Riptide

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I love the ocean. I always have. I love the way it glides around me as I swim through its dark depths. I feel alive when I step into the large expanse of water, knowing that it could swallow me up at any moment, but savor the fact that when I stay calm and controlled I always make it out safe.

"Parker!!!" I flip over on my board, pulled from my daydreaming. I quickly come to the surface and take in gulps of air. I catch hold of my board so it doesn't float away. My stepmom, Ashley, continues to frantically call my name from the shore. I make my way back to her sluggishly. "Jeez, Parker, I thought you were dead," she says as soon as I arrive.

"That's what you always say Ashley, but here I am perfectly fine, as usual. Can I go back out now?" I say, clearly annoyed with her, and not even attempting to hide the attitude from my voice. This is the fifth time today that she has disturbed me when I am in the water. It is especially annoying when she calls me when I am in the middle of surfing, and I end up falling off my board.

"Not with that attitude you can't," she responds, upset, "You can walk yourself on home, mister, and I will stay here with Adara." She gestures to my little sister playing in the sand. Ashley always uses her an excuse for one thing or another. I turn away from her and head up to our house.

My family and I live in Maroubra, a suburb in Sydney, Australia. I usually go out to the beach with my best friend Gia Robertson, but she is grounded. When my stepmom found out I was going to be going alone, she used Adara as an excuse to come with me. I hate it when she comes. She is too paranoid, and is constantly calling me from the water. Either to tell me I am not being safe, or to slather outrageous amounts of sunscreen on me, like I am 5 years old. When in reality I am a 16 year old boy.

"Hey son," my dad says as I enter the house. He usually doesn't come down to the beach. Ever. He loves to watch the amazing view from our house, but he hates actually being out there.

"I didn't expect you back so soon. Where are Mom and Adara?" he asks.

"She's not my mom, and they are out there. Ashley sent me home because I was giving attitude," I make sure to say Ashley instead of mom, because it annoys my dad. And I am not in the mood to please anyone right now.

My dad ignores it and continues, "Son, that has been happening a lot lately, you got to watch that or she won't let you out there at all."

"Dad I can't help it!! She interrupted me five times today. Five times!" I yell in frustration. "I go out there to be stress free, but she just makes it more stressful! I'd rather stay in my room all day then be out there with her!!!" I didn't realize that I was yelling, and the outraged expression on my dad's face says he didn't expect to hear those words from me. I turn and run up the stairs to my room and slam the door. After I lock it, I turn and melt down the surface of the door and sit on the floor for a while. I know my dad is going to tell Ashley about what I said and she will get all sad, and probably cry the rest of the night. She is such a drama queen. She will go on and on about how I will never love her, and how my family thinks she will never replace my mom. Which, in my opinion, she won't.

After about a half an hour of sulking, I climb to my feet and grab the sketch pad off my bed. I sit at the bay window in my room that overlooks the beach, and start to draw. I love to etch out the curve of the waves and to replicate the precision of the majestic ocean I love. It soothes me in a way. My mood is ruined when I see Ashley and Adara climbing the sand to our home. I quickly put my sketch pad away and plug my ear buds into my iPhone. I play my music on full blast so I don't have to listen to Ashley complain.

"Dinner!!!" My dad calls, but I pretend I didn't hear him. After ten minutes of not hearing from anyone, I turn off my music and hesitantly unlock and open my door. I creep down the stairs, and when I don't hear any commotion from the kitchen, or dining room, I begin to worry. I find a note on the coffee table. I open it and see Ashley's big, bubbly handwriting. I close the note, and consider not reading it, but my curiosity is too strong to ignore. I open the letter again and read what it says: