In Riptides

14 | whiplash

N A T E

Moving aside another stone, I pick up a small purple shell that caught my eye, brushing the wet sand off with my thumb. I hold it up, turning it over, watching the way the sunlight filters around the edges of the butterfly.

For a second I think I've found it—the one that's whole. But then I see it, a crack running along one of the wings, almost invisible until you know it's there. I lower it from the light, annoyed at how something that seemed perfect a moment ago is just... broken.

Without thinking, I toss it back to the rocks. Harder than I mean to. I let out a breath and try to shake off the frustration. But like that crack, it sticks, barely there but impossible to ignore.

Leaving the tide pools, I jump off a jagged rock and meet the warmth of the sand, walking along the shoreline, sinking into thought. It's been a week of silence from Lia. And as much as this distance sucks, I don't blame her for steering clear of me.

It's amazing how fast some rumors take on a life of their own, and it happens in a ripple effect. It starts small, a little ring of a whisper in a pool of conversation. Then the ripple grows, gathering momentum as it's passed from person to person, each adding their own touch. Before you know it, the ripple becomes a wave, growing wider and stronger until it swells into something unrecognizable. And then another forms, and another.

And then there's nothing but overpowering waves left.

The video was the first ripple, branding Lia as a cheater. Then the next one came. Now, I'm apparently not the only guy she's cheated with. Nope, didn't you hear she hooked up with half the football team behind Matt's back? Oh, and what about since they broke up? Well now that she doesn't have to play the perfect girlfriend anymore, apparently she'll jump into just about anyone's backseat and blow their mind because she's so uncontrollably slutty she can't even help herself.

And because these lies are part of this swirling current where drops of truth and lies can't be distinguished, nothing is questioned anymore. Some random guy on the swim team claims he got a handjob from Lia on the bus? Sure, must be true. Another one claims she let him feel her up under the bleachers in exchange for writing her an essay? Of course, because Lia DeMarco is such a notorious slacker that she'll do anything to pass off her homework to someone else, wouldn't she?

The stories are ridiculous, and they're only getting worse, and they're only beating her down harder every day. And how could I know that if I haven't spoken to her? Because Rob still hasn't heard the piano in their house.

As the restlessness tightens in my chest, the sound of the ocean crashes through my mind, louder than before. I hear Blake, Ollie, and Alex out there, laughing and shouting like they don't have a care in the world. Right where I left them.

I stop at the edge of the water, the cool tide lapping over my feet as I watch them. Ollie's just caught a wave, arms spread wide, grinning like he's got everything figured out. Because right now, he does. That knot of restlessness turns into a sharp ache of jealousy and longing. What I wouldn't give to be out there gliding through a barrel, the saltwater whipping against my skin, muscles burning from riding wave after wave. Reaching the kind of tiredness that feels earned. 

All I've got is tiredness from sleepless nights.

"If you drool any harder you're gonna raise the sea level," Alex calls, jogging out the water.

"Like I'd drool over you guys wiping out," I sigh, prompting an eyeroll. "I'm just supervising in case anyone needs a rescue out there."

"Because you could totally do some lifesaving with that bum arm," she quips as she digs her board in the sand.