Over the Falls: Ryder Bay #1 Read online

  And then there’s me.

  Mr. Fourth Place.

  Mr. Loser.

  The crowd cheers and claps while the guys pose for photos, then climb down from the podium. Next up is the Boys’ 100m freestyle relay. I’ll get a medal for that.

  Gold.

  I should be stoked.

  But as I walk around to my teammates and get ready to take the podium, my insides feel like ash. I didn’t win this gold, they did. I wasn’t first off the block, and I wasn’t the finisher. Jonah and I were in the middle, keeping the pace, but we weren’t the glory boys. We never would be.

  What the hell happened?

  Last year I was Simon’s biggest competition. The question was always who will win this one, Simon or Aidan?

  But no one ever asks that question anymore.

  Swallowing the rock in my throat, I force a smile and follow the other Walton Academy Warriors up to the podium.

  A cheer goes up as we stand higher than the other two schools. I gaze into the crowd and spot my parents. Mom has her phone out snapping pics while Dad says something to my surly little brother, Grayson. The kid doesn’t even bother looking up from his iPad to acknowledge him, or me.

  Dad rolls his eyes and looks back at us. He gives me a thumbs-up, but I can tell his smile is forced. It quickly fades, and he drops his hand. He’s disappointed that I haven’t been up here alone. He knows the truth just like everyone else.

  In the past nine months, Aidan De Beer has gone from star athlete, dating one of the hottest girls in school, to a fourth-place, heartbroken singleton.

  Oh how the mighty fall.

  At least my parents don’t know about Savannah dumping me yet.

  It’s still too fresh, and I just can’t admit it to them.

  I clench my jaw and lean down so the medal can be placed around my neck. I then have to force a smile while I shake the woman’s hand. She’s in charge of all these swimming meets, and you can tell she loves the gig.

  “Congratulations, boys. You’ve made your school very proud this year.”

  Craig nods and puffs out his chest like it was all his doing. I glance at Simon, who gives me a triumphant grin, but there’s no arrogance attached to it. Si’s the best. I won’t be surprised if he ends up on an Olympic team one day. I used to dream of that kind of thing too, but with the way my life is going, I’ll be lucky just to get on a college team.

  Do I even want that?

  Maybe next year, when I’m a senior and Simon is gone, I’ll have the chance to rank in the top three, but I don’t want to go getting my hopes up.

  I have to face the truth.

  I’m Aidan De Beer. Life seems set on screwing me over at the moment.

  And I can’t see that changing anytime soon.

  * * *

  The bus ride back to school is somewhat painful. Excitement is making the chatter loud and irritating. There are a ton of medals floating around the bus this year. The girls cleaned up pretty good as well. Gold, silver or bronze in almost every event. The other schools must hate us.

  But I guess we’ve earned it.

  We’ve worked hard.

  Trained our asses off.

  Some of us obviously didn’t work hard enough, though. I cringe and gaze out the window, lamenting the fact that my nickname as a kid was Dolphin Boy. Mom used to call me that all the time, because she couldn’t get me out of the water. It was my playground, my happy place, until it turned into work and constant training. An endless slog…just to come in fourth.

  Fourth!

  My insides bunch and knot, giving me a stomachache.

  The bus is curving around the highway, heading north to Ryder Bay.

  It’s been my home for about five years now.

  We moved there shortly after my aunt and uncle. They convinced my parents that Ryder Bay was the hottest new location to live. Typical real estate agents, I guess. They hooked my parents up with a sweet house overlooking the ocean. It’s pretty damn nice. I won’t complain.

  And Walton Academy’s not too bad either. That was my parents’ main concern when shifting from San Francisco. Where would their precious boys attend school? Ryder Bay schools didn’t have the best reputation, and there was only one high school option—Ryder Bay High, a small, old, run-down school at the southern end. Could it cater academically? Would any of the schools have the right facilities to really stretch their sons and prepare them for a successful future?

  For Uncle Jeff, it was an easy sell. “We’re sending Skylar to Walton Academy, an elite private school only thirty minutes north of Ryder Bay. It caters from kindergarten all the way up to twelfth grade and boasts some of the best academic results in the state.”

  Sold.

  So my parents made the big move. And with the help of his brother, my dad started up his own investment company to cater to the rich, who Uncle Jeff was recruiting to the area in droves.

  The amount of building and development that has happened at the north end of the beach is kind of crazy. I often wonder how the people who have lived here for years feel about it.

  Maybe they hate it.

  Maybe that’s why we stick to the north and they stay in the south.

  “Yeah, we’re gonna party tonight!” Craig yells, punching his arms into the air. He turns to face me, slapping my shoulder and whooping.

  I force a smile while my insides rebel against the idea.

  I used to love bonfires on the beach. They’re not technically allowed, but Craig’s dad is a cop and he lets us get away with it as long as we stick to his rules—the fire can only be in one small area of the beach, a cove at the base of the cliffs, right near the end. He’ll stop by every now and again to make sure we’re behaving ourselves. I’m sure he knows we’re all hiding our beer cans and Solo cups when he wanders by, but as long as we never get crazy, he seems cool with it.

