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I turn to said mountain wedged into the middle seat and cock an expectant eyebrow at him. He continues to sulk and glower at me, refusing to speak. Jax digs him in the ribs, and he sighs. “I’m Rebel,” he tells me reluctantly. I nod and turn back to face Thorn, giving him a wide beaming smile. “Okay, now we can go. What are we doing today, anyway?” I ask as I go back to sipping my hot chocolate - it really is divine, and I want it to last, but it just tastes too good. Thorn tosses a lazy grin my way, doesn’t answer me, and speeds off.
After a while, my drink’s gone, and I’m bored. I tell the guys as much. I whine, “Are we nearly there yet?” And they chuckle like it’s a joke. I’m not joking. I seriously don’t do well on long journeys. I glance down at Thorn’s feet and smile. “Nice flip flops.” He has nice feet.
“Thanks.” He smiles.
“I fucking hate sliders.” I shudder.
“These aren’t sliders.”
“I know. That’s why I’m still sitting in the car with you. Sliders should be fucking burnt. I’d jump from a moving vehicle if you were wearing them.”
“I agree. Didn’t they just use to be called flip-flops anyway? Just, you know, a different style to toe post ones?”
“Exactly. But I hated them back then, and I still hate them now.” I turn to look at the boys in the back of the car. “I swear to god you boys better not be wearing sliders! They make me want to puke.” The boys all laugh and assure me they aren’t wearing sliders. Phew. For the rest of the ride, the guys grill me about myself, but I manage to avoid anything overly personal. I keep my responses vague so that I don’t have to lie.
“We’re going to a beach, aren’t we? Hence the ‘beach shit’ clothing mandate, right? Why are we driving so far to a beach when we literally have one on campus?” I spin in my seat to ask the three guys in the back row. I catch the sideways glances that they throw each other, and I know, I just know, that I’m about to be bullshitted. Do I pull them up on it before or after they speak? Meh, I’ve never been patient. “And don’t fucking lie to me. I can see you’re about to. If you want a second date with me, think carefully about the next words out of your mouth.”
Everyone’s eyes widen in surprise, and Rebel’s jaw hangs open slightly. Ace looks out of the window, avoiding my gaze. Next to me, Thorn tenses. Only Jax meets my stare head on. Ah, so he’s the leader then. I level his stare and refuse to blink. It’s probably immature, but I don’t care. There’s a story here, I can sense it.
“No one really uses the campus beach anymore, except for parties and pranks.” Jax sighs, blinks and looks out of the window. But I’m too distracted to gloat over my stare-down win.
“Why not? It looked like a really nice beach in the prospectus.”
“There was...an accident a couple of years back.” I don’t miss the slight hesitation in his voice. I know, of course, that he’s talking about Lizzie. I don’t miss Ace’s disbelieving snort either. Interesting. I file that information away for later. I’m going to have to get to know him better.
“What sort of accident?” I ask, making my eyes go wide with innocent wonder.
“A girl died.” I gasp, and this time it’s not acting. Not entirely. It’s a shock to hear the words said aloud.
“What?” I clear my throat and try again, “What happened? I mean, why don’t I know about this? I never saw anything-“
“You wouldn’t. Our school is very good at covering things up.... ignore that. I don’t mean it to sound as ominous as it did.”
“Shit, it does sound scary. What happened? Is it safe?”
“Of course! It was nothing really...a girl just killed herself there, that’s all. She was a messed up troubled girl. A no one really. Nothing sinister. The campus is entirely safe; I can assure you.”
Strike one against you Jax Jackson: suicide is never ‘just nothing’ you fucking dick. And that’s my fucking sister you’re dismissing. I swallow my rage but let him see the tears shimmering in the corners of my eyes as I quietly tell him, “She wasn’t a no-one, she must have been somebody’s someone.”
He has the decency to look ashamed of himself. Contrite, he apologises. It seems genuine. And there’s something else in his gaze too - sadness? Regret? Remorse? None of the other boys will meet my eyes, so we ride the rest of the way in silence.
Not long after that, we pull up at the beach, and I quickly scramble out of the car, desperate for some space and fresh air. When I take a moment to clear my head, I realise that they never really answered my question: why don’t they use the beach? Is it a mark of respect to Lizzie? Is it out of fear? Guilt? Did the school prohibit it? For now, I choose to let it go. We’re a long way from campus, and I don’t want to make things even more awkward by pushing the matter.
Shit. We’re a long way from campus, I’m alone with four virtual strangers, and no one knows where I am. I’m such an idiot. I slip my phone out of my beach bag and send a quick text to Michael, just in case. I don’t get dangerous vibes from these guys, but I do know that they were entwined in Lizzie’s life - and therefore her death - somehow. I need to keep decoding her journal to get the full story. I instantly relax once my message sends, knowing that at least one person knows where I am and has my back.
I follow the four boys from the car park, down the path towards the beach. I’m surprised that we’re not the only ones here - I mean, it’s October, and it’s early. But apparently for hardcore surfers, it’s actually kinda late, and October has the warmest waters. Huh. Who knew? I guess you really do learn something new every day.
Once we reach the beach, the guys turn to a row of beach huts on the left, lined up close to the dunes. They walk along and stop outside a shack that’s painted entirely black. Thorn slips a key from his board shorts and unlocks the padlock on the door. The inside’s full of surf equipment. Like seriously, loaded to the gunnels. There’s barely room to step inside, the boards are stacked in every available space, and there’re piles of wetsuits everywhere. Thorn reaches out and pulls a wetsuit from a hanger and tosses it at me, telling me to pick any board I like, so I start to peruse the many options available. There are so many, in a variety of styles and sizes, but I know that I need a longboard, so that narrows the selection down by about half. I’m pretty small and light so I should go for a slightly shorter board. I’m about to settle for one when a larger Woody catches my eye. That’s the one. I just hope I can carry it. I point it out to Thorn, and he grabs it for me with a smile. While the guys all choose their boards, I slip out of my jeans and hoodie, pulling my wetsuit on up to my waist. I shove my stuff into my bag and then go to join them outside. Only Thorn remains though, the other guys are already ahead, carrying their boards towards to ocean.
“Damn! Looking good girl.” Thorn whistles and I smile. No one looks good in a wetsuit, but the compliment is appreciated all the same.
“Have you ever surfed before?”
“A little, I guess,” I say with a shrug. “It’s been a really long time though, and I was never any good. I don’t stand up, but I enjoy catching a wave. It feels like flying.” I feel a bit silly for saying that last bit but Thorn lights up like he knows exactly what I mean and I suddenly don’t feel so bad.
I watch as he loops a board under each arm and begins to carry them both effortlessly. He makes it look so easy that I’m impressed. He may not be as stacked as Rebel, but he looks damn good, and he’s clearly strong. I scramble behind him and grab the back end of each board, one under each arm like him, just to help with the weight. He turns to me with a surprised look on his face and thanks me.
“I pull my weight,” is all I say. Thorn nods, and we continue down the beach. From my position in the rear, I get to admire his rear. And very nice it is too.
