Blue (20 page)

The Nike Night Surf Amateur Men's Event was gearing up. Locals were invited to compete, and Elijah, Wes and Garrett had entered. Zeke, as a sponsored professional surfer, was excluded. Dave worked as a paramedic and had to do a night shift, but Sephy, Zeke and I had come out to watch and cheer.

Wes had arrived earlier in the evening and had already paddled out by the time we got there. Garrett hadn't suited up yet, but was up to his knees in the sea over by the rocks, watching Wes surf. Garrett was smoking the biggest joint I'd ever seen, which maybe wasn't that clever, since a ton of photographers with long lenses were hard at work in the shallows and he was standing right in the middle of them.

It was almost eleven o'clock, but the whole of North Fistral was lit up with floodlights, chill-out dance music was blaring through the PA system and, in the freakishly windless night, the
smoke of countless barbecues was drifting like sea fog. Plenty of kids were out with their parents, and hundreds of surfers were gathered outside Fistral Blu Beach Bar, huddled under the patio heaters, drinking beer. All in all, it seemed like a perfect night to watch some kick-ass surf tricks.

I caught Zeke staring longingly down at the break, and I couldn't blame him. The sea looked fabulous: the surf was heavy and clean, the tide was in and the breakers were glowing neon green and luminous white in the phosphorescent lights.

Zeke had driven us there, and he was probably the only person to actually pay for parking that night, as one of the surfrats was dishing out lines of black electrical tape to cover up number plates, so the Parking Eye cameras couldn't catch out any motorists and slap them with a hundred-and-twenty-dollar fine.

“But parking costs, like, a dollar fifty for the whole night!” Zeke said, laughing, as he slid his money into the parking-meter slot.

So that we wouldn't drift off, Zeke and I took a walk down the beach and watched a flock of oystercatchers bombing over the waves. He kissed me for ages, even though I was quite embarrassed about his mom seeing.

“She knows how we feel,” he said, shrugging. “You can probably stay over with me at Pa's place any time you want, by the way.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, but I guess you should maybe keep your head clear for your training?”

“I suppose. And we couldn't, you know . . . Not with your folks in the house. It would be too weird. They'd
know
.”

“We wouldn't have to do anything and it'd be way cool to wake up with you, but yeah, we probably shouldn't, like, torture each other,” he said, laughing, and looking at the bottom of my
jeans, which were wet and caked in sand. My feet were so frozen on the icy night sand that they were starting to go numb.

I rolled up my jeans, and Zeke crouched down so I could jump up on to his back. I hooked my arms and legs over him and he gave me a piggyback ride up to our deckchairs, both of us squinting in the lights beaming down at us from eight different directions; I knew it would be super-difficult for the surfers to position themselves in the water with those blinding spotlights in their faces and I hoped the guys could handle it.

The Night Surf wasn't a normal surfing event. There'd be no competitive man-on-man heats, but instead there was going to be one big Expression Session, with everyone out there scratching for waves at the same time. Whoever got snapped doing the best trick, as decided by a team of Nike photographers, would win a vacation to a surf camp in Lacanau in France, plus a grand in cash.

By the time we got back to our spot, Kelly had arrived and she'd brought a bag of old-fashioned sweets with her, which she was sharing with Sephy. Just as we'd finished the sweets and had started on the free energy drinks that various Nike reps were handing out, Elijah turned up and walked over to us.

Kelly jumped up to say hey.

“Wes around?” Elijah said to her.

“Already out there and absolutely ripping. Come on, I'll show you.”

Kelly took his arm and they walked down to the waterline. Zeke pulled me up out of my deckchair and we followed them down to the water's edge, while Sephy kept an eye on our stuff.

Garrett waded out of the water to meet us. He nodded at Elijah, stuck the surfboard under his arm and said, “You know how to ride that? Had you figured for a dick-dragger.”

“Been surfing a stand-up for ten years, dude.”

“Never saw you on Fistral before.”

“Mostly surf Watergate Bay and Crantock. Quieter.”

“Wes surfs Watergate. That how you know him?” Garrett said, eyeballing Elijah quite blatantly.

“Nope.”

Garrett blew out his smoke so hard that it whirled around Elijah's face.

Zeke looked at me, no doubt picking up on the hostile atmosphere. And that was when a group of boys who'd been standing nearby, earwigging, decided to walk our way. As they moved past us, one of them made eye contact with Garrett and then another one bumped Elijah and coughed a word that sounded a lot like: “Faggot.”

Kelly spun around and said, “Get lost,” and then added her new favorite insult: “microwang.”

