AN: Mr. Ryan is actually based off my real Health/PE teacher, who I had for my freshmen year. I like him, but of course Eden isn't going to like because because he doesn't follow standards.

One last thing, the thing that Lily mentions about gym (the dodgeball game) happened to me in real life. (Tear). It's stored in my database as my most embarrassing gym moment.

Chapter 12. Stacy's Blow

I sit uncomfortably at my desk, waiting for the school bell to ring. Usually I enjoyed most of my classes, but Health was the one exception. It was the easiest class I've ever had, and because it's easy I'm bored to tears all the time.

"So," says, Mr. Ryan, chomping loudly on his gum. He stares out over the rest of the fifteen-year-olds inhibiting the classroom, while swinging the whistle hanging around his neck, out of habit. Gym teachers are always also your Health teachers. He taps his finger against the chalkboard, where barely legible writing was written in yellow chalk.

"Copy this schedule down, because in two weeks this is how your Wednesday is gonna go."

I don't bother raising my hand, when asking, "What's on Wednesday that we have to change the schedule for?"

The reason why so many students liked Mr. Ryan, and I didn't, was that he wasn't at all anal like other teachers. We didn't have to raise our hands, we didn't have to turn in homework on time, and we didn't have to spit out our gum.

"Wednesday, the juniors are taking their S.A.T.s," says Mr. Ryan. "So, as you can imagine, we're changing around the schedule to fit their needs and the rest of the school's needs."

I raise my eyebrow at how oddly his sentenced was phrased. Do not roll your eyes at the teacher, Eden, do not.

After the class copies down the schedule on the board, Mr. Ryan rants on in an unprepared lesson about human anatomy. I don't even bother taking notes, instead just committing everything to memory because that was how simple the curriculum was.

Finally, the bell rings, ending the last class of the day. I remember the SAT guide that I had picked up at the office at the beginning of the year. I knew it would eventually come in handy, and now I could give it to Stacy for him to study, since test-taking wasn't his strongest suite. While aimlessly strolling the hallway, I diligently search my book bag for the blue pamphlet.

"Gym should be illegal," states a voice next to me. I look up to see Lily, sweaty and exhausted, joining my pace down the hallway.

"You just came from P.E.?"

"Yes," she says grimly. "And we played dodgeball today. I was the last person to survive on my team, so naturally, everyone ganged up and pelted the balls at me."

"Vicious," I say, trying to conceal my smile. "Do you want a ride home today?"

"No thanks," she shakes her head. "My parents are picking me up again."

After we depart, I meet Stacy in the parking lot. He waves goodbye to his friends, who would all rather ride their skateboards around town than go home to do homework. Stacy switches on the radio as we back out of the high school's parking lot. A news broadcast comes on.

"With no end to the drought in sight, authorities have announced that emergency measures will be taken for water rationing systems."

"Whoa," says Stacy, genuinely surprised. "There's a drought in California? That sucks."

"Yeah, it looks like your dad will have to find a new pastime, other than watering his lawn."

Stacy smiles, but it quickly disappears into a thin line, because he's realized something. "But this isn't good for us. The ocean will just keep getting flatter, until we won't even be able to surf everyday anymore."

"I only surf on the weekends, so that's only bad for you."

"Yeah, but what if on the weekends it's flat then too."

I shrug, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach. "I'll find something else to do. And you'll have plenty of time to study for the S.A.T.s."

He groans, flipping his head against the car seat.

Stacy was staring up at the cloudless, blue sky in admiration. Meanwhile I was spitting out a piece of stringy seaweed that had caught in my mouth.

"Come on, Stacy, are we gonna surf or are we gonna sit on our boards?" I say after the gross salty-green taste leaves my mouth. "Let's paddle already."

He finally tears his eyes away from the skyline and flashes me his pearly white smile. I lean in close to my surfboard and then stroke through the waves. I hear Stacy paddling behind me.

"It's a little flat today," remarks Stacy. "But that's okay, I think it'll get better once the wind picks up. The weather man says it's supposed to be a perfect day for surfing."

"Just the other day you were talking about that drought," I remind him. "Maybe it's that?"

"Oi!" a voice calls in the distance. I spin my head and see the curly-haired head of Tony, along with some older locals floating on their surfboards. "You better not get in my way again, Peralta! This isn't no drowning contest."

