Liars, Inc. (5 page)

“What he does doesn't reflect on you,” I said. “You're not the same person.”

Preston stared downward, past the crags in the rock face where the ravens nested, earning the cliff its name. “I don't know who I am.” The black water churned and sprayed.

“Dude, you're kind of freaking me out.”

Preston turned away from the cliff. When he saw my expression, his face relaxed, his lips turning up into a slow smile. “Sorry, Maximus. I didn't mean to get all heavy. I think I just need a break from everything.”

I forced a smile in return. I hoped this Violet chick was cool, that she and Preston really hit it off. Part of that was selfish, like maybe if he had a girlfriend too then everything would go back to normal with him and Parvati. I had never really been that interested in making friends, but now that
I had some, I didn't want to choose between them. “I've got stuff for barbecuing. You want to head down to the beach and have a hot dog or four before you head off?”

Preston shook his head. “Nah, I don't want to run into the Jacobsens. I lost on the UCLA game, and Jonas will be looking to collect. Besides, it should only be four hours to Vegas. I'm hoping to get there by eleven or so.”

“Does this chick live with her mom?” I asked.

“She's a little bit older. Has her own place.”

I nodded, again wondering if Violet was a stripper or a showgirl. Preston's parents would absolutely die. “Why didn't you go last night?”

“Dad wanted to parade me around at some holiday brunch thing today,” Preston said. “Besides, this way if Vio turns out to be crazy I don't have to make excuses for not staying a second night. I'll be home late tomorrow, in time for school on Monday.”

He popped the locks to the BMW and pulled out his designer tent. It was beige with blue cloth trim and had a detachable rain fly and gear overhang. “Here,” he said.

I glanced up at the sky. “I don't think I'll need it.”

“Take it just in case.”

I shrugged but went ahead and loaded Preston's tent and sleeping bag into my trunk. “You really did think of everything, didn't you?”

“You can't be too prepared,” he said. “You want help carrying stuff down to the beach?”

“Nah, I got it covered.”

“All right. Be safe.” Preston thumped his fist twice against his chest and then hopped back in his BMW, waving as he peeled out of the parking lot in a cloud of gravel dust.

I watched him leave and then grabbed my frame pack out of the backseat. I debated for a second, but then I bungee-corded my own sleeping bag and tent to the bottom of the pack. Pres's stuff was nicer, but I had never pitched his tent before. I camped all the time with my own gear and could easily set up my tent in the dark. Weaving my way back and forth down a series of switchbacks, I made it to the beach just as the tide started going out.

I hiked through the shallow surf until I found an area of dry sand and dropped my gear near one of the fire pits that lined the beach. I threaded the flexible rods through the rigging of my tent and staked it deep into the sand. Then I searched the beach until I found a handful of dry driftwood pieces. I arranged them into a wobbly pyramid. At the base I shook a small pile of Aztec Dust, an easy-to-light kindling that my parents carried at the shop. Using my body to block the wind, I struck a waterproof match and lowered it gently onto the kindling. The match went out. It took a couple more tries, but eventually the kindling flared up and the nearest
piece of driftwood caught fire. When the whole pyramid was safely ablaze, I jabbed a stick through one of the hot dogs and held it over the flames.

I downed half the package and threw the leftover hot dogs out on the beach for the birds to eat. Then I crawled inside the tent and nestled down in my sleeping bag. My rain fly had gotten lost last summer, so there was nothing but sheer nylon above my head. The night had turned clear; not even the whisper of a cloud lingered in the sky.

I thought about Preston's comments about really knowing people. Something had to be going on with his family. Hopefully this Violet chick could mellow him out the way Parvati did me. Again, I wished I could text her. No, screw that. I wished she could be next to me, looking up at the same night sky. She would love this: the wind off the water, the occasional shriek of a gull or a raven outside the tent, the sky glittering like diamonds on black velvet.

I closed my eyes and imagined her curled against me, my lips relaxing into a smile. I had no idea what she saw in me most of the time, but maybe weird girls just have weird taste. Or maybe she was my cosmic reward for surviving my crap childhood and emerging as a mostly decent guy.

December 4th

SUN FILTERED THROUGH THE NYLON
the next morning. The breeze blew snarls of seaweed up against the side of my tent. I unzipped the flap just far enough to peek through. High tide was coming again. I must have slept a long time. I checked my phone; it was almost 10:00 a.m.

