Page 6 of Boneyard Tides

“Shiloh St. Claire!”

I wince, placing my brush back onto my vanity table and giving myself one last look over through my makeup mirror. My finger grazes the metal embossment that is carved into the handle of my brush. I count the steps as they come down the hallway outside my room. Not loud. Oh no, careful. Always so careful when we have guests. There’s a soft knock on my bedroom door.

“Can I come in?” My mom’s worried face peeks around the corner, her brunette hair grazing her sharp collarbones.

My smile widens when she flashes a small cupcake in front of her.

“I thought we could share this before you go out and do what seventeen-year-olds do. Which, by the way—what do they do?” Her question is legit. She has every right to ask it since I don’t know myself.

“Well,” I say, swiping my finger across the thick frosting and sucking it into my mouth. The sweet sugar travels down the back of my throat. “We get drunk, have sex, and take drugs.”

She moves through my bedroom, falling onto my double bed.

“Har…har.”

I wasn’t joking.

Running my fingers through my wavy brown hair, I take a seat beside her. Mom forces the cupcake to my lips, smiling. “Come on. I made twenty-four of them. They’re your favorite.” Her eyes flicker, and I watch as she studies me closely.

She and I know this isn’t going to end well, but we both play our roles. Our part. Because if we don’t, the consequences are too large.

“Yoo-hoo!” Warmth fills me when I hear my best friend.Thank God.“The party is here!” He slams open my door, flicking a boa over his shoulder and shoving his glasses down the bridge of his nose. “Well, if it isn’t me. The dime.”

“Okay, Cooper.” My mom rolls her hands to gesture him into the room. “You’ve made your entrance. You could have sung your way in here and it would have been quieter.”

“Well, since I’m the only one whocansing—” He clears his throat and both Mom and I chuckle.

“Please fucking don’t.”

Cooper places his bags on the end of my double bed. My room has walls the color of the ocean, with Polaroids of Cooper and me hanging everywhere. Posters litter the spaces between them, all my favorite riders. Kelly Slater, Bethany Hamilton.

Mom pushes up from my sandy white bedding, tucking my hair behind my ear with a gentle touch. “I’m so proud of you, Shiloh.” Leaning down, she presses her lips to my forehead. “Be careful, sweetheart.” She leans back, and even though Cooper is in the room, I know no one else will know the next words except me. “See you soon…”

My stomach drops to the floor as I watch her leave.

Cooper flops down onto my bed, his blond hair falling over his face dramatically. “You are getting drunk tonight.” He points at me with a ring-clad finger, twirling it around the room. “Because I will see you drunk once before you go back to being all serious and cool surfer chick.”

“Um…” I stand from my bed and make my way to the floor-standing mirror near the bay window. There’s a bench seat that overlooks the sandy footpath below, but we’re not on the beach. I’m pretty sure the reason why sand is so far back in our suburb is because of global warming. Or maybe it’s the other way around. “I’m not cool. You just have poor taste in friends.”

He pops up behind me, and I find his gentle blue eyes in the mirror. “Okay, first of all, you are the best human walking this planet, so fuck you, and second?” He pointedly looks me up and down in the reflection. “This dress is cute and totally working for you. Now—” He claps his hands. “Let’s go early.”

Reaching for my handbag, I throw it over my shoulder and let him drag me down the hallway and out to the living room. My mom’s lying on the couch, a glass of wine resting on her thighs and a TV show playing loudly.

Leaning over, I kiss her on the head. “On the other side.”

She turns her head over her shoulder, her soft eyes coming to mine, winking. Cooper squeezes my hand again and then we’re out the door like a tornado.

“I don’t think I want to drink.” I pull open his Jeep door and slide into the passenger seat. Since I’m still working my way toward buying a car, we use Cooper’s daily.

“Ah, yes, you are, because it’s something you hardly ever do.” His door slams closed, and he turns the key in the ignition, the lights beaming as the engine warms.

Cooper has been waiting for me to drink for years. It’s not that I didn’twantto. It’s that I always needed to be up early the next morning to catch the best swells. He pulls out of the driveway, and I watch as the flickering light of the TV shows through the living room. Our home is wrapped in a front porch, with an old, rusted swing, and my surfboards out front. My mom used to say she could find me by following the trail of sand. I guess that is still true.

“Fine.” I smile up at Cooper. “I guess I could.”

“Yes, and then you’re staying with me tonight because I’m making sure you’re safe throughout.”

“So now you’re not drinking?” I joke as he pulls us into a parking lot near the main beach. “Who even are we?”

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