Dawn Patrol (Surfer Girl) Read online

  We laughed some more. He was right. Noah’s mom never punished him--he got away with everything.

  “I can’t, Noah. I’m all cut up. He’ll know.”

  “Then let’s run away together.” He looked at me, his eyes both pleading and wicked at the same time. I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. We both stared at each other and laughed again--but this time it sounded more like a groan. Uncle Tommy could be scary when he was mad.

  “Okay, let’s do it. Mexico?” I said, still staring into his eyes.

  Noah didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned into me with so much force that his nose bumped against mine hard and kissed me. On the lips. His were chapped and cracking and tasted faintly of salt and sunblock. I pushed him away and swiped my mouth with the back of my arm.

  “Eww. What did you do that for?”

  He shrugged. “Saying goodbye. You realize he’s going to kill you, right?”

  “Saying goodbye by kissing me?”

  He didn’t say anything but just turned back to the ocean and shrugged, like it was just a kiss, no big deal. Only it was a big deal--to me, anyway. A super big deal. He was my first on the lips kiss. And instead of it happening with Jimmy Caldwell from my sixth-grade homeroom class like I’d always imagined, it was Noah Hartley giving me a ‘farewell, you’re going to die’ pity kiss. Which pissed me off, because when I closed my eyes that night, instead of imagining Jimmy Caldwell’s hot breath as he bent down to my face, all I could think about was Noah’s salty lips, and I kinda liked it.

  Kinda.

  3

  Sophomore Year: The Zings are a thing, age 15

  Dear Diary: I’m not afraid of falling in love with him, I’m afraid he won’t fall, too. -Brenna

  * * *

  I remember when I first started liking Noah. It wasn’t a slow ramp up. It was more of a sucker punch to the gut. Not there one moment, won’t leave the next. Honestly though, I wish it would just go back to the little hole it emerged from and die a slow death. Liking Noah is…complicated. A complete accident. Noah moved to London just before our twelfth birthday and didn’t move back until we were almost fifteen. In those three years it felt like everything changed.

  Noah and I were surfing before school one morning sophomore year the first time he gave me “the zings.” That’s what my best friend Kayla calls a massive crush. Like when you like someone so much, when you get around them and feel amped with energy, but your brain gets all foggy and you do and say really stupid stuff. Noah and I liked to wake up super early for Dawn Patrol; that’s when you surf before sunrise. We loved to surf when the water was this liquid ink color but smooth as glass and the light was low turning the sky a purplish pink. During those moments it felt almost like you were night surfing, but better because the water is calm like it hasn’t woken up yet. There was enough light in the sky so that by the time we finished the air was just starting to get warm.

  The waves were small and crisp and fun. I’d been practicing walking the plank of my longboard all weekend so that I could hang ten.

  This was the day Noah would know I am the better surfer. I hold the record for hang five--no problem. But whenever I started to inch my other foot to the nose of the board…well, you can guess. Last year, Noah managed to get all ten of his stupid fat toes over the edge and used this as proof that he’s the better surfer. I disagreed, of course. He has longer legs, and therefore needed fewer steps to get to the nose of his board. So, what if he can do it? It’s my turn to get all ten over the edge--and stay on. He may be able to get his toes to tip over, but he can’t balance them there to save his life. Plus, everyone knows it’s all about the length of the ride, not just sticking the trick.

  “I did it! Yeah!” I yelled and pumped my arms then immediately walked back to the center before I ate it. Hanging ten is delicious. It’s like the first time you ride a bike. Once it happens, doing it again and again is easy. Teaching yourself what that balance point feels like. Afterward, it’s cake.

  After my breakthrough yesterday, I’ve hung ten at least a dozen times. Okay, well, probably only like three, but it felt like more. I’m so glad I came out this morning, but I almost didn’t. I stayed up late talking to Kayla. Boy problems. By midnight and her millionth time of telling me how Brian wasn’t texting back, I finally called it a night. I mean, how many times can you tell a girl that the boy she’s crushing on is a jerk? My number one rule, if he likes you, you’ll know. He’ll show you in a million little ways, because he likes you and you give him the zings. If it’s confusing, he’s probably not that into you and you should step back. This morning I wished I’d called it sooner. By the time 6 A.M rolled around, I was seriously considering ditching Noah. I had hit snooze once already and was itching to do it again, but I had to meet Noah and show him who was boss.

