Rough Waters (8 page)

I grab my water bottle and head toward the
door. Reed’s expression halts me, so I motion that I’m going to
walk outside for a minute. All this surfer talk is boring when the
only surfers I know of are the ones who surf for Drenaline Surf or
are linked to it. Well, them and John John Florence because Topher
is obsessed with him.

The screen door slams behind me, but A.J. is
the only one asleep in Kale’s house. I sit on the porch swing and
study the tiki man carved into the wind chimes. Kale’s parents
definitely know how to decorate in a way that brings Hawaii to
California. Hibiscus flowers sit in the flower beds. Maybe they’ll
bring back more awesomeness from their trip back home. And maybe
A.J. will have sobered up and gotten out of Kale’s bed by then. For
now, it’s better that he sleeps because all I’ve heard about lately
is how he’s ready to destroy Crescent Cove for destroying his
carnival grounds.

I sort of wish I’d just stayed at Drenaline
Surf instead of coming here tonight. Emily begged me to so she
wouldn’t be the only girl, but she and Miles have been glued to
each other since we got here. If it wouldn’t ruin the guys’ night
by making them feel like they have to leave, I’d bail and help Vin
with those invoices he had left to do. But since I don’t want to
worry Reed, I decide to take a trip down to the shoreline.

I’m not sure if it’s Kale’s house or just
something in the air tonight, but Horn Island seems prettier,
cleaner, just all around better. It clearly has to be Kale’s house.
There’s nothing clean about Horn Island.

“Hey!” someone shouts from behind me. Topher
runs through the sand to where I sit. “Feel like company?”

He doesn’t give me time to answer. He settles
in next to me with a bottle of Ocean Blast Energy and a bag of
sugar cubes. How typically Topher. But it makes me smile.

“Some party, huh?” I say.

“Well, if you like talking about surfing and
drinking beer all night, then yeah,” Topher says. “I mean, I like
to talk about surfing, but there’s other stuff to talk about. I bet
Vin’s having more fun with his tax documents than he would’ve
here.”

“Taxes? He told me he was paying invoices,” I
say.

Topher looks at me like I’m crazy, says
something about Vin paying the bills last week, and then he says
maybe Vin got them mixed up. We both know the truth, though. Vin’s
lying to one of us or just outright making up excuses and not being
able to keep his stories straight. If he didn’t want to come, he
should’ve just said it. Topher and I aren’t little kids, but Vin
sure as hell has a way of making me feel like one.

“What are you doing out here alone anyway?”
Topher asks, changing the subject.

“Eh, got tired of listening to the
Billabong/Hurley battle in there,” I say. “Do you know Nat Young or
Taj Burrow?”

Topher swigs his blue liquid and then laughs
as he caps the bottle. “Not personally, no. I wish,” he says. “Taj
is one of the biggest names in the world. Nat’s a Cali guy, surfs
for Hurley like John John does. Taj has been on the world tour for
a while, but Nat’s an up and coming surf star.”

I look back out at the water. The whitecaps
glisten in the moonlight, but that’s about all I can see over the
black water.

“Do you think that’ll ever be you?” I ask.
“You know, world tour, surfing the best waves on the planet with
the most elite surfers on Earth?”

Topher laughs. “I’m not that good,” he says.
“I’m the best in Horn Island, maybe even Crescent Cove. But it
would take a lot of training, preparation, and tons of events to
even get close to where they are. And you know, it’d help to have a
sponsor because God knows I can’t afford the entry fees.”

He pops a sugar cube into his mouth and
stares out across the water. I wish we were texting instead of
sitting on the beach. Topher is always so vocal and open via text
message. He rambles on until his battery dies. In person, lately,
he seems more solemn. At least he has the sugar cubes tonight.

“Vin has to sign you eventually,” I tell him.
“There are only so many people he’d want representing Drenaline
Surf. I think he just wants you to go to college and give reality a
try first.”

Maybe that’s what Vin wants for me too. Maybe
he wants me to go to school, meet people, take classes, write
papers, and get some fancy little degree that means nothing in
today’s economy. Drenaline Surf is a business. It’s a reality. It’s
good enough for me.

