Page 16 of The Other Brother

Cody continues to stare at me. I feel like our dog Jett when he rolls on his back and exposes his soft underbelly to the world.

“I’ll teach you the guitar if you teach me to surf,” he finally says.

Relief floods through me. “Deal.”

“Great,” Cody says.

Our gazes clash, and there’s something in his I can’t identify.

“You want to start now?” He brandishes the guitar towards me. I lean back like touching it might scorch me.

“Nah, my brain’s fried. We can start both lessons tomorrow.”

Cody shrugs. “Suits me.”

There’s a method to my madness. I like the idea of teaching Cody to surf first, before I expose my ineptitude on the guitar. Plus, I plan to spend a fair portion of tonight watching Guitar for Dummies YouTube clips so I have a head start.

I stand up. “Surfing lessons begin at six thirty tomorrow.” I waggle an eyebrow. “Don’t be late.”

Chapter5

The next morning Cody and I stand on the flat, firm sand above the low tide mark while the seagulls greet us with their shrill squawks. Our surfboards are on the sand next to us. Cody’s got a board he borrowed from the neighbors, which is a bit long for a beginner, but will have to do.

The sun is just rising over the horizon, sending tentacles of fiery red across the water. Unfortunately, the sunrise is not the most attractive thing on the beach this morning because, girls and boys, Cody is in a wetsuit. There should be a law that anyone with a body like his must cover it with more than a quarter of an inch of neoprene.

I’m not lusting after him, because that would be weird and awkward. But I can’t help the fact that I have eyes.

“I don’t know why, but I imagined learning to surf would involve me being in the water.” Cody looks down at our boards.

I roll my eyes. “You’ve got a lot to learn before I’ll let you loose in the ocean, my friend.”

I grab a stick and trace a line in the sand around the outside of his board.

“Um, what are you doing?” Cody asks.

“You’ve got to practice popping up. You know, going from lying down to standing up.”

Once I’ve finished tracing the outline, I haul his board out of the way and draw a line down the center of the shape.

Cody looks at it dubiously. “Isn’t it better if I practice on the board?”

“Nah, you can damage the fins. This works better.”

He folds his arms across his chest as I finish drawing another outline, this time of my board.

I look up and see the skeptical look on his face. The little hum of nerves that’s been present in my stomach since we agreed to this arrangement flares up. I want to do a good job.

“Right, our sand boards are complete. Mine’s a JS board, of course,” I say.

“What’s a JS board?”

“The best surfboard available.”

“What about mine?” Cody looks down at the drawing in the sand in front of him.

“Yours is from Kmart.”

Cody snorts. “Okay, now we’ve established what brand our imaginary surfboards are, can you tell me what I’m supposed to be doing?”