The raging rocks,

And shivering shocks

Shall break the locks

Of prison gates

– William Shakespeare – A Midsummer Night's Dream

Licksy's was a remote beach near Jack Creek; one only locals – and a select few others - knew about. The breaks at Licksy's were rougher than the beginner-friendly tides of Long Beach and Rickard's Point. Over one section of the beach, where a subaquarian shelf rose particularly sharp, the waves could reach up to ten meters in height. When tourists found the beach, disaster inevitably followed, diverting the surfers from their waves. After too many near-drownings, everyone stopped talking about Licksy's. No shop owner in town would admit to knowing about the beach. Fastidious surfers with computer skills deleted the coordinates off of any internet site that had located it.

The beach became clandestine.

Because of this secrecy, at seven-thirty on Sunday morning, Katia was completely alone. She had been dropped off at some distance by a thoroughly annoyed Irina, who'd forgotten her promise, and then Katia had hiked a mile over a gravel drive, before turning off onto a wide trail that led down to the beach.

Digging her toes into the sand, Katia paused to enjoy the scene; the feel of a warm September morning, the dull roar of waves a hundred meters out, and the quiet, intermittent flapping of an eagle's wings. She loved this place for its mix of peace and adventure; the rush of surfing in the stillness of an undiscovered land.

Katia watched as the eagle swooped. It dove down, disappearing into the depths, and reappeared with a small trout in its talons. She smiled at its triumph.

"Beautiful," a voice sighed.

"Morning, Lorelai," Katia said, her eyes still on the eagle.

Lorelai sniffed. "It's impossible to sneak up on you."

Katia turned and smiled at the only woman she might call a friend. Lorelai was almost thirty, but her brow was creased with more years of sunshine and sin than most would achieve in a lifetime. She – like Katia – had long, muscled limbs and a mass of blonde, tangled hair. Unlike Katia, she wore on her torso the bodily waves of a woman's weight. Lorelai was well-worn and beautiful.

"Surf looks wicked today," Katia said.

"Like my incorrigible self."

Katia chewed on the skin inside her cheeks, unsure what to say. She knew that Lorelai was having trouble with her wife, Kelly, and they both knew that this was probably Lorelai's fault. It didn't make it any less sad.

"How's Kelly?" she asked.

"Staying with her mother for a bit. Nothing I'm not to blame for."

"I've heard that water atones," Katia suggested, trying to remember where she'd heard it, or what it even meant.

"This is why I like you, Katia. All solutions, no drama." Lorelai smiled faintly, hoisting her board under her arm. "I'd like you even more if you worked for me."

Lorelai owned a ladies-only surf school that rivalled the Castile's shop. She offered Katia an instructor job on a weekly basis. Katia always declined.

"Katia!" A low cry broke her out of her thoughts. It was Ethan. His curly blond hair flopped in the wind, and even at this distance, she could see his blue eyes sparkling, reflecting the light of the morning sun.

"Look at that," Lorelai gave a good-natured groan. "Not even an acknowledgement for me."

"It's because you're the enemy." Katia waved back at Ethan. Beside him, boards swinging under their arms, were Sam and James Mailloux. Few surfers in town were capable of riding with Ethan and Katia, and only the brothers and Lorelai were willing to. They looked exhausted and grumpy, lured to the ocean at such an ungodly hour by the promise of good surf. They were rewarded with nine-foot swells.

"Sure," Lorelai snorted. "It's that."

As the boys approached, Katia couldn't help but notice their sweep over her body, somehow different in the past months than before, filled with a fresh kind of incredulity. It made her feel naked and embarrassed, though she couldn't say why.

"How can you stand the cold? You've got less body fat than any of us." James asked, his dark hair flapping in his face as he shook his head at her. He wore a woollen sweater and had his arms wrapped across his chest, as if the sight of her made him cold. He looked miserable.

She pretended not to notice. "Just tougher than you."

"Then get in the water, toughie," Ethan teased.

While Katia wasn't stronger than the boys (or at least, she had always assumed so based on bicep circumference), her arms moved more efficiently, and at a much higher tempo as she paddled through the water. When she arrived at the resting spot close to the wake, only Ethan was close behind, panting with effort.