“You know, I don’t think he’ll ever sign me.
It’s stupid because he tells me how in ten years, I’ll be the next
local legend. Kids will remember me the way we all remember Shark,
but he won’t sign me,” Topher says. “He went as far as Florida to
scope out Logan. I don’t know the guy like I know the Hooligans,
but I just know, in my gut, that he’s not right for us. He might
have this image that Vin likes, but he never knew Shark and he
doesn’t know what Drenaline stands for. He doesn’t belong.”

That alarming feeling of exile invades my
stomach. I tuck my legs up closer to me, my knees to my chest.
Maybe Logan, Colby, and I should all just go back to the east coast
where we came from. Topher’s eyes grow wide when he realizes what
he just said – and how I took it.

“Shit,” Topher says. “I didn’t mean it like
that. You belong here. Hell, Colby even belongs here in some ways.
I just think Logan doesn’t have Drenaline Surf in his heart. You
do. I know you do. If Drenaline Surf was the ocean, you’d be the
moon. You balance everything.”

“Nice save,” I tell him. “How is it even
possible that you don’t have a girlfriend when you use lines like
that?”

He looks away, like maybe he’s embarrassed or
just super shy about girls. I really don’t get it, though. Topher
is completely adorable, has the best heart in the world, and he’s a
surfer.

“Girls don’t like me,” he says. “Horn Island
guys have a reputation. They think we all look like Miles and act
like Theo. It hurts the good guys like Jace and me.”

“But Miles has a girlfriend,” I remind him.
“And Theo does, right?”

Topher shakes his head. He tells me how
Theo’s girlfriend broke up with him because of his drinking habits.
From what I’ve heard, he’s drunk more often than he’s sober.

“He was actually suspended for three days at
work last week,” Topher explains. “You can’t be a drunk lifeguard.
After what happened, they just feel sorry for him and give him a
lot of extra chances.”

Topher shifts in the sand as he talks. I can
tell he’s uncomfortable with the topic at hand, but I have to dig
deeper. I hardly know Theo. I’ve seen him a few times with the
Hooligans, and I know he lifeguards, but that’s pretty much the
gist of it.

“What happened?” I ask. “To Theo,” I add for
clarification.

He waits for a minute before he speaks. He
doesn’t look at me. He just stares off into space, somewhere above
the ocean but under the sky.

“Theo had this dream of being a board
shaper,” he begins. “He wanted to make surfboards for Shark. They
used to joke around about having a side shop where Theo made the
boards and Shark would sell them. He actually took a few classes on
how to do it, but it was expensive, so he needed a real job.”

I sip from my water bottle and keep my eyes
on Topher, hoping he’ll just ramble on and on. He pops another
sugar cube into his mouth and chases it with a drink of Ocean Blast
Energy.

“So Shark convinced him to give lifeguarding
a chance,” he says. “That way, Theo could be on the beach all day,
and he could always find jobs at pools or gyms. You can’t keep Theo
out of the water, so it was pretty much perfect for him.”

Topher props his elbows on his bent knees and
runs his hands through his hair. His anxiety radiates off of
him.

“Theo wasn’t like this, Haley. I swear. He
had things going for him,” he says. “He was smart and driven. He
was going to be someone, you know?”

I can’t bring myself to actually speak so my
voice comes out in a whisper. “What happened to him?”

Topher sighs. “The first time he had to save
someone’s life, he failed. He fell apart after that. He drank to
forget, and then he’d get so drunk that he’d remember, and then
he’d cry until he passed out. He still has nightmares.”

I can’t even imagine. I can’t fathom trying
to save someone, knowing that a person’s life is literally in your
hands, and not being able to pull them through.

“If anyone is a broken down mess, it’s him,
and people just assume he’s a drunken idiot who parties too much
and doesn’t give a damn about life, but when you’ve watched someone
literally take their last breath because you couldn’t save them, it
ruins you,” Topher says. “I’d destroy anyone who messed with
Theo.”

Hell, right now,
I
want to destroy
anyone who messes with Theo.

“Anyway, that’s why he can’t keep a
girlfriend,” Topher says, steering the conversation back to the
original topic.

It’s obvious that he would rather talk
awkwardly about girls than Theo’s situation, so I go along with it
and let him revert the conversation.

“And Miles has a girlfriend because Emily
knew him back when he was dating Kristin,” he explains. “Well, sort
of. I like Emily, though. She’s good for Miles. She doesn’t like
him for his sponsorship, and she doesn’t judge him by his
reputation or dreadlocks, like some people.”

