Escape Artist

by William A. Noguera

  “That’s Bill,” said Brody.

  “Oh noooo, Mr. Bill,” laughed Brenda, making reference to the popular Saturday Night Live character. But the look on my face must have shown I didn’t like being made fun of, because Sandman cut in.

  “Yeah, Bill doesn’t fit you. We gotta come up with a name for you.”

  “How old are you?” asked Silver’s girl, a dark-skinned Asian with green eyes and blond hair.

  “I’m fourteen.”

  She laughed. “I should set you up with my little sister. She’s fifteen. You’d like her. She’s cute.”

  “Yeah, brah,” said Go-Go, “she’s the kind, if I weren’t tied down, I’d scam on her.”

  Just then his girlfriend elbowed him in the ribs and he laughed. “What? It’s true, she’s hot.”

  Everyone laughed and I joined in. Everyone but Sandman. He was thinking.

  “I’ve seen that look on Sandman’s face before,” said Silver.

  “Yeah, just before he came up with my nickname,” said Turtle.

  “How did you get the name Turtle?” I asked.

  “It’s because I’m smart and take my time to make decisions.”

  “Bullshit. It’s because this motherfucker is slow as fuck,” laughed Go-Go.

  Sandman said, “You like to swim. I’ve seen you swim around the pier, reach the shore, turn around and swim around it again. That’s a long swim in the ocean.”

  “I’m used to it, and I love the water.”

  Sandman kept looking at me and then smiled. “Oh shit, he’s got it. The prophet is about to speak,” laughed Silver.

  “Wait. Before you say anything, how did you get the name Sandman?” I asked.

  “Brody gave it to me. When we were kids.”

  I looked at Brody. “It’s simple. No matter how many times he showered, you could always find beach sand on him, in his pockets, hair, ears, everywhere. So I began calling him Sandman.”

  I smiled and then laughed. “Makes sense.” Then Sandman got up and began eating a bagel. When he finished, he turned to me and said, “You swim, you’re fearless, the ocean is your home, and you got serious skills in carving up a wave. When I look at you, I see a serious waterman. I see Sinbad. That’s what we’ll call you.”

  “Sinbad, that’s hot,” said Mika, Turtle’s girl.

  “Why Sinbad?” I asked.

  “Ever see the cartoon—or how about the movies? In the cartoon, Sinbad pulls his belt and becomes bigger and stronger. He’s a sailor who smashes his enemies. He always finds himself in the water swimming or fighting. And in the movies, he’s this dude who is on a long journey where he fights mystical monsters,” said Sandman.

  “Yeah, I know the cartoons and movies. I like the name, but I don’t know if I look the part.”

  “Brah, believe me, you do. You don’t see yourself like I do, but it’s there,” he said as he pointed at me.

  I couldn’t wrap my head around it. When I woke that morning I couldn’t wait to get to the beach and surf, but I never imagined what waited for me. I looked at my watch and realized I’d miss my bus if I didn’t get going. I picked up my board and suit and Go-Go said, “What’s up, brah? Where you off to?”

  “I gotta go. If I don’t hurry, I’ll miss my bus, and if I don’t get home on time my old man will kick my ass.”

  “Don’t sweat it. I got you covered. I have shit to handle in Whittier, and La Puente isn’t far from there. I’ll give you a ride. That cool?” asked Brody.

  “Yeah, that would be really cool. Thanks.”

  Later, as he drove me home, we talked and I liked him. I just didn’t understand why he asked me into his circle. There were an endless number of people who would have jumped at the chance to hang out with them.

  “Brody, why me? Why did you ask me into your line up? Why are you driving me home?”

  “Brah, you’ve been surfing that spot for the longest. You were just a little pup when we first saw you. And although you’re from La Puente, you’re like us. You held down your spot and surfed it.”

  “Yeah, but so do a lot of people. Why did you ask me to join your line up? You guys don’t allow anyone in. I’ve watched you as long as I’ve been surfing and the first thing I heard was don’t fuck with The Pack. Don’t surf their break unless you want to get pounded.”

  He was quiet for a time and then he turned down his stereo.

  “I asked you because you remind me of someone.”

  “Who?”