"How's work been?" Katia asked as Ethan sat up on his board next to her.

"The usual; teaching tourists to half-drown." Ethan had graduated the year before, but stayed in Jack Creek, working with his Dad. He wasn't planning on university, despite decent grades. Ethan wanted to go pro, and Katia knew he was good enough. After the Coldwater Classic, there'd been a lot of interest in both of them. She knew his news would be that a team had signed him. "How's school?"

"Not bad," she lied. "The usual; navigating the highly hazardous life of a high school student."

She heard a break behind her and lay flat. The others ducked under the wave as Ethan and Katia rolled over it, perfectly in sync. It was a good wave, not too big for the first, and she concentrated on smooth turns as she rode it out. When it was over, she laughed and looked back for Ethan, who was right behind her, grinning. They continued like this; wave after wave, as they always did.

The waves died down eventually, and their stomachs noisily voiced their support of movement back to shore. Lorelai had left after an hour to open up her shop, and James and Sam were already walking back to the parking lot. Dumping her surfboard on the sand, Katia grabbed her towel off the beach and rubbed her hair dry with it. As she opened her eyes, she saw Ethan, and the sight gave her a small shock. He'd gotten bigger, she noticed, a lot stronger in the past year, and he was no longer a gangly teenager. A tennis ball seemed to have lodged itself in his bicep as he bent his arm above his head, and his torso was knobbed with muscles where there was once a flat board. His changed body distressed her, because it meant they were no longer children. Then she realized she'd been staring, and she turned away, feeling herself blush. Though she didn't dare look, she had the distinct feeling that beside her, he was grinning.

She picked up her surfboard and straightened, and her gaze landed on something she didn't want to see. There he was again, lounging on a beach chair, grinning at her. Today, he was flanked by two identical young men with curly brown hair, both a little taller than the boy, who was well over six feet in his own right. They all wore gold-tinted aviators, khaki shorts and no shirts, as if the mild weather affected them as little as it affected Katia. They were slim but well-muscled. Intuitively, she knew that if provoked, they would be very strong, and very vicious. Perhaps it was the two deep scars that cut across her stalker's chest, from his left shoulder to his right hip, that tipped her off. They waved at her like old friends.

"Hi, Katia!" they greeted in cheerful unison.

Her board dropped from under her arm.

"Who's that?" Ethan asked. When she didn't reply, he took hold of her arm. "Is that the guy –?"

"Yeah," she admitted. She didn't add that he'd been following her all week.

"And you definitely don't know him?"

She shook her head.

"How does he know your name?"

She could not say.

"Do you want me to talk to them?"

"No." Like most of her problems, she hoped that if she ignored them long enough, they would eventually go away. "There's nothing to say. Let's just get out of here."

She reached the parking lot in time to hear James' voice. It was always a bit squeaky when he was upset. "You ride with Ethan. I can't listen to one more beat of The Burning Prostates."

"The Burning Apostates!" Sam corrected hotly. "Apostates, not prostates. It's about abandoning one's principles of religion and politics."

"It's about abandoning one's principles of good taste. I need more enlightened conversation." James grumbled with a wave of the hand. "Katia, ride with me."

As Katia buckled herself into the passenger seat. James smacked the stereo off. She had no doubt that Sam's music preferences were terrible, but she was also certain that it was not the reason James had opted to take Katia instead. She waited for him to begin. It wasn't until they were nearly there that he finally did.

"Did you see him this week?" His voice quivered like a violin string.

She nodded.

"Was he... with her?"

She nodded again.

He blinked several times very fast, and she focused on the road to give him privacy.

When James pulled into the diner's parking lot, she finally spoke. "Did he say anything to you?"

He closed his eyes. "After two years, he all of a sudden decides he might not be gay. Like you can just turn it off." He opened his eyes and turned to her. "And you know what he told me?"

Katia waited for his answer.

"He told me – " James clenched his eyes shut against the tears. A single one squeezed out from the corner of his eye, and he wiped it away in shame. "He told me that I should try to find a girlfriend too. That it would be good for me to experiment, as if I would... could just suddenly want to."

