Riptide - By Lindsey Scheibe Page 0,51
she smiles.
She comes up for air. “That should do it for now. We can move the recliner later. Think he’ll like it?”
“What’s with you and trying to make everything so nice for him? He treats us like crap one minute and queens the next.” I’m sick of pretending. What’s up with that?
Her happy face leaves the building. “Well, Grace,” she snaps, “what do you want me to do? Huh? Leave him?”
“I don’t know. Why not? You don’t seem happy.” I know I’m not.
“Then what? Marry someone else who treats me like crap? Learn how to put up with their crap? I think not.”
Adrenaline pumps through me. The gloves are off. “How about marry someone who doesn’t treat you like crap? Good guys do exist.” I falter on the last line, wondering how many Fords are out there.
Mom’s lips curl into a scowl. “Yeah, right. What do you know about life? Nothing.”
“I know it sucks to be treated like I’m nothing.” I want to explode, but my words come out in a carefully controlled tone. The edginess lies below the surface.
“Well, if I leave your father … what then? And what are you going to do? Be there for me? Oh wait, you’re going off to college next year. I’ll be all alone.”
I don’t know what to say to that. The shit of it is—she’s right.
Not long after my argument with Mom, my cell rings. It’s Damien.
He says, “Hey, baby. Wanna ride?”
I laugh. “Really? Is that the best you can do?”
“Made you laugh. Wanna catch a late-afternoon surf session? Turmo?”
I glance at the clock. “You know it.”
“I’ll swing by to pick you up in fifteen.”
I start running around the room, yanking my shorts off while looking for my swimsuit. “I’ll be ready in ten.”
I barely make it to my front porch before Damien rolls up in my driveway, music blasting from his Jeep. I carry my Roxy duffel and board over to his vehicle. He slides my board on top of his and adjusts the strap so they don’t rub against each other. I sit on the passenger side, enjoying how different his Jeep is from Esmerelda. It’s immaculate. No stray pieces of trash in the floorboard. No marks on the dashboard. No rust on the paint job. It even has the new-car smell. I don’t understand why Ford has such a problem with Damien. He has him all wrong.
Dami Reew-en gets in and starts the car. No funny noises.
I say, “Once upon a time, I wouldn’t have pictured you to be so orderly.”
He turns down the radio. “That’s when you didn’t know me. I’m a man of surprise and mystery.”
I lay on a sultry voice. “Ooh. Sexy.”
He laughs. “You’re a trip. Want to go out sometime?”
Whoa. He’s straight to the point. “Um, you know I’m training for the comp. Trying to stay focused right now.”
He says, “Oh, cool. I didn’t realize you were so serious about this stuff. You need any help?”
“Yeah, totally. You’ve already been great helping me with my airs.” But I feel guilty not mentioning Ford. So I add, “Ford’s been helping me out too. Kind of my coach. But he’s at his internship more often than not.” Frustrated, I lean against the seat, feeling like more of an afterthought than a focus.
Damien says, “Dang. Ford gets around. He must be starting a surf school.”
I stare out the window. What the heck was Ford doing with that … Brittany? My heart beats erratically and I feel sick. And there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
Damien says, “You’re quiet all of a sudden. What’s up?”
“Nothing. I’m tired.”
We get on the interstate. Damien turns the music louder. The windows are rolled down and between the wind and the music, there’s no room for conversation. We’re quiet the rest of the way to Turmo.
twenty-two
fold: to stop playing
your hand, give up
Warren Hollingsworth III matches his name in every way. He looks like he belongs on Cape Cod rather than sitting across from me and Hop at Lola’s Coffee Shop. I wonder what dirt Jada has on him to get him to meet up with me.
He takes a sip of his green smoothie. “So, you and Jada must be pretty tight.”
I shrug. Hop begins folding his napkin into a million little creases.
Hollingsworth leans forward. “She called in a favor. She doesn’t do that.”
I make a mental note to bust my ass extra for her the rest of the summer. I say, “Jada’s a cool gal.”
“Let’s get to it.” He leans in,