Game Over, You Lost
The hot California sun seeped through Derrick Westerly's black 'I Hear Voices And They Don't Like You' t-shirt as the wheels of his skateboard ground out a monotonous growl on the gray sidewalk. He was twelve and one day, and he was basking in its glory.
"Hey man!"
Derrick tipped his skateboard back to stop and hopped off, looking back.
Josh Riley, a fellow skateboarder, rolled up alongside Derrick and nodded a greeting as he did the same with his board. "How's it feel to be the big one-two?"
Derrick laughed. Josh still had another four months to wait for his twelfth birthday. Watching his friend digging through the pockets of his blue cargo jeans, Derrick was about to speak, but was interrupted as Josh triumphantly pulled out a four-by-four inch white paper.
"Sorry it's late, man," he said, handing the firm paper to Derrick.
"Awesome!" Derrick shouted, flipping the paper over to discover an eagle head decal for his helmet.
Josh grinned. "I saw you lookin' at it last time we were in Jay's shop."
"Dude! Thanks," Derrick smiled, making a fist and lightly tapping it against Josh's. "So you been down to the skate park yet today?"
"Yeah," Josh snorted annoyance. "That chick with the pink hair was showin' some tight moves. She's competing next week at the PL junior tourney. Might be hard to beat her unless she has a bad day."
Derrick shrugged. "Whatever, man, she's still a chick."
"Some of the guys are gonna try to get some more practice in this week, so they're meeting again this afternoon."
"Yeah, alright. My aunt will probably say that's fine."
"Okay, man," Josh smiled, stepping onto his board. "Catch ya later."
Derrick watched his friend roll away, then checked his watch: ten till noon. Aunt Ava would kill him if he was late to lunch again, and she was having company today. Allowing the front wheels of his skateboard to fall to the ground with a loud rap, he stepped on and rolled forward. Fifteen minutes later, he arrived at his aunt's beach house. He walked quietly up the path and carefully opened the door. Sneaking up the stairs, he was sure his aunt would pop out at any moment and scold him for being five minutes late. But to his surprise, he didn't see anyone. He froze at the top of the stairs. Not a sound in the entire house. Ignoring the fact that he was late and would be in trouble, Derrick leaned his skateboard up against the wall and descended the stairs, straining his ears to hear any sign of life.
"Hello?" he called out from the middle of the living room. "Hey!" he tried again, but still there was no response.
Looking around the beach house, Derrick's eyes landed on the door to Bradin's room. Stupid brother. Why couldn't Bradin just do the Wave Crasher photo shoot with the girls last summer? He would have it all, including the money he lost in the legal mess. But no, he had to go for the whole "good guy" image. Forget girls, forget money, forget cool. Now Bradin Westerly was a lame ex-pro surfer.
Derrick rolled his eyes disgustedly. He had one word to describe his older brother. Pa-the-tic. He was glad Bradin had gone off to college. At least he wasn't around to act all high and mighty anymore. That bugged Derrick. Ever since Bradin had given up the "badass" look, he had been strutting around talking about SAT's and college, getting a new start, setting surfing aside for a little while to focus on school.
Jerk. Derrick thought, remembering the last time he'd seen Bradin. It had been about six months ago, and Bradin was being especially pillish, telling him what to do, and going about with a cocky air like he was better than everyone else. How was he better than anyone? The anger boiled inside of Derrick as he cursed his brother in contempt. I wish you were dead, Bradin.
The thought bounced around in Derrick's head for a moment. I wish you were dead. It was true. Life would have been better without Bradin. If Nikki were oldest, Derrick would probably have a younger sibling. Someone he could teach things to and be a role model for. Their parents would have never left them alone at the house that night back in Kansas. Anger leapt up inside Derrick again; a fiery, hateful anger that seemed to scald his soul.
"I hate you, Bradin," he said the words out loud, quietly, menacingly. Derrick tilted his head a little to shake the punk-style long hair out of his eyes so he could glare at the picture of his older brother on the end table. "I hate you. Everyone thinks you're so special. Mr. Good Guy," he snarled with a menacing leer at the photo. "Well I could care less about your goodie-two-shoes ass. You're a lame wannabe. Maybe no one else can see it, but I can."
Derrick fumed silently at the picture of his brother's smiling face.
"Derrick!"
He spun to see Nikki's tear-streaked red face in the doorway.
"What?" he snapped. He immediately regretted his harsh tone as she stumbled towards him, sobbing uncontrollably. "Nikki, what's wrong?"
