Undressed

by Kimberly Derting

  “Tess, open up.” I rapped on the door. She’d already been shut inside there when I’d come home last night after the Sand and Slam, and even though she’d made a point of banging and slamming around to let me know she was furious, I hadn’t seen her since. I’d decided to give her time to cool off. Let her sleep on it.

  But enough was enough. We needed to hash this thing out. “We need to talk,” I said through the door. “About what happened . . . last night at the party.”

  I thought maybe she’d keep up the whole silent treatment thing some more. Keep me in the dark.

  But then I heard scuffling, which I took as a good sign because it wasn’t slamming, and the door unlocked. I waited for it to open, but when I realized that wasn’t going to happen, I let myself in.

  She was there, sitting on the edge of our mom’s bed.

  I hadn’t been in this room since I’d been back home, and I was guessing Tess hadn’t spent much time in here either.

  Not much had changed over the years though. Everything was exactly as I remembered: the bedspread, the sunny yellow curtains, even the oil painting of the beach that my mom had painted when she was in college was still hanging above her bed—she’d passed on her love of the ocean to my sister and me. Her dresser was something straight out of the seventies, dark carved wood with gold leaf handles. And on the top of the dresser were the ceramic bowls and popsicle stick boxes and seashell necklaces that Tess and I had made for her when we were kids. There was even the same collection of framed family photos. And all of it was covered in dust. A whole lot of dust.

  Tess’s eyes were red and raw as she watched me absorb the room. “I miss her too,” I admitted, picking up a picture of the three of us, when Tess had been the fattest baby known to man. Mom cradled the chubby infant in her arms. I wiped away the layer of film that concealed our mother’s face.

  “Why weren’t you here?” Tess asked, and I almost buckled beneath the weight of my own guilt. That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? The one behind all of Tess’s sullen moods and quiet stares. Finally—finally—she was putting it out there. “Why didn’t you come home when we needed you?”

  Fuck.

  I’d been such a dick. Then and now.

  At first, after the accident, everything had been scrambled—not just in my head, but in my whole life. I really thought I’d heal, maybe do a little rehab, and get back on my board again. Pick back up where I left off.

  Compete again.

  And that’s what I tried. Not just once, but again and again.

  But every time I went in the water, it was . . . wrong.

  At first I blamed the injury. I tried to tell myself it was only physical, that my balance was off and I just needed more time to recover, which was really just an excuse to party more. To drink more.

  And when that wasn’t working, when my body—and even my memory—healed and I couldn’t use that as an excuse, I told myself enough was enough. Everything was better.

  But it wasn’t.

  That’s when I realized that the real problem wasn’t physical. It was in my head. It was me—I was scared.

  I’d lost something the day the waves had taken me down in Australia. The day I’d been slammed head first against the reef and lost consciousness.

  The day I’d been airlifted to Sydney General Hospital.

  I’d lost that fearlessness every surfer needs. Every good surfer, anyway.

  Sure I could paddle out and get up, but I was no longer the savage I needed to be.

  I didn’t give up, not right away. I entered some competitions to try to get my name back into the rankings. But I lost all of them, even the minor ones.

  After a while, the sponsors backed out, and the girls, the ones who followed the circuit, stopped pursuing me. Eventually, the money dried up.

  I stopped caring . . . about myself or anyone else.

  When the call came in about my mom, I didn’t even listen to the voicemail. Tess was alone for weeks before I knew.

  I’d never be able to undo that.

  “I was so selfish. I didn’t know how to put anyone else first. How to care about anyone but me. But I’m here now, Tess. And I’m trying. This is uncharted water for me too.” I set the picture down and let out a breath. I had no clue how to talk to a teenager, let alone my own sister. “Last night . . .” I raked my fingers through my hair. “God, last night I wanted to kill that little fucker. Kid got off lucky; I shoulda knocked his teeth in.” Tess shot a glare at me, and I realized I’d screwed up again.

  Damn, this was hard.

  I settled down on the bed next to her and rested my shoulder against hers. “Wicked right hook, by the way.”

