In Deep Waters (The Summer House series #1)

1

I could hear their shouts through the thin walls as I lay on my bed, trying desperately to drown them out. It was a mix of how dare you's! What did you just say to me?! Doors were being slammed, and I could hear plates being dropped and smashed on the tile floor in the kitchen. It was the third time this week, and I couldn't stand listening to it a minute longer. I reached for my phone next to the bed and dialled my friend Grier's number, desperately hoping that just this one time she might be good at picking up her phone.

"Hey!" Grier's familiar voice chimed in from the other end and I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hey, sorry. Can I come over? Mom and Dad are arguing again and Tom isn't here," I said quietly. As if my parents would be able to hear me through all the screaming and shouting.

"Course, you know you don't have to ask," Grier said, sympathy ridden throughout the tone in her voice. Yet, the last thing I wanted was sympathy. I wasn't used to being the one who was in trouble. I was always the one that helped other people solve their own problems. It wasn't meant to be me that needed help. But it was this time, and that seemed to be the way things were turning out a lot lately.

"Ok, thanks. I won't be long."

I hung up and grabbed the beach bag I had slung over the bedroom door. After the last few days I had stuffed practically anything important in it that I might need, in case an afternoon like this happened again. And I had been right.

I quickly ran past the kitchen where my parents still stood, shouting at the top of their lungs, praying that they wouldn't see me. But they didn't notice, not to my surprise. I raced down the stairs to the front door and made my way over to the car, jumping in and starting the engine. My trusty old jeep. She'd been taking me everywhere lately. Anywhere was better than here that was for sure.

There was a sudden knock on the passenger seat door. I almost jumped out of my skin in alarm. I thought it was one of them. But it was just Tom. I heaved a sigh of relief and put the window down, raising my eyebrows as if to ask what he wanted. I had no time to waste today.

"Yeah?" I asked impatiently. He was soaking wet, dripping from head to toe, his wetsuit peeled halfway down his body as he clutched his surfboard under his arm. My brother looked slightly more relaxed than I did. Maybe I needed to take up surfing too. But he still had that anxious look in his eyes that matched mine. That look that said something just wasn't quite right. The look that also matched the feeling we both had felt lately whenever we returned to the house.

"Where you off to?" he asked me in question. Before all of this happened, we had always done things separately. But these days, we stuck together.

"Just Grier's. I might stay for a few days."

Tom gave me an almost exasperated look. "Now? Alright then well I'm coming too. You think I wanna stay here?" He asked me, waving his hand upwards towards the house. I knew he didn't really expect me to reply, we both knew the answer to that one by now.

"Hurry up then! Do you have stuff you can just grab?" I asked impatiently, my knee beginning to bounce up and down as I sat there clutching the wheel.

"Yep! Hang on," Tom said. Luckily, Tom lived in the flat on the house's ground floor. It was just easier that way with all the surfing he did, he was in and out. Our parents had hated it when he had lived upstairs and would come into the house, treading sand all through the clean carpet, even if he had taken a shower. There was always some sand leftover, it followed him everywhere. Tom didn't miss a day without a surf.

I watched as he put his board away quickly and pulled open the sliding door, disappearing inside. He was back after a minute or two, now dressed in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, a bag slung over his shoulder. His hair was the same dark brown as mine. But with the exception of the hair, there was no denying that Tom had that stereotypical laid-back surfer's look about him. He had also got his routine down to a fine art. There was no way in the world that I could be that quick at getting ready.