Girl Out of Water(22)

I’m gathering the nerve to ask Tess to grab him when Parker and Nash bounce into the kitchen. “Let’s go to the park!” Nash shouts.

“Yeah, please,” Parker says.

“Please, please, please.”

Their pleas make it almost impossible to hear Tess. “I think that’s my cue to go,” she says, laughing. “Have fun at the park. Love you!”

“Thanks, love you too,” I say. “Talk soon, okay?”

“Definitely,” Tess agrees before signing off.

The screen goes blank. No more Tess. No more ocean. I’m sad yet grateful. I really do need to clarify things with Eric, but there’s no harm in putting it off a little longer. Right? My throat feels tight as I ask the boys, “Do we really want to go to the park again? Don’t you want to, like, rot your brains on video games or something? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s very hot outside.”

“Pleeeasssseee,” Parker says. “I want to learn this new trick, the crooked grind, and Austin, you know Lincoln’s brother, said he’d help me with it today.”

Lincoln’s brother. That means Lincoln will also be at the park. Probably. Not that I’d go to the park just because Lincoln is going to be there. I’d go because Parker wants to learn this grind trick. Parker and Nash both cheer while I go change in a room that isn’t mine. Dad never said no when I wanted to learn something new. Once he even worked twelve-hour days all week and still came out with me at the crack of dawn on a Saturday because I wouldn’t shut up about learning a frontside bottom turn. I have no desire to deny my cousins the same opportunity. If I can’t enjoy my summer, I’m damn sure going to help them enjoy theirs.

? ? ?

The park paths are emptier than usual today, undoubtedly because the temperature is already breaching the ninety-degree mark. Most kids are probably down at the public pool, splashing around in lukewarm water, their parents hunting for shade in the handful of umbrellas. Apparently it’s rare for the temperature to climb this high in Nebraska; apparently the scorching sun showed up special for me.

Emery waves good-bye and heads for the basketball courts again. She seems happier since Aunt Jackie’s successful surgery. Part of me wants to follow her to get a closer look at these friends of hers. But I remind myself that although I’m not her parent, I am her quasi-guardian-cousin, and my presence might embarrass the hell out of her.

Instead I follow Parker and Nash to the skate park. They rush off toward the same cluster of short rails, where they high five and bump fists with a few kids. I hope Parker learns his new trick today. I hope he learns it, and then another trick, and then another. I hope the thought of skateboarding wakes him up each day with clawing excitement. I hope when he closes his eyes at night he only sees the grit of asphalt and hears spinning wheels. The thrill of learning something new out in the water has never left me, and through Parker, maybe I can snatch a shred of that adrenaline rush.

After watching them for a few moments, I scan the rest of the park and spot Lincoln and his brother by the edge of the giant bowl. The pair couldn’t look more different, and not because of their physical differences. Lincoln looks like some kind of redneck-meets-hipster with his jean shorts and sleeveless flannel shirt and chunky black-framed glasses and his brother looks like he Googled punk-goth and bought the first clothes he saw.

Lincoln looks up and catches my gaze. I hate getting caught staring. The whole appeal of watching someone is ruined if they watch you back. He leans over, says something to Austin, then jumps on his skateboard and glides over to me. The move is so fluid that for half a second, skateboarding impresses me. It’s not as beautiful as slicing down the coastline as water trundles beneath you, but for solid ground, I guess it’s not as pathetic of a sport as I’ve always thought.

“Hey,” he says and slides to an easy stop in front of me. He remains on his skateboard, popping it back and forth, lifting each side a couple inches off the ground and then dropping it back with a sharp rattle. It’s like the action is more natural to him than standing still.

“Hey,” I say back. He’s even more attractive than I remembered—tall with broad shoulders, dark eyes, and smooth skin completely unmarred by scruff or acne.

He gestures to his skateboard. “You ever try one of these?”

I shake my head. “Not my sport. I’m a surfer actually.” I’m not sure why I divulge this information. Something about Lincoln makes me feel comfortable despite the unfamiliar terrain.

He adjusts his glasses, tilts his head, and appraises me. “A surfer. You must hate it here.”

“Unless there’s an ocean hiding under these great plains, I’m pretty much destined for a summer of torture.”

“All summer?” Lincoln asks. Instead of popping up his skateboard, he starts riding back and forth in a semicircle around me. His hand jingles by his side. He might have more excess energy than the twins. “Why all summer?”

“Well, you know Parker and Nash, right?” Lincoln nods, and I continue. “Their mom, my aunt, got into a pretty bad car accident, so my dad and I flew here for the summer to help while she recovers.”

“Ah, that’s why the disastrous duo disappeared for a few days. Poor guys.” Lincoln glances at the twins and then back to me. “Hope your aunt’s doing okay.”