  “My little brother, Justin. We called him Bomber. He died in a car crash a few years ago and you look like him.”

  “I’m sorry, Brody. That’s fucked up.”

  “He was my best friend and he, Sandman, and me formed The Pack. That’s why we wear the black and blue wetsuits. It’s in memory of Bomber. He’s the one who began calling us The Pack. The Wolf Pack,” he said, “because killer whales, Orcas, are the wolves of the sea. When I saw you for the first time, I thought of Bomber and it stuck in my head. This morning while you knelt down with your board across your knees and waxed it, I remembered Bomber used to do exactly the same thing. He’d kneel like that, stroke his stick while looking at the break. I looked at you closely and it hit me hard. So I told Matt I was going to ask you to hang with us. Everyone said go for it. He belongs here.”

  I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. He turned up his stereo. Led Zeppelin’s “Black Dog” played and I just sat back and listened.

  When we arrived at my house, I grabbed my board and suit and Brody said, “Hey, brah, I come this way every day for work. I can drop you off if you like. It’s no sweat.”

  “That would be cool, thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow, brah.”

  The next day, and for the rest of the summer, I surfed with The Pack almost every day, and pretty soon everyone knew me. Even other surfers recognized me and knew not to mess with me. My confidence was sky high, and I noticed girls had even begun to look at me.

  Near the end of summer, I arrived at the beach early. Sandman and Brody were already there kicking back in the parking lot when I showed up. They both said, “What’s up, Sinbad?” No matter how many times they called me that, I wasn’t used to it and it always caught me by surprise.

  “What’s up?” I said.

  “Man, dead calm. It’s flat. There’s no swell, no nothing. It’s going to stay like this all fuckin’ day. As soon as the rest of us get here, we’ll load up and head down to find the kind waves,” said Sandman.

  “Hey, I know a spot. It’s in San Clemente—Trestles Beach. I’ve surfed it a few times and it breaks good. The only problem is there are a few locals who think they own it and run off anyone they don’t like,” I said.

  “What? You mean they run around like they own the beach, chase people off, and surf it like it’s their backyard? The nerve. Hell, they sound exactly like us,” laughed Sandman.

  I looked at Brody and Sandman just as Jeff, Robert, Go-Go, Silver, and Turtle arrived.

  “I’m serious. These cats are trouble and if all of us go they’ll probably fuck with us,” I said.

  “What are you talking about?” asked Go-Go.

  “Going to Trestles,” said Sandman.

  “Fuck it. Let’s have at it. There ain’t shit going on here,” Go-Go said.

  After Matt arrived, we piled into Silver’s truck and Brody’s VW van and headed to San Clemente. The ride there was as crazy as rides got. I was in Brody’s van with Turtle and Jeff, while Go-Go, Sandman, and the rest of The Pack were piled into Silver’s truck. They wheeled in and out of traffic, and at one point Go-Go jumped out on the hood of the truck while going about sixty miles per hour, pretending he was paddling into a wave, and then jumped up on the hood like he was surfing. The guy was crazy, but everyone was laughing and pointing at him.

  When we got to Trestles there were some nice swells and we all got our boards and suits and ran down to the shore. We stopped for a moment to suit up, and I was the first to paddle out. Everyone else followed. We caught
wave after wave and were out there killing it, when I noticed a guy on the shore taking pictures of us.

  “Hey Sandman, check out the ho-dad with the camera. He’s taking our picture.”

  I took the next wave in and walked up to the camera guy. “What’s up with you taking our pictures? Who are you?”

  “I’m Spencer Wells. I’m a photographer and I represent Aquatic Pulse. I was checking you out. You have some very aggressive and clean moves. Ever thought about entering a surfing contest?”

  “Nah, I just surf because I like it.”

  By then, the rest of The Pack had come out of the water and were standing listening to him.

  “Well, you should. I think you’ll do well in local contests and maybe at a higher level.”

  “You think, brah?” said Go-Go.

  “Here’s my card. If you decide to give it a shot, I’ll fund you. I’ll pay your gate fee, travel expenses, and you’ll wear our logo. We’ll also give you a new board and suit.”