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. Katia was the only one who knew about James and Peter. There wasn't anyone she would tell, apart from Ethan. James had asked her not to. They were both popular boys at different high schools, and until her discovery, she hadn't even known that they were friends. They purposefully kept it that way. Neither had come out, and though she knew the Mailloux's to be kind and generous, James believed that they would be less so, if they knew.

James' problem was no mere relationship drama, but a devastating lack of freedom.

"I wish I wanted to." His voice was hoarse. "I do. But I can't."

"You don't have to want that, James."

"It just seems like it would be easier."

Katia sighed and unbuckled her seatbelt. She tried to think of a solution, a consolation at the very least.

We're teenagers, James. None of this is easy.

That wouldn't be helpful.

"You're going away for university, right?"

He nodded. "With any luck, far away."

"When you move to a bigger city, you'll meet more people, people you can be yourself around. It won't matter to them. It will be easier," she promised. "It's only a few months away."

"Is that what you're waiting for? Once you get out of here, you'll finally be able to be yourself?"

Katia would never be able to do that. "Sure," she lied.

"You're a terrible liar." James almost smiled, though. "You should apply to the same schools. You'd need a friend in the city."

Katia looked out the window. "That would be good."

"I suppose a lot of cities would be a long way from the ocean," James said, knowing why Katia had evaded answering. "Though I'm not convinced that you really want to be a pro surfer."

She put her hand on the car door. With a rush of sudden feeling, Katia turned to James. "I think you're very brave, James. More than me. Eventually, you're going to have to be brave enough to stop hiding from the people you love – " She pushed open the door. " – The people here. Maybe not now, but at some point. You might be pleasantly surprised."

He got out of the car. "I might end up as popular as you."

Katia snorted. "Low blow."

James caught her by the arm. "Thanks. For listening."

She blushed uncomfortably, and pushed open the door to the diner.

*

Sally's Café was the same haunt they'd always frequented, sitting at the same table, and ordering the same breakfast. Because Sally – the owner and manager – was also James and Sam's mother, she always made sure they had a platter of sliced fruit as well.

Katia wasn't hungry anymore, not with the three young men a few tables away. They'd come in just after she'd settled down, and were sitting at a table facing hers. She ground her toast to crumbs between her fingers as she watched them. They all wore sunglasses, even inside, but every so often, from the tilt of his head and the now-familiar curve of his lip, she could tell that he was watching her. She watched him, too, wondering at his age. He didn't appear more than a year or two older than her, but there was surety in the smile he directed at Sally Mailloux that didn't fit a boy in his late teens. When she approached, he pointed at something on the menu, saying something that made James' mother giggle girlishly. Katia frowned.

"Are you sure you don't want me to say something?" Ethan had noticed them too.

"No," Katia put a hand on his arm to stop him from getting up. "Just leave it."

James glanced up, noticing Katia's discomfort. "Is something wrong?"

"So, what's been going on in the dump?" Sam asked, sparing Katia's reply. Sam always referred to Haidala as 'the dump', not that Jack Creek was in any sense large. There were perhaps a hundred more people living in Jack Creek than Haidala. Then again, Haidala had none of the waves of Jack Creek, thus, none of the appeal.

"Not much," Katia shrugged. "What's been going on in the booming metropolis of Jack Creek?"

"Not much, but infinitely more than your stomping ground, I'm sure. How's your sister?" Sam was always interested in Irina.

"She's pretty good," she replied casually, "I think she's dating someone. Sensitive type, likes books and romantic comedies." She looked up from the smiley-face design she was making with her breakfast- bacon lips, fried-egg eyes, and toast-crust brows- to see the bewilderment plain on his face. A fork hung mid-air between Sam's plate and mouth, forgotten amidst the horrifying revelation that a male could like romantic comedies and females. Beside her, Ethan let out a strangled cough that held the tail end of a laugh.

"Sam's band is playing at the Heron tonight," Ethan glanced at Katia. "You should come."

Sam made an odd choking sound, his cheeks greening. Apparently, he'd been hoping no one would come to the Heron. He excused himself, possibly to go vomit.

"Are they that bad?" She asked as soon as he was out of earshot.

"You don't have to listen to them every day," James replied, dangling a piece of bacon between two fingers. "They sound like they're using their guitar strings to torture hamsters."

