A List of Best Intentions

It was nothing short of a miracle that Cody and I had managed to get every drunken teenager out of my house, and get it tidy and stench-free before my parents got home.

I mean, they knew about the party and stuff, but we still had to keep everything under control. As far as they knew, there was no alcohol, and I most definitely didn’t blow chunks in the garage.

I owed Cody, too. He was the one who cleaned the most, ‘cause he was more sober than I was. (That kid downed a ton of booze, though.)

When it came down to everything, the party was awesome but over. And I could cross off number nine on my list.

On the other hand…so far, I’d barely left a dent in it.

And I was kinda worried that I’d made too much stuff to do. Would I even be able to do it all? Or even half of it?

I had sighed to myself, staring at the list that lay in my hands. It was scribbled on despite being so young – only a month old, really – and was filled to the brim with possibilities.

Too many possibilities.

I felt like an artist – so many options, and no limit.

And in my case, it wasn’t a good thing.

As I sat amongst the cluster of students in my history class, I put the list back into my trapper keeper.

Suddenly, someone tapped my shoulder. I turned around and came face-to-face with Bruce Beckett himself; after what Stephanie had told me, I couldn’t really think too highly of him.

“Yo, bro,” he smiled, doing that little half-smirk he always did. “That was a wicked party.”

“I know,” I shrugged. I’d gotten that more than once that day.

He smoothed his hair, lookin’ oh so cool. “Yeah, um…Stephanie, er…she said…”

I couldn’t resist a little laugh.

“You guys kissed?” he blushed. By now he was a bright scarlet color.

“Yeah, kinda,” I replied. His awkwardness was contagious.

But his smile came back, at least. “Um…yeah…well, don’t…don’t be mean to her. Or anything.”

“Right. Got it.”

“’Cause she’s my cousin and stuff.”

“I know,” I laughed.

“And if you break her heart, I’ll know. And I’ll beat your ass,” he smirked. “Got it?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, fully understanding.

The awkwardness ceased, almost miraculously.

Bruce pointed at my trapper keeper with my list poking out a little bit. A tiny corner was visible.

“Is that the list you’re always going on about?” he asked.

“Uh, what?” I replied sheepishly. At that point I wasn’t used to people knowing about it that much. The fact that Bruce had known of its existence was a shocker, to say the least. “How’d you know?”

“Dude. For starters, it’s not like you’re the kind of person to keep stuff to yourself,” he smirked. “And second of all, Cody told everyone when he was drunk at your party.”

I pressed my lips together and stared off to the side, formulating a way to get back at my best friend for spilling something that wasn’t quite a secret, but wasn’t something I wanted to brag about.

Bruce motioned at me expectantly. “Well…you gonna let me see it?”

With a slight smile, I whipped out my prized possession and shoved it in his hands. He looked a little bewildered for a second and stretched his neck forward in disbelief, but as his eyes ran down the list, I could see a tiny hint of a half-smile.

He lowered it and raised an eyebrow at me. “Kevin…you got some sky-high dreams and shit.”

“Yeah,” I agreed.

Bruce glanced at it again, shrugging his shoulders. “You wanna learn how to surf?”

(Number 18, by the way.) “Well, yeah. ‘Cept I put that there just in case.”

“Hell, I could teach you,” he suggested.

“Are you serious?” I gasped. I spoke what was on my mind – learning how to surf was a pie-in-the-sky type deal for me. “Dude!”

“Anything to help a kid live it up,” he justified. “I mean, I think what you’re doing’s kinda cool. I want in.”

I couldn’t believe it. The singer for I Am You Are was offering to teach me how to surf; I was high, man.

“Alright then. I guess…”

“I’ll get my brother to drive us to the beach Saturday. I got a board you can use, too.” Bruce was smiling again, that typical kinda grin that I grew to recognize right from the getgo.

It felt like a dream.