  “No doubt? I surf in a contest for you and you give me all that stuff?” I asked.

  “Yes, we’re forming a team and all team members get the same treatment.”

  “Brah, go for it. It sounds like a sweet-ass deal,” said Go-Go.

  I took the card and said I’d give it some thought. Spencer then went to his car and came back with a couple of shirts for me with Aquatic Pulse written across the front and back.

  “There’s a small contest in three weeks in San Diego. I’d like you to enter. Give me a call within two days if you decide to do it. I’ll get you in.”

  “Not even. Two days . . . he’ll tell you now. He’s in. Go for it, brah. Are you scared? Man, I know you’ll shred,” said Go-Go.

  “Okay, I’m in,” I said.

  “Fantastic. What’s your name?”

  “It’s Sinbad. He’s from Huntington.”

  After he left, I turned to Go-Go. “What, you’re my manager?”

  “Yeah, brah, as your manager, I get everything you get.” Everyone started laughing.

  “Looks like we’re going to San Diego in a few,” said Brody.

  We all stood around, talking and looking at the shirts. The sun was rising quickly and more people showed up on the beach. Then a group of ten guys approached us, saw the shirts, and told us this was their spot and that those shirts and sponsor were meant for one of them, not us. All of them were between seventeen and twenty years old. They were the guys I had told Sandman about.

  They were known as The Boyz and they held down Trestles, much like The Pack held down Huntington.

  “What are you talking about, lame? You snooze, you lose. My boy got the sponsor, so you and your boyfriends go suck yourselves off,” said Go-Go.

  Leave it to Go-Go to jump-start a situation. One minute we were all standing there, the next, one of their older guys punched Matt in the face. That quickly, all of us were in a fight right there on the beach.

  A guy about eighteen with long wavy blond hair pushed me backwards and I fell on the sand, but as quickly as I fell I rolled and came up kicking him in the stomach, and then head. He tried to side step my kicks, but when he did he walked right into my left knee and he crumpled to the ground. Two of The Boyz were on Sandman, beating him pretty badly, and I went to him. I pulled one of them off, and as soon as I did he swung at me, missed, and I caught him twice in the face with my fists and he went down.

  Sandman was hurt and couldn’t defend himself, and as the guy beat him, rage exploded inside me and a red haze clouded my vision. I grabbed the guy who was beating Sandman and threw him to the ground with force. Before he could recover, I leapt on top of him. Everything from that moment was blank. The next thing I knew I was in Brody’s VW van and pulling up at his apartment in Huntington. I was awake the whole time, but I have no memory of what I did or anything from the moment I saw red and threw that guy off of Sandman. One moment I was blank, the next, it was like a switch was thrown in my head and I was conscious again of what was going on around me. I must have acted no different than I usually did because, as I became aware of my surroundings, Brody continued talking.

  “We’ll kick back at my pad for a little while. Clean up and then I’ll drive you home. I have to be at work by twelve thirty. Is that cool?”

  I nodded.

  “You haven’t said a whole lot. Everything cool?”

  “Yeah, I was just thinking.” It was then I noticed my hands hurt. My knuckles were sore and swollen. I looked closely at them and checked for any breaks. Sandman’s voice surprised me. He was in the back of the van with Turtle and Jeff.

  “Are your hands all right, dude?”

  “I’m okay, just a little sore, and hungry.”

  We must have stopped at Carl’s Jr. because, as I became more aware of my surroundings, I smelled the food and my stomach growled. All of us got out of the van and climbed the stairs to Brody’s apartment. Silver’s truck was already parked in front, and when we walked into his place everyone got up to see how Sandman was. It was then that I noticed his face. He had a black eye that was nearly closed, a cut on his eyebrow, and his mouth was pretty badly swollen. All of us had small bruises and minor cuts, but Sandman looked like he’d been beaten badly.

  “Oh my God, what happened?” cried Brenda. “Are you okay, Sandman?”

  “I’m fine, Brenda. Nothing the echoes of time can’t make into a distant memory,” replied Sandman.

  “I know you,” she said. “You always talk like that when you’re going through a tough time.”

  “Ah, she walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies; and all that’s best of dark and bright. Meet in her aspect and her eyes.”