  The waves are even better today than yesterday. They aren’t closing super-fast but peeling over nicely, which gives me time to walk to the nose and balance there.

  “Luck,” Noah remarks. He caught the same wave but didn’t manage to work his way back to the center before crashing. I smirk at him and waggle my brows before starting to paddle towards the next set.

  Since we’re on our long boards, we can party wave and cruise down the break together.

  “Oh yeah?” I looked over my right shoulder to where Noah was gliding down the wave to catch up to me. “You’re just afraid I’m going to take back the title you borrowed.”

  “In your dreams, Bren.” His lips rise into his signature mischievous smirk. “Race you?”

  “What do I get when I win?”

  “You mean what will I get?” he rolls his eyes. “Loser carries boards back.”

  “Deal.” I stick my tongue out, already imagining him carrying back my nine-footer. The thing is like a canoe, glossy, sea blue, and as heavy as an elephant. I’m pretty sure one of my arms is twice as big as the other from carrying it.

  “Same rules?” I look at him. We are paddling back to the lineup in preparation to catch the next set.

  He looks over and splashes me. “You’re such a rule follower.”

  “No. You just cheat. When I win, I want it to be clear.”

  “In your dreams, Surfer Girl.” He sits up, straddling his board and looks out toward the horizon. Noah will always win at paddling. He’s played water polo since freshman year, and it has definitely upped his swimming game.

  I growl in response to his stupid nickname. I hate it. It’s from an old ‘60s movie, where a Barbie stands on shore with her big boobs and fake tan and waves at the boys who do tricks to impress her. Who just sits on the beach all day? He knows it irritates me because I’m not that girl. I’d never just tan all day--I will always be out in the ocean surfing, too. I mean most girls would. I hate that that’s how movies portray women. So his nickname is extra annoying, on so many levels.

  “You wish, Snowa.” I give him my biggest smile. He earned that nickname because he always eats more snow than air snowboarding. My twin brother, Jake, and I started calling him that and it stuck. He hates it more than I hate mine, because his is true. Brenna for the win.

  I paddle next to him and straddle my board. We sit together in silence for the ten minutes it takes the next set to roll in. It would be the last of the day, giving us just enough time to get out and ready for school.

  Between sets is my favorite time in the ocean. The water gets really calm, and rolls gently underneath you, making it feel like you’re on a waterbed. Pelicans belly flop next to you while diving for fish. Sometimes there are dolphins or seals who come out to play. It’s the time I love the ocean most. Riding waves is fun, but just sitting in the water and being a part of it…it’s indescribable. Especially, when I’m with Noah.

  As annoying as Noah is, we get each other. Before Noah moved to London, his mom and dad were fighting a lot. His dad can be kinda harsh, his words stern and cold when angry. We got into the habit of meeting out here to talk and watch the sunset so he could escape his dad’s wrath. Someti
mes we’d talk so long the tides would change and we hadn’t even caught a single wave. I know that I can tell him stuff and he’ll keep my secret. I consider telling him about Kayla and Brian, then think better of it. It’s not my place to tell. I promised Kayla and while I genuinely think Noah could settle the matter with Brian, I stay silent and enjoy the cool breeze instead.

  He sees the wave first. It is beginning to form on the horizon, a long clean hump that is slowly building toward us. You can always spot the perfect wave. There’s a rhythm to the ocean. It usually begins to mound bigger and cleaner than the rest. We both slide back on our boards and turn ourselves around to face the shore before taking off in a paddle. By the time it rolls under us, it is already steep like a slide. We both know the rules. Take the best wave of the set. Once we’re both standing, walk the plank to the nose of our board and party wave it into shore. First one to fall in loses.

  I paddle hard to get into position. I hate losing to Noah but winning has its drawbacks, too. He’s a poor sport.

