Free Riptide by Lindsey Scheibe

baby. Da bomb. You were so close. I totally thought you were going to nail it. Ready to get back in the saddle?”
    Her cheeks puff up before she blows the air out. “I’m cashed.”
    I look over at the guys. “Did you hear that, Buzzy? She says she’s cashed.”
    He spits and then runs his hand through his super-short blond hair, making saltwater spray off of it. He tilts his head and checks me out. “ Bull shit.”
    Damien paddles closer. “ Hell no she’s not. She’s just getting started. Hey, Grace. Good to see you out today. I didn’t know you were going to make it.”
    Freaking interloper. But that was enough for Grace. Her ego can’t take a double whammy. She puffs up like a little rooster, cheeks red. Good. She needs some fire. And what the hell was that about didn’t know you were going to make it ? What? Does Damien keep tabs on Grace now?
    “C’mon. Let’s show ’em what you got.”
    Grace paddles over to the lineup. Buzzy, Damien, and I follow. Party waves suck. There’s a few kooks out here who don’t know crap about the way things go down on crowded days. They better stay off my waves. A nice set barrels toward us about a hundred yards out.
    I reach over and give Grace’s board a pat, like I would my truck. “The waves are filthy. This is it. I can feel it. You’re gonna go crazy on those waves and show folks how it’s done.”
    Grace laughs and nods, kind of high-strung. She seems off today; I don’t get it. We paddle over to the spot where it should peak and wait. When it’s go time, I give Grace’s board a shove and say, “Paddle!”
    Aw, crap. She dropped in on the wave at the same time as a newbie. Freakin’ A. He’s moving to cut her off. But Grace carves hardcore. She’s not taking this—and then the jerk shoves her off her board.
    Dude’s going down.
    I turn around, looking for some peeps. Buzzy. Sweet. I y ell, “Did you see that shit?”
    Buzzy looks toward the jerkoff riding straight down the line. What a waste of a wave. He says, “Hell yeah I did.”
    Damien paddles over like he can’t get out of my business.
    I head over toward Grace. She’s not up yet. Panic fills me. I grab her board and tug on her leash. There’s drag. She pops up to the surface.
    I lean over, worried. “Why’d you stay under so long? That wigged me out.”
    She clenches her jaw, climbs on her board. She turns her back and tugs on her wetsuit. There’s a small hole in her wetsuit, down low, at the small of her back.
    “He sliced your wetsuit with his fin?” I turn toward Buzz and Damien and yell, “Somebody needs to take care of that chump. He ran over Grace with his fin. I’m gonna paddle in with her. Who’s got dibs on kicking his ass outta here?”
    Damien says, “I’ll help him find his car.”
    Buzzy says, “Hell yeah.”
    “Don’t beat him up,” Grace says. “Okay?”
    Damien frowns. Then he smiles and says, “How about a firm suggestion? And then if he doesn’t see reason … ” He holds his hands up. There’s only so much a guy can do. This may be his only moment of redemption.
    I give him a thumbs-up. I tell Grace, “Start paddling. You’re probably bleeding in the water, and unless you want to attract any more sharks than you probably already have, I suggest you don’t slow down until you hit the shore.”
    When we reach the shoreline, I flag down a lifeguard. She jogs over with her first aid kit.
    The lifeguard asks, “Everything okay?”
    I say, “Not so much. A moron ran over her with his board.”
    The lifeguard steps in closer. “Ouch. Could you pull down your suit for me and let me get a look at it?”
    “Not until he’s looking a different direction.” Grace turns to me. A lot of emotions pass across her face, but I don’t get any of them.
    Unbelievable. I give her a what’s up with that look, then I turn around, annoyed. Like, I’ve seen her tah tahs when a wave hit her suit the wrong way last August, and she doesn’t want me to see the top inch