Vara has a tattoo across his chest with the wording “Minervan Boys”, like his crew are the local gang around these parts. He calls my friends “the Airheads” simply because we have blond hair. Usually they come out at sunrise whereas we take sunsets. This unspoken agreement keeps us out of their way so we don’t have another territorial fistfight. Vara is also my stepbrother. We actually live in the same house, with dad, stepmom and our adopted sister Erina. By some kind of sick coincidence, I also have the same birthday as Vara. He’s planned a shindig in an empty warehouse whereas I have decided on a get-together in the backyard. Of course, half the island population of Minervan is invited to his event.. while my guest list is minuscule: a grand total of 10 people. I’m walking on the sand at M Beach, carrying my board home, when one of his friends calls out to me. “Hey Kaden,” the dude sneers, “I heard Vara is looking for food and beverage attendants for his birthday party.” I roll my eyes and turn my attention to the sea. A real barrel of laughs, these guys are. They think they are so hot, Vara’s crew, like they are somehow superior for being Extreme. Guess they missed the memo that the ocean can also be mellow in an awesome way. When I get back to my room I grab some comfy shorts, and a tshirt, then head for the shower. I guess you could say we live in a nice house. It’s built on the cliffs overlooking the shore. Mom’s making something in the kitchen, cooking dinner. Everyone is generally at the table around 6pm every night to eat and share stories. I always take the seat furtherest from Vara, because he likes to rock up 10 minutes late, then proceeds to regale us with his stories of doing something too cool for school. I’m generally not impressed because he seems like a typical adrenaline junkie. Or maybe i’m jealous of him, but I don’t think so.. not usually, anyway.

Anyway i’m in bed and our parties are tonight. Mom comes to my room in the morning and hands me a present – a pot of wax. Later on I find out that Vara has gotten the same thing from her.

“I can’t believe you love us equally,” I complain. She says Vara is a good kid and even if he’s a stepson she still treats him as if he were her own child. If only she knew that Vara deals and uses crystal meth before hitting the waves. Apparently there are enough guys at the beach looking to buy the stuff at any given time. I haven’t told the parents. I’m saving this little piece of information as ammunition, or blackmail material, should I ever need to use it. After a quick shower I make my way to the liquor store to stock up on drinks and various boozy things that my friends might want when they show up in the evening. Even if I am technically still 17 the store clerk is real cool about everything, because I always drop in to say hi when i’m nearby. Most everyone in Minervan lives comfortable lives – so there’s not much law enforcement happening. Although 5 years ago, a guy got stabbed when his company went bankrupt, and tons of people lost their retirement funds. That would be the one exception. I drive a 1970s pontiac firebird. It’s great with okay gas mileage. When i’ve loaded up my car with beers, mixer drinks and tonic water, I dial my friend number.

“Hello,” he answers.

“Hey Tom. Can you help me setup some outdoor lighting in the garden later?”

He agrees, saying that he’ll come around at 2. I say that I have some round dome type lights and some LED lights that I bought from Ikea, and I want to just put them randomly in the backyard. Phone conversation over, I make my way back home to finish some homework. Calculus.. chemistry, math. None of these subjects interest me at all, and I already know that after getting my high school certificate i’m not going to apply for the local island university. I want to work in Dad’s shop. He makes and shapes his own line of boards, and always has new wetties for sale as they come out. For those out there who need to be on the bleeding edge of wetsuit technology. More importantly I just like the idea of working there while friends drop in to “hang”. It’s a silly dream but it’s what I really want. Completing the calculus worksheet took the longest. I still haven’t quite gotten my head round the formulas. Chemistry and math took me half an hour combined which wasn’t too bad, just balancing some equations and filling in a matrix. I go over to the fridge in the backyard to get a beer from my party stock as a reward for all that work. Then I go knock on Vara’s room.

“Yeah?” he he replies in a monotone voice.

“I just wanted to say that you’re invited to my birthday tonight. If you show up in the backyard, for whatever reason.”

“Neer, no thanks,” he replies, sounding bored to death.

I go back to my room. Then Erina knocks on my door.

“Hi,” I say, looking up.

“Did you know dad is sick?” she asks.

“What?” I say. “What do you mean?”

“Dad has cancer. I overheard the parents talking about it last night. They haven’t planned when to tell us.”

I sit back in my computer chair, flabbergasted.

“Well is he going to be ok?”

