The Islands at the End of the World

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They’ve been getting bigger all evening. This one might be too big, but I can’t be choosy. Dad’s waiting on the bluff, arms crossed. I lie down on my board and drive my arms through the water.

No sweat. Just relax.

“Geev’um, Lei!” shouts Tami.

The wave is coming like a train. I paddle fiercely, though the life vest rubs my upper arms raw.

The wave pulls on me, hungry. For once my timing is perfect. The wave surges under me; I catch the break and spring up on the board.

Two seniors on their boards shoot me the stink-eye as I wobble past. One snickers. The life jacket feels like a straitjacket. I nearly tumble backward off the board but catch my balance.

I kick my back leg to the left and angle the board to the right, feeling a rush of speed. I dart between a keiki body-boarder and a lazy green sea turtle, finally sinking back into the water as the wave dies. I turn to salute Tami, who’s bobbing out past the first breaks. Her honey-blond corkscrews bounce even when wet.

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