He felt the wave coming up underneath him and he jumped onto his board, but he could tell right away that his timing was off. He tried to find some footing but felt the board slipping out from under him. The back of the wave crashed into his body, smacking his skin and throwing his head forward. His head whacked the board with a sickening cracking sound and he tumbled into a whirlwind of blue.
Pilot couldn’t breathe. He spun and spun, like he was stuck in a washing machine. Small slivers of red whooshed around him for mere seconds before getting absorbed by the ocean. He thrashed his arms and legs, struggling to reach the surface, but the ocean pulled him under over and over again.
His face ate the sand and the water rushed over his head, back into the sea. He inhaled hungrily, his lungs finally tasting air again as he coughed several times to clear his windpipe of water. Gritty sand covered his teeth and tongue, and he spit several times to get it out.
Pilot heard Rykken’s voice ringing in his ears. “Get him to the shore!” Two pairs of hands grabbed him under both his arms and dragged him up.
“I’m okay,” he insisted. He tried to plant his feet into the sand but failed.
Rykken shook his head and Justin stifled a laugh.
“What did I tell you, bra? Houles can’t surf.”
Pilot rolled his eyes; “Houle” was another name for a caucasian, and they constantly teased him with it any time he couldn’t do something as well as them. Of course, they all knew that had nothing to do with it; islanders like Rykken and Justin grew up with a surfboard practically attached to their feet, while Pilot had only learned to surf a few years earlier.
When they reached the part of the beach untouched by the ocean, the guys dropped Pilot onto the sand. He cried out as he plopped onto his butt, feeling a bruise forming at the lower part of his back. He touched his forehead and his fingers came away with blood, though not much. Exhaustion flowed through every part of his body, and his lungs were on fire.
“Ooh,” Justin said. “The lifeguard is coming.”
Pilot looked over to see the hot girl from the Sunday morning shift strutting toward them. They all had a thing for her. She was a native Hawaiian Polynesian with the traditional long, dark curls of a pageant princess. She had been crowned Miss Teen Hawaii a few years earlier and could still easily win a swimsuit competition, from what Pilot could see. While she was probably a year or two older than them, Justin talked incessantly about how one day he was going to make a move on her.
The other two parted to make room for the lifeguard. She knelt next to him and placed her hand on his bare chest.
“You took quite a spill,” she remarked, moving her hand to his forehead.
“I’m fine,” he said, embarrassed.
She looked into his eyes. “I know you.” She brushed his bangs away from his face to get a better look at his cut. “You’re Pilot van Rossum.”
Behind her, Justin mouthed Pilot van Rossum, over-emphasizing every syllable. Pilot’s eyes widened in warning.
Rykken tried not to laugh, but a chuckle escaped his lips. “We’re going to look for your surf board.” Rykken grabbed Justin’s arm and dragged him away before both of them cracked up and made the entire thing a hundred times worse.
Pilot was alone with the lifeguard now. “A band-aid should do the trick,” she told him, sorting through bandages in her first-aid kit. “Do you feel any dizziness or nausea?”
Pilot shook his head. “You’re Kylani Hara.” He had meant for the words to come out just as she had said his name, but from him it just sounded stupid.
She grinned sheepishly. “Everyone calls me Ky. Easier to pronounce, I guess.” She peeled the wrapping away from a bandage and stuck it to his forehead, pressing down. “I’m a huge fan of your father.”
Pilot rolled his eyes. “Isn’t everyone?”
Ky gave him an odd look, like she couldn’t tell whether he was joking or not. He smiled to put her at ease. “My dad is hosting a fundraiser tomorrow night at our house. I’ll introduce you.”
Ky’s entire face lit up. “Seriously?!” She dug through her first aid kick excitedly. “Okay—what do you need?”
He grinned. It sucked being the son of an aging rock legend, but there were a few perks, namely getting girls who wouldn’t typically take a second look at him to come over to his house for a party.
“Do you have a pen?” he asked. “I’ll add you to the list.”
Ky found a pen in her first-aid kit and Pilot wrote out all the details on the back of one of the bandages. “There,” he said, crossing a ’t.’ “Bring a photo ID if you have one. Security will be tight.”
Ky’s grin widened. “I can’t believe this,” she said. “Thank you so much!” She threw her arms around his neck and gave him a peck on his cheek.
“Can’t wait to see you there.” Pilot felt a warm sensation in his chest. There are other fish, he told himself. He had spent the last few weeks obsessing over Kennedy when he should have been exploring his options.
“You should be good to go, then.” Ky packed everything into her first-aid kit. “Take it easy for the rest of the day, though. No more surfing.” She stood up and walked back toward her post, growing smaller against the landscape until she was a dot against the rough sands.
Pilot sat there for a moment by himself, watching Justin and Rykken lug his recovered surfboard inland.
There are other fish.
Chapter 2 ~ Pilot
Start from the beginning
