pull me back | a drag me down spin off

【eight】

Instead of wearing my usual surfing attire, which consists of a rash guard, I decide to throw that idea away for today. A regular black bikini is simply what I'm going to tear up the waves in. I need to give those bad boys a run for their money, and I need to look good while doing it.

Once I'm all dressed and ready to go, I head down to the garage and pick up my surfboard. I have plenty of them, but I always use a blue and white one that Dad gave me on my sixteenth birthday. That's usually our gifts to each other - surfboards. My father has been collecting them since he was a kid, and we still keep his collection going.

Knowing my parents are going to be coming home at any moment, I try to make my exit as quick and efficient as possible. I fail miserably when uncle Duke's car pulls up next to my house. He shakes his head in disappointment when he steps out of the vehicle and eyes me up and down.

"Where do you think you're going?" He calls out.

"Surfing, it's not a crime." I sigh and look back at him.

"Surfing, huh? Wearing that?" He crosses his arms over his chest, motioning toward my revealing bikini.

"It's a bathing suit." I quickly respond, not in the mood for a lecture.

"Where's your rash guard?" He continues to question as he walks up the driveway.

"Doesn't matter." I open my driver's side door, when he clears his throat.

"Who's the boy?" His stern voice questions.

"There is no boy." I lie, glancing back at him.

"Liar. You wouldn't be wearing that just to catch a wave. Who are you meeting?"

"Nobody, I gotta go." These rules are getting so annoying, my freedom is completely stripped.

"Stay away from surfer boys, I mean it."

"Boys who surf, boys who go to my school, what boys am I allowed to talk to?" I angrily groan.

"Your father would want me to say none."

"Uncle Duke, please don't tell me you actually agree with my parents new rules." I look him dead in the eyes. I know he would always tell me the truth.

"I'm sorry, Grace, but I do. You shouldn't disobey them."

"I'll just be gone for a few hours." I shake my head back and forth.

"A lot can happen in a few hours." He lets out a nervous breath. I can tell his body is tensing up.

"Fine, I'll stay in tonight. But only if you sit me down and tell me the entire story of the masked phantoms and why my parents are so afraid of them, even decades later?"

He stays completely silent and rubs his lips together. I can tell he wants to speak, to give me details, but he stays quiet. He opens his mouth, then closes it again.

"That's what I thought. See you later, tell my parents not to wait up." I get into my car and practically speed down the street. I purposely don't mention what beach I'm going to so he doesn't send a search party over there.

Santa Monica Beach is pretty quiet when I pull up to it. Just as I predicted, the boys aren't here yet. It's six fifteen, so I'm here five minutes earlier than I planned. The sun is beaming on the horizon as I get out of my car and rush over to the shore.

I place my board down on the sand and begin to stretch my legs. Surfing can seriously tear up your body, and I've gotten plenty of strains and bruises from the sport. Taking out my wax, I get down on my knees and begin scrubbing it onto my board.