“I don’t know,” Erina says quietly. She goes back to her room.

For a moment I sit, trying to digest the news. I want to rush up to Dad and ask him how serious it is, but since this piece of information is apparently private, I can’t do that. I feel awful. When dinner rolls around everyone is in good spirits, like everything is fine. Vara and I excuse ourselves from the table early to start on our birthday party preparations. I tell myself that things will be ok. Dad just needs to go to chemo and he’ll pull through. No worries at all.

Tom rocks up at our house soon after and helps me with the lighting. We are hanging up the LEDs when I tell my friend about the news.

“Shit, man,” he says. “I don’t know what to say. I feel for you.”

“Thanks,” you reply. “I wish there was something I could do. But I don’t know what.”

We have already started drinking but i’m not in a party hard mood. Later on I find out that Dad leaves Vara and I in the will equally for his shop, which fills me with boiling blood. Because he should love me more and not tolerate Vara so much. Because I should be the heir, dammit, and I put in more shifts there than Vara. I end up challenging him in a fight to the death, a duel, but that’s a little ways in the future. I can’t spoil the ending just yet. Well I just hope my parents don’t loiter around too much near the sliding door when people get to this non-party because as much as I love them, I want to shake off this image as a goody goody. Writing opinion pieces for the student paper on subjects like food hygiene. Stuff like that. They even know i’m serving the kids alcohol and are cool with it because they know I never drink past the point of a buzz. Whereas Vara would – and has in the past – chugged ridiculous amounts of absinthe and gone in the water. He has a substance abuse problem but it slips under the radar because he is very good at acting and pretending to be a normal, well-adjusted person when he needs to prove it. He is an expert in stealth plus deceit – toking his crack, hash pipes in the men’s change rooms, then using air freshener to hide the smell. I know all this because I got Tom to play private investigator and peep over the change room stall at sunset. It would be easy to take this info and bring it up with Mom and Dad, but I haven’t done that yet – simply because I know he will give a spiel about rehabilitation, fake the rehabilitation, then continue doing what he always does. Even though i’ve been harsh about drug use I do like to have some weed now and then. And I have even smoked up out at sea with a J and lighter in ziplocked bag. Props to my favourite online forum for introducing the idea to me. Yeah, I know a lot about this stepbrother of mine, because he’s the bane of my existence, the stone in my shoe. He’s a jerk for encouraging elitism and competition, whereas I want the local beach to be a zen buddhist landscape. According to Vara, being able to throw a decent punch is one skill all surfers should have, “to keep the hoi polloi at bay and out of our hair.” I hate the fact that he used that greek phrase, because he actually sounded somewhat smart, although in a jerk way.

Minervan is a small island and I guess you could say that Tom and I are pretty good at riding out there, and Vara likes to show off at any opportunity (ripping in front of sedate fishermen, any audience will do).. beach politics here are truly crap, thanks to the “Minervan Boys” who lord over the shores like school bullies. Yeah, they’re about 17 (so am I), but they’re still asshats. I had an American penpal called Jim, a little kook, who’d told me he’d hung up his wettie for the last time when the locals shouted scathing critiques at him: “How does I turn? Around back home!” and “Those rocks have your name on it.” Laughter.. What really grabbed me was that the poor guy could have been on the cusp of something spiritual, but gave up because the community was being a dick. \Tom waves his hand in my face noticing that i’ve zoned off in my own thoughts while we setup the party. This is all because I have a bad feeling but I don’t know what it’s about. Even though it’s past 8 now which is what I confirmed as the start time no one is around except Tom and I. Erina shuffles into the garden through the doors, and it is really demoralising that your sister comes in to lend moral support in the face of no-shows. They are just guys I see around at the beach or at school, and Tom’s the only guy i’ve known for a length of time (since kindergarten). Maybe they ditched me for the warehouse. Feels like we are warring politicians desperate for the vote. After 45 minutes a guy named Jacob comes in the back gate with beers on a trolley totalling at least 48 bottles. He shrugs sheepishly at me, and says, “I hope you’ll forgive me for dropping in at uh, the Other Party. I got these extra beers because I felt guilty.” So my friends really are cheating on me with my stepbrother. I’m not even angry because I think I just might be accepting my status as #2 to Vara’s #1. Too bad my favourite enemy also has boatloads more charisma and charm, than me, despite being a bad guy. Even before Mom and Dad married, I noticed him traipsing around the sand with his henchmen and their group mentality thing going, all sporting waist length dark brown hair like clones. Well, whatever, blonds have more fun.. or something. I have to prove to myself that I can just enjoy my own birthday without caring about caring too much about Vara’s Event of The Year.

