These two had no real understanding of doing anything alone. They had come together at such a young age that they knew of no world but the one they inhabited alongside each other.

But they were not twins. And they had no illusions that they were, despite what their mother pretended in polite company. Each one of the children knew how Hud had joined the family. June had always told the kids the story with a sense of awe and destiny. She told them sometimes wild circumstances help fate unfold.

Jay and Hud. An apple and an orange. They did not have the same abilities or wear the same virtues. And yet, they still belonged side by side.

Jay coasted until his body hit the sand. Hud got clobbered at the last second, the wave turning him over and over in its grasp until he got his bearings and stood up. He looked to find Jay.

It felt as if Jay would always be the one who had made it to the sand and Hud would be the one thrown off the wave. But even before ten years old, Hud was managing this, redirecting his interests.

“Nice one!” Hud said, giving Jay a thumbs-up. This was something Hud took pride in, his lack of ego, his ability to appreciate the success of others, even when he had failed. His mother called it “good character.”

Jay pointed out to the distance. Nina and Kit were coming in on a second wave. Nina had chosen a slow one, a small one. One that a six-year-old like Kit could handle. Nina was not looking at the shoreline or at Jay or at Hud. She was watching her sister, making sure if Kit went under, she knew where. Kit, even then, was irritated by her gaze.

They rode the calm wave in and were kicked off it only when they lost their momentum and landed butt first on the wet sand.

The four kids stood there in the shallow water, about to go back out, when Jay happened to spot a lone surfboard resting against the grassy dunes to their left. Pale yellow with a cherry red stringer, beat up across the deck, the board stood there casually, as if it was waiting for someone.

“What if we surfed?” Jay asked.

These kids had been watching people on surfboards for as long as they could remember. There were surfers all down the waterline at that very moment, riding waves along the shore from cove to cove.

“We are surfing,” Nina told him.

“No, with a surfboard,” Jay said, as if Nina could not possibly get any dumber.

They didn’t have money for a surfboard. They had just enough money to pay the bills and eat three square meals a day. There was no money for new toys, new clothes. Nina was well aware of this. She was aware that, some months even the necessities weren’t a guarantee. Children who grow up with money have no idea it exists. But children who don’t understand that it powers everything.

“We are never going to have surfboards,” Nina said.

“But what if we used that surfboard?” Jay said, pointing to the one that remained unclaimed.

“That isn’t ours,” Nina said.

“But what if,” Jay said, walking over to it, “we just used it for a few minutes.” Two preteen girls in crochet bikinis were in the process of laying down a blanket, preparing to sunbathe. Jay and Hud were both momentarily distracted.

“What are we gonna do when the guy who owns it comes looking for it?” Hud asked, pulling himself away.

“I don’t know.” Jay shrugged.

“That’s your plan?” Kit said. “‘I don’t know’?”

“If he shows up and wants it back, we’ll say we’re sorry,” Jay said. And before Nina could tell him no, he ran to the board and put his arms around it.

“Jay—” Nina began.

But Jay was already dragging it toward the waterline. He laid it down in the water, maneuvered himself on top of it, and began to paddle.

“Jay, come on,” Nina shouted. “You shouldn’t do this! It’s lunchtime anyway, we should go back in!”

“No way! Mom said to stay out here!” Jay shouted back.

Nina looked at Hud, and Hud shrugged. Nina grabbed Kit’s hand.

Kit took her hand reluctantly, and looked up at Nina, watching her sister’s face scrunch into tiny folds. “Can I go out there, too? I want to try,” Kit asked.

“No,” Nina said, shaking her head. “It’s not safe.”

“But Jay is doing OK,” Kit said.

Jay was now past the breakers, but he was having trouble handling the full weight of the board. It was hard to turn, hard to control. And then he couldn’t get his legs around it quite right. The deck was wider than his straddle.

Nina grew more and more anxious with every second. He could fall off, he could lose the board, he could break his leg or his hand or go under. Nina quietly calculated how she would save him, or what she would say if the owner showed up, how she could handle all of this if it went south.

“I’m going out there,” Kit said, taking her hand from Nina’s and running into the water. Nina grabbed Kit with both arms and held her back.

“You always catch me,” Kit said, aggrieved.

“You always run away,” Nina said, smiling.

“Look, he’s got it,” Hud said, pointing at Jay.

Jay was standing on the board but then he swiftly slipped back, falling into the water. The board floated toward them with the current, as if it didn’t need him to catch a wave. Nina waited for Jay to pop his head out of the water. And it was only once he did that she dared to take another breath.

By the time Jay made his way back to them, Hud had grabbed the board and saved it.

“Nina,” Hud said, pushing the board over to her. “Take it.”

“Just put it back where it was,” Nina replied.

“Take it out!” Kit said.

Jay made his way back, put his hands on the board as if it was his.

“No,” Hud said. “Nina’s gonna take it out.”

“No, I’m not.”

“No, she’s not,” Jay said, taking it again. “I am.”

“You’re not either,” Nina said.

“Yes, I am.”

And it was then—this one moment in time—that Nina realized things were going to happen whether she relaxed or not. Whether she rode the surfboard herself or just watched Jay do it, the surfboard wasn’t going back where it belonged. And so, Nina put her hands on the board. “Fine, I’m taking it.”

Jay looked at her, stunned. He took his hands off of it. “It’s heavy,” he said.

“All right,” Nina said.

“And it’s hard to balance,” he said.

“All right.”

“When you fall off, it’s my turn again,” he said.

“Lay off, Jay,” Hud said.

And Jay did.

Nina laid her body across the board and stretched her arms as far as they would go to paddle out. It was harder to get past the waves on the board. She kept getting pushed back, having to start all over again. But then she pushed her chest up off the board when the next wave came for her, the crest of it hitting her chest instead of her face, and she finally busted through.

She turned herself around, pushed her arms up, sat down on the board. She could feel it teeter underneath her and she straightened herself out.

When a wave approached, Nina weighed her options. She could try to stand up on the board or she could lie down and ride it in that way. Having watched Jay fall trying to stand up, she decided to lie low. Just before the wave bloated underneath her, Nina started paddling as hard as she could. When she felt the water lift her, she didn’t let up. She kept swimming until suddenly she couldn’t swim anymore. Because she was in the air.