Yawning, I rubbed my eyes and then rolled up my sleeping bag. Crawling out of the tent, I turned my face to avoid being pelted with clouds of sand that the wind had loosened. I pulled up the stakes and stuffed my tent inside its nylon carrying bag. As I headed up to my car for my board, I rattled off a quick text message to Preston. He didn't answer. Knowing him, he had probably just gone to sleep.

I tossed my camping gear in the trunk and unhooked my
surfboard from the top of my car. As I made my way back down to the beach, I could see the Jacobsen brothers out at the lineup where the waves were breaking. The twins, Jasper and Jared, were seniors with me. Their older brother, Jonas, worked at a seafood restaurant just down the street from my parents' shop. He was also Vista P's unofficial bookie. Jasper waved as I started to paddle out, which was surprising. I didn't think any of the brothers liked me. I was a sellout who made money teaching tourists to surf. The Jacobsens thought of the ocean as their private play area. They didn't want to share their waves with outsiders.

Giving the brothers a wide berth, I sat on my board and let my feet dangle into the water, watching each of the Jacobsens ride a wave into the shore. By the time Jared cruised to a stop in the shallow surf, Jonas was already paddling back to the lineup.

“You gonna ride?” he hollered over at me. “Or are you just here to fangirl for us?”

“Funny.” I dropped down to my belly and felt the water pitch and roll beneath me. I heard the wave before I felt it. The roaring filled my ears and I paddled as fast as I could, popping up into a crouch at just the right moment.

I leaned into the wind, cutting left and then right across the shoulder of the wave as the water carried me to the shore. Jared and Jasper were on the beach, watching my approach.

“Not bad,” Jared said. “Where's your douchebag friend Preston today?”

Did I mention the Jacobsens were the only kids at Vista Palisades who didn't like Preston? That's because a few years ago Senator DeWitt helped green-light a deal for Covington Construction to build a small resort on the last pristine strip of Vista Palisades Beach. The hotel couldn't deny access to the public, but its existence meant more people in the water and more trash on the sand. It did kind of suck, but it wasn't like Preston had personally brokered the deal.

“He's not a douchebag,” I said.

“Sure he's not.” Jared snorted. He turned toward the ocean. “Race you back out there.”

I followed Jared and Jasper into the foam, paddling after them as they headed out to where Jonas bobbed leisurely in the water. The four of us fell into a sort of rhythm, each taking our turn as the waves rolled in, riding left or right so as not to drop in on each other. The sun slowly moved across the sky.

When the sets started to turn choppy, I returned to the beach and went for a walk at the water's edge. Pres and I were supposed to be together all day, so I didn't want to return home too early. It was probably a mistake to let the Jacobsens see me without him, but it wasn't like they'd tell his parents.

Later, I packed up the rest of my gear and started for the trail. The Jacobsens were busy cooking something over one of the fire pits. “Hey, brah,” Jonas called after me. “You want a tofu burger?”

“No thanks,” I said. Those things barely even counted as food.

“Well, if you ever want to ride again, you know where to find us.”

“Cool. I'll see you around.” I ran a hand through my hair. Sand rained down on my shoulders. I wasn't good at approaching people, making friends, whatever. But you could surf without talking, and Preston would be going off to college somewhere next year. It made sense for me to get to know the local guys.

I sent Pres another text to tell him I was heading home. Still no answer. Either he had let his phone battery die or he and Violet were having too much fun to be bothered.

Back at the car, I clipped my board to the roof. There was a gray SUV that I had never seen at the overlook before parked in the corner spot. It reminded me of the car I had almost hit across the street from my house. The sun was reflecting off the windshield. I shaded my eyes with one hand, but I couldn't tell if there was anyone inside.

The engine sputtered a little as I started my car. The latest from Kittens of Mass Destruction, “Burst into Flames,” was
on the radio. I cranked up the volume as I turned out of the parking lot and headed for home.

I didn't realize how starving I was until I pulled into my driveway ten minutes later. I left the gear in the car and took the porch steps in a single leap. My whole family was at the table, throwing back bacon-wrapped chicken nuggets and green beans. Amanda was going through a vegetarian phase, something probably inspired by Parvati, so Darla had cooked her a veggie burger in addition to the beans.