“Fuck it, man,” Tom says. “Let’s go bowling.. I mean uh, hit the beach.”

It seems like a good idea even though my night vision is not too great. Jacob is seated on a plastic chair typing absentmindedly on the phone, and it looks like no one is going to turn up soon. We walk down to the sand without even saying goodbye. And who do I see down there with minions and a fire burning? Vara. He spots me and Tom, comes and greets us. The friendly tone in his voice disturbs me greatly – I figure he is high and cruising off his birthday popularity.

“Skull a beer, ride a wave!” he smiles at us with annoyingly dazzling choppers. Some of his followers I notice are just floating around out there in the dark holding their drinks. I bet they are too drunk to even stand up, knowing this crowd’s taste for excess.

“What happened to your party?” I ask cautiously.

“Nothing,” Vara shrugs. “Just snuck off with the boys.” Now he is holding his crack pipe openly in front of me as if he knows nothing can touch him – not parents, not cops. I am amazed and appalled by his casual gestures, but realise that he’s caught me with bong in hand a few weeks ago so maybe i’m not such a goody goody after all. Vara smirks to himself then paddles out with the pipe in his mouth. Sometimes I really hate him. I hate that he is also a straight A student, like me, except i’ve never seen him hit the stacks. Maybe he’s cheating.. I hope that he is, because Vara being books-dumb would be a relief.

Tom and I shake our heads then trudge back to my house. As if things weren’t lame enough already, Mum and Dad have taken seats next to Jacob and are having a quiet conversation about who will be valedictorian when our class graduates. Jacob is knee deep in discussion: he bets that I will get the title if Vara has a concussion while surfing and is temporarily mentally challenged. In other words, Vara is the favourite. Well, the guy probably pilfers Dexedrine from his pals and takes them before exams. I suspect this, because.. I have done this myself. Guess i’m definitely not such a goody goody, then. But at least i’m not an ass. And it’s just to keep me on my feet, to remember the right formula to use. It’s not really any kind of smart pill.

“The rest of them are in the back of a van somewhere,” Jacob kindly informs me about the others when he notices Tom and I return. To hell with them. I go to my room and read in bed while Tom goes home a few blocks down the street.

School the next day is uneventful. Everyone somehow knows that my party pretty much didn’t even happen, while the folks with Vara were raving and tripping. The island only has one high school institution, and in a population of 2000 residents, we all know each other through mutual friends or acquaintances. In the cafeteria I usually just sit with Tom, sometimes joined by Jacob. Vara and his “boys” are a huge table of rowdy conversation. Maybe some teachers are charmed by their outlandish ways but at least the janitor’s cool – he gives them a glance, as if to say.. Please. I love the janitor. He nods at me and Tom in a nice way. I’ve even caught him down at the beach washing his feet. He is a mystery but the nicest underdog. When the final bell rings I make my way off on the walk home, not eager to hang around while the Chess club setup their tournaments and talk about typically nerdy things. Tom approaches me on the footpath and says, “I’m sweating the physics exam. What if I don’t grasp the concept of momentum by tomorrow?”

I have been on top of my study schedule this week, seeing the teacher early in the morning about stuff i’m stuck on. Tom has clearly put in less than half my efforts. He’s a little screwed. Out of goodwill I agree to tutor him as much as I can, working with his available memory. Dad is acting strangely when I arrive home and baking cupcakes. This is extraordinary because he never cooks and is usually optimising board shapes in the garage, and technical stuff I don’t know about. Now is a not a good time to ask about cancer, I tell myself. He is enjoying himself and he is taking care of it. The unthinkable isn’t going to happen, isn’t possible.

“Hey Evan,” Tom greets my Dad. They make small talk about food while I look in the fridge for snacks. Our study binge begins at 04:23 and finishes at 01:10 in the morning. In a few hours we’ll both be due to show up at our scheduled exam. It’s hard to decide whether to top ourselves up with more energy drinks, or to try and sleep. I take the former, Tom picks the latter.

A week later we get our grades back. I get an A and Tom manages a B-. Celebration time!

***

“If you can stay out in the water longer than me then you can have Dad’s shop. You can have the ocean,” I utter darkly to Vara.

