Girl Out of Water(23)

“She is, thanks.” I pause. “Disastrous duo?”

Lincoln nods. “Oh, yeah, that’s what everyone calls them. A few weeks ago, there was an ice cream truck situation involving some neighborhood dogs, a clown from a kid’s birthday party, and—actually, it’s kind of a long story. I won’t get into it. But let’s just say they’ve been the source of many fiascoes.”

I make a mental note to be on guard around ice cream trucks and clowns for the rest of summer. “Do you, like…hang out with them?” I ask.

Isn’t it weird to hang out with younger kids? I don’t ask.

“Yeah, you know, we all do. Kind of a skate park thing, I guess. If you hang out here enough, you get to know everyone. Our own little four-wheeled family.”

I think of my surfing family back home—Cassie with her infallible energy, Marie with a work ethic even more intense than mine, Spinner with his ability to laugh off even his most outrageous fuckups.

“So you want to try?” Lincoln asks, snapping my attention back to him.

“Try what?”

He kicks up the skateboard with one quick stomp of his foot and offers it to me. “Skating.”

“No thanks,” I say.

“Why not?” The board hangs there between us. “Look, I know I’m pretty great looking and everything, but there’s no need to impress me. I promise I won’t judge when you fall on your ass.”

“Um, who said anything about you being good-looking?”

“Great looking,” Lincoln corrects. “And it’s kind of a known fact. Lincoln is great looking. Lincoln has one arm. And Lincoln is better at skating than Anise.”

“You remembered my name,” I say.

“Memory of steel, another one of my many amazing talents.”

“Your modesty is overwhelming.”

“So is my smile.” He grins and his dimple pops out once more. “Come on, give it a try.”

I’m about to refuse again when I notice Parker and Nash skating toward us, like two puppies hunting down a whiff of leftovers.

“What’s up?” they ask in unison after skidding to stops at the exact same time.

“You guys plan that, right?” I ask.

“Plan what?” they respond.

I stare them down. “That twin timing.”

“Nope.” They both grin.

“Hey, guys,” Lincoln interrupts. “Don’t you want to see Anise try to ride a skateboard for the first time?”

“Try?” I ask.

“Yes!” Parker and Nash shout.

“Me too,” Lincoln says. “Come on then.” He offers me the skateboard again, and I look at it with distrust. There has to be a catch. I can’t comprehend what could possibly be entertaining about watching me roll around on a slab of wood for a couple of minutes.

But also I can’t think of a legitimate reason for saying no besides the obvious I don’t want to. “Fine. One ride and then I’m done.”

“Excellent.” Lincoln smiles. I eye his dimple with suspicion, wondering if it has powers to persuade people into doing things they most definitely don’t want to do. “Follow me, please.”

I follow him over to an empty part of the skate park. Parker and Nash trail behind us, giggling and poking each other in the sides like this is the most entertaining thing that’s ever happened to them.

“All right,” Lincoln says. “First you step up with your—”

“I don’t need how-to instructions,” I say. This already feels absurd enough. I don’t need Lincoln guiding my movements with his hand like we’re in some cheesy made-for-TV movie. Okay, maybe I am a little curious what his hand would feel like, pressed into my back, adjusting my stance, but I’m sure that’s just the dimple talking. “I’ve been surfing since I was seven. I think I’ve pretty much mastered the whole plant-feet-on-board-stay-standing-thing.”

“Right,” Lincoln says. “And they’re the same sport, so—”

“No, they’re not; surfing is much more difficult.”

Lincoln grins. “Okay, sure. You’ve got this. Totally.”

“Totally,” the twins echo, laughing even more.

“All right, all right.” Lincoln raises his hand, and the boys quiet. “Sorry to offend, surfer girl. I’m sure you’ll wow us all. Please, go ahead.”

After giving Lincoln a healthy dose of my evil stare, which seems to have zero effect on him, I grab the board. It feels foreign in my grip. The top surface is rough, grittier than my surfboard. I could probably grate a block of cheese on it if it weren’t for all the dirt. It’s also about a third of the length and less than half the weight, making me wonder how stable it is. How can this plank of wood carry Lincoln’s bulk or even mine?

I waver. Maybe this’ll be a bit more difficult than anticipated. But I can’t back down now—not after rejecting help, not with my cousins and Lincoln watching me.

Taking a short breath, I drop the skateboard onto the ground. I go to take a surfing stance, feet perpendicular to the board, knees locked slightly inward, but realize that might be wrong for skating. I glance around the park, taking in the postures and feet placements of everyone around me. Front foot parallel to the board and back foot perpendicular. Right. Can’t be too difficult. I cautiously step onto the board. It wobbles back and forth, and I know my mask of confidence must slip for a second because Lincoln says, “Easy there, surfer girl. Sure you don’t want some help?”