  She finally cracked and looked up at me, flashing me a crooked grin. It was the best grin I’d ever seen. “Right? Mom taught me.”

  “I know. She taught me too. Only I’m pretty sure she didn’t mean for you to break your brother’s nose with it.”

  “Please,” she retorted. “Stop being such a baby, it’s not broken.”

  I reached up and winced dramatically as I tested it. She was right. It wasn’t broken, but it still hurt like a mother. I wasn’t lying about her ability to land a punch. “Maybe not this time. But how ’bout next time, we try using our big-girl words?”

  She let out a long, low sigh. “I’m sorry.”

  I would’ve ribbed her, about the whole apology thing, but something told me this wasn’t the time. This was probably hard enough for her, admitting she was wrong. Instead, I nodded. “I suppose I could’ve handled things better myself. I shouldn’t have charged in like that. I wasn’t trying to embarrass you, you know?”

  She nodded too, her eyes searching mine, and looking so much more grown-up than fifteen. “I know. I shouldn’t have sneaked out. I just . . .”

  She faltered, but I knew, because I’d been fifteen once. “You wanted to go to the party. I get that. But we have to come to some sort of agreement. You gotta trust that I know some things, and one of those things is that you’re not quite ready for that yet. Especially when it comes to . . .” I kept picturing that guy with his hands all over my little sister, and I wanted to hunt him down and shove my fist down his throat. “Guys.”

  “I’m not a child, you know? I know all about the birds and the bees.” She crossed her arms and raised one eyebrow at me. “I’ve got my own boobs and everything.”

  I shot off the bed and covered my ears to block out the sound of her voice. “Okay, one, shut your mouth. There’ll be no more boob talk in this house. That goes for sex too.”

  She beamed at me. “Got it. You’re not into boobs.”

  I scowled down at her. “I like boobs just fine. But I’m not one of your girlfriends. We don’t need to braid each other’s hair or talk about Pinterest and shit.”

  “Fine. This is officially a Pinterest-free zone. So, what’s number two?”

  “Two is . . .” I deflated. She was the reason I was here. She was the reason for everything I was trying to accomplish. Tess was the reason I had to stay away from distractions like Lauren. I needed a clear head, which was the exact opposite of how I’d felt when I’d looked up and seen Lauren standing there at the pool today. Even in that ugly one-piece of hers she made me hard. How messed up was that, when Gracie and Jackson and the other kids had been counting on me to teach them to swim?

  Yet I couldn’t stop picturing Lauren while she’d floated on top of the water at the pool as I’d had my hands on her. I wanted to peel her swimsuit off with my teeth.

  I’d done the right thing when I’d told Lauren I couldn’t give her lessons anymore. It wasn’t just about my obligation to Tess. This had to do with the kids in my class. What kind of instructor would I be if I couldn’t even concentrate because all I was thinking about was Lauren, her skin all slippery and wet?

  I couldn’t mess things up for Tess. “I got your back. I’ll try to be reasonable, but you need to know that every decision I make is because I love you, Tessie.”


  She sprang up from the bed and practically suffocated me by wrapping her arms around me. “Aw. I love you too, you big softy.” It was the first time we’d hugged since we were kids, when Tess had toddled around after me, practically begging for me to acknowledge her existence.

  Progress, I thought, not wanting to admit how much this small step meant to me.

  “All right, all right,” I said, landing a decisive peck on her forehead. “What did I say about us not being girlfriends?” I pushed her away from me. “Whaddaya say we go grab us some shakes?” When she nodded, I added. “You just gotta give me your word you’ll stay outta trouble. I don’t think my heart can take much more of this.”

  LAUREN

  Emerson came out of her bedroom, securing simple silver hoops in her ears, but nothing else she had on was simple. “Okay? For real?” she accused. “You’ve been moping around all day. You’re not really gonna stay here all night too, are you? Get your ass up and come out with us.”

  “I’m just not up for it tonight. Besides, I’m not exactly dressed for . . .” I cast a meaningful glance at my worn sweatpants. “. . . well, anything.”