"Delightful," she laughed, then remembered; "I don't have my car today. I can't get picked up that late."

"I'll drive you," Ethan offered. He waited until James wandered off to thank Sally for the food before slipping his arm around her shoulder and shooting the three young men a hard look. "You're not getting out of my sight with those three around."

The idea of Ethan protecting her from them was laughable, but his arm was around her, and she found herself agreeing.

Sam's band was, in a word, atrocious. Thankfully, the sound technician had the presence of mind to lower the volume so that people could chat and cheer good-naturedly as the band played their set. Katia stood at a high table with James and Ethan, her sensitive ears particularly tortured.

James was despondent, and it didn't take long to see why. Peter was with a group of friends across the room, paying his new girlfriend every attention.

"You all right, man?" Ethan asked James, noting his misery.

"He's just realized that deafening himself would be permanent," Katia answered quickly.

"It might be worth it," James muttered, coming back to himself.

"They really are shit, aren't they? Not the shit. Just shit," Ethan clarified.

"This is frankly the best I've heard them," James observed.

Mia sauntered over, taking time to glare at Katia before leaning over to kiss Ethan. When he pulled back, she kept her fingers locked around his neck. "Dance?"

"To this?" he replied as if the question were preposterous.

She looked over at Katia, and fluttered her long eyelashes. "Don't you have school tomorrow?"

You need new material. Pretending not to hear, Katia moved her eyes over to the band. Sam was frozen with fear. He didn't seem to be playing his guitar, which was perhaps why they were better than usual. She smiled reassuringly, but Katia wasn't good at lying.

Glancing back at the table, she saw that James had slouched away, and Mia had disappeared. "Where did Mia go?"

"Don't care." Ethan took a sip of beer. "She can be such a bitch."

"Why are you with her, then?" The words tumbled out before she could stop them.

Ethan turned to her, his eyes narrowed.

"Sorry," she mumbled, blushing. "I shouldn't have said that."

"No, Katia," he reached out, grabbing her arm. "I wouldn't. I wouldn't be with her if you – "

He stopped. She prodded. "If I what?"

"I got signed with Sitka," he said. His grip around her arm was soft, but unyielding.

"I figured," Katia said quietly. It was exactly the news she'd been waiting for. She forced out the words. "I'm happy for you."

"Look at me and say that again."

Unable to do so, she watched her fingers as they traced a pattern along the table. "Where?"

"Kauai till Christmas, then South America for eight weeks after New Years. That's all I know for sure."

"When?"

"Next month, most likely."

She nodded. This was what he'd always wanted. She looked at him. "I am happy for you."

"Come with me," he blurted. He wiped his mouth. "They want you too."

Katia's brow furrowed. "They do?"

"They want you more than me. A girl who can actually ride – " With his free hand, he touched her cheek. "With your face?"

"My face?"

He laughed, shaking his head. "Just believe me. They want you. They only signed me because I implied you'd go with me."

She stared at him, gauging the veracity of his claim. It was hard to think with his thumb tracing a line down her neck. "I have to graduate."

"Then we'll wait till summer."

She was bewildered by his willingness to put off the one thing she knew he'd wanted most. "You would wait for me?"

"I've been waiting for you."

He wasn't talking about surfing anymore. Still holding her arm, he used it to pull her closer. "Katia, when are we going to start being honest with each other?"

Katia swallowed. There were too many secrets, too many things she didn't want to say. "Honest about what?"

Ethan looked at her for a long moment. Then he dropped his hand, and picked up his beer. "Nevermind. I'm drunk."

"Katia!" Lorelai slammed her hands down on the table, more to support herself than to jolt them.

Katia turned toward Lorelai, almost grateful for the disturbance.

Lorelai was stupendously drunk. Her blonde hair clung to her face supported by sweat and Teacher's Highland Cream.

"It's not water," Lorelai declared.

"Evidently not," Ethan said.

"I'm not talking to you." Lorelai grabbed Katia's hand. "Atonement's not a bath. I remembered from catechism."

Katia was stuck between trying to imagine Lorelai in a church, and wondering how her friend would be getting home. "Maybe fire, then?"

"I met a boy," Lorelai said.

