“No, I’m fine. I’m totally fine.”
Another lie. A long list of white lies to Carlos and her parents, while one question kept bouncing back in her head… what if her shoulder got fixed but her brain didn’t? What if she never went back to surfing? What if she had no plan B? What was life without the only thing she had ever been good at? Where would money come in now that her sponsors would inevitably drop her when they knew she was broken?
As always, she plastered a huge, bright smile on her face and hid everything behind jokes and laughter, while inside she was slowly dying.
21
ALEJANDRA
Chasing Cars - Snow Patrol
It had always beennormal for them to drive from Conil, Spain, to Ericeira, Portugal.
Since they were little, the idea of taking the car to go to Portugal had been completely normal, because that meant they could stop whenever they saw good swells and surf the rest of the day if the schedule wasn’t tight. It never made sense to drive to Seville, take a flight, land in Lisbon, and then rent a car. That was a ridiculous amount of unnecessary steps.
And yet, now she was reconsidering her life choices, stuck in the back seat as she witnessed Carlos flirting—very badly—with Ester.
The very surprising thing was that Ester seemed entertained by it. She kept arguing back as they bickered about songs to choose for the drive, flamenco music versus pop music, and even politics. Their voices rose and fell in that familiar rhythm of teasing that made Alejandra want to bang her head against the window.
Maybe it would have been better to walk there alone.
Not that she didn’t want to see her brother happy. She did. Of course she did.
She just… didn’t want to see anyone happy right now.
She had woken up in a foul mood, and not being able to sleep—as she always did on any kind of transportation—was turning her horrible mood into something far worse. Probably Satan himself could have been better company than her at the moment. That sling was turning her into her worst nightmare.
Una amargada.
And she wasn’t someone who didn’t enjoy life and hated everything. Quite the opposite. She loved life. She loved the ocean, the sun, the ridiculous road trips, the freedom of it all.
But fuck her if driving more than six hours to go to a tournament she wasn’t even going to compete in—thanks to the sling hanging from her left arm—wasn’t part of her own personal circle of hell.
“Can’t sleep?” Carlos asked, searching her eyes through the rearview mirror.
“Clearly I can. I’m like a horse, I sleep with my eyes open. Can’t you see?” Sarcasm spilled from every pore as she let her head rest against the headrest, her gaze drifting toward the vast expanse of nothingness that was the Portuguese interior.
Flat land. Pale sky. Endless road.
“Do they really, though?” Ester turned around in her seat to look at her. “Do horses really sleep with their eyes open?”
Alejandra deadpanned. “No idea, Esterilla. I’ve no idea.”
“Terrible mood, I see,” Carlos stated. “Is the sling hurting you?”
“It’s just very impossible to sleep in a car when every freaking bump makes the shoulder hurt.”
“Did you take any painkillers?” Ester asked.
“Yes, but clearly, my brother still has to learn how to drive at this point.”
“Ignore her, Ester. When she’s like that, not even the funniest comedian could make her laugh.”
Alejandra rolled her eyes. He wasn’t wrong. Sometimes it was better to just let her be, but somehow Ester had absolutely no intention of letting her sulk quietly in her own pool of misery.
“Is this because of the event?”
“Don’t use your psychology degree with me,” Alejandra warned her.