I grabbed a clean plate from the dishwasher and helped myself to the chicken nuggets. “You know those veggie burgers are glued together with horse's hooves,” I said.

“They are not.” Amanda rolled her eyes at me.

Normally I would have screwed with her some more—I mean, come on, an eleven-year-old vegetarian?—but the long day of surfing had worn me out.

“Hey, Max,” she said. “Where's your shark's tooth?”

I reached up to where it usually hung, right at the top of my breastbone, but the pendant wasn't there. Had I forgotten to take it off before I went in the water? I couldn't remember. Hopefully it was tangled up with my tent or sleeping bag. If it had come off while I was surfing, it was gone for good.

My phone buzzed and I fished it out of my pocket. It was a number I didn't recognize. Darla gave me a disappointed look as I answered, but she didn't say anything.

“Max?” The voice was familiar, but I couldn't place it.

“Yeah?” I said. “Who is this?”

“It's Quinn, from school . . . from the football team?” He said it like maybe I knew seven or eight guys named Quinn. “I need your help with something.”

“Yeah, just a second.” I pushed my chair back from the table. “I'll be back. I need to take this in my room.”

Darla's face drooped even further.

“Sorry.” Holding the phone with my neck, I grabbed my plate of chicken nuggets. “School project stuff.”

Once I was safely inside my room with the door shut, I flopped down on my bed. “Okay. What's up?”

Quinn didn't answer right away. I could hear him talking to a girl in the background—probably Amy.

“Hey,” I said sharply. “You there?”

“I'm here,” Quinn said. “Preston was supposed to write me a note that says I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow so I can leave school after second hour. But he's not answering his phone. Do you know how to reach him?”

“He's actually . . . busy tonight,” I said. “But he's supposed to be back later. Maybe try him around midnight?” I took a quick bite of a chicken nugget.

“I can't get out of the house that late.”

I swallowed before replying. “So then just get it from him tomorrow morning at school.”

“Yeah, but what if he forgot or he's absent or something?” Quinn lowered his voice. “Is there any way
you
could write it? I can come pick it up.” He paused. “Amy and I have lunch reservations downtown tomorrow. It's our one-year anniversary, and she wanted to go to Troff. I tried to get a dinner reservation, but that place is booked for months.”

I made a face. Troff was one of those places that put feta cheese and seaweed on a burger and charged forty bucks for it. Thank God Parvati wasn't into fancy restaurants like that.

“Fine. But I don't have any parental-looking letterhead or anything. Pres probably made something on the computer.”

“I'll snag some of my dad's legal stationery from his study,” Quinn said.

“Okay.” I gave him directions to my house. “Come on by and I'll take care of you.”

I waited outside on the porch. I wasn't sure what Quinn drove, but I had a feeling I'd know it when I saw it. Sure enough, about ten minutes later a black Lincoln Navigator slowed to a stop in front of my house.

Quinn started to get out of the car. I strode across the grass and met him at the curb. “Let's go somewhere,” I said, “so Dar—so my mom doesn't wonder what we're doing out here.”

Quinn shrugged but let me in the back of the Navigator. Amy smiled at me from the passenger seat. I nodded to her as
Quinn pulled away from the curb. We turned into the parking lot of a Burger Barn a few blocks away, and he parked the car in a corner spot. He cut off the engine and coached me on his dad's signature until I had it close enough.

Quinn pocketed the piece of off-white stationery after I signed it and then removed a crisp fifty-dollar bill from his wallet. “Thanks again,” he said.

“You're a lifesaver,” Amy added. She tossed her reddish-brown hair back behind her shoulders.

“Pleasure doing business with you.” I slipped the money in my pocket. “Have a nice lunch.”

Quinn fired up the engine and I tapped him on the shoulder. “It's cool. I'll just walk home.” I hopped out of the Navigator before he could reply.

“You sure?” Quinn asked through his open window.

“Yeah. It's a nice night.” With a little wave, I loped toward the sidewalk. As I turned and headed for home, I wondered where Preston was, if he had the windows down on the Beamer as he headed back to Vista P. I debated if I should keep his share of Quinn's money since I had to cover his ass, not that he would care one way or the other. I was pretty sure Pres was only doing Liars, Inc. for the potential thrills.