Zeke looked taken aback and murmured, “Wow, there are some real assholes in this town.”

Garrett raised his eyebrows and said, “That why you don't surf Fistral, Elijah?”

“Is
what
why?”

“Y'know.”

“Because everyone here hates fags and they know I am one?”

“You tell me.”

“Garrett,” Kelly said, “don't be such a prick.”

“He's asked Wes to move in with him. You know that, Zeke?”

“Yeah, he knows,” Elijah said, coolly. “Wes gave Zeke our spare key and he's helping with the boxes.”

“So they'll be roommates. What's the big deal?” Zeke said to Garrett, looking uncomfortable.

“Wes is moving in on Monday,” Elijah continued, looking Garrett straight in the eye, “if you want to lend a hand.”

Garrett and Elijah were getting really close to one another. Each of them had their shoulders back and their chests were sticking out.

“Why don't you leave my brother alone? You're always following him around. Sucking up to him like some ugly-ass leech,” Garrett said. “Does he even know what you are?”

Zeke slid in between them and forced them apart. “
Stop
,” he said. “Y'all need to chill the hell out.”

“He's trying to turn Wes gay.”

“You can't
turn
someone gay. They're, like, born that way or whatever. And we'd know if Wes was gay, so cool it.”

Sephy, smelling trouble, had come down to the waterline. She plucked the joint out of Garrett's mouth, took a drag, and said, “Garrett, Wes is waiting for you. You too, Elijah. Paddle out together.”

“No,” Garrett said, through gritted teeth.

“No?”

“Stay out of it, Mom.”

Sephy smiled and said, “Out of what, Garrett?”

Garrett looked at his mom, and then looked back at Elijah, and said, “Screw it,” and stormed off without even bothering to take his board with him. We watched as he walked between the Nike sails, past the lifeguards' building and on toward town, where he would no doubt hit every pub on the main street.

“You going after him?” I said to Kelly.

“Why should I? If he wants to act like a toddler, that's up to him, but I'm not his babysitter.”

“Right on, sister,” Sephy said, taking another drag and looking up at the stars.

Kelly squeezed Elijah's shaking hand and whispered so quietly that I could only just hear it, “He doesn't know how great you are yet. But he will. One day he totally will,” and Elijah looked down at her with real affection in his eyes.

Then Zeke looked back at the giant digital clock suspended from the beach-complex railings behind us and said, “You'd better get out there, man,” and we watched as Elijah struck out into the waves and paddled straight for Wes.

Two hours later, the Nike photographer projected the winning photograph on to the long white wall of the judging marquee and presented Elijah with an envelope of cash and two air tickets. The trick that won him the contest? A perfect board-switch. The photographer caught the split second that Wes and Elijah were in midair, as each of them jumped on to the other's surfboard while riding a crumbling wave. It was the best photo of the night and probably one of the coolest surf pictures I'd ever seen.

Wes let Elijah keep the prize money. “I have a trust fund. You don't,” was all he said.

As the fireworks exploded overhead and the Chicane dance mix of Sigur Rós's “Hoppípolla” blasted out of the PA sound system, the cheering crowd surged around us and hauled Elijah and Wes up on to their surfboards and carried them up the beach. I saw Zeke watching closely, and I wondered if he could see what I could see: just how desperately Elijah and Wes wanted to kiss each other.

Zeke had given me his key to Wes and Elijah's apartment, which was in the middle of town, overlooking Great Western Beach, and I was under strict orders to pick up Zeke's favorite skateboard. Zeke had accidentally left it at Wes's, but he'd been promising to lend it to me for ages and said if I could be bothered to pick it up, it was mine for the week. I'd never ridden a carveboard before, as they were stupidly expensive, but they rocked to mimic the motion of the ocean, and I was excited to give it a whirl. As I walked up the stairs, all thoughts of sidewalk surfing went out of my head: I could hear loud music and raised voices.

The door to the living room was open and I saw Wes and Elijah in the middle of a blazing row.

“I'm so sorry for interrupting,” I said. “I'll go.”

“No, stay,” Elijah said. “He's giving me a headache. Maybe you can talk some sense into him.”

I looked at Wes.

“Elijah is wigging out because I won't do romantic stuff with him in public.”

“Eating our lunch outside
one time
is not ‘romantic stuff.'”

“Two guys having a beach picnic is probably the gayest thing ever.”

“God forbid a total stranger thinking you might possibly be gay. What a disaster.”

“I just don't dig unnecessary drama.”

“Oh yeah, you're all warm and toasty in your velvet-lined closet. Screw the rest of us who actually have to deal with reality.”

