Riptide - By Lindsey Scheibe Page 0,12

I want that letter of recommendation. The surf report today was decent—for summertime. Grace probably caught a ride to the beach with someone else. Five bucks says it was a guy, and I bet Damien was eager to help out.

And the worst part about today? Brianna’s running the copy machine while Hop and I watch.

Hop says, “Man, I never realized how much the art of making copies is like construction.”

Brianna rolls her eyes.

He keeps going. “I guess every good copy project has one guy working and two supervising.”

I laugh. “Good one, dude.” Hop has a future career as a bad comedian.

Brianna focuses on that copier like it’s delivering babies instead of papers.

I say, “Brianna—Let’s pick up the pace. I need to see some more enthusiasm. Hop to it.”

Hop says, “Dude, don’t take my name in vain.”

Brianna whips her head toward us and raises one eyebrow. “One, I don’t need supervision, and two, you two fools couldn’t handle me if you tried.”

I like the way she thinks. In lists. And she’s got fuego.

Hop keeps a straight face and turns to me. “The sign of a good handler is to corral the subject in a way that the subject does not know they’ve been handled.” Then he looks at Brianna and says, “You stayed, didn’t you? Between that and the fact that I’ve yet to lift a finger, I’d say I won this round hands down.”

Burn.

Brianna’s speechless mad.

Hop speaks into an imaginary microphone. “Come on, Brianna. Let’s start over. I’m Hop. Vietnamese joker. I play poker. And I like to pick on hot chicks.”

Girl’s trying to stay mad, but it looks like Hop helped wear her down. He passes the mic to me. I grab it. “My name’s Ford, not Ferdinand. I like water better than land. I like to surf, and … ” Shoot. I’m stuck. “And you smell good?”

Brianna cracks a small smile.

“C’mon,” I say. “Why can’t we all get along? We are the world and all that. Besides, we didn’t want you to leave this morning. You think I want to be stuck with a smelly guy who tells bad jokes all summer?”

Hop says, “Bad jokes maybe. You got the market cornered on smell. Bro, you need to invest in some mega antiperspirant.”

“Brah, I am wearing it. I got stuck in traffic and had to run down fifty flights of stairs in the parking garage. Otherwise, I would have been later.”

Brianna says, “Next time, be later.”

“Ouch. It’s not that bad.”

Hop and Brianna look at each other and then say, “Yeah, it is.”

“Dang. Well, if that’s what it takes to bring people to-gether … ” I shrug. “A guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do. I’m all about saving the world, one stanky situation at a time.”

five

Sometimes in the morning, when

it’s a good surf, I go out there, and

I don’t feel like it’s a bad world.

—Kary Mullis

It’s awesome that I’m actually sitting on Huntington Beach watching a surf comp live. This is it. The place where surf history on the West Coast started. The place where guys like Duke Kahanamoku and Corky Carroll surfed, the beach that the USA surf team calls home. It’s the quintessential spot to visit, a place where surfing isn’t just a person on a board—it’s a spiritual experience.

Sponsors bustle around getting things ready for the Surfer Girl Jr. Pro. They have tents everywhere, advertising everything from energy drinks to surf gear to sunscreen. As far as the actual competitors, they have their own area: a raised platform topped off by a big white canvas tent. Being here to watch a surf comp live is so freaking cool.

The drive here from San Diego only took an hour and a half, but even that short of a distance from my family can make a world of difference in my stress level. It’s so awesome of Ford’s uncle to let us stay at his beach house—Mama Watson said her brother’s decorating taste is impeccable. I can’t wait to see the place, but I’m definitely glad they dropped me and Ford off at the beach first, while they ran errands.

A weekend with the Watson family is my get out of jail free card. If it weren’t for a breakthrough in one of Dad’s cases (translation: I caught him in a good mood), I’d be at home dusting. If I believed in fate, maybe I’d look for some deep meaning, but I don’t. I’ll take what I can get. I relax and enjoy the comp set-up while Ford, practically