  I like Officer Malloy. He’s a good guy.

  “Skylar was looking pretty damn hot today. Did you see that T-shirt she was sporting? If she raised her arms any higher, we would have gotten the full show.” Jonah nudges Craig, who lets out a triumphant laugh.

  My stomach clenches at the smirk on Craig’s face. He’s been dating my cousin for a few months now. I’m pretty sure the only reason Skylar puts up with Craig’s obnoxious behavior is because he’s become the most popular guy in school, and Skylar only ever goes for the best.

  Too bad her idea of “best” is so damn warped.

  I don’t always understand my cousin. One minute she’s as sweet as candy, showing actual concern for your well-being, and then the next she’s acting like a first-class bitch. It’s taken me years to figure out how to negotiate her, but I’ve learned to read her moods and when to steer clear.

  She’ll be in a good mood tonight, though. Her boyfriend is a winner. They’ll be the star couple that everyone envies. Skylar will love that, and so she’ll let Craig celebrate the way he loves best—hot and heavy.

  I cringe.

  Thinking about that guy pawing my petite cousin grosses me out. I’ve kind of been avoiding her since she started dating Craig.

  That’s not true.

  At first I wasn’t avoiding them at all, because Craig’s not the reason.

  Savannah is.

  Since she dumped me, I’ve been avoiding everything to do with her. She and Skylar are best friends and they do most things together. You can’t be around one without bumping into the other.

  Even looking at Savannah is hard right now. I miss her so much. I want her back so badly.

  But that’s not going to happen.

  Because she’s just not feeling it anymore.

  I pull my hood up and rest my head against the glass, gazing down at the ocean and wishing for the millionth time that she hadn’t said those stupid words.

  “I’m sorry, but…”

  It felt like they came out of nowhere.

  I thought we were good. We’d been at prom only two nights earlier.

  I was in love.r />
  But she wasn’t…and I’d had no idea.

  It was frickin’ humiliating. Heartbreaking.

  “You coming, man?” Craig slaps my shoulder again.

  I glare at him, then shrug. “Don’t know. Maybe.”

  He rolls his eyes and mutters something under his breath before turning back to the crowd of people who will show some enthusiasm. He soon gets a chant going, and it’s clear that the Walton Warriors will be partying hard tonight.

  As soon as the bus reaches school, I jump out and avoid the waiting fans, ducking around the bus and making a beeline for my car.

  I spot Savannah, because I can’t seem to not notice her. She’s standing next to Skylar, who screams and runs into Craig’s arms. He lifts her up and her legs wrap around his hips. I turn my back on the kiss-fest. It’s all tongues, slobber and hands. I don’t want to know.

  I don’t want to be reminded of how much I miss kissing Savannah.

  We weren’t all gropey like my cousin and Craig Malloy.

  Our kisses were sweet and fun.

  Sure, we got hot and heavy, and I really liked that too, but I never stepped over the mark with her. She wasn’t ready, and I was okay with that. More than anything, I just liked hanging out with her. I liked having someone who thought I was the best. Who wanted to be with me more than anyone else.

  “You’re such an idiot,” I mutter as I haul ass out of school and head for the bay.

  I don’t know why I’m in such a hurry to get there. It’s not like I want to go home and face my disappointed parents. Sure, they’ll put on the forced smiles for me, tell me I did good, but they don’t really mean it. What they’re really thinking is You didn’t do good enough.

  With a sharp huff, I focus on the road and soon find myself driving past the turnoff to my subdivision and heading straight for the beach.

  Rather than parking in the north lot, where my friends will be showing up soon, I keep going, finding myself a spot in the south lot, all the way down by the pier. I don’t come here often and almost feel like a foreign invader as I step out of my car. Yeah, Ryder Bay is a small town, but we tend to stick to our own spaces, especially when it comes to the beach.

  But my end of the beach will be overrun with winners soon, and there’s no place there for a loser like me.

  Slamming my car door, I head for the wooden stairs and descend onto the sand. Kicking off my flip-flops, I leave them under the base of the stairs and head for the water.

  I should be over water.

  After my crappy day in the pool, I should be staying on dry land, but I walk to the ocean’s edge anyway and stand there gazing out at the horizon, wishing I could somehow cross it. Cross it and disappear for a while.

  Scrubbing a hand down my face, I resist the urge to yell out my angst.

  That’s not my style.

  But damn, I wish it was sometimes.

  I could use the release.

  I settle for a loud throat clearing, then glance to my left and notice a blonde walking out of the water. She has a surfboard tucked under her arm…and she’s staring right at me.

  4

  An Elite on Foreign Sand

  HARLEY

  Why am I staring at this guy?

  Harley! Stop staring!

  But I can’t help it.

  There’s something about him that draws my attention.

  Maybe it’s his height and the broadness of his shoulders.

  Damn, he’s fine.

  Jed would say that so much better than I could. I can hear his voice in my head. When I tell him this at school on Monday, he’s going to say something funny or come up with some kind of acronym to describe this guy. That’s what my best friend does. He talks in acronyms.

  My lips twitch with a smile that quickly disappears.

  Because I am still staring at the stranger.

