My Life Ch. 05

I thought about that for a minute and it actually sounded like a good idea. It would be awkward at first, but it would make the summer a lot more fun if I had a group of friends my age to be around.

"Yeah, I'd like that," I finally answered.

Jack nodded, "Great, I'll let him know to look for you tomorrow. Come with your surfboard, it's easy enough to spot," he said, referring to the image of Smokey the Bear hitting a fire starter over the head with a shovel that was displayed on the top of the board.

-_-

The sun was nearly set by the time I put my board and bicycle in the garage. The house looked deserted except for a single light on in the family room. I walked through the grass, dragging my feet to try and remove more of the sand so I wouldn't track it into the house: sandy floors equaled a guaranteed row with mum.

I went into the kitchen and poured myself a large glass of water. I'd have to see if I could borrow Kyle's Camelback again now that I didn't hate him so much... now that I was fucking him again, I smiled as the thought passed.

"Where in the hell have you been?" Brian asked from behind me, scaring me enough to choke on my water.

"Why the fuck do you care?" I spat back between coughs.

Brian's hands clinched into fists and I could see immediately how angry he was, "Why are you so difficult to deal with all the time, Jamiee?" he said through gritted teeth. "I need to text mom and dad and let them know you're safe. They're worried because you just took off again."

A few choice words came to mind about mum and dad as my brother spoke, but I pushed them aside, "You could've said, 'Hey, Jamiee, how was your day? Mum and dad want to know where you are so would you please tell me so I can let them know,' or something nicer than, 'where in the hell have you been?' the second I walk in the door. I'm not difficult, you're just an arsehat!"

"God you're impossible! I don't care how much rent I have to pay because nothing is worth this headache," he said looking at the front door. His gaze then found me, "And you wonder why they send your ass clear across the world every year. You're just a spoiled, bratty child who throws a tantrum at the drop of a hat."

I was usually very quick to return insults that were thrown at me. But Brian's judgment left me stunned and I was at a loss for words. He turned and left without saying anything else. Despite my most valiant effort, I sat down at the kitchen table and had a long cry. Sometimes I hate being such a girl. I hate crying: It makes my nose runny and stuffy and my eyes look like I just dipped them in battery acid, even though it does make you feel better in the end for some strange reason. Maybe it's just the body's way of purging all the shite in the system, like a sneeze for the soul.

_-_

Rustling sounds downstairs woke me from sleep and I listened as I heard muffled voices and doors opening and closing. Mum and dad were getting ready to leave to the airport. I was tempted to lie in bed and see if mum would come and say goodbye or if they would only leave a note, but my heart didn't want to take the chance so I got out of bed, put some nice clothes on and brushed my hair out, hoping that my mum might notice the effort.

It was quiet as I stepped off of the last stair onto the main floor. I looked at my watch. It was only five in the morning; still early. Dad's study was empty, his desk clean of any papers. My heart clinched and I hurried into the kitchen where the small light above the sink was left on. I ran to the window and looked at the driveway... empty. They wouldn't have...

I spun and looked at the table. A folded piece of white paper lay in the centre. They left me a bloody note. I stared down at it for a long time, trying to decide whether to bin it or read it. Would it have something nice written in it, or would it simply say, 'have a good year at school'? Pulling out the heavy wooden chair, I slumped into it and rested my head on the table. I knew the school they sent me to was very expensive and mum and dad had always made sure I had what I needed as far as food and clothes, so I really shouldn't have anything to complain about. But I couldn't get rid of the feeling of envy and jealously I had for my brothers. They all lived in this home growing up, they attended the schools I walk by on my way to the beach, they dated and they had mum and dad going to all their games to support them. Were they just burnt out raising kids? Was I just the tantrum throwing, spoiled bitch that Brian called me?

I sighed and sat up. I guess it didn't matter. This was my life and it was up to me to figure it out. I had to just let things go and make the best of it or I was going to be a very unhappy girl for the rest of her life. It took a few minutes to find my resolve, but I eventually stood up, crumpled the note without reading it and threw it in the waste bin.

It was early and the waves would be good. Plus, I might meet some new friends today. And with mum and dad gone, all I had to do was take care of Maximus and I could spend as much time at Kyle's as I wanted. I could make this a good summer.

