Free Rough Waters by Nikki Godwin Page B

McAllister
and Miles Garrett than Nat Young and Taj Burrow.
    Then he turns toward me and laughs before he
even tells me what’s so funny.
    “Did you know I tried to convince Vin to send
me in A.J.’s place when he couldn’t make it to your prom?” Topher
asks.
    I shake my head. Topher would’ve been easier
for Mom to handle than A.J. That’s for sure.
    Topher nods. “I did,” he says. “I pleaded
with him for weeks. I just figured I’d be more fun, and A.J. was
worried about having to wear old guy shoes. I would’ve been a
better sport.”
    “Did you wear old guy shoes to your prom?” I
ask, still not completely sure what old guy shoes really are. I
thought guys wore the shiny black shoes to proms. I don’t even
remember A.J.’s shoes.
    Topher looks away, sort of coy again. “I
didn’t go to my prom,” he says. “I didn’t want to go alone.
I’ve…never, you know…been on a date or anything. I don’t even own a
tie.”
    Bless his little surfer heart. If it wasn’t
after midnight, I’d take him shopping on my dad’s credit card right
this second. Now I wish Vin would’ve sent him in A.J.’s place,
although the shock factor of A.J. was a lot of fun at my dull
little high school. Still, Topher would’ve rocked a tux and been
cuter than A.J. in my prom pictures.
    “That’s what I’m going to do,” Topher says.
“When I finally get signed to Drenaline Surf, I’m going to take
that sign-on check and buy expensive clothes. And a tie. And then
I’m going to go to some expensive place that I normally can’t
afford and celebrate.”
    “I’m holding you to that,” I say. “When that
day comes, I expect to see you all dressed up.”
    “Oh, you will,” he assures me. “Because
you’re celebrating with me.”

Chapter
Nine
    Yellow construction tape circles A.J.’s
carnival grounds. But even the yellow tape can’t take away from the
huge sign stating that this is the future home of Florence Gardens
Inn. The photo on the sign is of a huge luxury hotel with valet
parking and private hot tubs in each room. That’s what the
not-so-fine print says anyway. It’s been four days since A.J. flew
off the handle and drank his sorrows away at Kale’s house, but he’s
still raging.
    “I don’t know who the fuck Florence thinks
she is, but I’m going to make that bitch wish she’d never come to
Crescent Cove,” A.J. says, ripping away some of the yellow
tape.
    Construction equipment sits around among the
wreckage, waiting to take down something else with no compassion
for those who once loved this place. The old game booths and
popcorn stands sit in piles of wood, strewn across the ground
haphazardly.
    The entrance to the house of mirrors has been
barricaded with wooden posts. Do Not Enter signs fill the cloudy
windows. One is propped up against the barricaded door. I wonder if
the construction crew has heard the story of Lickety Split.
    A backhoe sits near the now-demolished pirate
ship. Metal poles and the seating both rest on the ground behind
the huge wooden dragon. It’s even more massive on land than it was
on the side of the pirate ship. A.J. holds his arm up, admiring the
inked dragon on his arm. Turquoise with orange eyes, just like the
one from the ride.
    “I wonder what they’ll tear apart next,” he
says.
    I glance around for the one thing I loved
about this place – the carousel. It remains, fully intact, for now
anyway. I make a beeline toward it and A.J. follows. He knows
exactly where I’m headed – to the life-sized version of
Solomon.
    I wish I could unhinge him right now and take
him back to the house just to hang around in my bedroom. I’d touch
up his paint job and give him a new sparkle. He’d be the prettiest
blue seahorse the ocean has ever seen.
    A.J. straddles the orange octopus on the
carousel, and I swear, this is exactly where we were last summer.
He rests his forehead against a metal tentacle.
    “Is it just me or is everything falling
apart?” he