CHAPTER 6
That night, Isaac and his dad headed back to the surf shop for a wax kit. Then they checked the Internet for tips on how to wax a board.
“So first we apply the basecoat,” Dad said, squinting at the screen of the laptop computer through his reading glasses. “That’ll make it bumpy.”
“So I won’t slide off of it every five seconds,” Isaac added.
They headed out to the back deck. They set Isaac’s board on the deck, with its fin hanging off the edge, and started rubbing the wax on.
It was hard work. The basecoat wax, which was meant to last for at least a year, took lots of strength to put on. By the time the coat was bumpy enough that Isaac’s feet could get a grip, it was time to eat dinner.
“Come on in, you two,” Mom called out the back door to Isaac and Dad. “I’ve used the new kitchen and boiled some spaghetti. We might as well use the dining room table, too.”
“We’ll do the topcoat before you go to bed,” Dad said, putting his arm around Isaac’s shoulders.
“Okay,” Isaac agreed as they headed inside.
* * *
The next morning, Isaac was up with the sun. He wanted to get to the beach and try out his freshly waxed board. More importantly, he wanted to get there before Jackson and his friends showed up.
Dad had kept his word the night before, and they’d put the topcoat on the surfboard after dinner. The sticky topcoat, which helped a surfer stay on his feet, had been much easier to apply than the tough basecoat.
As Isaac walked along the boardwalk toward the beach, he could feel the sticky wax against his side. The smell of coconut filled the air.
Isaac smiled as he caught sight of the empty beach beyond the harbor. The local boys weren’t there yet.
I can get out on the water and practice without them watching, Isaac thought with relief. Maybe I won’t look like a dope this time.
Isaac hung his towel from the bottom rung of the lifeguard’s ladder. The chair was empty this morning.
I guess the lifeguard isn’t even up this early, Isaac thought as he kicked off his sandals and headed for the water.
This time, Isaac had no trouble getting onto the board and staying on his stomach. He paddled through the waves near the sand, though they tried to push him back. It was hard work to get out far enough that standing up would seem worth the trouble.
Isaac decided to try a small wave first — one that wouldn’t curl up over his head and crash him into the sand face-first.
He faced toward the beach like he’d seen the other boys do and turned his head to look for waves approaching behind him. When a small hump came toward him, Isaac startled paddling and pushed himself onto his knees, and then to his feet. Somehow, it worked. He was standing.
Isaac grinned and struggled to keep his balance as the surfboard rolled along the gentle wave toward the sand. But staying on his feet was harder than he expected.
After just a couple of seconds, the board shot up in front of him, and Isaac tumbled backward. His arms waved in crazy circles, and he landed hard on his back in a foot of salty surf.
Isaac sat up in the shallow water and coughed. He rubbed his eyes, which burned with the salt and grit of the ocean. When he opened them, he saw a figure running across the beach toward him. He squinted and realized that it was the lifeguard, in his red and white shorts.
“You okay, newbie?” the lifeguard called to him.
Isaac nodded and tried to say “Yeah,” but ended up coughing some more.
The lifeguard shook his head. “You really shouldn’t be out here so early,” the lifeguard said. He turned and headed back for his chair. “If you’d hit your head, you could’ve drowned.”
“Sorry,” Isaac said. He headed for the sand, dragging his surfboard behind him.
“Don’t be sorry,” the lifeguard said. “Just don’t be stupid. If there’s no lifeguard on duty, don’t surf — especially if you don’t even know how.”
The lifeguard pulled out his phone and started poking at it. A moment later he was chatting away.
“Hey, Canada!” a voice suddenly yelled from up the beach.
Isaac groaned. Glancing up, he saw Jackson and his whole crew stomping along the sand from the harbor, right toward Isaac.
“My name isn’t Canada. It’s Isaac,” Isaac said. He crossed his arms across his bare chest, suddenly very aware of how pale his skin looked compared to the tans of the local surfer boys.
“I don’t care what your name is,” Jackson said. He came to a stop right in front of Isaac. “You’re on my beach.”
“I am not,” Isaac said.
“Didn’t we go over this yesterday?” Jackson said, glancing over at his friends. “Because I thought we did.”
Isaac shook his head. “Your beach is over there,” he said. He pointed over Jackson’s shoulder. “That’s where you guys were all surfing yesterday.”
“Ah,” Jackson said with a grin. “I see. You’re still confused. When I said ‘my beach’ I meant the entire beach. All the way from the Mexican border up to your home country of Canada. Get it?”
Isaac looked at his feet. “That’s not fair,” he said quietly.
“What?” Jackson said. “Speak up, Canada.”
“I said that’s not fair,” Isaac repeated, speaking much louder this time.
He stared at Jackson, clenching his teeth so hard that his jaw hurt. He realized he was struggling not to cry.
“Too bad,” Jackson said. “My beach, my rules.” He reached out with both hands and shoved Isaac’s shoulders.
Isaac wasn’t ready for it, and he fell backward, dropping his board and landing on his back in the sand. His elbow landed on a ragged rock.
Jackson’s friends cracked up. With one last look at Isaac, the crew of local boys grabbed their boards and headed for the water.
Isaac sat there for only a moment. Then he grabbed his stuff and walked home as fast as he could, his surfboard under his arms.