Page 112 of When We Believed in Mermaids

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe we’d better do this thing.”

At her nod, we paddle out and wait our turn. The guy in front of me is showing off a bit, but he’s solid. The waves are six feet, eight. I take my first ride, and it’s exhilarating, the sky and light and board. It holds together beautifully, giving me a long, elegant ride that I take nearly to shore before coming off and heading back to the line. I pause to look for my sister, and there she is, right behind me, her goofy stance, arms steady. Her grace is better than it was, and her calm. She surfs like she’s got nowhere to go, nothing to do but this.

She sees me watching and flashes a shaka, whooping.

I flash it back and paddle toward my next wave.

After an hour, we’re both tiring, but rather than head in, we sit on our boards in the undulating ocean. With my eyes on the horizon, I say, “We need to call Mom.”

Her hair is slicked back, messy. “I know.” She turns her dark eyes on me. “I also need to tell you a couple of things.”

“Do you have to? Can’t we just let sleeping dogs lie?”

She lifts one side of her mouth. “None of the dogs are really sleeping, though, are they?”

I relent. Shake my head.

“Do you remember that actor who used to come to Eden, Billy Zondervan?”

“Sure. He used to bring us kites and candy and stuff. Nice guy.”

“Yeah.” The water moves us up, down. Something brushes my left toes. “Well, that nice guy raped me when I was nine. Repeatedly.”

“What?” I paddle closer and feel the ER doctor step in, protecting me. Offering clinical distance. With fury, I push back, trying to show up as myself. “That bastard. How...? I mean, we were always around.”

She shakes her head. “Pretty sure I wasn’t the first kid he molested. He had it down to a fine art. Presents, sips of his drinks, and then threats. He told me he would slit Cinder’s throat if I told anyone.”

“When was it?”

“That summer we learned to surf.” She looks into the distance. “The first time was the night before I came down to the beach and Dylan was teaching you.”

A punch of horror slams my gut. I think of her weeping and weeping when she found us surfing without her. “Oh my God, Josie,” I whisper, and paddle close, touch her leg. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

She shakes her head, and tears are sliding down her cheeks. I realize they’re sliding down mine too. “I felt so ashamed.”

I reach for her wrist, wrapping my hand around it hard. “I wish I could kill him. An inch at a time.”

She slaps tears off her cheeks with both hands. “Oh yeah, me too.”

“How long did it go on?”

“A summer. Then he tried to start something with you, and I told him if he ever touched you, even one finger, I would stand in the middle of the patio on a crowded night and tell them all exactly what he’d done to me.”

A hollow opens up in my gut. “I don’t remember that. I don’t remember him being gross.”

“No, he was slicker than that. Remember those little dolls he brought you from Europe, the ones that have dolls inside and inside?”

“Oh yeah. I do remember those. They were painted, pretty.”

“Yep. That was the opening gambit.”

“He stopped coming to Eden, right?”

“Yes, thank God.”

“You never told anyone?”