Rebecca sat at the beach, her feet in the sand, taking a break from the waves. She should probably be home studying for the SATs, but she really couldn’t care less about them.
She knew she should, at the very least, give herself options for the future.
But college didn’t really call her name. She didn’t even know what she wanted to do.
The only thing that really gave her joy in life was surfing.
Becca looked at the flyer in her bag, the one for the surf competition in a few months. The first of many. It was a new year, a time to start living her life without her mother’s constant judgment.
She was good enough.
She could do it.
Picking up her surfboard, she ran back into the ocean, a sense of freedom filling her up.
She would do it.
Later, Becca got home, happy to see Carmilla in the kitchen cooking alongside her father. It was a picture she had never seen at home, of both parents laughing and smiling as they cooked together.
Sometimes, Becca often wondered if her parents had ever loved each other.
“Hey, Dad,” she said, walking by them to get to the patio to put her board out to dry. “I filled the tank up on my way home.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” he said, taking the keys from her.
“It’s fine. It’s the least I could do for using the car.”
Her father came over and kissed her on the forehead. “Well, thank you. Mijita. Now take a shower. Your brother will be home from school soon, and Carmilla and I have dinner done shortly.”
She nodded. She talks to her father during dinner, after she washes off the salt water and sand.
It took her a while to really scrub her long, brown hair to get all the sand out of it. It was one of the things she hated about surfing, how her long hair coiled around the salt, brine, and sand and took forever to get out. But her mother had never let her change it, besides getting small trims here and there, having short hair was an “Unattractive look.”
But her mother couldn’t control her anymore.
She set up the table, her heart racing, the flyer hidden under her placemat.
“Hola hermanita,” said her brother. She was glad he was back at school, ending his leave a semester early.
“Hola. How was school?”
“Ugh. Remind me why I’m going back to college?” He laughed. “It was cool. Just have to find my groove again. I’m trying to see about doing some Zoom classes while I find a place on campus. I hate the Miami commute, let me tell you.”
“Dinner’s ready!” called her father from the kitchen, bringing out the last platter of food.
Everyone sat down, and while everyone started eating and talking about their day, Becca sat there, her heart racing.
“Yo, hermanita, everything okay?”
Everyone stopped to look at her. Not quite how she wanted the dinner to go.
“Um,” she began pulling the flyer out. “Yeah. I just, they were handing out these flyers at the beach.” She handed it to her father. “It’s a surf competition and, well, I wanted to enter.”
Her father took the flyer and studied it.
“The entry fee is $25, and I really want to do this. I have some money saved up from allowances, so I can pay it. I just, well, I want to enter, and since I’m still underage, I need the signature of a parent or guardian.”
Wringing her hands together under the table, she looked around at everyone just watching her before settling on her father’s smiling face.
“Okay. If this is something you really want, I’ll even pay for it.”
“Really?”
He nodded, handing her the flyer back. “I know it’s something you’re passionate about, so I want to support you.”
“Pro surfer Rebecca Peña coming your way,” said her brother with a loud woot woot at the end.
She smiled. Pro surfer, now there’s an idea.
“I also want to cut my hair. Carmina, can you, after dinner?”
Carmilla stared at her, eyes wide, a warm, welcoming smile on her face.
“Of course.”
So they did.
Sitting on a stool in the kitchen, her brother and father watching from the doorway, it was like a weight had lifted off her shoulders.
And it was the shortest pixie cut, complete with bangs, a look her mother would never in a million years have let her get.
Carmilla did everything for her, including blowing it out.
In the mirror, she looked like a new person. And it felt good.
Order ‘New Girl,’ the first in my YA Romance series.

Donate with Paypal
Help Cyn’s Workshop improve and grow with a one-time donation. Donations go towards equipment, writing suppliments and giveaways to the bookish community.
$1.00



