“Aunt Summer, he’s copying me!” River shrieked from her board, pointing at her brother with the kind of righteous fury only a seven-year-old could summon.
“I’m not copying you, I’m just doing it better,” Ocean said.
“You can’t do it better. You haven’t even stood up yet!”
“I’m about to.”
“You said that a long time ago.”
I paddled between them. “Ocean, stop talking and start doing. River, stop watching him and start watching the water. You’re looking for the right wave, not waiting for your brother to embarrass himself.”
Ocean was pretty good for his age. He’d been up twice already, both times for about three seconds before the wave won.
“You’re fighting it,” I told him.
“I can’t get it,” he pouted. “I’m not as good as you.”
“I wasn’t as good as you when I was nine. You’ll get the hang of it. Loosen up your body. Stop fighting it.”
He groaned.
“Loose,” I repeated. “Soft knees. Arms out like you’re going to catch something.”
He adjusted his posture. The kids wanted to surf. They loved it, but sometimes our lessons went a little long and they put up a fuss.
I glanced back toward the beach. Becca was exactly where I’d left her, stretched out on the lounger with her book tented on her chest. She looked completely relaxed. Capri was beside her with her legs oiled up and her sunglasses on. They had book covers on what I knew were very spicy covers.
My sister never let herself stop moving. Even on a Sunday, she was doing laundry or making lists or reorganizing a cabinet that didn’t need reorganizing. Watching her just lie there in the sun with her book was why I was keeping the kids out. Just a little longer. She deserved to be completely at ease.
I turned my attention back to the kids straddling their boards.
“Guys ready?” I asked. “There’s a perfect wave coming in.”
Ocean immediately started paddling.
“Wait for it. Don’t paddle yet. Wait—now. Go.”
They both did their thing. River got up but Ocean faltered. She screamed with joy as she got her feet under her. I gave her a thumbs-up.
“Can I go?” Ocean asked.
“Pick your wave,” I said. “Don’t let me pick it for you.”
River was already off her board and grinning like she’d just conquered the world. We stayed out another fifteen minutes before we headed in.
I steered the kids toward Becca. She lowered her book when she heard us coming. Capri sat up and pulled her sunglasses down her nose.
“How were they?” Becca asked.
“They’re naturals,” I said.
I propped my board upright and reached for my water bottle. Lana was stretched out on Capri’s other side, still in her rash guard, her sunglasses pushed up into her hair.
“Hey,” I said. “Didn’t know you were coming.”
“Capri texted me,” Lana said. “It’s nice to have a beach day that doesn’t involve teaching or training.”
I sat down on my towel and grabbed a handful of grapes. The kids were eating their sandwiches and arguing about who was the better surfer.