"A boy?" Katia was admittedly confused.

Ethan snorted. "The beginning of all your problems, Lo."

Lorelai shook her head. "No. He was asking about Katia. Funny, smart, etcetera. All those boxes ticked. In my limited experience, I'd say beautiful. He's over there."

Ethan took another sip of his beer as he turned toward the bar. His annoyed expression rose to one of outrage.

Katia followed his gaze, and her confusion wilted as she saw him, leaning over the bar, chatting with Mia. Mia tilted her head back with laughter and placed a hand on his chest. Katia's stalker caught Mia's hand, and leaned close, whispering in her ear. Mia followed him towards the dance floor. He twirled her close to him, pulling her into a dance that was much too close for decency. Katia's stomach twisted at the wrongness of it. The boy was a terrible dancer.

"That guy is asking for a beating." Ethan was out of his seat, heading towards them. The rigid set of his back displayed the fury she could not see on his face. Ethan shoved the stalker, who barely shifted against the force. The boy backed up with a good-natured grin, both hands in the air.

Katia's chest tightened with something else as she watched Ethan turn to Mia, and the air was suddenly too thick, too warm inside the crowded bar. She turned away, walked across the bar, pushed open the back doors and stepped out into the cool night air.

The Heron sat atop the most treacherous point along the coastline, a chipped yellow-paint meridian and a chain-linked fence separating its parking lot from a small, rocky gorge battered by enormous waves. It was a terribly picturesque setting, and a beautifully dangerous place for intoxicated customers. She breathed deeply, letting the chilly salt spray of the crashing waves sting her eyes, giving excuse for their mist.

Katia heard the door slam behind her, the steps gaining. "Jealousy. Always effective. It gets her to come to me, gets him to stomp over to get her, and gets you... well, it gets you right where I want you." He sounded pleased with himself.

She whirled around furiously. He stood in the shadows; the most evident part of him was the glint of white teeth as he grinned.

"I've been waiting all week for you to come up to me. Why didn't you confront me?"

"It doesn't seem a very appropriate reaction, to give a stalker what they want."

"And yet the most common." He took a step forward. This time, she backed up, so that she was standing in the centre of the light cast down by a street lamp. He stopped just shy of the light's edge. "But you're rather uncommon, aren't you, Katia? You're not like normal girls."

His words were a taunt. Queasiness bubbled inside of her.

"Do you know who you are, Katia?" He stepped into the light, and for the first time, she saw his eyes.

Her heart jumped, but she couldn't move. The sight of him transfixed her. He came closer, his smile fading, but not quite gone. He was less than a foot from her now, and she trembled with something other than fear. Every portion of her substantial intelligence screamed at her to run, but every fibre of her body kept her in place.

"I wouldn't run," he said, sensing her conflict. He indicated over her shoulder with the incline of his chin. "You've got nowhere to go."

She twisted, and noticed for the first time the twins, leaning casually against their vehicle. Flanking them, their drivers hidden by the bright beams, were two more large vehicles.

"We're even faster than you," he said, leaning forward so the laughter was tangible in the breaks of his breath.

She averted her eyes as she asked the one question she'd up till then declined to pose, refusing to give him the satisfaction. "What do you want?"

He smiled, satisfied. "We should start with an introduction. I'm Holden." He offered a hand. She stared at it like it might have been a grenade, and considered her options. He tilted his head curiously. "Do I frighten you?"

"You've been stalking me all week. Excuse me for not chomping at the bit to shake your hand, you idiot," she snapped.

"Feisty underneath that calm façade," he leered like he knew her precisely. "Do you ever worry you might snap? Or should I say, snap again?"

She took a breath, knowing this was not someone she could fight off. She tried to step around him, but he moved with her, blocking her path. He was standing between her and the Heron. The idling vehicles grumbled menacingly. She wouldn't be able to get around him. In order to flee, she would have to turn back, over the fence and into the deadly water.

"I'm going home," she declared with forced calm.

"Do you need a ride?" he asked. "Your friend Ethan is over the legal limit. He can't drive you home."

"Leave him alone," she warned flatly, her fists curling.

His mouth twisted into a hard, straight line. "What makes you think I have any interest in him?"

