CHAPTER 3
Isaac took a seat at the top of the dune and watched as the boys got ready to surf. There were about ten boys his age down there. They all wore long board shorts in bright colors and patterns.
Most of the boys sat on the sand close to the water, talking and goofing around. But every few minutes, a small group would paddle out into the ocean and try to catch a wave.
The tallest boy in the group was obviously the best surfer. Even though all the other boys took breaks, he was in the water anytime a group paddled out to wait for a good wave.
Isaac watched as the tall boy lay flat on his board and paddled out farther than the others. When a couple of boys grabbed a wave to ride to the beach, he waited for a bigger one. Finally the perfect wave appeared, and the boy started paddling forward.
Isaac knew snowboarding. If the wave had been a downhill run on the mountain back home, he’d have known how to judge if was a tough and exciting ride, or an easy boring one. But he knew nothing about surfing. To Isaac, all the waves looked the same — huge and terrifying.
This boy wasn’t scared, though. The wave swelled up over his head, threatening to crash down on him at any moment as he raced toward the sand.
The boy surfed up the underbelly of the wave, then zipped back toward the ocean floor as the water curled over his head. The foamy crest of the wave reminded Isaac of the snow sliding off the roof of his old home.
Then the curl of the wave started to tighten, and the tall boy on the board had to duck. But he still managed to stay on his feet, crouching low and zipping up and down the wave.
Then, just before the wave collapsed on him, the boy pointed the nose of his board toward the beach and coasted in.
His friends cheered and clapped as the boy hit the beach. He took it in with a smile. Then he spotted Isaac sitting at the top of the dune.
The boy pointed at him, and the others looked up too. The group turned and started walking up the dune toward him. Isaac got to his feet.
“What’s up?” said the tall boy.
“Nothing,” Isaac replied. He felt out of place here. Back home, he would have fit in just fine. But here at the beach, with everyone else in shorts and bathing suits, it was weird to be wearing jeans and a black T-shirt.
“What are you doing here? You’re not a local,” one of the other boys said, scowling at Isaac.
“I am now,” Isaac said. “My family and I just moved in up the boardwalk. I’m Isaac.”
A third boy with shaggy red hair and freckles grinned at him. “I’m Steve,” he said. He pointed at the tall boy. “And the show-off over there is Jackson. Where did you move from?”
“Up north,” Isaac started to say. “I’m from —”
“Canada?” Jackson interrupted sarcastically.
The other boys all started cracking up.
“No,” Isaac said, but he felt his face turning red.
“Because you sound like you’re from Canada,” Jackson said. “Do you know how funny you sound when you talk?”
Isaac shrugged. “I didn’t notice,” he said. He hesitated for a moment. “Well, I have to help my parents finish unloading the moving truck. I should probably head home.”
“Home?” Jackson repeated with a laugh. “I can hardly understand your accent. How do you say it?”
“Home?” Isaac repeated. He didn’t get what was so funny. It sounded normal to him.
But the other guys laughed and laughed. Finally Isaac just turned around and walked off.
“Can’t you take a joke, new kid?” Jackson shouted after him. “Relax, dude. We’ll let you know when we start a hockey team, eh?”
As he reached the boardwalk, Isaac could still hear the boys laughing and copying his accent. The sound of their voices carried a little too well on the water.