Free Bright Lines by Tanwi Nandini Islam Page B

clothing for when they came home that night. They rode behind Maya, who had made trips to this beach before. Her hijab sailed behind her like a kite, as if she might levitate. The three of themcoasted down Ocean Avenue, then turned onto Flatbush Avenue, until they crossed the rickety bridge into the state park. On the boardwalk they hopped off their bikes, and walked down to the beach. Maya stopped a few feet away from the wet sand. “Here’s good,” she said, spreading Charu’s patchwork sheet.
    Ella hurled the backpack onto one corner of the sheet and used her soccer ball and boom box to hold down opposite corners. She took a seat by the boom box. The sound of waves crashing matched Ella’s mood and she took off her glasses to see the world enveloped in streaks of black and white. She stretched her legs and tipped the ball toward the water.
    Charu yelled, “I’ll get it!” She caught the ball from a wave and threw it back to the shore. She jumped into the water and whooped with delight.
    Maya gestured to the sheet. “Call me crazy, but I don’t mind staying right where we are.” She broke open the bag of chips, and they crunched together, watching the silver waves, as Charu’s bikini top slipped off.
    Charu stood up in the water, searching for her top.
    “She thinks it’s okay to be topless?” said Ella, smirking.
    “Yeah. It’s the gay beach. No one cares at the gay beach.”
    Ella looked around for more naked people—there was a group of men kicking a soccer ball. Four of them wore Speedos, and one renegade was completely naked. His dick looked like a shriveled hot dog. All of them were lean, muscular, and brown. Their bare chests glistened with sunscreen and sweat. Ella watched their thick calves as they kicked around the soccer ball. Their backs were as wide as the expanse of a harp. These men roused her. She wasn’t attracted to them, exactly. But she was drawn to the way they moved, their bodies.
    Ella wished she could join them.
     * * * 
    “Yo—you guys! The water isn’t even cold!” shouted Charu.
    “Liar!” said Ella.
    “As gorgeous as you are, we’re fine over here,” said Maya.
    “C’mon!”
    Maya stood up. She removed the dressmaker pins that kept herhijab in place. She spread the fabric open on the beach blanket. She took off her clothes, revealing a sports bra and boy shorts. “Shall we?”
    “I don’t know,” said Ella. “I told you I’m not a water person. I can’t swim. I didn’t bring clothes either.”
    “So you’re earthbound. But I’ll bet after carrying that backpack, you gave yourself heatstroke. So get over it and let’s go.”
    Maya started running toward the waves, as Charu ventured deeper to swim. Ella remembered her swimming class failure at the Metropolitan pool in Williamsburg back in fourth grade. Little Charu had learned with no inhibitions or fears in the water, but Ella had felt shy in front of the swimming instructor, a pretty high school student named Beatrice. Anytime Beatrice tried to encourage her to transform her dog paddle into a freestyle stroke, Ella froze from embarrassment. She was still afraid of the water. Maya waited for her, the water up to their shins.
    “Come closer to me, guys; the waves are incredible!” called Charu.
    “I think we’re good here!” Maya replied, cupping her hands around her mouth. Charu shrugged and dove under a wave.
    “Let’s just sit here,” said Maya.
    “In the waves?”
    “Right at the edge of them.”
    Maya lay belly down on the crashing point. Her fingers raked the sand, holding her in place. Ella copied her and felt a large wave crash on her backside. She tried to sit but was taken down by another crashing wave. After a few more attempts, she propped herself up. Maya rolled onto her back. Ella watched Maya’s skin tinged golden in the sunlight. Her top was covered in sand, nipples hardened and getting browner as her top soaked through. She had an Arabic tattoo etched on her left