Brazen

Sixteen Years Old

“Are you going to stand up on the board or just lie there and fry all day?” After a few falls into the water, my elbows rest on my own board, and I kick through the water, nearing my lazy companion.

“You were the one who wanted to go surfing. I’m just here for your amusement.” Sunday sits up and throws her legs into the warm water, giving me a smug look. She hasn’t even attempted to ride a wave since we swam out here.

“Why did I even buy you the board?” I pull myself up and use the safety ropes to tie our boards together.

“I don’t know. Why did you?” She cups water into her hand and dampens her sun-kissed skin.

I feign helpfulness and splash water up at her. I laugh. She doesn’t.

“You’re the one who went on and on about wanting to learn to surf. I listen to you. Do you listen to yourself?”

“I say a lot of things, and I probably mean less than half of them. Especially when it comes to stuff like this.” She splashes water back my way.

“You’re impossible.” I shake my head.

“Impossibly brilliant,” she boasts.

“Impossibly irritating,” I correct.

I lie back on my board and join Sunday in sunbathing.

“Do you think we’ll still spend days like this when we’re out of high school and old?”

I crack my eyes open and look over to find her looking back at me. “Has the heat gone to your head? What has you all sentimental?”

“Don’t you ever think about it? What life will be like when third period isn’t the most important event of the day?”

This is about more than third period.

“I guess, yeah, but what has you thinking about it now?”

She slides off her board and into the water before resurfacing and pulling herself up onto mine. I shift to give her room, and she settles herself cross-legged in front of me, looking entirely too serious.

“My parents have been pressuring me about Saint Leo.” The Catholic university her parents have selected for her.

Sunday has never said it outright, but I know she doesn’t want to go to college there. Yeah, we’re sixteen, but they treat her more like she’s six, and if she doesn’t stand up to them, that isn’t ever going to change.

“Sunday, you need to–”

“I don’t want to talk about that. I just want to talk about what you think our lives will be like when adulthood comes calling. How do you see it?”

I’ll play along. “I’m going to own my own business,” I state, effectively enabling her tendency to push away the things she doesn’t want to talk about.

“Doing what? Are you going to be a professional beach bum?”

With my hands on either side of the board, I rock us enough to scare Sunday into thinking we’ll capsize. She shrieks, and I laugh.

“No, you mouthy brat. I don’t know what I want to do, but I want to work with my hands, and I want to be the boss. What do you want to do?”

“I want to be your boss.” Her smile is cocky as she teases.

“You can’t. You don’t listen to yourself or to me, huh? I just told you I was going to be my own boss. You can be my partner though.”

We could be bosses together.

“You want me to be your partner in the mysterious business you’re going to own but don’t know what you’re going to do or how you’ll make money? Sounds like a solid life plan for me. We’ll be rich.”

She rolls her eyes, but I can see she likes the idea of building something with me.

“We’re sixteen; we don’t have to have it all figured out yet. We have years to make mistakes and figure it out.”

Sunday grows quiet and looks down into the blue water. “You have years. You have the option to make mistakes. I have parents who are constantly breathing down my neck about perfection.”

“They put too much pressure on you.” These words couldn’t be truer. In fact, they are a total understatement.

Sunday’s parents do more than just put pressure on her. They are critical and harsh and demand nothing less than excellence in all parts of her life.

She looks up, and her expression turns to stone. “I’m never going to be like them, Braze. My kids are going to eat ice cream for breakfast, and I’m going to support all of their dreams.”

I don’t doubt that—at least the second part. Sunday will be a great mom some day.

“They’ll be lucky to have you as a mom despite the unhealthy nature of their eating habits, and they’ll be even more fortunate because they’ll have the most amazing uncle in the world.”

“You think you’ll still be my best friend by the time I’m popping out kids? Forget you! I’m going to marry the man of my dreams and leave you to fiddle around with your hands while you call yourself boss.”

Rock. Rock. Tip.

This time, I really flip us into the water. I close my mouth and sink below the surface. A foot jams into my ribs, and the salt water goes up my nose. I’m cracking up by the time I get to the surface.

“You are such an asshole.”

Sunday is swimming fast toward me, and I plunge under the surface and kick hard to escape her retaliation.

“Get back here, or I’m going to convince your wife to name your firstborn child Hashtag.”

“Hashtag Hale. I don’t hate it. Thanks!”

I kick harder through the water as Sunday gets closer. She disappears under the surface, and a second later, she latches on to my leg and yanks, pulling me under with her.

We wrestle back and forth like siblings. Each of us is an only child, so we’re the closest each other has to brother and sister. We don’t even notice our boards have started to drift away. It isn’t like Sunday was using it effectively anyway.

We spend our day where most Florida kids do on the weekend—under the sun, on the beach, and in the water. Our dreams for the future are laid out in theory. We plan a life that can’t be predicted or sculpted however. Life happens, and most of the time, we have no say in the outside forces that will affect us. But we can choose the people in our lives, and I’m certain Sunday will always be part of mine.