  Em, on the other hand, would easily fit in with the rest of the crowd at The Dunes in her body-hugging neon pink dress and strappy heels.

  “Mm-hmm. I see that.” She assessed me with a skeptical eye. “You got this whole bag lady vibe goin’ on. What up with that? I think a night out might be exactly what you need.”

  “I’m just tired is all.” Tired. That was my excuse when I came home from the pool club yesterday and all I wanted to do was watch Gilmore Girls and eat cookie dough straight from the tube. Tired was what I told her again today when she asked me to go to the beach with her.

  I didn’t want her to know what was really wrong with me: that Will had fired me as a student.

  “You’re so fucking lame I can’t even believe we’re friends.” Em rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

  But her eye-roll was a dead giveaway. She so wasn’t mad at me. I grinned. “You love me and you know it. Besides, I’ll try to do better, I swear.”

  Her mood buoyed at my promise. She took my hands and squeezed them, shrugging like she could barely contain herself. “Good, because Lucas has a roommate. And he’s hot. And since you won’t go out tonight, you owe me. So you know what that means . . .” She raised her perfectly tweezed brows at me.

  Perfect, I thought, realizing I’d just managed to get myself roped into a double date of some kind. Em was always setting me up with friends of the guys she was either hooking up with, or trying to hook up with. Worked out great for her, but for me it was nothing short of painful. Most of the guys were harmless, if not a little on the boring side.

  But sometimes things turned crazy and I ended up with some douchebag who couldn’t imagine there was a girl on this planet who wasn’t falling all over herself to jump into bed with him. Yet, there I was, wanting to go home all by my lonesome. Go figure.

  Still, this was Em I was talking about. Em, who’d agreed to spend the summer here with me, practically on no notice at all, simply because I’d asked.

  A small smile found my lips, not an answer exactly, but Emerson understood.

  “Yes?” she asked, her voice rising hopefully.

  I shrugged. “Yeah, fine, whatever.”

  Emerson squealed and threw her arms around me, rocking me back and forth in one of her famous scream-hugs, her high-pitched words bleeding together, “Youarethebest!” She planted a big, glossy kiss on my forehead. “And I swear you won’t regret it!” She stepped back then and wrinkled her nose, giving me an ooh! you’re not gonna like this look. “I almost forgot to tell you. Your mom called my cell today.” She clenched her jaw, revealing her lower teeth with a hiss. “You seriously need to stop avoiding her. At least call her back and tell her you’re alive. I have no idea what her message said.” Her eyes widened. “She used The Spanish. I thought you said she never did that.”

  I cringed. Emerson was right. Growing up, it had been an unspoken rule of my mom’s: All English, all the time. I was surprised my mom had even bothered leaving a message in Spanish at all. She knew my knowledge was limited to Señor Diablo’s second-year high school class.

  Basically, I could ask where the bathroom was. Not useful.

  If my mom was breaking her own rule, she was either super pissed or super freaked out.

  “I’ll call her.” I wasn’t sure if I was lying or not, because I didn’t think I’d ever be ready to tell my parents that I’d up and moved to California the way I had.

  In typical Em fashion, she immediately forgot all about her brush with The Spanish as she plucked her sparkly purse from the counter and blew an air kiss at me from the door. “Don’t wait up. If I’m lucky, I’ll be getting lucky,” she gushed.

  “Be safe, tramp!” I shouted at the open door.

  “Be reckless, virgin!” Em fired back, using her favorite insult, and then we both giggled as Emerson slammed the door behind her. I waited until I heard her heels clicking against the sidewalk, followed by the sound of Lucas joining her as their voices tangled together, rising and falling until they were indistinguishable, and eventually, faded into oblivion.

  Making my way to the sofa, I pulled out my cell and counted the number of missed calls from both of my parents. Seventeen, and that was only since yesterday. I was glad I’d severed myself from their cell plan the moment I’d started earning my own money. I wasn’t a child anymore; I didn’t need them tracking my whereabouts.

