Free Second Star by Alyssa B. Sheinmel Page B

wave recedes and another builds, it looks as though the ocean is taking in a deep breath, then blowing it out.
    I’m standing at the edge of the water, my toes soaked by the waves, the board propped up beside me, when a deep voice says, “Thought you said you weren’t a surfer.”
    Startled, I turn to see the guy who gave me directions when I first got to Kensie.
    “You scared me,” I say.
    “Sorry,” he says. “You okay?”
    “I just didn’t expect anyone else to be awake at this hour,” I say, but the truth is, I don’t even know how long I’ve been standing here. The sun has grown higher, its light on the water more yellow than pink now.
    “I’m an early riser,” he answers. He plants his own board in the sand beside mine; it’s nearly twice his height and kind of old-fashioned-looking, the kind of board that’s called a gun, I think. He’s wearing the same board shorts he wore the first time I saw him, the tiniest stripe of pale skin peeking out from beneath the waistband. I blush beneath his gaze.
    “I didn’t think anyone else surfed this stretch of the beach,” I add, bringing my focus back to the water.
    He nods. “I don’t, usually. Usually stick to the other side of the beach. It’s
    just…” He pauses, a shadow passing over his face. Finally he says, “It’s just easier that way.”
    I turn to face him again, though it feels as though I’m seeing him for the first time. Matt said that Jas and his dusters surfed the other side of the beach. How could I have failed to realize until now that this guy is Jas, the drug dealer who lives on the other side of Kensie?
    “Well, then why are you here this morning?” I ask, taking a step back. Away from him. The water laps up around my ankles now.
    He doesn’t answer right away. He looks from me to the ocean and back to me again. I think he might actually be blushing. Finally, he says, “Gotta go where the waves lead, you know?”
    I nod, but the truth is, I don’t really know.
    He smiles and gestures out to the water, to the waves that are building ever higher. “Do you mind?” he asks politely, as though he needs my permission to surf here.
    I shake my head quickly. “Go ahead,” I answer, stepping away from the water, dragging my board behind me until I’m halfway up the beach, close enough to the stairs that I could run back up to Pete’s house if I needed to. I really should just go back up there now; I shouldn’t stay here, alone on the beach with someone like him. But I don’t feel unsafe, standing down here with Jas. Maybe I should, but I don’t.
    He lifts his board and heads into the water. Watching him surf is exhilarating; he takes wave after wave, graceful as a dolphin in the water. On smaller waves, he shifts his weight so that his board ascends, floating over the foamy crest.
    Like Pete, he’s so tall that he has to crouch down to ride beneath the waves’ crests. He moves on his board like it’s a balance beam, sometimes standing at the front and sometimes at the back. Suddenly, he spins his board around completely, like a ballerina doing a pirouette. I’ve never seen anyone surf like this, not even Pete. When he finally comes back to the beach, he’s grinning at me like a little kid, shaking the water from his hair. He takes a few deep breaths, the sinewy muscles across his chest expanding and contracting.
    “You really know what you’re doing out there, huh?” I hate myself for stating the obvious, but how am I supposed to know what are the right things to say to a drug dealer / ultimate surfer?
    He smiles at me. “Now it’s your turn,” he says. “Waves are getting gentler now. Perfect for a beginner.”
    I shake my head. “I’m not ready yet,” I say. “I think I need a few more lessons before I’ll be able to head out there by myself.”
    “Then what are you doing down on the beach all alone this morning?”
    I bite my lip. I’m not really sure. Maybe I thought that if I just waited here long