Page 45 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
“That was an intense ride,” Brody says as I pause the video.
“Intense? I consider myself pretty adventurous, and you couldn’t pay me to get anywhere near that water.”
“To be fair, you’re watching the carnage reel,” Brody says. “It’s all the shots of people getting thrashed.”
“You didn’t get thrashed.”
“But I rolled for a second.”
I click over to a different window. “Have you seen what it says on the race registration page?”
I shift the screen closer and point to the bolded message at the top of the section titledracer information.“We do notrecommend participating in this event,” I read out loud. “Then further down the page, it says, ‘Seriously, racing is not a good idea.’ Why does anyone sign up for this thing?”
He cracks a smile. ‘That’s to keep the casual kayakers from signing up. You have to know what you’re doing to race the narrows.”
“And you know what you’re doing,” I say, a statement, not a question.
“I mean, I’m not winning. But I’ve raced twice, and I finished both times without swimming.”
“What does that mean?”
He grins. “It means I stayed in my boat.”
“Oh, right. So that’s mostly what was happening in the carnage reel.”
“It’s common. The narrows are brutal. It’s easy to flip, and when the water’s churning, sometimes the only way to get out of the rapid is to wet-exit.”
Wet-exit.It’s the second time I’ve heard him use the term.“Right. Which is what the problem kiddidn’tknow how to do when he flipped upside down?”
“Exactly.”
This makes twice now that I have listened to Brody talk about kayaking while eating delicious Mexican food. I am not complaining. It’s the best kind of research. In fact, I’d likeallnew information to be delivered in this manner from now on. Delicious tacos?Check.Sexy teacher?Check.
There is no topic I will not find interesting in this setting.
“So you’ve raced the Green twice? Have you ever competed anywhere else?” It was only after I started watching the video coverage of last year’s race that I wondered about Brody racing. I checked the race results for his name, gasped out loud becauseoh my word he could die doing this thing, noted his bib number, then studied the video until I found him. The bib number is theonly way to identify any of the racers, unless you know what color boat they’re in because they’re all wearing helmets and gear that covers every inch of their skin. The race happens in November, which meansit’s cold.
“A few times,” Brody says. “But nothing has quite the same vibe as the Green Race.”
“The crowd in the video. Is it always that crazy? Cowbells, horns, and everyone is holding a beer.”
“Like I said, the race has a pretty unique vibe.” He holds my gaze. “You should come if you’re going to write about it. Or come just to experience it. I think you’d dig it.”
“It’s in November?” Something stirs in my gut. Do I want a reason to stay in Silver Creek longer?
He nods. “On the fifth.”
“Are you racing again?”
“Most likely.”
A tiny thrill at the thought of seeing Brody race in person snakes through me, even as I shake my head. I still can’t believe the Brody sitting across from me, the cool and confident daredevil kayaker Brody, is the same Brody who was my best friend.
“Four thousand sixty-seven divided by three hundred eighty-one,” I say.
He stills, his eyes darting around like they always do when he’s calculating.
“Ten point six seven four five four zero...” He pauses. “Do you want me to keep going?”