  I haven’t seen him down at this end of the beach, which immediately makes me wonder if he’s a) a tourist or b) an Elite.

  My eyes narrow slightly.

  Yeah, he’s definitely an Elite.

  A Walton Academy rich boy.

  I can tell by the way he’s standing. Why I think rich private school guys stand differently to anyone else, I’m not sure, but as I get closer, I can make out the Walton Warriors emblem on his T-shirt.

  What the hell is he doing at the south end?

  The grip on my board tightens.

  He’s looking at me now.

  Probably trying to work out if he knows me or something. Why else would a short surfer girl be staring at him?

  I clench my jaw and attempt to look away, but my eyes are drawn right back.

  Maybe it’s not just the fact that he’s good-looking. Although I love how tall he is. The top of my head probably reaches his shoulder. I’d have to go on my tiptoes to kiss him.

  My eyes bulge for a second.

  Kiss him?

  What the hell, Harley!

  Shut up! Just stop it!

  I don’t kiss guys. I mean, I’m not adverse to kissing them. I’ve kissed before, and sometimes it was nice, but there’s a certain vulnerability with the act that I don’t want to put myself through again.

  I don’t date. Dating leads to going steady, which leads to getting hurt.

  No thank you.

  I’ll just stick with my surfing and my skating. Things I love. Things that won’t let me down.

  And that’s when it hits me.

  That’s why I’m staring.

  Not because this Elite is hotter than hot sauce. Not because he’s tall and broad, with a square-cut chin and dark eyebrows. It’s because he looks sad.

  Defeated.

  And a part of me seems to understand this emotion. Without even realizing it, I feel sorry for the pretty rich boy. But that doesn’t mean I want to talk to him.

  Oh crap, he’s moving.

  He’s moving in my direction.

  I swallow and force my eyes straight ahead.

  Why did I stare?

  Why did I feel sympathy?

  I glance at my wrist, but I shouldn’t bother. I hardly ever wear a watch, and I already know I’m going to be late for work. I’m always late for work when the surf reports are good. I don’t even know why Mrs. Kransky tolerates it. Yet I still have my crappy job scanning groceries at the Freshmart—the grocery stores with the best deals in Ryder Bay. Why shop anywhere else?

  He’s getting closer.

  I can see him growing bigger in my periphery.

  Shit! What do I do?

  I can’t just stare at him for what feels like an eternity and then not acknowledge the guy when he walks up to me.

  Why’s he walking up to me?

  Turning to look at the pier, I hide my cringe, then glance back to see that he’s eight feet away.

  His eyes are green.

  Green and sad, with flecks of curiosity.

  I spot a couple of whiteheads on his chin, and for some reason it makes me feel better. He’s not perfect. He’s human. He’s a human teenager. A rich human teenager. An Elite.

  Why do I find that so damn scary?

  I don’t want to be intimidated by anybody.

  My nostrils flare.

  He’s two feet away and he stops, his long toes sinking into the sand in front of me.

  I like the shape of his legs. They’re long and muscular, with a fine coating of black hairs. Not like a blanket, just a dusting so I can still see the tanned skin beneath. His thigh muscles flex and my pace slows even though I don’t want it to.

  I won’t be afraid of this guy.

  I won’t be afraid of anyone.

  Just go for casual. Casual and cocky.

  “Hey.” He raises his chin at me, and I realize with a sinking heart how much I like the sound of his voice.

  5

  Rainbow Spikes for the Stick Boy

  AIDAN

  She was staring at me for so long, I figured I may as well say hello to her.

  I thought I might recognize her, b
ut the closer I get, I realize she’s a complete stranger.

  “Hey.” She responds to my greeting in a quiet voice that screams, Please don’t talk to me.

  But maybe I’m just imagining that. She has been checking me out the entire way up the beach.

  I run a hand through my floppy hair and try to think of something to say. My parents always taught me to ask “new friends” a question about themselves. It makes them feel like you’re interested, and it’s a good way to get a conversation going.

  Why I want to get a conversation going with this chick, I’m not sure.

  I think I’m just curious.

  “Good surf today?”

  This makes her stop. She turns to stare out at the water, and I can hear the instant smile in her voice. “The best. Wish I didn’t have to get out of the water.”

  “So why are you getting out of the water, then?”

  She frowns and starts walking again, mumbling over her shoulder, “Work.”

  Huh. I wonder what kind of work she has to do on a Saturday afternoon.

  My job is after school, two days a week, teaching elementary kids how to swim. Simon hooked me up with it last year. The rec center is run by his uncle, and it’s just around the corner from Walton Academy. We do four back-to-back half-hour sessions working with small groups of kids on basic swimming techniques. I actually love it. The kids are super cute and enthusiastic.

  I run to catch up with the surfer girl, wondering how she earns her cash. “Where do you work?”

  She gives me a pointed look, and I’m struck by the brightness of her blue eyes. They’re like pale sapphires, glinting with spunk and intelligence. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” She lays her board down, then unzips her backpack.

  I stop behind her and cross my arms, trying for casual. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.”

  She grins but doesn’t look at me. “My mommy told me never to talk to strangers.”