He not-so-secretly fake coughs the words
‘Ocean Blast Energy.’ Sadly, I think they truly believed Dominic
would win that day. He looks like a poster boy. Colby looks the
part as well. But Miles isn’t the wholesome image you want
representing your company. He doesn’t even look like a surfer or an
athlete. He’s small but ripped like a Spartan warrior.

“He’s my best friend, no doubt,” Topher says.
“He’s been my best friend since I was like…seven or eight. I’d die
for him. But I’ll never understand how he gets girls and I don’t.
He’s so awkward with them, and they think it’s cute or charming or
something. So lame.”

I love that Topher doesn’t have to get drunk
to be honest. He talks about growing up with Miles and all the
crazy stunts they pulled as kids. Then he tells me about teaching
Miles to surf and how hard it was because Miles surfs goofy-footed
and Topher surfs regular stance. He wasn’t kidding when he said he
likes to talk surfing. He’d just rather talk about Shark McAllister
and Miles Garrett than Nat Young and Taj Burrow.

Then he turns toward me and laughs before he
even tells me what’s so funny.

“Did you know I tried to convince Vin to send
me in A.J.’s place when he couldn’t make it to your prom?” Topher
asks.

I shake my head. Topher would’ve been easier
for Mom to handle than A.J. That’s for sure.

Topher nods. “I did,” he says. “I pleaded
with him for weeks. I just figured I’d be more fun, and A.J. was
worried about having to wear old guy shoes. I would’ve been a
better sport.”

“Did you wear old guy shoes to your prom?” I
ask, still not completely sure what old guy shoes really are. I
thought guys wore the shiny black shoes to proms. I don’t even
remember A.J.’s shoes.

Topher looks away, sort of coy again. “I
didn’t go to my prom,” he says. “I didn’t want to go alone.
I’ve…never, you know…been on a date or anything. I don’t even own a
tie.”

Bless his little surfer heart. If it wasn’t
after midnight, I’d take him shopping on my dad’s credit card right
this second. Now I wish Vin would’ve sent him in A.J.’s place,
although the shock factor of A.J. was a lot of fun at my dull
little high school. Still, Topher would’ve rocked a tux and been
cuter than A.J. in my prom pictures.

“That’s what I’m going to do,” Topher says.
“When I finally get signed to Drenaline Surf, I’m going to take
that sign-on check and buy expensive clothes. And a tie. And then
I’m going to go to some expensive place that I normally can’t
afford and celebrate.”

“I’m holding you to that,” I say. “When that
day comes, I expect to see you all dressed up.”

“Oh, you will,” he assures me. “Because
you’re celebrating with me.”

Yellow construction tape circles A.J.’s
carnival grounds. But even the yellow tape can’t take away from the
huge sign stating that this is the future home of Florence Gardens
Inn. The photo on the sign is of a huge luxury hotel with valet
parking and private hot tubs in each room. That’s what the
not-so-fine print says anyway. It’s been four days since A.J. flew
off the handle and drank his sorrows away at Kale’s house, but he’s
still raging.

“I don’t know who the fuck Florence thinks
she is, but I’m going to make that bitch wish she’d never come to
Crescent Cove,” A.J. says, ripping away some of the yellow
tape.

Construction equipment sits around among the
wreckage, waiting to take down something else with no compassion
for those who once loved this place. The old game booths and
popcorn stands sit in piles of wood, strewn across the ground
haphazardly.

The entrance to the house of mirrors has been
barricaded with wooden posts. Do Not Enter signs fill the cloudy
windows. One is propped up against the barricaded door. I wonder if
the construction crew has heard the story of Lickety Split.

A backhoe sits near the now-demolished pirate
ship. Metal poles and the seating both rest on the ground behind
the huge wooden dragon. It’s even more massive on land than it was
on the side of the pirate ship. A.J. holds his arm up, admiring the
inked dragon on his arm. Turquoise with orange eyes, just like the
one from the ride.

“I wonder what they’ll tear apart next,” he
says.

I glance around for the one thing I loved
about this place – the carousel. It remains, fully intact, for now
anyway. I make a beeline toward it and A.J. follows. He knows
exactly where I’m headed – to the life-sized version of
Solomon.