“Way harsh,” Wes said.

I turned to the door.

“Iris, please stay,” Elijah said.

“I really don't think you need me here,” I said. “I should probably get to work anyway. Billy goes crazy when I'm late . . .”

Elijah turned back to Wes, and said, “You're living this horrible lie, and, sure, that sucks for you. But you're getting the best of both worlds. You get to date whoever you want in secret, but you also get to enjoy the approval of the straight world.”

“And that makes me a bad person?”

“No. I'm not saying that. You know how much I love you. I just can't keep doing this. Today I woke up and realized that you could go on pretending you're straight for like
years
. And if that's the plan, I am out of here.”

I heard a cough behind me. Standing in the doorway, with a huge cardboard box in his arms and a blatant look of disgust on his face, was Garrett.

“So, I thought I'd bring over the last of your stuff. Try to patch things up. But I guess you're busy.” He dropped the box, and half the contents bounced out, sending old video-game cases across the carpet.

Wes froze, but Elijah walked across the room and pushed past Garrett in the doorway.

“You're not going anywhere,” Garrett said to Elijah.

“Wanna try and stop me?”

“OK.”

“Jesus. Everyone just calm down,” I said, stepping between Garrett and Elijah.

Wes suddenly found his voice and said, “Garrett, this is my bad. Leave Elijah out of it.”

“I don't need your help. I'm not scared of your homophobic Neanderthal brother.”

“Elijah, seriously, chill out,” I said.

“I'm homophobic? You've talked to me like once, ever?”

“Yeah. That was bad enough.”

“Kiss my ass. Except you'd probably like that.”

“Garrett!” I said. “That
is
homophobic. Saying stuff like that is not gonna help.”

“Yep, total gay-hater,” Elijah said, nodding at Wes.

“I'm texting Zeke,” Garrett said, getting his phone out of his back pocket. “You? Sit there,” he said, pointing to Elijah. “Wes, you're coming with me.”

Garrett got Wes by the arm and dragged him out on to the balcony. Through the glass doors, I could see that Garrett was giving Wes a hard time. Wes was shaking his head and looking seriously upset.

Elijah turned to me and said, “I should leave.”

“Please, just wait another few minutes. Wes is gonna need you.”

Zeke came bounding up the stairs, sweaty and sandy from another one of his beach workouts.

He nodded to Elijah and said, “Hey man,” and then turned to me. “What's happening? Garrett sent an SOS.”

“It's all kicking off,” I said, and nodded over to the balcony. “You'd better go ask them.”

Zeke strode across the living room and slid open the glass doors. I didn't catch what was said, but after a few seconds the brothers came back into the room and Wes sat down next to Elijah.

“Wes has something to tell you,” Garrett said.

“Yeah?”

Zeke looked expectantly at Wes, who exhaled loudly, then turned and kissed Elijah on the mouth.

Zeke blinked.

Elijah gripped Wes's hand and both of them looked at Zeke.

“
That
,” Garrett said. Then he turned to Wes and said, “Who
are
you? 'Cause you're sure as shit not my brother.”

“What the hell?” Zeke said to Wes.

Garrett took a swig from a can of Heineken he'd helped himself to, and said, “I know, right? Don't even. You don't know him. I don't.”

“Yeah, you do,” Wes said, his voice faltering.

“You're fucking
gay
,” Garrett said, “and how many times did you ask to borrow my porn? What is up with that?”

“I dunno. I wanted . . .” Wes's voice got really tight, and then he looked down and I saw tears roll off the end of his nose.

This just enraged Elijah, who jumped up and said, “So he looked at some tits in a magazine? Who gives a fuck.”

“Eat shit and die. No one cares what you think. You're nobody.”

Wes looked up and, in this quiet voice, he said, “Don't speak to Elijah that way.”

“What?” Garrett said, giving Wes a full-on hate stare.

“You need to apologize to Elijah.”

Garrett laughed and looked like he couldn't believe what Wes was saying. “Yeah, that's gonna happen, uhhh, never.”

“Elijah's not nobody,” Wes said.

“Who is he then, bro? Who's he to you? He your
boyfriend
?”

“I guess so.”

“Is this real? Is this actually happening?”

“Can you calm down for like one second, Garrett?” I said.

“I remember you telling Nanna how you only had the hots for biker chicks. You lied to
Nanna
. And you've been lying to us your entire life.”

Garrett turned to me and said, “Don't you get how messed-up that is?”

“He lied because he knew you'd act like this.”

Zeke sat down on the sofa next to Wes and said, “Can't believe you didn't tell me. You could've told
me
. I tell you like everything.”