Even then, I was already hoping I’d never wake up.

~~~~~~~

If you told me three months ago that in late August I’d be offered surf lessons from THE Bruce Beckett, the most bangin’ singer in Tanglewood, I’d cock my head and ask if you were trippin’ balls.

I guess you wouldn’t be, though, ‘cause I actually was.

My folks were so pleased with the way I’d handled the party, actually, that they let go of the whole eventual ISS thing with Robert and the money for a little bit and let me go with Bruce down to Kingsland.

So he picked me up at noon the next Saturday. The sky was clear and true blue perfect; the air was warm without scorching me to a crisp. It was beautiful weather to be out playin’ in the sand.

Well, actually, it was Bruce’s brother who picked me up and drove us to the coast. When he beeped the horn at the edge of my driveway, I did a double-take when I saw a minivan parked there. I was confused. Well, until I saw two surfboards hastily tied to the top of it.

I bid my parents farewell and trotted off, slipping into Bruce’s bunker and being well on my way to the beach.

“Sup, Slater?” he’d greeted amiably, giving me a high-five.

Not surprisingly, his brother, who was driving, looked exactly like him – kinky and ruffled black hair, tanned skin and deep-set eyes that always looked dazed. Of course, he was blasting ska. I wasn’t complaining.

“You ready for this?” Bruce asked, grinning.

“I think so,” I smiled back.

His brother slapped his shoulder. “Hey, man, just remember that I’m goin’ downtown while ya’ll are doing your thing.”

“I know, bro,” Bruce rolled his eyes.

The elder looked at me through the mirror. “Hey, can you swim?”

“Yeah,” I replied.

“Good. ‘Cause I’m a lifeguard and I hate gettin’ the feeling that someone’s drowning.” He turned onto the highway. “But that’s just me.”

“Danny, shut up,” Bruce snorted.

The drive to Kingsland was about an hour and a half long and basically mute of any conversation. Other than the mixtape playing, skippin’ between bands like Sugar Ray and Nirvana and even the Spice Girls.

Bruce broke that silence. “Oh dude, Third Eye Blind comes here in October, right?”

His brother nodded. “They’re sold out, I think, though.”

“No, the paper said they’re still sellin’ tickets,” I added. It was the one thing I paid attention to in the newspaper: concert listings.

We dropped the subject.

Soon, the road signs got clearer and gave precise directions to the local beach; trees cleared out and gave way to the sky and an occasional hotel or beach shop.

A few more turns, and we were in Kingsland. I could tell not just from what the street signs told me, but by the air – the thick salty air that just could hypnotize you with one breath. I rolled my window down and let the wind take my hair.

There were palm trees and boardwalks. Seagulls and sea salt. It was beautiful. It was perfect. It was exactly the world I’d miss when all of the nuclear bombs on the planet were gonna set off.

“Oh ho ho, we hit the jackpot, Kev,” Bruce laughed. “All these girls…damn.”

“Dude, you have a girlfriend,” his brother cut in. “That Aly chick, right?”

Bruce hooted. “Freakin’ Jon won’t fuck off and you know that.”

Obviously the kind of conversation I wasn’t meant to jump into…but staying quiet just wasn’t how Kevin Slater hung.

“I didn’t know they were going out,” I spoke up.

Bruce laughed curtly. “Hell no! They’re just twins, and Jon’s crazy ‘cause he goes all big-brother on her.”

Questions answered. Kinda.

We drove up to the edge of the boardwalk, right were the street met the sand and the dunes blocked out the sight of the sea. Excitement tingled my fingers and made me anxious. This was the chance of a lifetime.

I quickly shook myself outta that anxiousness and got back to being happy, though. ‘Cause Bruce’s bro was putting the car into park and Bruce was undoing his seat belt, which could only mean one thing – it was time.

“Let’s go,” Bruce ushered.

“Alright!” I cheered. “Let’s catch us some waves.”

He looked at me blankly. “Dude, don’t say that. You sound so lame.”

“Okay.” I didn’t bother defying Bruce. He had the power to spread nasty rumors about me and make them sound true. If he was that kind of person, though.

We got out of the van and got our towels and stuff; our boards were tucked under our arms as Bruce’s brother drove away with another beep of the horn.

The sea breeze blew sand in our eyes and mussed our hair. And we shared a smile. Then Bruce led the way over the sand dune, leading us to the glorious sea.

And the waves weren’t perfect like I’d dreamed them to be, but somehow I was still fine with that.

We trotted through the dry sand pits that sunk us in its grip. Once we found a good spot to settle in, we laid out the towels, dumped our shoes and shirts there, and headed out to the water.

But before I could go in, Bruce stopped me.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he said sternly.

I looked at him funny. “Going out in the water…”

“Noooo. No. It’s harder than it looks. You gotta prepare for this.”

My impatient side didn’t care and just wanted to learn how to shred some waves. Even though I grunted and sighed and everything, I had to admit that I wouldn’t fare well if I just went in and improvised.

