then I pull on a pair of flattering denim shorts and a strappy black tank top.
After a minute of dithering, I decide on Converse as my footwear. I grab a gray striped beach tote with my wallet, phone, and sunglasses inside, and head out the door. Jameson is waiting for me outside the weathered looking shop, propped by the front door in his dark jeans and a black t-shirt.
When he sees me, he looks a little irritated. Uh oh… what did I do?
“I thought you were going to bail,” he says flatly, crossing his arms.
“It’s only… 2:10,” I say, checking my phone. “You said we were going to shoot for two.”
He frowns down at me, squinting into the bright sunlight. “I like people who are punctual.”
“Take a chill pill,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“You know, maybe this was a bad idea.” He pushes himself off the building, moving toward the parking lot. He seems pretty serious.
“Wait!” I say, rushing forward to catch his arm in my hands. His arm feels so muscular under my touch, I almost squeeze it to make sure I’m not crazy. The contact seems to stop him in his tracks. He looks me right in the eyes, his gaze pinning me in place. “I… I’m sorry, okay?”
A long moment stretches between us, with J’s expression eventually softening.
“Just be on time from now on,” he rumbles.
“Yes. Definitely.”
He shakes his head a little, blowing out a breath. Then he carefully steps out of my grasp, clearing his throat. “Let’s go inside.”
He pushes open the front door, which chimes a little as I walk in. Inside the shop is surprisingly modern, all smooth concrete, polished cedar, and a few chrome garment racks. Along the back wall there are a number of finished boards and three half-finished surf boards. There’s also a woman who is sanding one of the boards doggedly.
The song that is playing low in the background ends, and the woman stands up, pulling off a paper respiration mask. She’s really pretty, blonde and thin with cutoff shorts and a yellow crop top. She looks at Jameson like he is some dirt on her shoe, though.
“Jameson.” She crosses her arms. I’m willing to guess that she has dipped a toe into J’s pool, and she didn’t like the results.
“Maria,” he greets her, ducking his head. “It’s been a while.”
She gives him a nasty look, then turns to me. “If you’re thinking about dating him, do yourself a favor. Get a nice vibrator, and save yourself a ton of time.”
My cheeks turn red. “Oh, we’re not—”
/> “That’s not what—” he tries to explain.
I look at Jameson, and he looks at me.
“Whatever,” Maria says. “What do you want?”
“We just want to look around,” Jameson explains. “She’s never even been on a board before.”
Maria couldn’t roll her eyes any harder if she tried. Her words are huffy and sarcastic. “Great. If you don’t mind, then?”
She lifts the respirator mask back into place, turns her back on us, and goes back to sanding.
“Yikes,” I say in a low voice. “What did you do to her?”
He just rolls his eyes. “Come on. Come look at their boards.”
He goes to the stack of finished surf boards, leaning against each other. He touches the first board gingerly, lifting it almost reverently. It’s mint green and a few inches taller than Jameson.
“So there are a million kinds of surfboards,” he says, turning it over. “There are longboards and shortboards. The top, where you stand, is the deck. The bottom is usually concave, and has a fin.”
He flips the board, showing me the fin.
“Mmmkay,” I say, squinting.
“Most boards have leashes, a little cuff that attaches to your leg.” He flips the board again, showing me. “The nose of the board can be rounded or inclined, depending.”
“What is it made out of?” I ask.
“Polyurethane, usually. Here, there are a few different fin and nose setups in this stack. Here’s this… and this one…”
He shows me a few examples.
“They all pretty much look the same,” I say with a shrug.
“I’m just telling you so that you have the information. You, of anyone I know, should know the value of that.” He looks down his nose at me, which makes me suppress a smile.
“Sure,” I agree. I suck my lower lip in my teeth, trying not to look at him as if I want to jump his bones.
Which, at this moment, I really really do.
“All right. Let’s look around at the other stuff they have in here.” He sets the board down. “Here, check out these wetsuits.”
Jameson indicates a rack of wetsuits of practically every shape and size. I wander over, feeling the rubbery texture of a suit between two fingers.
“You’ll probably want a wetsuit. It’s a personal choice, but the ocean is pretty damn cold.” He holds up one that is about my size. “Might wanna try this on.”
I grab it. “It’s a wetsuit. How bad can the fit really even be?”
He shrugs. “Pretty bad.”
I roll my eyes. “Alright. I’ll try it on in a minute. What else?”
“Well, then you probably want some surf wax… and some serious sun protection…”
I follow Jameson around the store, trying not to look at the size of his hands and feet, or to check out his ass. I feel like I’m a guy; like I just constantly think about sex when I’m around him.
But only him. No other guy has ever turned my head the way that he does. I sigh to myself as he leads me around the shop.
Will he ever notice me? Will I just be a virgin forever?
I’m not paying much attention as the store tour goes on, and I walk right into him. My face careens toward his, and he reaches out to help me catch my balance. We are really close for a second, our faces only inches apart.
“Oh, sorry!” I say, blushing a bit. My hair scatters all around my face, ever a nuisance.
He steadies me, looking at me for a second. He lifts his hand, brushing a stray strand of hair out of my eyes. “You smell nice. Like… lemons, I think.”
He likes how I smell. My breath catches, and I look down at his mouth. Is he going to kiss me?
But no. He realizes all too soon that he’s too close for his comfort, and makes an effort to stand back.
