Page 3 of Angel of Water & Shadow

“Appreciate the sympathy, bud.” More like the lack of it. He deserved the playful pinch I gave his arm.

“Ow! There’s the River I know. I was worried I’d lost you again for a sec.”

“Still here.” I shot him a teasing side-eye as he darted across the pathway, towing me behind him. “After my earlier snafu though…” I said as I caught up. “I don’t think I’m going to go.” Heat seared my cheeks, and it wasn’t due to a sunburn. To be honest, I’d be perfectly fine never seeing my classmates again.

“Who cares what those people think? We’ve been prepping our outfits for-e-ver. I’m even willing to wear that crown of leaves you made me.” Batting his eyes for good measure, he brushed his tight waves of jet-black hair behind his ears, fingers smoothing the slightly grown-out locks until they traced his neck. Our laughter scattered the roosting pelicans.

He had a point—the countless trips to the thrift store and dozens of hot glue burns we’d endured would be for nothing if I bailed. As of yesterday, we’d finally gotten our costumes in order, ready to embrace the theme: Shakespeare’s Summer Solstice.

When we finally reached the lighthouse, what felt like one million years later, I folded against its brick wall, a thread of energy sweeping across my shoulders and tickling my spine. My toes wiggled reflexively over the grass, pliant and dewy from the ocean’s spray. Multicolored specks swarmed in the distance like sand flies—tourists enveloping our seaside town to escape the inland heat. The tangled structures of the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk were visible through the lingering strips of coastal haze, high-spirited shrieks signaling the latest batch condemned to the Big Dipper’s drop, one of my favorite rides—roller coasters provided me a sacred moment, when my screams superseded the others inside me.

I blew out a sigh, my body becoming as boneless as a sea sponge. The rhythmic pulse of humanity was intoxicating.

It probably had something to do with—okay, a lot to do with—my waning adrenaline, but from this vantage point in particular, with the corroded frame of the lighthouse humming with its peculiar life force at my back, and the seemingly endless sky and coastline that surrounded me…it soothed me like a maritime lullaby.

My eyes grew heavy, and I would have let them slip, if not for?—

“We should probably grab your surfboard before someone else does,” Javi said, breaking my Zen.

Crap. I’d left it on the bluff. I glanced over in that direction, a tiny bolt of panic zinging through me. “Oh please, no one’s going to run off with my worn out shortboard in the middle of the day.” The tension left my shoulders as the crowd parted, and my gaze settled on its familiar off-white gleam. “See? You’re just anxious to get to Grad Night because Summer Solstice seems to be every girl’s excuse to wear a crop top.”

He shrugged, fighting a smile. “A gorgeous fairy queen waiting for me with flowers in her hair sounds like a pretty good reason to split, with your surfboard or not.”

I rolled my eyes playfully. “I hate to ruin your Shakespearian fantasy, but I’m going to be late for therapy.”

We strode to the overlook, my prized possession laying exactly where I had dropped it.

As I planted my surfboard atop my head, I felt his lens on me immediately and heard the faint click of the shutter. The silhouette of my bracketed arms arched out of my back, the low sun unfolding their shadows like wispy forelimbs. I extended my left hand just far enough from my board to flash a playful finger at my friend. Along with a seriously? look.

Javi claimed he’d always been “super into” photography, but really it was ever since we spotted the scratched piece of equipment at an estate sale two summers ago. He’d been playing around with FPS and aspect ratio and exposure composition since then—terms he liked to drop but were very much over my head. How quickly he’d gone from random snapshots and blurry nature photos to winning first place in exhibits and staying in the dark room till I dragged him out.

“I know sometimes your memory gets a little shaky after an episode, Riv,” he said with one of his yes, now act natural, it’s golden hour looks back, “but did you forget that corn dogs plus costumes plus carnival rides make us, like, really, really happy?”

“Wow, does your sensitivity come and go that easily?” My mouth dropped open in a mock act of shock.

He motioned me over. “I love this one; your eyes look like little azul jewels.”

I peered at the digital version of myself, eyes indeed sparkling, cheeks peppered with sun freckles, a carefreeness in my jaw, loose strands of golden-tipped brown hair blown across my face…Javi did have an eye. I wasn’t a super-smiley, overly happy person by any means, but he managed to capture those glimpses of me, no matter how far they were from what I was feeling inside.

“Anyway, I’m a teensy bit sympathetic after finding my best friend starfished on West Cliff.” He rotated the screen’s mode to off. “But this is important; Titania needs me. Why do you have a therapy session today?” Pumping his fist in the air like a gawky version of Braveheart, he bellowed, “This is supposed to be the greatest night of our lives, the gateway to freedom, the rite of passage to our adulthood!”

I snorted, knowing full well the active role we’d both played in avoiding these rituals the last four years. Although, he had convinced me to go to a house party after the homecoming game that one time, and he did drag me to prom…but we spent most of the night avoiding the belligerently drunk lacrosse team, eating stale popcorn on the bleachers. Until the last song, when he extended that hand—the one always there for me. A twirl of my layered tulle skirts and I came to rest under his chin, tucked and swaying against his matching baby blue dress shirt. That part, at least, felt memorable.

Okay, so maybe I avoided these hormone-fueled gatherings more than he did.

We stopped at a salt-crusted bike rack, packed with colorful beach cruisers tossed against the frame by impatient surfers. After loading up my board, I turned my back to Javi and gathered up my hair, uncovering my wetsuit’s zipper. He moved close, his fingers fumbling with the metal for a moment before it slid down. He pulled his hand away before he could accidentally brush the pair of linear scars on my shoulder blades.

My skin tingled against the cool ocean air.

“You’re right. What good would a midsummer night be without its ass?” I pulled the damp sleeves off my arms and slid the rest to my waist, revealing the floral one-piece I wore underneath. “Look, therapy’s the last place I want to be—other than Grad Night,” I corrected myself, lips curving into a mischievous grin. “But I forgot to cancel, and if I no-show, I’ll get charged and my dad will kill me.”

I spun around to find him wielding his greatest weapons: that dramatic bottom lip and those big puppy dog eyes. He overemphasized his pout until he won and got a laugh out of me.

“Fine,” I relented. “I’ll go. Corn dogs on me?”

“More like corn dogs on our school, but I do appreciate the offer.” He grinned before his focus moved from my stuck-out tongue to the worn-out strap that slid off my shoulder. “I’m assuming you might need to make a pit stop first?”

I pretended not to notice the flush in his tawny cheeks, but my body betrayed me, heat creeping over my face and neck. I quickly tried to fill the silence, forcing my voice light. “Yeah, the whole no shoes, no shirt, no service thing actually applies in a therapist’s office.”

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