  “Man, you gotta give me some of them lines. Cause if I could talk like that, indeedest all the legs would spreadest for my dickith,” laughed Go-Go.

  I laughed and I couldn’t stop myself. For unknown reasons, what Go-Go said just seemed like the funniest thing in the world. I laughed until tears blurred my vision, maybe to hide the real tears I was crying. I sat down and closed my eyes and Sandman went with Brenda to the bathroom to clean up. Everyone sat down on the couches and ate. Between bites, they recalled the fight with The Boyz. I just listened and kept eating.

  “So what’s the deal? Where did you learn to thump like that?” Matt asked.

  “Yeah dude, that was some hairball shit you did to them fuckers,” said Go-Go. He stood and kicked and punched as if he were in a Kung Fu movie.

  “I was wondering the same thing,” said Sandman as he entered the room. After cleaning up, he somehow looked worse.

  “Damn, brah, who hit you with an ugly stick?” laughed Go-Go.

  Sandman shook my hand. “Man, you saved my skin back there. I need you to know that the blood you sacrificed for me will be the blood that bonds you and me forever. I will forever be in your debt.”

  At that moment, two souls shared the intimacy of brotherhood.

  Go-Go cut in. “You see, that’s what I’m talking about. Man, you make taking a shit sound romantic. You gotta teach me the Shakespeare shit. Cause then I’ll get all the pussy.”

  “Brush your fuckin’ grill and you might get some, mumble-mouth motherfucker,” laughed Brody.

  Everyone was laughing by then and I turned to Sandman. “It was nothing. You needed help and I gave it. You would have done the same for me.”

  “Yes I would have, but I never thought that much help would come from you or in that form. I knew you would help, but believe me when I say you dish out a serious ass kicking. What was that? Do you study the martial arts?”

  “Yeah, since I was little. My whole life has been about training. That’s where I go when I’m not here surfing.”

  By then, everyone was listening to me.

  “What did I do that was so special? I mean, I know I can fight. I’ve gotten my ass kicked my whole life, but why are you guys so surprised?”

  I didn’t want them to know I didn’t remember anything after my vision turned to red.
It was the first time I had no memory of what I’d done. Usually rage, or fear, would taint my vision, but I had never completely gone blank. I needed to know what had happened.

  “Man, anyone would be surprised if they saw what you did. I was getting my ass beat by two of them dudes, and out of nowhere you appeared, pulled the first guy off, and a second later you picked up the second dude and threw him down. You just beat the shit out of him. The first guy was still out cold when we pulled you off of the second dude,” offered Sandman.

  “Yeah, I saw you run over after thrashing the guy you were fighting first, then pull the dude off of Sandman. He took a swing at you but you punched him in the face and he went down,” said Turtle.

  “I saw Sandman being hurt and he needed me, so I acted. I’d do it for any of you.”

  My hands hurt and were swollen, but I continued trying to remember what had happened earlier. A steel wall had gone up in front of those memories and I’ve never been able to break through.

  Summer came to a close, and on the last weekend before I started my freshman year of high school, I was sad. I’d spent just about every day at the beach with The Pack and it was about to end. They’d continue to surf every day, but since I lived so far away I wouldn’t be able to make it there and be back in time for school.

  As soon as I arrived at the corner where the bus dropped me off, I hurried to the beach and breathed deeply as if I were taking as much of it in as possible, to use later when I needed the memory.

  I put on my wetsuit and, although it was still dark, I swam out, needing to experience the ocean alone. Before The Pack asked me to surf with them I had found a certain bond between the ocean and a part deep inside of me, and it gave me peace. Nearing the halfway mark to the end of the pier, I filled my lungs with air and opened up my stroke. I felt strong and alive and somehow free. Each stroke, each breath I took, brought me closer to the end of the pier, and a thought occurred to me. Why turn around? I usually reached the end of the pier, swam around it, and headed back. I’d done it twice each morning, but as I neared the end of the pier I didn’t want to turn around. Turning around would have been following the rules, and those rules kept me from freedom. I swam on, passing the end of the pier and breaking free to a place where I controlled my life. Life or death were literally mine to control, so I swam on.