Bruce dropped his board in the wet sand. All around us, people were whirling, but nobody paid us any mind. We were nobodies. That wasn’t real bad.

What bugged me was my impatience.

“First, we gotta stretch. If you get a cramp, then it’s gonna distract you,” he commanded.

He had a point, so I complied. In the middle of the beach we started stretching our arms and legs, oblivious to some of the stares we were getting. Hey, maybe there were girls checking us out. Who knew?

After that, Bruce smirked and said, “Now we can go in the water.”

I just rolled my eyes, though it was no use defying him.

Despite the air being warm, the water was freezing and stung bitterly at my bare skin. Bruce didn’t even seem fazed, but I was shivering. Each weak wave that passed us by made me more uncomfortable. I figured, though, that I’d get used to it.

When we got a little farther away from people, he stopped. Floating on the board was kind of awkward, but I was growing used to it. Every so often, I almost capsized, though.

“Alright, Kev,” he said proudly. “You’re almost up.”

“When do I get to surf?”

“Well, first, you lie down on the board. Hold it steady. And then when you see a good wave – I’ll let you know when I see one – you paddle to it,” he instructed.

“Well, then what?”

He paused, putting a hand to his chin. He then opened his mouth to say something, but stopped.

“Yeah?”

“Well…it’s hard to explain. I mean, you…first, you…well, you…kinda go up on the wave, then you stand up, then you ride it, I guess…”

I tilted my head. “How do you know when to get up?”

Bruce stared into space. “…You just know.”

I didn’t bother adding anything. Apparently I was dealing with one of those hippy-surfer dudes. No biggie.

“You think you’re ready?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I guess so.”

“Alright. I’ll tell you when I see a fly wave.”

And we waited.

The weak waves bobbed us up and down in the sea. Pretty soon I grew accustomed to the wobbly hand-me-down surfboard and could actually sit on it without having to grip the sides for dear life.

In the distance, the sun was beating down on us for the afternoon. The cold water felt welcoming to me. This sure felt like summer, even if I had to go to school Monday.

Bruce perked up. “Dude.”

“Yeah?”

“One’s coming. Get ready.”

I peered out in the distance. Indeed, I caught sight of a rising cerulean beast creeping up on us. This sucker was huge.

Bruce licked his lips.

I said, “Oh my God.”

He cackled.

And before I could possibly process the images that were being thrown at me all at once, I was underwater.

I remember for a split second trying to stand up straight and stumbling with no balance. I then saw Bruce looking back at me, yelling stuff I couldn’t hear at all. While I was focused on him, the wave was cascading forward, closing in on me.

Once I realized all of my fifty million errors, it was too late.

You wouldn’t think getting tackled by water would hurt too bad, but it did. You’re just gonna have to trust me on that one. Ignoring the fact that getting it up your nose it painful enough, that stuff’s got some wicked surface tension.

I screamed, too. Loudly. I remember that also.

I slipped off the edge of my board and dropped into the rising water, enjoying a brief moment of peace before foam and salt water slapped me in the face.

Tumbling underwater, I had tried desperately to grasp something – anything – that could give me stability, but nothing came my way, and I was doing somersaults in the sea. The air flushed out of my lungs and I breathed water. It was terrifying.

When I tasted oxygen for a shining moment, I gained my senses again and I could comprehend everything.

The first sound I heard was the sound of Bruce’s hooting laughter.

“Oh, dude, that was brutal!” he chirped.

I coughed up some saltwater through my nose. It hurt too much to speak, and he noticed that and paddled over to help me back up without a word.

Things were peaceful for a moment.

Then he snorted a little.

“I knew you were gonna suck at this,” he chuckled.

A blush crept over my face. “It was worth a shot…”

He shrugged and slapped my shoulder; I could feel a sunburn forming there. “Ah, don’t give up. S’only your first try.”

So I didn’t give up. (That ain’t how I rolled.) I kept at it – Bruce let me try smaller waves while he just sat back either laughing at my failures or encouraging a tiny bit of success.

I was knocked on my ass a couple times, but like Chumbawumba, I got back up again. It got to the point where I could actually stand upright on the board. And even though riding a wave still gave me a few challenges, I was hella better than I was a few hours before.

Before long I’d become chilled out. I wasn’t nervous when facing a dinky little wave anymore; I was confident. I guess then I understood all those surfers who were cool and collected and stuff.

And even though I really wasn’t a part of that crowd, for a moment I felt like I was. And that was pretty fly.

The last time I’d turned around to look at Bruce, I distinctly remember seeing him lying on his back on his surfboard, just staring into space as if he forgot I was there.