"God," I mutter to Stacy. "He just loves pissing me off, doesn't he?"

"It's in his nature," says Stacy, trying to hide his smile.

"He ripped my head off the other day, just after Lily's party. You would've loved it."

"Hey, finally here comes a wave."

I abruptly turn my board so it's facing the shore. As the wave behind us mounts, Stacy swims aside to give me some room. I fluidly go through the motions of the wave: paddling forward, popping up at the right moment, and dismounting once the wave is over. It felt good to be out on the ocean again, where all I had to do is concentrate on was the way my board flew with the wave.

Stacy does the same when another wave comes. He surfs much better when he's off pressure. Whenever Skip and his boys from the shop are around, Stacy always lets his nerves eat him alive, and half the time he bails on the wave he's pursuing. Because of it, Skip or any of the others didn't think Stacy was a good surfer.

After we're done with our share of the waves, we meet at the shore.

"I guess we'll let Alva hog the rest of the waves for the day," I smirk.

"Jeez, Eden, you've been extra vicious toward him lately," says Stacy, moving his long wet hair out of his face. "Something he did lately?"

I shake my head. "I'm just sick of seeing him."

We trudge through the sand until we reach Stacy's car. He takes care of my surfboard for me.

"So did you hear? Del Mar is hosting this contest for skateboarders. People from all over the country are coming here to compete. Skip wants to put together a skate team for it."

"Okay. Why, are you asking me to join or something?" I say jokingly.

He shakes his head with a nervous glint in his eyes.

"Stace, relax, you'll get on the team. Put it this way; if Sid, the worst skater around, gets on, then you have a guaranteed spot."

He smiles to try to convince me he was okay. "Thanks Eden."

With that, he finishes putting the last strap to the surfboard on top of the car. However, before we can get in the car, the sound of wheels against asphalt is heard behind us. Suddenly Jay pops up from behind and pushes me playfully in the shoulder blades.

"Jay, what's up?" asks Stacy.

He shrugs, leaning his hand against the hood of the car. "Uh, it's not looking so good, man."

"Not true, dude," says Stacy, shrugging while staring out at the ocean. "There's an occasional set. It's really not that bad."

By the expression on Jay's face, I could tell that he wasn't talking about the waves. He had worse news.

"We were up at the Zephyr shop yesterday," continues Jay, "with Skip and everybody..." My stomach sinks, as I realize that the one thing I assured to Stacy wouldn't happen, did. "And so... Tony got on the team, right? And Sid and Peggy and Biniak... Red Dog and Shogo."

"What about you?"

"Yeah, I got on... Sorry, bro."

I stare at Jay. He didn't seem so broken up about it. Then I wait for a reaction from Stacy, who's now glaring out at the ocean. I motion to Jay that now would be a good time for him to leave. As he takes off down Bicknell Hill on his skateboard, I approach Stacy, who now has his arms crossed and looks very upset.

"Stace," I start gently, after a minute of silence. "It's just a team. What should it matter, when in three years from now you'll be famous and surfing the world professionally? They'll totally regret it."

Stacy gives me a sharp glare, startling me. "It's not just a team, Eden! It's the one thing I'm good at. Skating and surfing are my life, I've been doing this since I was a kid. And for Skip to just say, 'no, sorry, you don't got the pirate spirit' just shatters my entire dream. You have no idea how it feels."

I've never seen him this upset and angry.

"I'm sorry, Stace. You're right, I don't know how it feels. But... do you even hear yourself?"

He finally stops glaring at the sea to stare at me, confused.

"Why should someone like Skip stop you just because he says you can't? I mean, I get why everyone respects and admires Skip, but if you're just going to let him, or anybody else for that matter, stop you from pursuing your dream, then maybe you don't deserve it. I thought you knew better than that, Stace."

I bite my tongue to stop myself from further speaking, unsure of whether I had made the situation better or worse. Like all the other guys, Stacy really looked up to Skip. It was always a bad idea to undermine him like I just had.

To my relief, Stacy nods and suddenly looks hopeful again. "You're right, Ed. I don't need Skip to skateboard. I can make it on my own."

"Good for you," I smile, gently shoving his shoulder. "You don't need Skip or Del Mar."

Stacy releases a breathy laugh, sending me a meaningful look. "Who says I'm not going to Del Mar? You don't need to be on a team to enter."

The smile wipes off my face. Oh no.