Not many people like to get into the water so early on a Monday morning, so other than a few individual surfers, I had the whole place to myself. I'm not the greatest surfer in California, not by a long shot, but I manage to not look like a complete fool—sometimes. The morning was perfect and I even ate a little more than just sushi for a late breakfast.

As the morning passed, I started to get more and more nervous thinking about meeting Casey and his friends, and more than once I thought about just going home. But I was in the mood to do something a little more exciting, and I was feeling the need to be around people; so I showed up at the lifeguard station by the main pier with my surfboard and waited.

It didn't take long and a bloke with red board shorts and a Santa Cruz tee shirt approached, "Jamiee?" he asked. His hair was bleached from the sun and he had a thin build. He looked about average in height and his nose looked slightly crooked like it had been broken once or twice before.

I nodded, "That's me," I said, and then asked, "Casey?"

"Yep," he confirmed and I saw him steal a quick glance at my body. I wasn't sure what to expect today, so I had worn a rash guard top and board shorts over my bikini. I wasn't ready to wear only the skimpy swimsuit in front of a bunch of potential new friends.

"Awesome," he smiled. Casey was a perfect example of what a California kid would look like with the tanned skin, bleached hair, and 'whatever' demeanor. "Are you hungry? I'm headed home to grab some lunch. My brother'll be there eventually and we can invite a few other over to join us. Wanna come and hang out?"

I was hungry again, "Sure," I replied, and before I could say another word he had grabbed my board from my hand and motioned for me to follow. "Can we get my bike, too? It's back at the pier."

Casey nodded, "So dad tells me you're from England," he said casually as we walked down the boardwalk to the parking lot.

"Not exactly," I corrected, and told him a little about myself.

"Dude that's really cool, you're like a world traveler. Like way higher class than the rest of us beach bum types," he joked as we walked to an old pickup truck. I don't know anything about trucks, but I knew this one was probably a lot older than I was. It was black and boxy looking, but it was in good shape and seemed well taken care of. He put my board into the back and we both climbed into the cab.

"So you're going to be a lifeguard?"

"Yeah, that's the plan. I'm just an intern this summer, but I should be full-time next summer. The only bad thing is that I'll have to work at one of the other beaches. Dad's like in charge of this station so they want me to work at a different one," Casey expertly shifted the manual transmission and the truck moved forward. We stopped for a minute so I could get my bike, and then soon we were on the five freeway going north. The windows were down and the wind blew in from every direction. I wrapped my hair into a ponytail and tied it off with a band I wore around my wrist.

"So you'd rather work at the same station as your dad?" I asked.

"Well no, I mean I guess it'd be okay, The Shores is just the closest to the house and so I wouldn't have to drive as far, and there are more pretty girls here, too."

I laughed and enjoyed getting to know a possible new friend. He was relaxed and didn't seem to have a care in the world. We took an exit and after a few more turns, Casey pulled the old truck into a driveway that led to a simple house. The paint was peeling around the doors and the lawn looked like it hadn't been watered in a few years, but it was far from looking run down.

"Home sweet home," he said and we both got out of the truck. Casey again grabbed my surfboard and he led me into the house. Inside there were a few pieces of furniture, well used and having seen better days, and a couple of old pictures on a wall by the front door.

This looked like a house that only males could live in, I thought as I walked inside. It wasn't that it smelled bad or that it was filthy; it didn't, it wasn't. It simply felt utilitarian, functional with no frills, like a guy is. Not that I do much for decoration, but this place needed a woman's touch, as my mum would say.

I couldn't think of a tactful way to say what was on my mind, so I just blurted out, "your mum doesn't live here does she?"

If he was offset by my comment he didn't show it, "No, she died of cancer when we were little. I don't really even remember her. Dad never got married again so it's just us guys here," he explained, and then asked, "Why, is it that disgusting in here? Does it smell like shit?"

I looked toward Casey and saw that he had a goofy smile on his face. I was worried about how I might answer his question, but I doubt I could say anything that would upset him.

"No, it's just very different. It's like the complete opposite of the house I live in at school."

He chuckled, "Well yeah, I can't imagine what the inside of an all-girls house looks like. Probably pictures of Justin Bieber all over the place."

