Page 1 of Fighting the Tide
Prologue
“SohereIam,Brooke, at the top of the lighthouse, looking out at the ocean, and I’m ready to face you.I’m ready to take our past by the horns and wrangle it into submission because I can’t seem to move on without forgiving myself for the part I played, but I also need to forgive you for the things you couldn’t control.”
My hands wrap around the cold metal railing as the night sky kisses the dark blue ocean.The cool, briny breeze sweeps through my long, black hair, the tips touching my shoulders and the gray at my temples swooping toward my crown.It’s been a lifetime since I’ve been home and even though I’ve tried to plant roots elsewhere, this is where my seed begs to blossom.
Chatham has always been my final destination and Brooke Eastham the captain of that ship.Until today.It’s time I took that helm and claimed my destiny.
Part One
High School
Playlist
High School Playlist '95-'96
“Don’t Take It Personal” - Monica
“Nothing Compares 2 U” - Sinéad O’Connor
“Smells Like Teen Spirit” - Nirvana
“Let Her Cry” - Hootie & the Blowfish
“Mr.Jones” - Counting Crows
“Zombie” - The Cranberries
“Wonderwall” - Oasis
“Follow You Down” - Gin Blossoms
“Who Will Save Your Soul” - Jewel
“1979” - The Smashing Pumpkins
Chapter One
Cape Cod - March 1995
Thescentofcigarettesmoke hits my nose and I crinkle it in disgust.I hate the smell because it sticks to my father like a second skin and seeps throughout our home like a poisonous vapor.Here at school, I am free from it, for the most part.I know what to expect when I walk by the bleachers, but it can’t be helped since I have to interview the football team for their final game of the season tonight.The Cape Chronicles, our school paper, is my pride and joy.I write four of the five articles weekly and my best friend, Avery, takes the photos.It’s been a tumultuous partnership because of our penchant for arguing over everything, but we’re passionate and the paper thrives because of it.
“I bet that’s Brooke and her circle of skanks,” Avery growls as she waves her hand under her nose.“Doesn’t she know tasting like an ashtray is not attractive?”Her mocha eyes roll as her full lips turn down in a sneer, the beauty mark over her mouth stark against her pale skin.She’s often compared to Cindy Crawford with her brunette hair and beauty mark, but she despises it.There’s no way Avery would ever walk a runway, she’d be more comfortable shooting it from behind a camera.
I want to remind Avery that she smells the same when she stress-smokes, but I decide the ensuing argument just wouldn’t be worth it.Especially with that scowl on her face and the death grip she has on the camera under her arm.
“Oh, look!It’s the knockoff Cindy and her tagalong.”Brooke’s husky voice hits us from beneath the bleachers and I stop to peer between the metal sections.
“I’m no tagalong,” I scoff as I grip the metal bar in my palm.“Why do you insist on tasting like an ashtray?”
Brooke Eastham is sitting cross-legged by herself beneath the bleachers, her honey-hued hair curling inward to frame her sun-kissed face.She’s wearing a heavy foundation to cover the splatter of freckles along the bridge of her nose and her bright blue eyeshadow is a screaming ode to the 80’s era of loud makeup.
“Are you asking for a taste?”She smirks as Avery huffs behind me.Brooke takes a long drag of her cigarette and then blows the toxic cloud toward my face.I rear my head back, giving her a disgusted look.
“Not in a million years,” I confess as I straighten, hoping she gets the double entendre.Her laugh carries along the breeze and I just know that the dimple in her right cheek is twinkling as her hazel eyes fill with mirth.I may not be friends with Brooke Eastham, but I know her well enough.
“I’ll be seeing you after school, Nolan!”she calls to my retreating back as Avery and I head toward the football team’s locker room.I ignore her most of the time, the same as I have been for the past seven years.
“I hate that your mom cleans her house,” Avery snaps.“And I hate it even more that you’ll be helping.She’s a snobby, rich bitch who lives to torture you.”