“Right,” he says. “Anyway, I was thinking that you could borrow one of my boards for next week…”
“Next week?” I echo.
He gives me a look. “Yeah, I was saying that we should go out to the beach next week, to test out your skills. I’ll bring the sun block and the wax and the boards, you just need to bring a wetsuit.”
He looks pointedly at the suit in my arms.
“Right! Yeah. I guess I should try this wetsuit on then.”
Jameson looks at his watch. “It’s only 2:40… if I hurry, I can catch a few waves before I have to work the night shift at Cure. You don’t mind, right?”
I deflate a little bit. I guess it really didn’t matter what color bikini I wore today, because he’s leaving without seeing it.
“Uh, sure,” I say.
“Alright. I’ll see you soon, no doubt.”
For a second, there’s an awkward moment where he stares at me, maybe trying to decide if he should hug me or not. Then he seems to give himself a little shake.
“Later.” He turns and strides out of the shop, leaving me there alone.
I make a frustrated sound and turn toward the back, to ask the lady working where I can try the suit on.
5
Jameson
1999
“Where are we going, Jameson?” Gunnar asks, squinting up at me. He looks pretty grubby in his oversized green hoodie and too-big jeans. They’re hand-me-downs from Asher’s closet.
“We’re going to Asher’s house,” I remind him. My voice cracks on the last word, and Gunnar giggles. “He said we should stop by before school.”
He’s only eleven, and at sixteen I feel impossibly tall next to him. I glance behind me as we walk down 8th Ave, checking to make sure that Forest is still trudging behind me. He’s thirteen and about as shut off from the world as he can get; he’s got his headphones on, the music turned up as loud as it can go.
I get where Forest’s head is at. Normally at thirteen, a kid would be rebelling against a parent or authority figure. But Forest’s parents are dead or gone, with the exception of me. I work two full time jobs, making minimum wage at both.
Frankly, I don’t have the time or energy to deal with any of Forest’s shit.
So Forest has just retreated from the world, preferring to listen to music or write in his journal. I wish I had that luxury, but that’s not my reality. Gunnar tugs on my hand.
“Can we get tacos from the taco stand again tonight?” he asks.
“Maybe,” I say, frowning. I do the math really quickly… the rent on our pay-by-the-week studio apartment is due in a couple of days. I can’t pay the rent, buy groceries for this week, and still afford to eat out at the cheapest taqueria. I grimace. “Maybe we’ll just eat some ravioli out of the can again.”
Gunnar doesn’t even bat an eye. “Okay.”
I thank god that Gunnar doesn’t have picky tastes. Grateful for that, I stifle a yawn. I’m burning one of my precious hours of sleep to come out here, because Asher promised something good. Beyond that, I am not sure why the fuck I’m here. I yawn.
“Hey, you turned in those papers that I gave you to the new school, right?”
Gunnar wrinkles his nose. “Yeah. The lady asked a lot of questions, but I think she bought it.”
I turn to look at Forest, motioning for him to take his headphones off. He rolls his eyes, but takes them off.
“What?” he asks.
“Gunnar said the lady you talked to at your new school had a lot of questions.”
Forest rolls his eyes again. “I mean, she asked all kinds of things. But I stuck to the plan, and let her fill in the blanks. I’m pretty sure that she thinks that we’re like, illegal immigrants or something.”
“Did anyone else ask anything?” I feel paranoid, but this is the third school district that they’ve been to in as many years. Every time that we draw too much attention, DFACS gets called. Before we know it, Forest and I are busting Gunnar out of a new foster home in the middle of the night.
No way I’m letting that happen again, if I can help it.
“If you talk to anyone for more than a few seconds, I want to hear about it.”
He just nods, putting his headphones back on. I slap him.
“I mean it.”
“Yeah, all right,” he says. Then he purposely turns his music up so loud that I can hear it, tuning me out.
I shake my head a little, hurrying to catch up to Gunnar.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
He gives me a puzzled look, as if to say, why wouldn’t everything be okay? I ruffle his hair a little.
We turn right, and the neighborhood suddenly changes. It gets wealthy, with giant houses on amazing lawns. The sidewalks are smoother here, and there are a lot of palm trees everywhere. I don’t know how the rich people even manage to keep a lawn alive here, so close to the ocean.
Two women in running gear brush by us, giving us the stink eye. No doubt they are wondering what three kids from the wrong side of the tracks are doing walking here.
“This neighborhood is stupid,” I mutter. “Here, let’s cross the street. Asher’s family lives on the next block.”
Owns the next block is closer to the truth. A high fence rises, blocking my view. All I can see is palm trees. We walk past the driveway, where the gate allows us a view of the house. It’s definitely fancy as shit, made of light stone, and branching out dramatically.
We keep moving, per Asher’s instructions. The fence pops back up, and I walk along it. Eventually we come up on the corner of the fence, where a space is defined between the fence and a cluster of palm trees.
Sitting in the space is Asher, looking comfortable as ever. He looks up from a book that he’s been reading. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey!” Gunnar shouts. He scowls. “You didn’t say Asher was gonna be here.”
I give him side eye. “Yeah, I definitely did. Anyway, Asher… what’s the big surprise?”
Asher grins, running a hand through his short blonde hair. He stands up, then leads me a few feet away from my brothers.
“You’re gonna love this.” He digs in his pocket, producing a key. “I have a place for you guys to stay for a few months. It’s a hell of a lot nicer than the most recent place you’ve been in.”