He tells me he loved Dad too. Poor fellow died out of friggin’ nowhere. Organ failure. Another battle lost to cancer. Erina cried, I didn’t, Vara just zoned out.Was I numb for a few months? Definitely. But he’s in a better place now I hope. There is a tightness in Vara’s voice that tells me he isn’t lying about his feelings. But it hurts even more that a jerk like Vara could appreciate a cool, chill guy like Dad. I don’t want to ruin things by fighting. I don’t want to be immature or disrespectful. It’s just that there is no way we are going to get along as the new co-owners of Late Dad’s shop. It’s him – or me. My mortal enemy agrees to take up my challenge. We’ll just float in the ocean for as long as we can until someone pikes and caves in, paddles home. With no food, water, or entertainment (surfing is out since that would consume too much energy), who knows what could happen. But I want to do this. At dawn we leave our bedrooms and walk down to the sand.

“Why do you want to work in Dad’s shop?” I ask.

“Hey, I know i’m a stepson, but even if we don’t jive we’re still a family.”

For all the times i’ve considered him an inhuman monster, there is something horribly touching about these words. I realise i’ve been the ass now – trying to push Vara away from Dad’s shop, when he was happy to engage in verbal sparring with me in the storeroom. The demon in him thrived in tension and dysfunction, it seemed.

“Well, whatever, why don’t you work out the front while I work out the back.”

“Sure,” Vara shrugs. For some reason we still go out on our challenge despite this low key resolution. We sit floating and looking out at the horizon. Sun rises. After what seems like an hour I catch a glimpse of Vara trying to discreetly pull out a glass pipe from a waterproof pouch.

“That’s cheating,” I inform him sternly.

He shoves it back in the pouch wordlessly with mild annoyance.

“If you had a joint i’d be ok with that,” I admit.

“Well I do. Have a joint, I mean,” Vara says carefully.

“Smoke up, then.”

He lights the J, tokes, then passes it to me. I take a drag, not wanting to be a no-fun nancy. In this new clarity I realise that we are not that different from each other. Hours pass, bobbing up and down motionlessly. By the time the sun sets, hunger and thirst have definitely set in. It’s really sunny. By now it is like a competition to see who can meditate the best and last the distance. At least there haven’t been any weird or rough waves. All of a sudden, I realise that nothing in life is a big deal – not Dad’s shop, not who gets to be valedictorian, not who is the best surfer. The only significant thing, really, is the ocean. Too bad Vara and I didn’t smoke weed together earlier – I would have had lower blood pressure, too. The last light dies in the sky and we both paddle towards shore as if we’re not really giving up, but we really are, because the whole thing is now exhausting from food and water deprivation.

The next week my homeroom teacher announces that I am valedictorian for my year. I am flabbergasted. For some reason I was convinced that Vara would take it, but his English Lit teacher didn’t warm to his essay entitled, “Bro-ing at M Beach”. The D grade he received pulled his average down, so I came out on top. I asked to read the thing out of curiosity. He’d written about the lack of local fictional works, and the consequence being that everyone in Minervan just bummed at the beach instead of picking up books. Less an essay and more of an opinion piece, I realised he had intentionally put no effort into it. It seemed that he had just taken a break from having to be the best at everything. I didn’t care. When it came time to prepare a speech I put together something safe and conventional. But I couldn’t help throwing in a “hey, and props to a bro who let me take his place” as my final word. I could tell from the momentary pause and scattered applause that it was a real departure from script. Tom hooted and cheered like a madman, Vara smiled loopily. Our class wasn’t even paying attention, tuning everything out like a boring television program. Mum congratulated us after and gave us dorky identical shell bracelets as graduation gifts. While it would have been nice to be acknowledged as individuals, I didn’t really mind because I thought back on the word Vara used: “family.”

I take care of Dad’s shop most days while Vara is busy studying Petroleum Geoscience at the local university.

He’s really motivated, despite failing English. Maybe he blagged his way in during the interview, I don’t know. Turf wars have settled down since Vara started smoking weed regularly. Tolerance, diversity, chill vibes? I’m rapt. We haven’t surfed together since, still hanging with our respective gangs, but I realise that the great thing was looking past our differences and sharing the water that day. Of course this isn’t a completely happy ending. Dad’s still dead. But we’ve mellowed out for real now I think. Many thanks to the mystery of the ocean.