“I hear she’s incredible live.”
Most of the trip has been like this. So far, aside from the concert, we’ve made plans to visit Jay and Claire in Kauai over spring break, using Johnny’s extra air miles from work, and to actually go to Hank’s for their meat loaf special, and to make kulolo, a traditional Hawaiian dessert.
It’s exciting. Planning for the future. For adventures beyond this list.
“Do you think you’d like going to college in the city?” Blake asks.
I lean back, twisting my ponytail around my finger. “I’ve only been to New York City once. I went with my mom pretty close to Christmas when I was a kid.” I think about the crowds, the energy, the towering buildings, all of it so different from Huckabee.
In a good way.
“But maybe? I think I might?” I shrug. “I haven’t been there in years, so I can’t really say.”
“We should take a trip there sometime! Hang out, see a musical, maybe visit a couple of colleges.”
Maybe visit a couple of colleges.
I nod, actually… excited by the idea. “We could do like a college road trip, maybe?” The truck engine growls loudly underneath us, struggling to accelerate past fifty-five.
Blake smirks and reaches out to pat the dash. “Totally game. But we may have to borrow someone’s car for that.”
Pennsylvania turns into New Jersey, and the air starts to smell like salt water the closer and closer we get to the beach. The sun slowly nears the horizon as we park, and my swimsuit digs into my skin after the long drive.
I run my fingers along the strap as Blake unhooks the surfboards, handing me the smaller of the two, littered in stickers.
“That one’s mine,” she says.
“Yeah, Blake. I figured. Something tells me Johnny wouldn’t have a sticker that says ‘National Parks are for lovers.’ ”
She laughs and nudges me, the point where her skin meets mine buzzing as we lug the surfboards up to the beach. Everything about her relaxes as the water comes into view. The second we set foot on the sand, it’s like a barrier breaks. Her shoulders drop, completely free from tension. I watch her take in a deep breath, her chest rising and falling.
“I missed this,” she says.
I study her face, realizing how hard these past few weeks must have been for her. How well she’s been hiding how much she’s missing home and her friends and her life there.
“You wish you were back there?” I ask, looking out at the dark tan sand, a piece of trash sticking out every thirty feet or so. “I mean, not that Hawaii could ever compare to this.”
She squints out at the water, slowly letting out a long sigh. “I definitely miss it. I think it was hard to leave the place that had so much of my mom in it, you know? The place my parents fell in love, and the beaches they hung out on, and the place I grew up. Especially when I feel so far away from her already.”
I nod. I can definitely understand that.
“And, to be honest, I miss my friends. I miss my grandparents. I miss all the familiar places and things and people.” She glances over at me for a fraction of a second before looking back at the water, swallowing. “But if I were back there, I wouldn’t have become friends with you.”
A warm feeling swims into my chest. We’re silent for a moment, and I hold up the surfboard.
“You going to teach me what exactly to do with this thing? I mean, if I wanted to drown at the beach, I probably could’ve found a way to do it without the prop.”
“Nope,” she says, smirking as we walk down to the surf. “I figured I’d let you wing it.”
She shows me how to paddle out, from finding the “sweet spot” on the board to how to work with the wave instead of against it. Luckily, the water is pretty calm at low tide, and I manage to get out to the smoother water on my fourth try without getting absolutely wrecked, the swell of the current not strong enough to pull me completely under.
But I’m not as familiar with the ocean as Blake is, so it’s a bit scary feeling the pull of the waves, dipping and fighting the board underneath me. I like the ocean, but I’ve only been here a handful of times, mostly when I was younger, with my parents, and once with my friends back in eighth grade.
And as I paddle, I realize I… don’t exactly love being out here, surrounded by so much water, my trust dependent solely on a giant kickboard.
But Blake’s confidence steadies me, her voice telling me to move with the pull instead of against it, and slowly I’m able to work with the board, with my fear and uncertainty, instead of against it.
I can’t help but think of my conversation with Blake at the picnic. About Matt. About me and what being me means. Because I see now it isn’t just about being daring, and skinny-dipping, and jumping off cliffs.
It’s also about being afraid and sad and uncertain, and all the parts of myself, even if they’re the parts my friends don’t want to see. It’s about being real and honest, like I am at this exact moment, everything else fading away until there’s this moment of calm and clarity, just me, and Blake, and the water around us.
Soon we’re sitting on the surfboards just as the sun begins to set on the horizon, my legs dangling over either side as the sky begins to turn orange and purple and deep blue, the water mirroring it, filling itself with the same colors.
I let out a breath I feel like I’ve been holding for a million years, Huckabee and Matt and the move releasing their grip on me, just for a little while. For the first time in years, so far away from all of it, I feel free. Free of expectations and pressure, fears
