DAHLIA AND EZRA finish off the joint, and I get one last drag. That's when the drug takes hold.
The world spins around me; the sunlight flashes red and orange. Marisol stands and grabs hold of my hand to pull me to my feet and my heart starts beating faster, faster. The world is still spinning, and up above us is all this sunlight, pouring over us. The entire world is made of sunlight.
We head inside, where the air conditioning is cold on my skin, and the tile floor even colder. Dahlia gives me a bikini to borrow; she and Marisol are already in theirs, and Ezra just wants to watch and offer moral support. I change into it, and then we all gather towels, water bottles, and boards from the hall closet and race each other down to the beach.
The boards are heavier than I expected, and awkward to carry. (Ezra, the only one of us not bogged down by one, actually wins the race.) We kick our shoes off at the edge of the sand and drop our belongings in a pile. Marisol shows me how to stand up on the board, and all the while I'm aware of every color and the way that they lay against my skin. Then we carry them out to the water.
We walk out until the water is about waist-deep, then drop our boards down and paddle out the rest of the way. The hot sun burning my hair, the sting of salt in my eyes, the warm rush of water over my back. All of it so familiar to me and so different at the same time.
The first wave I try to catch—I don't even make it to my feet before I go under. Still, Marisol, Dahlia, and Ezra cheer me on, Marisol's voice a bit louder than the others'. The second and the third are the same. The fourth I almost catch before I go tumbling over the side.
On the fifth, and almost every wave after that, I manage to stand for a second before I'm knocked off. All three of them hoot and clap. Marisol dives backwards off her own board.
By the time we leave the water, we're all too exhausted to bother going to Walmart to get hair dye. Dahlia and Ezra, complaining about something they call the munchies, head out in Dahlia's mini bus Bertha to get us dinner. Marisol and I stay at the beach, with the hot sun burning above us, laying out on towels and chugging our bottled water.
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A Shrine to an Unknown God
FantasyAntigone Katsaros was born and raised in a cult. Now, at eighteen, she doesn't know what wifi is, but she's well-versed in the old gods. [A Wattpad featured story.]
