The ocean rushed fiercely all around Pilot, but he couldn’t let it engulf his thoughts and quiet his mind like he usually did. Normally, being out on the water every weekend invigorated him, but today it left him hollow and empty.
Justin and Rykken bantered back and forth over some surfing game they were playing, but Pilot wasn’t paying much attention. He wasn’t overly competitive like the other two; those guys could go at it all day sometimes, trying to one-up each other over the dumbest things. Pilot was more of a lone wolf. He wanted what he wanted and he figured out how to get it. End of story.
Except when it came to Kennedy.
He remembered their last encounter; it was raining, and he was waiting for her at their rock formation. He had kissed her for the second time, and this time she didn’t resist; it had gone on and on until she suddenly shoved him away and ran.
He hadn’t seen or heard from her since then. He had texted her the next day, but her phone had already been disconnected. For weeks, he took a variety of paths to his various classes in hopes that he might run into her at school. He had gotten so desperate to find her that he had even bribed a freshman to check her school records for an address.
She had leaned against her lockers one day after school, waiting for him. She was cute—long brown hair and chocolate eyes, but too serious and bookish for his tastes. He had noticed she had a crush on him and suspected that was why she broke the rules for him. Well, that and the hundred bucks he promised her on delivery of Kennedy’s information.
“Did you get her address?” Pilot had asked.
Crystal squirmed when he spoke to her. In a soft voice, she replied, “I’m sorry, but she wasn’t in the database. She must not go to Punahou.”
“That’s impossible,” Pilot had said. “I met her at school. I know she goes here.”
“She doesn’t,” Crystal replied. “I spent almost all of my office hours looking, but we don’t have any records of a Kennedy ever attending Punahou.”
Pilot had sighed, frustrated by her incompetence.
“You don’t have to pay me,” she said, embarrassed.
Pilot had thought for a moment before pulling out his wallet. “No,” he said. “Take the money.” He handed her five twenty dollar bills. “I’ll figure out how to contact her another way.”
That was two days ago, and since then, Pilot’s frustration with Kennedy had grown until he was so angry he could punch something. He didn’t understand her at all. He was tired of her toying with his feelings, and he didn’t like losing control over his emotions. He never had this problem with girls—if anything, he was always the one turning them down, discarding them when he got bored, or dictating the terms of the relationship. With Kennedy, though, everything was different, like she was beating him at his own game. And frankly, he was tired of losing.
“Yo, van Rossum, wake up!” Justin shouted at him. Pilot looked up from his board, allowing the ocean, the beach, and the people that peppered it to come back into view.
“Behind you!” Rykken shouted.
He looked back, just in time to notice a wave barreling toward him. One of the the locals whooped and prepped to ride the wave in. He could tell it was going to spin into a pipe right at the spot where he was paddling.
He cursed, loudly. With no other recourse now but to catch it, he took a deep breath and got ready to mount his board.
He could hear Justin and Rykken shouting at him from near the shore, but he couldn’t make out their words. He didn’t know nearly as much about surfing as they did, but the wave didn’t look too bad—fourteen, maybe fifteen feet—and he thought he could manage it. If he tried, he might get sucked under… if he didn’t, he would definitely get sucked under.
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.