  Beating him at hang five is how I earned my stupid Surfer Girl nickname. Win or lose, I’m sure to get some form of passive-aggressive Noah torture. One time I beat him at Mario Kart, and he tackled me, straddling my waist so I couldn’t escape and tickled me until tears were streaming down my face and my tummy hurt from laughing. As I said, he sucks. It doesn’t stop me, though. I’m way too competitive to let him win.

  He stands up first, then me. We both walk the plank together in even measured steps. He gets to the nose quicker, but my balance is better than his. I barely get my last toe over when I look to my left and see Noah wobble. I can taste victory, bubbling through me like pop rocks. But then he rights himself, slides his eyes my way and grins. Damn. Double damn.

  The wave starts to lose steam and is about to turn to mush. You can’t hang ten or five or anything in white water--you’ve gotta get back to center before it breaks, or you’ll eat it. The bet is going to end in a tie. I’ll have to carry my own board back—which sucks, but at least I won’t have to also drag his big-ass board back.

  “Not today, Surfer girl,” he says, lying down on his board as the wave collapses. He gives a nod towards shore. “Race you,” he says. I nod back.

  We are now competing for first on land. He starts with a slight lead, but I grab the back of his board, forcing him to slide off into the knee-high water. Not to be outdone he grabs me by the waist and takes me down with him. We roll in the baby waves that are now ankle biters. Still wrestling, we crawl our way to shore. Then he does something very Noah the cheater-like. He palms my belly and lifts me out of the water, legs dangling like a drowning puppy. He carries me like that, slogging through the waves to shore.

  That is when I got the zings. Well, I think they were the zings. Whatever they were, they changed everything between us.

  I’ve never really crushed on anyone before. I mean, sure, I think boys are cute, but I’ve never felt jolts of electricity from head to toe. Like when you press your tongue to the tip of a battery, and it gives you a little shock. It feels uncomfortable, but you continue to do it anyway because it’s kinda exciting and dangerous at the same time. That is me--being carried to shore, flooded with tingling sparks and realizing for the first time that I might actually like Noah. Like really like. And then it dawns on me: he’s the first boy I actually want to stand on the beach and wave to. Damn. Not good. That can’t be true. The shore comes up fast--maybe too fast. I wiggle in his arms, but the boy is strong, and I can’t get unstuck.

  “Hey! Put me down.” He does—face first into the wet sand before tripping over me. Instead of doing the gentlemanly thing of rolling off of me, he raises his hand above my head and touches dry shore, which is our imaginary finish line. I’m pretty sure his armpit covered my face on purpose.

  “Eww. Cheater!” I try to push him off my back with my butt, because his body is lying entirely on top of mine, and I am zinging everywhere his skin touches. I am suddenly self-conscious that he can read my thoughts and see the fluttery swirls coursing through my body. I push harder, but the boy isn’t just heavier than me, he’s seemingly made of steel. I can’t budge him an inch.

  “Winner!” he cheers for himself. Ignoring my protests, he unwinds his body, lying on top of me like I am his couch. It isn’t the first time I’ve found myself under him. It’s just the first time there have been butterflies.

  “Don’t be mad at me ‘cause you’re too slow,” he rolls to his side and leans on his left shoulder to look at me. I shudder when the cold ocean froth touches the spots his body had been keeping warm.

  “Idiot,” I say, trying to suppress my grin. I lean in toward him so that our noses are inches apart.

  He grins back. The sun is bright overhead making his eyes a sparkly hazel green. They are hypnotizing. He watches me for a while, then reaches out and pushes the stray hairs that were sticking to my face out of my eyes. More zings. His fingertips caress a tingly path along my cheek.

  Then, he does something not Noah-like. He keeps his hand there, cupping the side of my face. Is he going to kiss me? I hold my breath while my mind scrambles. I’d never had a ‘real’ kiss before, unless you count Billy Matthews last year. Billy and I kissed a bunch, but it didn’t count because he just slobbered all over me and it was gross. I look down at Noah’s lips, big and full and lush. I imagine he’d kiss much better than Billy. Which leads me to wonder what it would be like to be kissed by him now that he’s older and his lips aren’t chapped.

