1
MADDY
Time and I have never been friends
Shit. What time is it?
Cold water crashes over my shoulders, stealing the air from my lungs and snapping me fully awake. I cling to my board for a second, blinking salt out of my eyes while my wet hair sticks to my face in the most annoying way possible. Surfing before school was supposed to be quick. I told myself twenty minutes, tops. But I have a feeling a little more time has passed. And now I’m going to be late for school. Again.
I quickly paddle to the shore, my arms burning. And when I hit the sand, I race towards my bag and search for my phone, but one glance at the screen confirms exactly what I was afraid of; I should’ve leftfifteenminutes ago.
“Dammit.”
I yank a shirt over my bikini, shove everything into my bag, and tuck my board under my arm. Sand sticks to my feet as I take off toward home. Luckily, home is only a two-minute run from here—don’t ask me how I know.
“Running late again, Maddy?”
I glance up at the sound of my name and spot one of my neighbours walking her ancient golden retriever down the beach path, coffee in one hand, leash in the other.
“What gave it away?” I yell back as I stumble over a shell. She shakes her head, smiling, like this is the least surprising thing she’s seen all morning.
After two minutes of running—and way too much tripping over my own feet, because running with a surf board under your arm doesn't look hot at all like in the movies—I finally make it home. Even when I’m late and half out of breath, I can’t help glancing at our beach house for a second, sun-faded and tucked between the dunes, the kind of place that always smells faintly like salt and sunscreen.
I take the porch steps two at a time, shove my board against the railing, and burst through the back door, my wet feet sliding across the hardwood. I drop my bag onto a kitchen bar stool and start grabbing everything I need for school. Anatomy notebook from the counter. Pencil case from the drawer. Laptop, charger, keys. Everything gets shoved into my bag without much thought. I unzip the little side pocket, realize it’s already stuffed, add more stuff and force the zipper closed anyway. I scan the room for my lab coat, and turn just as—
“Jesus, Mads, I almost slipped. Why is the floor completely wet?”
I look up from my bag to see my older brother Noah looking at the floor as if there is an entire flood. We look enough alike that people never question it—same dark blond hair, same green eyes, same dimples. But that’s where the similarities end. Noah is calm and steady and somehow always prepared. I think he stole those traits in the womb when he got there two years before me.
“Sorry, I went surfing,” I mumble, still glancing around the room for my lab jacket, because where the hell did I put that thing?
“Yeah, I can tell,” Noah responds.
I don’t look up, I don't have to. I know he’s leaning against the counter with crossed arms.
“You’re not late again, are you?” he asks, already knowing the answer.
I roll my eyes, still not looking up. “You sound like every adult in this town.”
“That’s because they’re all right.”
I sigh and finally turn slightly to meet his gaze. “I’ll be out in time. Don’t worry.”
“Sure.”
“Don’t you have something better to do than judging me?”
“Nope.” He shrugs. “I’m ready.”
I snort. Of course he is.
I finally spot my lab coat—on the couch, I don’t know how either—and somehow manage to cram it into my bag. I glance at the clock. I’ve got fifteen minutes to shower, get dressed, and maybe look a little decent. Easy.
“I’m going upstairs,” I call, heading towards the stairs.
“You have ten minutes,” Noah replies.
“Fifteen,” I argue, turning and bolting for the stairs.