"No," I instantly denied, even though there were a couple of those, "but it does have a more feminine look about it."

"You've got the coolest accent. Jason's going to love you," he said randomly, perhaps referring to a friend of his.

I blushed and mumbled a quick, "Thanks," I said awkwardly, not sure if that was meant as a compliment or just an observation.

"So, what goes on in the house at night, like on the weekends? Is it like a constant pillow fight between a bunch of naked lesbians?"

"NO!" I cried out, but I couldn't help but laugh, "You wish!"

"Well sure I do, I'm a guy, right? That's like every guy's fantasy, so don't ruin it for me."

"Yeah, okay," I conceded, "You got us. It's a huge all-female orgy," I said sarcastically.

Casey closed his eyes and smiled like he was imagining it, and he probably was, "I knew it," he said, looking way too happy, "But hey, take a seat and I'll make some lunch. I make a killer cheese sandwich."

There was no dinner or kitchen table that I could see. It looked like the three men took their meals in front of the television using the sofas for chairs and an old wooden coffee table to support their plates. I sat on one of the sofa cushions and tried not to look too awkward—I felt so out of place.

Casey soon dropped a paper plate in front of me with a well-toasted cheese sandwich. I took a bite as he sat on the sofa next to me.

"Well?" he asked hopefully.

"Not the worst thing I've ever put in my mouth," I said honestly. At least it was edible.

Casey looked at me warily, "I guess that's good, but now I have to know, what's the worst thing you've ever had in your mouth?"

"I don't know you well enough to answer that one yet."

"Ha, okay, fair enough."

We ate and he asked me the usual questions about England, boarding school life and dating. I learned from him that he and his brother, Jarod, were close and that they wished their dad would find someone to settle down with. Jarod eventually came home and joined us. He was only a year younger than his brother and was a senior in high school this year. He had darker hair than his older brother and had wider shoulders, but otherwise the two could have been twins. Jarod had offered to call over some of the girls he knew so I could get to know more people, but I was happy to chat with just the two of them. It was nice to be chatted up by two boys my own age, and I was always happier in smaller crowds anyways.

"So what happened to the nose?" I finally asked Casey while we played a lazy game of Texas Holdem. I had lost nearly every hand, but it was something to do while we talked.

He touched his nose and rubbed it under his finger while Jarod laughed, "I broke it when I was ten. We were riding bikes and trying to shoot each other with pellet guns—"

"—He tried to shoot me but ran into a tree," Jarod interrupted, laughing hysterically at the memory.

Casey laughed too and picked up the thread, "We were too scared to tell dad, so we worked together for a couple of weeks to avoid him. When he eventually did find out about it too much time had gone by and it healed this way," he explained and then asked, "Is it that noticeable?"

I shrugged, "Of course it's noticeable, but I don't think it'll hurt your chances with the females. You should be fine."

"So do you guys ever smoke at school?" asked Jarod.

"You mean like cigarettes or pot?" I asked.

"Both," I guess, he answered.

"I'll smoke a cigarette once in a while when I'm stressed, but I've never tried pot. I know other girls that smoke it sometimes when they're out at a pub, but I don't see it very often."

Jarod removed a small bag from his pocket, "Want to try it?"

I looked down at the small bag of weed and a flashback of my primary teacher came to mind with her telling the class exactly how temptations to do drugs would happen. I've got to admit, she was pretty close on this one.

I watched as Jarod removed a small, rolled up joint from the baggie, put one end in his mouth and lit the other end. He inhaled deeply and held his breath while he passed it to his brother. Casey did the same and then handed it to me.

The sweet smell of the smoke came to my nose as I took the joint between my thumb and index finger. What the hell, I thought. It's only weed. I put the end between my lips and inhaled deeply, holding my breath as I had seen them do.

I exhaled and waited as the joint made another round. Several minutes went by and I had taken a few hits but wasn't feeling anything. I looked at Casey and Jarod and they seemed to be enjoying it, but I wasn't getting anything.

"Are you two having me on?" I asked confusedly.

They both looked at me weird and laughed, but Casey asked, "Having you on?"

"Yeah, I don't feel anything, are you two fucking around..." I paused, trying to understand what I was suddenly feeling. "Why does my nose feel funny?"

