Summer Love Read Online Free Page B

says.
    You want to ask more about that, about what that means and why his brother has to act like a father, but it’s the first conversation you’ve ever had with this guy, and you don’t want to seem too pushy.
    Luckily, J.R. continues without your prodding. “Our dad died when I was six and Chris was sixteen, and ever since then, he’s taken care of me.”
    You think about that and about how J.R. is kind of taking care of the whole beach right now. How he took care of that dog. “So you pay it forward?” you ask.
    He takes his gaze away from the beachfront for a second to look at you quizzically. “What do you mean?”
    â€œThe taking-care thing,” you say. “Isn’t that your job? To take care of people?”
    â€œHuh,” he says. “I never thought of that. Are you a psych major or something?”
    â€œA high schooler,” you answer. “Rising junior. What about you?”
    â€œI just graduated from high school last month. I’m taking a gap year. Gonna work at my brother’s boat dealership while I figure out what I want to do. Maybe be an EMT. That’s top on my list now.”
    â€œEMT’s cool,” you say. “More taking care.”
    He laughs. “You’re right.”
    Both of you are looking out at the water. In one section there are two people in kayaks and about ten people on surfboards, then in another section there are maybe double that number of kids on boogie boards and a handful of people swimming and jumping in the waves—one of them is probably Tasha, you think, but you can’t tell which. There are also six people hanging on to the floating dock that’s about seventy-five feet out into the ocean. Actually, maybe Tasha’s there. It looks as if there’s someone in bright yellow, but then again, it’s possible there’s another girl on this beach who owns a yellow suit. You have no idea how J.R.—and the other lifeguards who are down closer to the shore at the moment—can watch all of this at once.
    You look over and see his eyes zipping back and forth, from right to left, left to right, scanning the water. His head is moving a little bit, too. You look out again and watch one of the kayakers. You’ve never kayaked before, but you think it looks like something that might be fun to try. Maybe Tasha knows where you can rent a kayak. Maybe tomorrow.
    While you’re watching, the kayaker gets caughtin a big wave and gets pushed pretty close to the jetty. He starts paddling away, but then you see a big wave heading straight toward him. You can’t help but gasp. “Oh no! Watch out!” you cry, even though there’s no way the kayaker can hear you. But J.R. can.
    â€œWhat?” he asks, alarmed. “What is it?”
    â€œThe wave! The kayak!” You point toward the jetty.
    â€œOh hell!” he says, and blows his whistle, standing up on the chair’s footrest. The people in the water turn to look at him, making sure they haven’t gone out too far or anything, but the kayaker seems not to hear.
    You watch in horror as the wave throws the kayak against the jetty and the tiny boat capsizes. Before you can register what happened, J.R. is off the chair with his rescue tube and running to the water. He dives in and swims in a perfect, superfast crawl stroke to where the boat capsized. By the time he gets there, the kayaker has popped up and is hanging on to his boat to stay afloat. You can’t tell exactly what’s going on from so away, but it looks as if maybe the guy’s head is bleeding.
    J.R. does some sort of maneuver that seems to stabilize the guy’s head and neck and swims withhim back to shore. He comes running back and grabs a backboard, while radioing some other guards and asking you to call 911.
    You jump down from the chair and grab your phone. You’ve never made a 911 call, but you tell them what happened and that the