Beneath Summer Skies and Four Letter Lies

A small crowd was formed in the sea, circling around two guys. The first boy was wearing a red shirt that looked too small for him, and who seemed to be the oldest of the group—he looked about twenty years old. The second boy was just about my age, with wood-like auburn hair and tan skin, and was only wearing his gray shorts.

"Will you just be patient for a few more minutes?" the red-shirted guy asked the shirtless boy. He looked extremely annoyed, with his nose crinkling in disgust.

"I told you he was chicken," the shirtless boy replied. He then started flapping his arms, and began making chicken noises. "Hey, look at me, I'm Wayde...and I'm a chicken! Pok pok pok pok! I'm a chicken! Chickeeeen! Pok pok pok pok pok!"

And that was the intense conversation they were having when we had reached them. Yeah. Intense.

Waves flew as Wayde ran towards them. Tim and I followed him and went into the crowd. The water level only reached our knees, soaking the lower portion of my summer dress, which I had put on before we got here. Melody and Poppy seemed like they had already left the beach, since their presence wasn't lingering around anymore after the time I had gone away with Tim and Wayde.

"Yo." The guy in the red shirt looked delighted on our arrival. "We thought you guys weren't coming."

"Nah." Tim replied, and patted Wayde a little too hard on the back. "Wayde's just relaxing too much he forgot the time."

"And I'm no chicken," Wayde smiled at the shirtless guy. It was no question that the guy was Talon.

"Yeah, you are! You're a chicken!" Talon pointed his finger accusingly at him. It was also no question that he's just as stubborn as Wayde. I looked at Wayde again.

It's funny how I never failed to notice how his eyes look so bored and sleepy while his smile was so wide and alive.

How weird.

"I'm not a chicken, silly."

"Yeah, you are."

"I'm not. See this?"

Wayde lifted a hand and faced his palm in front of Talon, who just looked questioningly at him.

"What?"

"This is a hand."

"So...?"

"Well...they're not wings. If I'm a chicken, then I'd have wings. See? I got fingers."

"What the heck are you—"

"Oh, look...they're dancing! Whoa."

Wayde already had his hands stretched out in front of him and had started wiggling his fingers and pretended to look at them in astonishment. Tim laughed. I stood quietly beside him, not understanding the situation at all.

Then Wayde placed his fingers near his ears.

"What's that? Oh look, they're saying, 'DANCE WITH US, TALON. DANCE WITH US."

Wayde's smile didn't disappear as he continued to wiggle his fingers higher up in the air, and I had a pretty good idea why Talon looked as if his blood was in its boiling point.

"You...!" he shouted.

And that's when he almost attacked Wayde. His arms almost reached him, but the guy in the red shirt went in between them, before Talon could even launch at Wayde.

"Kill each other later. Let's just get this over with first, people."

The two started to align themselves at the knee-length of the waves, which signified the starting line, and the crowd, who seemed eager in watching the game as well, who stood on the coast with Tim and me. I could see how Talon looked as if he was forcing every vein in his body to stop his attack, while Wayde was smiling as if Talon was only planning to embrace him or something.

"The rules," the red-shirted guy started. "You have to get to that pole thing first, then the first one to get back here wins." He had pointed to the crimson poles that looked like red metal chains floating far out in the ocean—which must've been the border thing of the beach—and looked at Wayde and Talon who were readying themselves. Then they stopped stretching, and crouched a bit as preparation.

"One...two...three...GO!"

SPLASH.

The two boys plunged deeper the sea with intense force, and my mouth almost dropped open in amazement.

They were moving, with hands that were letting the waves ripple greatly and feet that were making the water splash up in the air like million drops of rain. Their moves looked perfectly synchronized, as if they were trained professionals practicing for a championship or something. I could remember having swimming lessons when I was about seven years old, where my dad had forced me to join once, three years before he had gone away and left my mother and me. I stopped after five sessions, since I sucked at it. Turns out that I really had no chance against Wayde, if I was the one who raced with him.

He was in the lead, but Talon's close second.

Close enough for him to overtake Wayde in a matter of time.

I never thought Wayde could swim this fast—he looked too pale, that he seemed like an indoor kind of guy to me.

Calm down, Johanna. He's not gonna win, okay? He just can't. That's why you're here. To see him lose. He's just not gonna win. He's not gonna win...

Suddenly, Talon had his arms moving with such speed, that he finally overtook Wayde.

YES. YES. YES.

But Wayde regained the first postion once more.

NO. NO. NO.

But Talon overtook him again. The same thing happened again. And again.

And I was still focused on the game the whole time, until I realized that Tim, who was just shouting beside me with the crowd just a few minutes ago, started to look at me.

And the weird thing was he was examining my face, as if he was trying to detect every detail, which turned me into a poor little self-conscious girl, if you know what I mean.

"He's right...you really do look like her," he said.

"Who?" I asked, turning my gaze to the curious boy.

"Well, not really. You just kind of remind me of—"

Tim's words were suddenly outstood by the joyous yells of the crowd. People began to gather around the two players, who had just fallen with their backs on the velvet sand of the shore.

"What the..." Tim suddenly said. "Who the hell won?!"

He ran towards Talon and Wayde, and I followed him.

Talon had his eyes closed and was breathing heavily, too tired after the lenghty race.

And a scowling Wayde met my eyes.

This was the first time I've seen him without a smile on his face. His hair was dripping wet and he was rubbing his eyes, and he started to close them as he frowned in pain.

For some reason, my stomach hurled. I don't know why. He looked really hurt.

Did he...?

So this means he'll leave me alone.

Forever.

That's good, then...

...right?

"Ooooouuch," he suddenly moaned.

"Who won?" Tim and I asked in unison.

"My whole body hurts..." he whined, not quite answering our question. He sat up as he rubbed and stretched his aching hands.

And I really thought I was right on how Wayde lost...until he stood up and confidently curved his arm around my shoulders. "But I'm okay. It was worth it, anyways. So no need to worry too much about me, girlfriend."