Jarod smiled and laughed, "Yep, you're getting it."

He handed it to me again and I took another deep breath and felt suddenly very light headed and like I was starting to float. I panicked and dropped the joint to the floor and then grabbed onto the coffee table at my feet.

"Hey," cried Casey as he picked up the lit joint from the carpet. "What's wrong?"

"I was starting to float off the ground," I whined. Fuck the weed, God had just changed the laws of gravity.

"Relax," said Jarod, shaking his head. He pulled at my hand until my grip broke and then he pulled me to his side where I leaned against him.

"Oh," I sighed, this was nice. Stress I didn't know I had felt like it was falling off me like the leaves of a tree in winter. "You smell nice," I said to Jarod.

Casey laughed, "How high are you?"

I couldn't help but laugh with him, "What in the hell is so bloody funny?"

I felt Jarod laugh beside me, "She said bloody, haha, who says bloody?"

"Everyone says bloody, you wanker," I protested. I took several more hits and relaxed against Jarod. It felt nice.

"What's a wanker?" Jarod asked.

I looked up and met his eyes, "It's a tosser like you."

"And what in the hell is a tosser?"

I sighed in exasperation, "Why are you not getting this? A tosser is what in the hell you are!"

"Jamiee," Casey said, moving to sit next to me so that I was now between brothers, "What does tosser and wanker mean?"

I relaxed again against Jarod, "A wanker is a bloke that wanks, and a tosser is a bloke that tosses - you know, jack off, masturbates, pound off, rub one out—"

"—Okay, okay, we get the point," said Jarod as he put his arm around my shoulders, his hand landing directly on top of my breast.

I looked down and was surprised to see that I only had my bikini top on. Where did my rash guard go? I looked around the room but didn't see it. That was weird; I don't remember taking it off. At least my shorts were still on though. I put my hands on top of my thighs making sure some little troll wouldn't steal those, too. For some reason, it made perfect sense that a small troll actually had stolen my top. I could even see him in my head if I concentrated.

"I'll be the tosser and Jarod will be the wanker, that's fair enough," said Casey as he leaned into me. I was now sandwiched between them.

"Did either of you see the troll that stole my top?" I asked, still feeling Jarod's hand on my breast.

Casey shook his head, "It wasn't a troll, it was a garden gnome," he said as if it were the most natural explanation.

"Oh," I said, "Those things really freak me out," I heard grunts of agreement. I tapped Casey on the shoulder, "Where'd the pot go?"

Casey looked at his empty hands and shrugged. I looked over at Jarod as he was taking another hit, but he looked at me and shook his head.

"You've had too much already, little girl. No more Mary Jane for the Brit," said Jarod.

"Little? I'm older than you are," I said. I had intended to yell, but it just didn't come out that way.

"Maybe by a few months," he gave, "but you're like half my size so you're little. And you called me a wanker."

"No, I called you a tosser, Casey's the wanker."

"Yeah he is," laughed Jarod. "He's a master wanker."

Casey smiled but nodded, "I get a lot of practice."

A long silence passed and Jarod passed another joint to Casey, but when Casey just held it there in his hand I took it out and had another deep hit. I was feeling ridiculously good now. I didn't have a care in the world. I looked at the clock on the wall, but the hands were frozen still, and I mean frozen like even the second hand wasn't moving. Staring at the clock felt somehow therapeutic.

"Oh fuck bro," Jarod said, sitting up quickly. "You gave the J back to her. She's fucking toasted now."

I heard voices, but they were muffled and sounded like the teacher in the Charlie Brown cartoons.

"I thought you had it," Casey answered.

I felt my body lift up and then I was lying on my back on something soft. I couldn't understand anything that was going on around me, but I felt fantastic.

-_-

"Jamiee!" I heard again. Why in the hell was I being shaken?

"What?" I growled irritably. God, I was hungry. Why was I so damn hungry?

"Is this it?" the familiar voice asked.

"Is what it?" I said.

"Your house—is this your house?"

"How should I know?" I complained. I wanted to be left alone so I could sleep. It was dark outside so I should be asleep.

"Because you live there, now come on, help us out."

"Argh, we're getting nowhere," said another voice.

"Come on Jamiee, take another look, is that your house?"