RIPTIDE | Rafe Cameron

26. 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺'𝘴 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳

I was meant to go into school this morning, but I refused. There was no way that I was going to sit in a classroom all day with people who don't like me. I broke down to my parents this morning, begging them to let me stay at home, and eventually it worked.

But my parents drive a hard bargain, they insisted that if I want to stay out of school, I need to start picking up shifts at the surf shop. My dad says there's no better education than running a business, but mum is still adamant that my best opportunity would be to go to college.

I have no desire to go to college, I don't want to waste three years studying just to take over the family business when my parents get too old and retire.

"Sid, I need that box of board wax unpacked and put out on the shelves," My Dad announces as he enters the stock room, placing a box in front of me.

"Sure." I nod, taking my pocket knife out of my pocket and sliding it down the tape on the box, opening it to reveal neatly stacked cubes of wax.

"How's Rafe?" Dad asks, "Is he enjoying the Bahamas?"

"Yeah he says it's good," I don't know what Rafe thinks of the Bahamas, because every text I've sent or call I've made over the last couple of days hasn't been answered. I'd been panicking about the small chance of something bad happening to him, but I'm sure Rose would've called me if that were the case.

"Must be nice, having a second house in the Bahamas." Dad sighs.

"I'm sure it is," I nod, picking up the box and carrying it through to the shop area, which is relatively quiet, considering that it's almost midday.

It's difficult not to be upset by Rafe's lack of contact. He knows this makes me anxious and puts me on edge, but he still does it. Of course I have to give him the benefit of the doubt, maybe he dropped his phone in the sea, or he lost his charger, but I just want to know that he's okay.

I begin stacking the wax cubes on the shelf, glancing over to the bar where my mum is restocking the spirits. It reminds me of the night I got drunk and bumped into Rafe, when everything really changed. We've been through so much since the start of summer, I feel like I'm just about surviving.

Don't get me wrong, stacking shelves is tedious work, but I'd rather be here doing this, than sitting in a classroom where I'm convinced everyone is talking about me. My anxious brain just loves to play tricks on me, convincing me to think that people are talking about me, when deep down I know they probably aren't. At least that's how I used to rationalise the thoughts, when I wasn't so interesting, but now I'm Rafe Cameron's girlfriend and an ex-friend of the pogues, where do you go with that?

"Hi, do you have any surfboards for hire?" A customer asks as I meticulously continue to stack the wax blocks.

"One minute," I glance at the customer, realising that it's Mason Shoupe, who I haven't seen since everything in my life started to fall apart, "Mason?"

"Hi," He smiles.

"I thought you'd gone back to the mainland," I reply, placing the half full box of wax on one of the spare tables.

"Yeah, my Dad sent me home when it all got a bit hot with the Sheriff's murder," He explains, "He mentioned that you were there."

"I was there after it happened," I tell him, feeling the trembling return, a reminder of the lack of cocaine in my system since the agreement Rafe and I made, "But I watched her die."

"That must've been hard, how are you coping?" He asks.

"I'm getting by," I reply, "I have good days, and I have bad days, but I don't want to burden you with that."