“Bruce!” I yelled to get his attention.

He flailed and almost fell, but kept his composure. “’Sup, man? You tired out now?”

“Nah, but I think I got the hang of it, kinda,” I answered.

“Well, hate to break it to ya, but the waves here don’t get much bigger than this.”

I went quiet. I guess I at least got a starting point. That had to count for something, right?

“You wanna chill out at our towel some? My brother ain’t comin’ ‘til four.”

Bruce looked like he was already on his way back to the shore, so I didn’t bother objecting. I mean, hey, maybe there were waves in Heaven. Or Hell. Or…Purgatory.

The land felt odd after being in the sea for over two hours, but that was normal, I guess. There were less people than before on the shore. Thankfully, our towel was left untouched, so we just gladly took a seat on it as if it was our job.

Bruce sighed happily. “This is the life, man….beautiful weather, nothin’ but peace…”

“It’s pretty dope,” I agreed.

He leaned back on his elbows and stared at me for a second. When I caught on, he smirked.

“What?”

“…No offense, bro, but I dunno what the hell my cousin sees in you,” he snickered. “You’re white as hell.”

I looked down at my chest, then realized that I really didn’t get out much. I was ‘bout as colorless as paste, one of the wonderful perks of having a white dad and Hispanic mother – I didn’t automatically inherit her good looks. Something else he’d said hit me harder.

“Stephanie sees something in me?” I gasped.

“She was talkin’ to me ‘bout it the other day,” he said, trailing off quietly. “About how you put the moves on her and everything…”

The night of the party flooded back to me – the kiss, the tunes…the puke…I smiled, but at the same time I cringed. “I only kissed her.”

“Only kissed her? You didn’t feel her up?”

“Dude, you’re her cousin! I don’t wanna talk about that with you!”

He laughed again – that hearty kind of chuckle that everyone in Tanglewood knew. “Hey, she’s family. I look out for her.”

I wondered if she told him he’d been ignoring her for some time. I hoped so, at least.

“But, whatever. Point is, you hurt her and I kick your ass,” he elaborated.

“Maybe I’ll go after Alyssa instead,” I teased, elbowing him.

Bruce didn’t seem to get the joke. He turned a lovely shade of purple and grunted. Then he shoved my shoulder – hard.

I fell over. “What the hell, dude?”

“Don’t,” he grumbled. “Don’t even fuck with me about that.”

He was lookin’ genuinely pissed off, while I was genuinely interested. “How come?”

“I dunno. Just don’t like talking about it.”

A creeper grin spread across my face. “Aw, Bruce and Alyssa, sittin’ in a tree…”

Instead of fuming up like I thought he would, he just kinda half-smiled. And then he looked away, rolling his eyes. “I can’t even start to tell you how many times I’ve heard that.”

“Well, everyone and their mommas know you two got somethin’,” I assured.

“That ain’t the problem. I told her I love her and she said she loves me too. But, like…Jon and Robert know. And Jon doesn’t want us going out.”

“Then why the hell are you in a band together?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I love Jon to death,” he added. “He just doesn’t want shit starting up and the band falling apart. And he’s got that protective-brother thing goin’ on, too.”

“Then tell Jon you love Alyssa. He’s probably not that heartless,” I suggested, shooting for nothing.

“I have told him. He’s just being a douche about it.”

I didn’t have anything to say to him about that, so I just let the conversation die. I figured getting tangled in a few people’s lives I hardly knew would end up in nothing but negativity.

Instead, I changed the subject.

“So, uh…did Stephanie ever…” I trailed off. How should I have told him that Stephanie thought he was being a jerk? The thought of that bewildered me.

“She talked to me,” he said quietly. And that was enough.

We sat in the sun for a long time, just being quiet, without saying another word. The sunburn I’d earned was just starting to rear its ugly head, and it hurt. Bad. I’m pretty sure if I had a mirror with me, I’d mistake myself for a tomato.

Either way, it was nice. I liked the beach – the smell of salt and sunscreen, and this time I got to know someone I didn’t totally know before.

That chillness was just for a moment, though. ‘Cause just when I was getting real peaceful, I felt the weight of the world just smack my back, and I shrieked.

“Danny! Holy shit, you just stunned this kid!” Bruce laughed, copying his brother, who was standing behind us. “Damn, that’s gotta hurt!”

“No kidding,” I whimpered. I almost went into a fetal position because of the sudden pain, but I decided against it.

“Let’s bounce. We gotta get home, bros,” Bruce’s brother warned. He motioned for us to get up.

The boards were loaded back up in the van, our hair was thick with sand, and our skin was sticky with sunscreen. The radio was blaring already as we sped off back to Tanglewood, back to our homes, back to our lives, and back into the daily grind. Back to normal, maybe, for Bruce. Not for me.

I still had a million and a half things to do.