Lost Boy
I wrote this a while ago and I just can't help myself but to post it. I'm stuck with my ideas on all of my continuing stories, and I'm hoping that soon I'll know where my others are supposed to go. But for now, I'm going to be doing some short little fic-lets. All I own are the ideas.
There's a kid on a surfboard out in front to the no-longer-existent Pacific Ocean Pier, where we learned to surf as kids. He's so intensely concentrated on the waves he's riding that he can't even stop to bandage himself up, he doesn't even care. He's numb and the aching isn't affecting him. He's already go salt in his wounds; he was practically born with ocean water in his blood. His arm has long since ceased bleeding, there's a deep gash in his forehead, and his ankles are scraped raw. Two of his ribs are definitely bruised.
I've watched this kid grow up. I've grown up with him. The dude never ceases to amaze me, no matter what stupid shit he's getting into, and I have to call him the greatest skateboarder I've ever had the opportunity to meet, let alone befriend. After so long, there's only one thing I find strange, and that's his ability to keep a stony composure through harsh circumstances. He doesn't cry. He never cries anymore. Thinking back on him, I can't remember a time when he wasn't goofing off. It didn't matter if he was hurting or not. It was like he had two settings -- hyperactive and angry. You could never really tell what you'd get next with him.
What can I say; the kid's always getting himself in trouble, even since we were small. At fifteen, he's been so close to being arrested twice that I can scarcely believe he's made it to this age. When he was five, he took a lighter from the drugstore, and I, being the sensible seven-year-old I was, bitched him out until he took it back. I figure that's where our trouble started.
When Jay was twelve, he had a thing for this girl, Jessica I think. She was two years older than him, my age, and I don't remember her knowing that he existed. He did everything for that girl, just so she'd maybe take notice of him. He borrowed an Allman Brothers tape from me and the tape player from Skip's shop, Zephyr. He played that track 'Jessica' outside her apartment window for five hours straight. The kid was determined, even after she'd thrown a shoe out into the darkness at him and told him that he was 'too young for her'. I think that was probably the first time he'd ever been so stuck on something that he couldn't sleep. Since then, he's never given up on anything that was important to him, not even stealing a generator so we could drain pools this summer.
I wish Jayboy would get out now and talk to me. But I know he won't, he's so damn stubborn. Sometimes I want to kick him, though I would never actually do it. He gets beat up on enough as it is. So instead I'll just sit here, and watch him through the lens of my camera. I'm sure he'll find some chick later to comfort him in ways I don't even want to imagine. He'd probably try to kill me if I even shared my thought of wanting to hug him. There's just something about Jay that makes me feel so sad. Yet he's the one who inspired me to start filming in the first place. Just him mostly, be's about the only one who'll let me use footage of him as a subject. Everyone else just tells me I'm nuts, to get the fuck out of their faces because filming will never get me anywhere.
So that's what I've been doing for the last hour. Me, Stacy Peralta, filming Jay Adams surf his natural-born heart out. And sitting here watching, I kind of wish I could replace that girl he'll see later.