“Everything?”

“OK, not everything. But the big stuff. The stuff that counts.”

“You don't know how it's been for me. Man, how would I even get into it with you?”

“I don't know,” Zeke said. “But you could've tried.”

“I was scared of losing you guys. I can't lose my brothers.”

Garrett said, “Too late. Brothers don't lie to each other for nineteen years. You ain't no brother of mine.”

“Garrett, don't say that shit. That's not cool,” Zeke said, his face twisted up with pain.

“I'm gonna go,” Elijah said, standing up.

“Good idea, and take Wes—sorry,
your boyfriend
—with you.”

Garrett was way out of line. I saw Zeke make a fist and for a second I thought he was actually going to punch Garrett. I put my hand on Zeke's fist and felt it relax. Instead of punching Garrett, Zeke said, “This is their home. You go.”

“Cool. I'm gone.”

And then Wes said something to Elijah that made Garrett flinch so hard that lager splashed out of the can he was gripping.

“I shoulda said it before, but I love you, E. You know that, yeah?”

Elijah nodded and said, “Right back at you.”

Garrett slammed down his can on the kitchen table and left.

The next day, Kelly had come around to Dave's house to see Garrett and, when me, Wes and Zeke got back from an awkwardly wordless walk on the beach, they were holed up in the basement with the stereo system blaring. Kelly was ferrying food down there and every time she opened the door, epic clouds of weed smoke drifted out. Luckily, Dave was working, and Sephy had taken her camera on an all-day dolphin-watching boat trip.

“He's coming around,” Kelly whispered, giving us a thumbs-up. “In another two, three years he should be totally fine with it.”

“What's he been saying?” I asked.

“He's actually really upset. Granted, he's acting like a complete knob—and, don't worry, I've told him that—but he just can't get his head around the idea that his own brother is gay and he didn't know.”

Wes looked over at Zeke and said, “You mad at me too?”

“Gimme a break. How am I mad at my own brother? Don't be such a douche.”

“Did you never, like, suspect anything?”

“Honestly, no. But this does explain a lot,” Zeke said.

“Like what?”

“Er, like the fact that you only ever had one serious girlfriend and she rode a Harley in the Hawaiian ‘Dykes on Bikes' parade.”

“Yeah, Megan's a cool chick. I guess our bi-curious phases overlapped . . .”

Suddenly the door to the basement swung open and Garrett stood in the doorway. He was unsteady on his feet.

“I hate you for this,” he said to Wes.

Wes closed his eyes for a moment, his face pale and drawn. “I know. But I can't help liking dudes. It's just the way I am.”

“I don't care who you bang. It's your dick. Do what you want with it. I mean, yeah, maybe I'd prefer it was in a chick for the sake of normal, but I don't really wanna think about my brother having sex with anyone. It'd be gross, whatever. But all the lying and shit, I can't get over that.”

“I was gonna tell you. But, like, how? You said it: we watched a ton of porn . . .”

Garrett shook his head and for a moment I thought he was going to cry. Kelly threaded her fingers through his, and Garrett stooped to kiss the top of her head.

Zeke had gone quiet again too.

“What about you, Zeke?” Garrett said. “You OK with this?”

“I'm not crazy about the fact Wes lied for so long, but I'm happy he's finally being real with us. So when are you gonna tell Mom and Pa, Wes?”

“Mom's known since middle school.”

“
No way
,” Garrett said.

Zeke looked really shocked and said, “Seriously? She never said anything, and she totally sucks at keeping secrets. Did she bust you making out with a dude?”

“Um, I was eleven, so no. She found a picture of a half-naked actor under my pillow one day and she asked me straight out if I was crushing on boys.”

“Who was the actor?” I said, curiosity getting the better of me.

“Vin Diesel.”

“That tough guy from
The Fast and the Furious
?” Zeke said.

“Yeah. He was rocking the super-oily-Levi's-with-no-shirt look.”

Kelly chipped in with, “
Vin Diesel?
He is Elijah's exact opposite!”

“Again, I was eleven. My taste in guys has refined since then.”

“Thank God,” Garrett said, looking severely grossed out. “Because that dude is like forty and
bald
.”

“Hey, so is Kelly Slater,” I said, “and he's hot.”

Zeke raised an eyebrow at me.

“Well, he is,” I said, and Zeke shrugged in a way that seemed to say “OK, maybe.”

“Completely hot,” Kelly confirmed. “His eyes are just . . . wow.”

With the banter beginning to kick in, I really hoped they were going to be OK. I kissed Zeke goodbye, waved to Kelly and legged it across the beach to work.