Red Mango

eight

9:38 AM

Saving lives. It can't be too hard.

As Cody stands on the verge of the boardwalk, her eyes skimming the perimeter of pasty sand, she notices the small horde of people sauntering towards the lifeguard chairs. Sam had informed her of the general information required to be deemed as a lifeguard. Medically, she is more equipped than the run-of-the-mill high school lifeguard. But the duties of a lifeguard aren't restricted to giving someone CPR and disinfecting cuts.

From the beach shack positioned on the very brink of the peer, Cody notices a shaggy, dreadlock-clad man in a loose tank-top and a surfboard under his arm. Sam described her intended supervisor, Wade, to be the epitome of a Hawaiian beach hobo. This man seems to correlate with the description rather flawlessly.

"Morning," from behind Cody, Kit mumbles a concise acknowledgement. His dark hair is windswept by the breezy weather on the shore and his eyes are shielded by a pair of sunglasses. Cody distinguishes the logo of the beach shack on his tank top that coordinates surprisingly well with the burgundy red swimming trunks.

"I'm glad you overlooked the use of 'good' this morning," Cody murmurs, almost inaudibly as she gazes across the beach. The early crowds are already drifting onto the warming sand. Kit pushes his sunglasses back into his hair and surveys the shore with a monotonous expression.

"Relax. You'll be fine. We will be fine," at the last sentence, Kit turns to meet Cody's hesitant gaze. His pale green eyes catch the light, allowing them to glisten admirably. A day seated beside Kit doesn't sound all too bad, if Cody is honest.

Using one hand to gently push the small of Cody's back towards their supervisor, Kit raises his free hand in a nonchalant greeting. The sun-kissed supervisor, who goes by Wade, smiles indifferently, exchanging a fleeting handshake with Kit. According to Sam's tales, Kit has known Wade since he was fifteen years old and share a friendly bond. Thus, why this fictional tale will for one, be harder to tell, and two, easier to be regarded as true.

"Wade. This is my sister, Sammy. She's replacing Noelle as our trusty medic," Kit smiles goofily when slinging his arm around Cody's bare shoulders. In her mind, Cody repeats his words, consecutively until perceiving an understanding of 'our trusty medic'. Wade, the local beach hobo, is now presuming that Cody is capable of saving lives. An ability that isn't acquired after a day's worth of chair duty. However, the tedious grin on Wade's features demonstrates the success of Sam's troublesome scheme. Kit's heedlessness is what undoubtedly pushed the act over the line.

"The more the merrier. Glad to have you on board, Sam," as the scruffy headed-lifeguard lightly touches Cody's shoulder before departing off the beach, Kit snickers comically. He's a head taller, so whenever Cody wants to address the friendly giant, she has to strain her neck. This doesn't prove to be an easy task when Kit is on the move.

"Wait- that was too easy," she exclaims, having to stop her fellow lifeguard by leaping in front of his path.

"We look nothing alike- how is this even partially believable?" Cody proceeds to list the inevitable plot-holes in the fable. The reality that Wade, who has known Kit since his early adolescent years, is not acquainted with Sam, is absurd. Even so, Wade doesn't present himself as the type of person to socialise flagrantly.

"Charisma, Cody. People will believe anything if you tell them with a smile," Kit says before sinking his feet into the sand and trekking down to the beach shore line. Cody is left with no alternative option but to follow him. She contemplates his words, thinking of the truth behind a smile. Kit is right, there truly isn't much to the act of persuasion but a winsome smile.