Not another Day at the Beach

Chapter 2: Not so Perfect Anymore

POV: Sadie
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Author's Note: This chapter is things told from the perspective of Sadie, the other main character of this story. Usually the events that occur in this chapter won't be the same as the previous chapter, but for this chapter Sadie is telling the events from the last chapter in her perspective. This is a one time thing, since I want you to get to know the characters by seeing how they react to the same events in different ways with different thought processes. Chapters from now on will alternate between Sadie and Cameron.
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"Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit." I muttered as I dug through my bag.

I sat on my knees on the shore of Palm Side Beach, surrounded by the scorching summer heat and the mixed aroma of salty water and sunblock. I thought I had checked off everything on my mental list. Sunscreen, towel, water bottle, board leash, cash...but not my damn screwdriver. My board had a fin loose, which absolutely sucked. There was no chance of it staying on and no way in hell I would go without it. One of my braids fell in front of my face, pissing me off even more.

"Urrrrgh." I groaned, throwing my head back. I needed my fin to help me steer the board,

I didn't want to change back into my clothes and sneak back into the house just to get a screwdriver. Everyone was still asleep, since it was a Saturday, but I woke up early. I had thrown on on my wetsuit, leaving a note on the counter for mom and dad.

Gone out shopping. Took the car. Hope you don't mind. Haha of course you don't mind. You love me.
xoxo!
-Sadie

I'm sure that in order to justify my bullshit lie, I'll go shopping later...or now. Since I forgot my god damn screwdriver.

I sighed, gathering up my things that I had hastily unpacked in the search for the screwdriver.

I hoisted my bag onto my shoulder and tucked my surfboard under my arm, ready to trudge through the hot sand and back to the car.
Then suddenly, a bag someone had placed in the sand caught my eye. It had the distinct form of a screwdriver poking out of it. I looked around to see who the bag belonged to, and spotted a boy standing next to it, bending down to strap his ankle into his board leash. I trudged towards him and stopped, as he had his back facing me, then tapped him lightly on his shoulder. He turned around to face me, standing up. I felt like a dwarf standing next to his tall frame, and squinted to look up at his face. He had tanned skin, was muscular, had messy golden hair, and wore a puzzled expression on his face.

"Hey. My fin is loose and I need to tighten it. Can I use your screwdriver?" I asked him, pointing at his bag.

I know it's rude to just go straight to the point, but I was in a hurry to get in the ocean. No formalities were really necessary in asking for a screwdriver.

"Uh...sure." He said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Thanks." I said, laying my board in the sand.

He walked to his bag and took the screwdriver out, playing with it in his hands.

"Catch."

I instinctively lifted my hand up, caught the screwdriver and got to work, still looking down at my board.
Living with two brothers who constantly play hot potato with you teaches you at least some hand-eye coordination. My older brother Max always throws random shit at me, expecting me to catch it. He threw a rock once. No, not a pebble, an actual monster of a rock. Failure to catch it resulted in me getting my knee hit pretty hard. That day I learned to think on my feet, and Max learned not to throw fucking rocks at people. It was a learning experience for both of us, apparently.