Nikki sniffed, wiping her shirtsleeve across her face before she could speak. "There's been a car accident," she whimpered, slumping onto the couch.
"Aunt Ava?" Derrick demanded, worry causing his pulse to race. He set a hand gently on her arm.
"No." Nikki shook her head. "It was Bradin."
Derrick pulled his hand back. Bradin? Car Accident? His breath caught in his throat. But why should he care? He wanted Bradin dead anyway, didn't he? Shrugging it off, Derrick snorted and rolled his eyes.
Nikki looked up at him, a new wave of tears brimming in her eyes. She fought for control of her emotions. "Don't you even care?" she screamed. "He's your brother!"
"I don't care," Derrick shouted back. "He's a jerk, and I hope he dies."
Nikki's eyes widened. "I can't believe you just said that!"
"Believe it."
"You selfish brat! What's wrong with you?" She stood and grabbed Derrick's arm, but he pulled away. "Did you wish death on Mom and Dad, too?"
Derrick twisted around and glared at his sister. "No."
"Well they're dead. And the third piece of the Westerly family might be dying as we speak." With that, Nikki stormed out the front door, slamming it closed behind her.
Shaking his head, Derrick kicked the foot of the couch. He didn't care about his stupid brother. As far as he was concerned, they could all go to hell. But how dare Nikki bring up their parents. It wasn't his fault they died. He missed them. He wished they were still alive. He wished they were all still back in Kansas, away from the beach, away from the surf, away from the whole messed up place.
As he thought about all the good times back in Kansas, he couldn't think of one that hadn't included the whole family. The Westerly's had been such a tight group. Bradin and Nikki and Derrick were always together. Back then, no one left anyone out.
Derrick cursed and kicked the couch leg again. Out here in Playa Linda, it was each man to his own. They never did anything together anymore. Bradin had always been chasing girls and surfing, and Nikki had Cameron. What was left for the youngest? Nothing. So he had made his own friends. Derrick grimaced as he thought about the choices he had made regarding those friends. They'd gotten drunk one time. They'd stolen $500 worth of skating equipment and tried to blame it on Derrick. Thinking back, Bradin had tried to warn him about that.
The sudden realization came to Derrick that his brother had only been looking out for him. Each time he came off as a know-it-all jerk, he'd been trying to point Derrick in the right direction. Bradin did know a lot about that. He'd had bad friends who tried to pull him in the wrong directions. He'd gotten drunk. He'd done drugs.
Derrick found himself wishing he had never wanted Bradin dead. If only he had listened to his older brother. But that was the problem. They were so much alike. Neither listened to the voice of reason. They had to make mistakes and find out for themselves.
A dense cloud hung over Derrick's heart as he headed for the door. He didn't know how, but he was going to see his brother. He was going to make things right between them again. What would he do? What would he say? Would he apologize? Would Bradin apologize for treating him like a little kid?
The thoughts whirled in Derrick's mind as he ran down the sidewalk. Every step urged his pulse to pound faster until the blood was thundering in his ears. At last, he had to stop, bending over with his hands on his knees. His breath came in short, sporadic gulps, each more painful than the last.
"Derrick!"
He lifted his head to see Josh waving at him from a sky blue caravan.
"Need a ride?" Josh shouted.
Glancing around, Derrick noticed how far from home he was. He didn't know where he was exactly.
Mr. Riley stopped the car by the curb, and Derrick jumped in.
"Mr. Riley, I need to get to the hospital," Derrick forced out between gulps of air.
Josh's father nodded worriedly, and the car sped forward. Within ten minutes, the car lurched to a stop in front of the hospital. Derrick breathed a quick 'thank you' and hurried into the building, under a sign that read 'Emergency.'
"Derrick!" Aunt Ava cried out, standing up and pulling him into a tight hug.
"Where's Bradin?" Derrick demanded.
Ava gazed at him sadly, a tear sliding gracefully down her cheek.
"No!" Derrick shouted, backing away from Ava. His eyes leapt from Ava's to Johnny's to Jay's, then back to Ava's. "He's fine. I have to see him. I have to tell him something."
"Honey…" Ava's voice trailed off. "He's gone, sweetie. There was nothing they could do."
Derrick sunk to the floor in the middle of the busy emergency room.
Bradin was gone.
Author's Note: Just a little one-shot thing I wrote up tonight. Not really sure what inspired it, but I got a muse and here it is. I hope you come away with something. Still working on Longing to Know…please be patient!
Disclaimer: I don't own Summerland, or any related places or characters.