"Then leave me alone," she growled, voice rising.

"I'm trying to be pleasant, Katia," he said, the edge of his voice a thready warning.

"Well, you are terrible at it," she observed.

"Fine," he said, taking a step towards her. She stepped backwards, in sync like a dance. He looked as annoyed as she felt. "We'll do this the hard way."

In a flash of decision, she twisted, sprinting towards the treacherous gorge. She knew that only someone with experience could follow her down there, and that no one in their right mind would follow her into the waves that crashed high against the rocks below.

She sprinted across the parking lot, leaping with one foot onto the meridian and using it to launch herself up the chain-linked fence, her palms digging into the sharp steel ends that formed barbed spikes along the fence's upper border. Biting through the pain, she vaulted over the fence and dropped down to the other side, her sandals slipping off as she scrambled down the wet rocks. She stopped at the edge of the drop, and glanced over her shoulder to see him loping with unnatural grace across the treacherous terrain, having followed her easily over the fence. She leapt foot-first into the black, churning water.

The waves thrashed around her, pressing her down, and she flowed with it, feeling her way along the rocks that she was pushed into. When the water finally calmed, she kicked up, gasping and staring back through the dark. She'd travelled two hundred meters under water, and had popped up near a sandy beach that fell into black forest. It took her a moment to realize she was at Long Beach.

She dug her feet into the sand, and staggered out of the water, she gasped from both need and relief. Her palms stung with pain from where she'd pierced herself on the fence. The street was beyond the tree line, just a few hundred meters away, and Ethan's house was on the other side. Joe must have been home. If she could just get there, she would be safe.

"Hey!"

She twisted, more out of shock than common sense. He'd emerged from the water, dripping and very angry. He stalked towards her. It wasn't possible. No one could navigate those waters without knowing them first. No one was as fast as her.

"Damn," he swore. "You're faster than I thought."

Terror prickling through her like ice, she turned and sprinted across the beach, towards the tree line, and through the uncut forest, acutely aware of his steps behind hers.

She reached the street just as the black vehicle barrelled toward her. It occurred to her that the driver should not have known that she had ended up in this spot. The breaks screeched and the twins were out of the car an instant later, leaving the headlights on.

Time slowed down. Behind her, Holden was advancing. In a handful of heartbeats, he would be upon her. In two strides, she was half way across the street. Ethan's house was only fifty meters away, mere seconds.

But she knew that reaching his house wouldn't stop them. They would follow her into the Castile house, and then it wouldn't only be herself in danger. She froze in the beam of the headlights, and turned to face him.

Holden, not expecting her sudden stop, almost slammed into her. His breath blew hot against her neck. "Look at me."

She willed herself not to cry as she took one last look Ethan's house, and turned to face Holden. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because," his voice was hard and desperate as he grabbed only her hands, locking his fingers into hers, pressing his palms against her bloody ones. "You need to know."

The sensation was immediate. She sucked in a breath of shock as the electricity flowed from him to her, and her to him, a current through their skins. Their eyes met, and she saw that he was as shocked as her. He loosened his fingers, but their palms seemed glued together. The charge sent unknown energy through them both, it built and built, racing through their bodies, and then, just as it felt like she might explode, the force of it threw them apart.

She didn't remember flying through the air, or hitting the asphalt. Seconds later, she came to, breath punched out of her, head hazy from the impact, her ears ringing like bells. As her breath came back, slowly, painfully, she became aware of a peculiar, pricking sensation in the palms of her hands, then, a dull heat that radiated up her arms. The pain became more acute, stronger, and it spread like wildfire down her back, racing down to her toes, before shooting back up to her chest, sending her heart fluttering like a hummingbird's wings, before finally hitting her head like a thunderclap. She screamed as her hands flew to her temples, cradling her head in agony. She curled into a ball, moaning, but the pain was too much to bear.

Her arms went limp, her vision darkened, and through the fading light, she saw Holden staring at her from a few feet away, a traumatized expression on his face. She could tell that whatever he'd been expecting when he went to shake her hand, it hadn't been what just happened. She led her gaze downwards, towards the source of the pain that now consumed her. Just before she blacked out, she noticed, without really registering, that her palms were smoking.