When Everything Is Blue(7)

“Me neither. Does it need to fit your board?”

“Nah, I’ve got Chris for that. Skating’s more my thing anyway.”

She nods. “I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

“Thanks. I’d appreciate it.” I glance around, looking for Chris.

“He’s over there talking to Kelli.” She points. Chris is farther down the beach with one of his groupies, Kelli Keyhoe. Kelli goes to our school and is one of Chris’s regular make-out buddies. She’s a junior like Chris and Ryanne. Blonde and beautiful with what the guys call a banging body, Kelli’s doing all the moves I’ve seen my sister use—hair toss, bared neck, laughing at shit that probably isn’t that funny. Guys like that, I guess.

What do gay guys like? I have no idea. I’ve never seen two guys flirt with each other before. Do they even flirt? They must, right? I could really use a few gay rom-coms to guide me. Not that it would help much. I couldn’t flirt to save my life.

I turn back to Ryanne. “I’m going to get some food. You want anything?”

“I can give you a ride. You can check out my Subaru.”

“I was just going to take my skateboard.”

“Oh, okay.” She frowns a little, and I don’t want to be rude, so I add, “But a ride would be great if you’re up for it.”

She agrees, and we walk over to Chris to get his order. He sees Ryanne with me and raises his eyebrows like this is my big chance to hook up with a real, live girl. I have to suppress a massive eye roll because if he only knew. I put on a shirt and wrap my towel around my waist before climbing into Ryanne’s Subaru, so I won’t drip on her upholstery. She brought a board with her to surf, which is cool. Most of the surfer chicks just come to lay out and flirt with the guys. Ryanne can hold her own out there in the surf. And she’s easy to talk to.

While we pick up subs, Ryanne vents to me about her sister who graduated last year and thinks she’s hot shit. I’ve seen her around school. Fast crowd, into those expensive drugs. I can relate to Ryanne’s struggle. Tabs has that same desire to be accepted and popular, at whatever cost. I worry about Tabs and her friends getting into pills or coke. Seems like they’d try some stupid shit just to look cool. Addiction runs in our family.

“She’s completely off the rails,” Ryanne tells me. “Sometimes she’ll disappear for a couple days and we’ll get a call to come pick her up from some rando’s house, totally wrecked and out of her mind. It’s killing my parents.”

I commiserate with her while we wait for the food. I tell her about my mom, who had to deal with the same thing with my dad, getting calls in the middle of the night to come pick him up from whatever bar he’d gotten shit-faced at, then having to fight with him to come home in front of everyone else, dealing with his sulky, woe-is-me attitude the next day. I can remember her actually apologizing to him for not being more understanding. What madness. My dad’s an expert gaslighter.

“That’s bullshit,” Ryanne says, and I wholeheartedly agree.

When we get back to the beach, we all dig into our subs. Chris tries to give me money for the food, but I tell him to keep it for gas. “I’m a working man now.” To get out of an awkward argument, I grab my board and head back out.

The winds have picked up and the waves are coming in faster now, rolling a little higher, breaking with more force. I love how the waves can turn on you so quickly. And the summer storms in Florida—they’re the best. I love to watch the clouds roll in like the four horsemen of the apocalypse, the lightning tearing through the black sky like it’s splitting it in two. The way the winds make the palm trees bend to their will with so much power and ferocity. And then the whole thing blows over like it never happened and the sun breaks through again.

I feel the undertow tugging at my legs as I paddle out to where the water’s beginning to curl. I let a few good ones pass by, then jump on a beastly bomb, biggest one I’ve seen all day. I turn my board away, catching it at just the right angle. But when I’m about to pop up, Lady Macbeth gets caught on the wind and turns up hard. Her nose goes completely vertical and dumps me into a swirly that sucks me in deep. The dump is such a surprise that it knocks the wind out of me and I don’t grab enough air before going under. My legs are trapped in the undertow, making it impossible to climb to the surface.

I get rag-dolled by the wave, try to grapple my way out of it, and end up getting buried in deeper while the waves still pound me. My lungs are burning, and for a moment I can’t tell which way is up. I sweep with my arms and scissor my legs, kicking as hard as I can. Finally the pressure relents and I’m able to claw my way to the surface. Just as I breach the waves, two massive hands grab hold of my shoulders and yank me the rest of the way out. Chris is treading water right in front of me with a terrified look on his face.

“Shit, Theo. What took you so long?”

The alarm on his face makes me wonder how long I was under. I glance around for my board and see that Ryanne has trapped it way down the beach. It must have come untethered from my ankle in the swirly.

“You okay?” he asks and shakes my shoulders a bit.

“Should have waited half an hour before swimming,” I say weakly, still breathless and dizzy from lack of oxygen.

He pushes me away and barks a harsh laugh. “Jesus. You’re such an asshole. You sure you’re all right?”