“Paddle, catch, pop. Okay, I can do that.” I crank my head around and follow his gaze to incoming white water. “This one?”
“No.” His triceps flex under the pressure of the wave that pummels me and the board, but his grip keeps us in place. “Okay, this next one.” He squints for a second before swinging excited eyes to mine. “Ready, surfer girl?” His lips tilt and salt water drips off the tips of his hair.
I blink and turn forward. “Ready.”
He angles the board just right. “Paddle as hard as you can. You’ll know when it catches.”
I nod, my belly flip-flopping like crazy.
“’Kay, babe, here ya go.” He shoves the board just as a swell builds behind me. “Paddle!”
My hands dig into the water, one after the other. Hard and fast, I push through the ocean until my shoulders burn.
“Shit, shit, shit, I’m gonna miss it.” I groan and throw every last bit of my strength into pushing myself ahead of the wave.
Then it happens. The board thrusts forward on its own.
“I did it!”
“Atta girl!” Mason’s voice is laced with pride. “Now pop up!”
Pop, right! I push up to my hands and knees then wobble. Stay centered. Bringing one foot forward, I pop up. The board tilts, almost tossing me off, but I regain my balance. I did it! I’m not going nearly as fast as Mason and I did on the bigger waves, but I’m still moving.
“Go, Bea!” My siblings cheer me from the beach, and I sway but manage to stay up on two feet.
“Yeah, baby!” Mason yells.
Holy shit! I’m surfing!
“Woo hoo!” My holler is mixed with my laughter as the power of the ocean propels me forward.
And for the first time since before Svetlana died, I feel free.
Twenty-three
Mason
The sun is getting lower, and our little group of ragtag beach-goers is running out of steam.
After we ate the peanut-butter sandwiches and grapes that Trix brought for everyone, I busted out my ice chest full of mini-mart snacks, including chips, candy bars, and flavored sports drinks. The kids went nuts, and for a second, I felt guilty like maybe their parents wouldn’t want them gorging on crap, but when I caught the soft look on Trix’s face while the kids gobbled up chocolate bars and cheese puffs like it was their job, I knew it was something more.
My guess is they don’t get the opportunity to indulge in shitty food while living on a budget. After watching Isaac power down four sandwiches and having been a sixteen-year-old athlete myself, I’d be willing to bet it takes every cent they have to keep him fed, and that’s only one of the six kids living at home.
I pop my shades up, squinting into the lowering sun as Isaac carves into a wave on my short board. Is there any sport this kid doesn’t dominate?
Isaac picked up on surfing the long board quickly and had asked if he could take mine out. I went with him, showing him the basics, the differences in how it moves, and gave him some pointers on a few waves.
“He’s getting really good, Mason!” Trix is lounging back on the sheet. Thankfully, her gorgeous bikini-clad body is wrapped in a sweatshirt, as Leah dozes off in her lap.
I rip my gaze away to follow the direction of her pointing finger. Isaac’s still holding his own against the sunset break. I scan the horizon for surfers, who appear like black dots, noticing it’s gotten more crowded since the sun started to set. Usually, this beach doesn’t attract the surf locals as much as some of the heavier breaks in the area. Cowell is a great place to learn to surf, but the seasoned shredders prefer a more challenging wave.
However, with some recent big open-ocean storms and El Ni?o, the waves at Cowell are a wild card and predictions are high.
I shake off the edginess that pricks against my skin, but maintain a visual on Isaac. Truth is, when the local surfers come out, not a single outsider is safe.
The bump of a swell rolls in from the distance, and all the little black dots paddle into position. My eyes stay fixed on Isaac. I stand up, trying to gain a better vantage point, blocking the glare with my hand.
“Mason?” Trix is up and next to me. “What is it?”
“Nothing, he’s fine.” For now.
I watch as the wave builds, and little does Isaac even realize, he’s in the optimum position, but not in the right order of the line up to catch this one.
Bottom line, this wave doesn’t belong to him.
If he catches this wave, he’s going to get his ass kicked.
The swell builds, barreling in, and I see the exact moment that he realizes where he’s at. He turns his board around, paddling in front of a group of black dots.
“Fuck,” I hiss under my breath.
“What?” She grabs my hand.
Isaac moves, completely unaware that he’s thrown down a challenge and is shit deep in a paddle battle. My jaw locks down and I grit my teeth. Lose, Isaac. Don’t out paddle these guys.
He hits the lip of the wave at full force. It catches, grabbing Isaac along with one other guy on his outside. Shit. I move, headed for the waterline, dread heavy in my gut.