The Education of Sebastian & the Education of Caroline(296)

“I can surf anytime; I’d rather be here with you.”

My voice came out like a croak, and I could have cheerfully ripped my tongue out. She stared down at her notepad.

But her reply cut my fucking heart out.

“I wish you wouldn’t say things like that, Sebastian. I’m a married woman. It makes me … uncomfortable.”

Shit! Shit! Shit!

“I really like you, Caroline.”

I got up every fucking ounce of courage I had, and touched her arm. Her skin was silky and warm from the sun—she felt amazing.

She stood up suddenly, making me blink, then walked away down the beach. I thought I was going to be sick.

What the fuck was I thinking? Shit, no. No! Stupid, stupid, stupid. I shouldn’t have said that. She’d think I was some sick, crazy stalker. Or worse, she’d think I was a dumb kid.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

And then I saw her talking to Mitch, and a wave of jealousy and anger surged through me. I really wanted to hit something. Badly.

Mitch called a timeout and said we were heading back. I felt like I was going to hurl, and I couldn’t look at her, because I didn’t want to see disgust or pity on her face.

I didn’t even remember getting changed, and the next thing I knew, I was sitting in the back of the van with Ches and Fido.

“Hey, man, you weren’t in long today,” said Ches. “What’s up with that? You’ve been dying to get out here for days.” He flicked his eyes towards Caroline. “Bit distracted, were you?”

“Fuck off, Ches,” I snarled.

He smiled, knowing he’d scored a hit.

“Look man,” he said, quietly, “I know you—and I know what you’re thinking. Yeah, she’s hot, and really nice, too, but she’s fucking married. Just wise the fuck up.”

Then I heard Caroline ask Mitch to read her article when she’d finished writing it; to make sure the surf facts were right.

Mitch laughed.

“I don’t do words, Caroline, not reading and writing words. You should ask one of the boys—that’s more their thing.”

“Sebastian will do it,” said Ches, throwing a look at me.

Fido snickered, and I seriously considered pummeling his dumb ass into dust.

“Okay with you, Seb?” asked Mitch.

“Sure,” I said, quietly. “Whenever you like, Caroline.”

She didn’t look very happy about it, but she didn’t argue.

We dropped her off and I watched her run into the house, like she was eager to be home. She was married. I didn’t stand a chance, and the realization made my chest throb like my ribs were going to break. What the fuck was wrong with me?

When we pulled up at my house, Mitch looked worried.

“Seb, your old man’s car is here. You want me to walk in with you, have a word?”

I shook my head. I knew why he was offering, but I just wanted to get the fuck out of there.

“No, thanks,” I said. “It’s cool.”

It really fucking wasn’t.

I couldn’t bear the pitying way they were all looking at me. I hauled my ass out of the van and pounded on the side, telling them they were good to go.

But as I walked into the house, I knew I’d made a mistake going home. I could hear my parents arguing as soon as I opened the door, and from the sound of it, they were both drunk.

I closed the door as quietly as I could, but they heard me as I tried to make it up the stairs.

“Where have you been, you little shit?” snarled my dad.

I stared back at him, folding my arms across my chest.

“Well?”

“Out,” I said, holding his gaze.

I just didn’t see what was coming next.

His right hook caught me on the cheek, sending me flying backwards against the wall. I hit my head so hard, I saw stars.

“Answer me, you little shit!” he shouted.

“I did my work this morning!” I yelled at him, blinking hard to try and clear my head.

“You’re a useless fucking waste of a life. Look at you! You look like a fucking hippie! People must be pissing their pants laughing at me when they see you. You’re a fucking beach bum, useless fucking…”

He hit me again. This time I knew he’d split my lip, even while the pain was still cutting through me. Before I could get up off of the floor, I saw a flash of metal. I thought he was really going to kill me this time, but instead he hauled me up by my hair. But it wasn’t a knife; he had a pair of scissors. I was still dizzy from his blows and could only struggle feebly as he hacked off several long chunks of my hair. He staggered as I fought against him, and I managed to punch him in the gut—a really good, solid punch. Fucker.

He went down hard. I jumped over him and slammed out of the front door, running as fast as I could, adrenaline pumping through me.