I Love New Zealand

Prologue

"So where do you suppose he went?" Amy asked while running her slender fingers through her long, red hair. That straight-out-of-the-can hair matched perfectly with her star-spangled bikini. Judging by the eyes of every other boy on the beach, she must’ve been the best thing about the 4th of July. It was strange to watch people of my same gender eyeballing my friend like she was candy while I didn’t feel anything more than jealousy. Jealous at the fact that she could catch any boy she wanted just by batting her eyes. Of course, girls always fall for the “gay-best-friend” routine, so it wasn’t that hard to hook up with the prettiest girl in school who (surprisingly) hasn’t screwed every boy on the football team.

“Luke?” she asked again, shooting my attention from her surprisingly risqué bikini back to our conversation. “Who?” was the only way I could respond.

“Hey, please stop staring at my ass. It makes me feel self-conscious…”

“Please, the only thing you should feel self-conscious about is the way you make every other girl here want to throw daggers at you for stealing their boyfriends.” In the same way as always, she let out this cute little chuckle and turned back towards the water.

“I hope I’m not being too distant. It’s just… I think Brycen is a really cute guy… I want to know if he likes me back.”

“He’d be crazy not to,” I replied while wiping away the sand from my golden swimming trunks. “I’m gonna go grab something to drink if you’re too preoccupied with looking out at the ocean like Rose Bukater. Want anything?”

“I don’t know… A beer would be nice.”

“And that’s illegal.”

“Not in this country, it isn’t.” That’s right, I remembered. In New Zealand, the legal drinking age is 18. “Fine,” I began while dragging myself to my feet. “You win this round. See you in a while.” By the time Amy finally walked out deep enough to submerge her head in the crystal-clear water, I reached the tiny seaside shack known as “The Clam.” Here, a few fellow students were enjoying a beer or two, celebrating their first summer as freshman in college. Unfortunately, I was still 16 and therefore unable to drink. Skipping a grade in my junior year of school did not have a lot of perks.

“Excuse me,” I asked. “Can I have a beer and some ginger ale?”

“Sure, lad,” the handsome man behind the counter replied while wiping out a martini glass with a rag. I think his name was Morty? “Just give me your I.D. and you’ll be all set.

Fuck. “Actually, can I just take the ginger ale?”

Morty stopped wiping the glass and eyed me down suspiciously. “Whoa, you actually thought I was going to give an alcoholic beverage to a minor? If so… you’re right! Just take it and don’t tell anyone.” After handing me a Canada Dry and a Corona, I gave him the money and left, just noticing that Amy had started up a conversation with a new boy. So much for making it work with Brycen. Then, a weird feeling overcame me… a strange desire to get back at her. I mean, she was so lucky to have everything… Sure, we’ve been best friends since I moved to Saratoga Springs, New York, back in 6th grade (she was in 7th), but I was still fed up with the way every boy was wrapped around her finger.

Realizing my chance at getting back was always low considering she was fine with everything that happened to her in life, the only way I could think of making her angry was not to give her the beer. So, right then and there, I downed the entire bottle in less than seven seconds. I couldn’t care less at the few other people staring at me along the beach; I was pissed and I wanted something new.

“Are you okay?” a girl asked after watching me stumble towards Amy, already drunk from a single glass of beer. Really? Why is it that I cannot tolerate any type of alcohol? “F-fine…!” I muttered angrily, shoving past her and stepping on an upturned sea shell. My only response was, “SHIT!” before I dropped down on my ass and began examining the wound.

The sight of my own blood trickling from the gash on my heel, combined with this new drunken feeling, was enough to make me gag.

Amy’s gonna laugh so hard when she sees me looking so pathetic, I thought. Instead, I (painfully) dipped my wound in the salty New Zealand water and stumbled my way back towards Amy, who had surprisingly told the guy off.

“So, I take it he didn’t want to be friends?” I teased.

“No, he just took out his ‘friend’ and asked if I could play with it. I told him to eat shit. Anyway, where’s my beer?”

“Eat shit.”

“You’re not being very polite.” Ha! If anything, she was worse than me!

“Anyway, I gotta go,” I stated. “It’s almost noon and I promised Diana and Phoebe that I would go with them to see their first New Zealand movie.”

“Oh, is it the one about the zombies and Christina Ricci?”

“No, it’s the one about Ryan Gosling and his tumor. Anyway, see ya.” Amy waved goodbye without turning and flopped down on her stomach to prepare for what she called her “killer tan.” Unfortunately, her skin didn’t get any more bronze than mine did, thanks to my Native-American heritage. She moaned something unintelligible and immediately fell asleep. Although I was worried that the other guys on the beach would try and “have some fun” with her while she was asleep, I mentally screwed the idea and left, unaware of what was to be coming within the next two months.