  I shouldn’t complain. My folks were the best, really. They were as supportive as they came, almost to a fault. But my mom never could understand why I couldn’t give up my childhood dreams of wanting to live near the ocean. In her eyes, I might as well have waved a red flag and announced I planned to be a bullfighter.

  I braced myself for the inevitable and dialed.

  When I heard her voice on the other end, I plastered on my fakest smile. “Mama?” I said cheerfully, and then waited until the angry woman on the other end was forced to breathe. “Everything’s great,” I finally got the chance to say, when she’d chewed me up one side and down the other for not answering my phone. “I’m sorry. I’ve just been busy.” And then, I out and out lied to her. “Yeah, it’s hot here. You know, Arizona in the summertime . . .”

  By the time I got off the phone, I felt like I needed a do-over of this entire day. Maybe even of this entire week.

  But I’d also figured out what I had to do.

  I texted Emerson: Meet you at The Dunes in 20!

  I waited until I got the YAY!!! back from her, and then dragged a chair to the almost-unnoticeable opening in the ceiling so I could pull down my duffle bag. It only took a minute to count out the money I’d need, and to tally how much I still had left—somewhere in the neighborhood of $43,000, only some of which was actually money I’d saved from stripping online.

  The rest . . . well, the rest was the reason my heart pounded so hard every time I had to dip into it.

  When I was finished, I zipped the bag closed and hoisted it back to its hiding place. And even after it was safely tucked away I had to take several long breaths just to calm myself.

  I might not be ready to tell my parents the truth about where I was, but I wasn’t ready to let my dream die yet either.

  And now I had a plan.

  LAUREN

  In less than twenty minutes I’d managed to fix my hair, throw on some lip gloss, and shimmy into one of Emerson’s dresses since hers were still the only ones unpacked . . . because of course she’d already unpacked her “going out” clothes. The only hitch was that in Em’s dresses I was sure to draw some notice. Maybe tonight that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

  By the time the cab driver deposited me in front of The Dunes, I felt halfway hot, which was saying something considering I’d been dressed for Dumpster-diving less than half an hour earlier. Even before I reached the entrance, I could feel the eyes on me, which actually made me feel better. Maybe Emer
son had been right. Maybe I really did need a night out.

  Just like the first time we were here, my heart pounded extra hard as I passed my ID to the bouncer, as if somehow, some way he’d know who I was or what I’d done. He wouldn’t of course. No one would, that was the point of using the bogus name online.

  He looked from me to my ID, and then gave me the green light, letting me pass. I slid it back into the small gold purse I carried, right next to the plain white envelope I’d stuffed inside.

  Emerson was waiting for me on the other side of the door, and when she saw me, she wrapped her arms around my neck. I could practically taste the Fireball on her breath. “Shot!” she shouted in my ear, and from out of nowhere, someone was handing me what she’d been drinking.

  I downed the cinnamon whiskey, making a face as it burned a path down my throat and I wondered for the millionth time why Emerson loved this stuff so much. “Can I get a beer now?” I asked.

  Em giggled. “Of course!” She took my hand, and without actual introductions, she placed it into some guy’s, all but forcing the two of us to hold hands. “Zane!” Em shouted at him, because it was even louder tonight than it had been the first time we’d been here. Music was pulsing and the people were jammed together. “Lauren wants a beer. Go get her one!”

  Zane, who was apparently the guy whose hand I was holding, flashed me a gorgeous smile. Like Lucas, he had a little bit of that panty thing going for him—the one where the California boys started fires down there. He pressed his free hand to his chest and did a little bow. “I’m Zane,” he explained, in case I’d missed the part where Emerson had screamed his name in my ear. “Apparently, I’ll be your personal butler this evening.” It didn’t escape my notice that he hadn’t yet released my hand.

  It also didn’t escape my notice that his eyes had wandered several times to my chest, not that it surprised me—the girls were barely contained in the little blue number with the deep vee that I’d pilfered from Emerson’s closet.

  “You don’t have to do what she says, you know?” I nodded toward Emerson, who was rounding up Lucas and dragging him toward the dance floor. As far as she was concerned, her obligation to me had ended the moment she’d found someone to fulfill my drinking needs.