  When my eyes travel back up into his, I find he is still watching me. I’m pretty sure I blush because my face is warm, and the sun isn’t that hot, yet. I smile and he catches me pulling my lip between my teeth. It’s what I do when I’m embarrassed.

  He smiles back and again says, “I win.”

  Then he goes back to being annoying Noah and splashes my face with water and by default seaweed on his way to his feet. Then he hoists me up and pulls me to my feet, by grabbing the hand I’m using to dislodge seaweed.

  “You suck,” I growl while continuing to wipe little pieces of seaweed from my mouth. Which makes him laugh.

  He keeps my hand clasped in his as we walk to grab our boards. Good mood Noah. Every now and then, when he is happy, he’ll hold my hand all normal-like. I feel confused by all these versions of Noah. Good mood Noah, Not Noah, Noah-Noah. Above all this is Noah we’re talking about. My brother’s best friend Noah.

  It’s not that I don’t think he’s cute. Because I do. Everyone does. I just never considered us more than, well, friends. But today it feels like he’s moved out of my friend zone. My hand feels good in his. Weirdly good. I don’t pull it away. I just want to soak in the feeling of walking alongside him holding his hand. It feels like a huge mistake to keep it there, but his fingers are like magnets keeping mine stuck between his. I rolled with it, wanting to see where things were leading.

  A headlock. In case you were wondering. And just like that he’s back to being annoying Noah. He uses my hand to pull me around into a choke hold and then musses up my hair.

  “Stop it, Snowa” I screech, and try to pull away. “Say it again, and it’s your death.” “Snowa” I giggle louder. Which turns the headlock into tickling “S… sssnnnowwwa. Snowa. Sn…” He’s tickling me so hard now I can’t say his name anymore. My stomach is about to burst. Tickling is the worst form of torture. I can’t breathe, but he won’t stop. And I’m not going to stop either, because I hate to lose. He finally lets me go when we get to our towels. The sudden release causes me to fall to the ground near his shoes.

  “Why do I let you surf with me, again?” I groan.

  “Psssh, it’s you who surfs with me, Surfer Girl.” He drops to his knees to grab his phone and shoes. It vibrates in his hands.

  Jaycee in bold black letters flashes across the screen. He sends it to voicemail. But not without a big stupid grin.

  “I thought you were smarter than that” I say, referring to his choice in girls and not hiding the fact that I peeke
d his screen.

  “Jealous?” He shrugs.

  “You wish,” I say. But I am. That and confused. This thing I’m feeling with Noah is confusing. It’s so sudden and I don’t think I would have cared in the past. But now I do and because I care, I feel all this conflict. And a strong desire to snatch his phone from his hands and throw it into the water for liking a girl that isn’t me. To be honest, the Jaycee thing I don’t get at all. Well, I kind of do. She was the first girl freshman year to grow boobs. Which made her the girl all the boys drooled over. Including Noah, apparently. Puke.

  Jaycee and I used to be friends until I learned she was only my friend because she liked my brother Jake. I actually thought we were close. We used to eat lunch together, and I’d go over to her house almost every day, but in fifth grade I overheard her in the bathroom telling our other friends that she only hung out with me because she liked Jake. I was in the stall and I wanted to stay hidden in there until they left, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I wanted them to know I heard them, so I flung the door open and walked to the sink to wash my hands making sure to look Jaycee in the eyes as I passed between them.

  I wish I could say I was strong enough not to cry, but the longer I stood at the sink pretending to wash my hands, and Jaycee stood just behind my right shoulder staring at me through the mirror with an awkward oops smile on her face, I broke. Especially because not one of our other friends stood up for me or said anything at all. Warm tears gushed down my face as cold water threaded through my fingers. All ‘our’ friends chose Jaycee, and I found myself friendless. Jaycee, Lorna and Mikaela have been on the same dance team since they were kids, I was the outlier so I got ousted or that’s what I told myself. Who knows why they stopped being my friend too but who wants friends like that anyway? I stopped eating lunch with them and started avoiding Jaycee. She started a rumor I stuffed my bra. I told Jake on her. I knew she liked him. Jake and I may be super different but he’s protective of me. He turned her down in a very public way. Now, we despise each other. Middle school became a very lonely place.