1989
She stepped into the wetsuit. It had long sleeves and legs, covering her completely. They could have been preparing for somewhere much colder than Lake Murray in April. Struggling with the zipper, she finally got it closed from navel to neck. She felt exotic like a sea lion or one of those hotdogs from The North with the casing.
She'd never been to The North, but that's how she thought of it: The North. And she'd never have dared to eat one of those foreign hotdogs. Her family had staunch opinions on how hotdogs should be. They were in the business after all.
"Do you want the green or the blue?" he asked pointing to the jetskis. Their friends floated on rafts near the dock. David held up his Miller Lite and yelled, "Green! Always the green. It's the fastest, and the blue one stalls. He wants you to choose the blue one."
"Asshole," he muttered towards David, but she could tell by his smile what David had said was true. "Okay, you remember how to start?"
"' Course." She slipped into the water near the green jetski.
"Get it, Pam," Crystal called holding up her Big Gulp cup filled with Mountain Dew plus something alcoholic. They were 18 and not picky. There was clear alcohol or brown alcohol. Period.
You could always drink at the lake house. His dad was divorced. She didn't know many divorced people. That was exotic too. And his dad was at work today. Her dad would've been watching from the window making sure everyone was safe, while her mom washed dishes and told him to relax. But no one was at this window. Too much "exotic" could feel unsettling.
She pushed the jetski away from the dock and treaded water. Then, lying on the black foot pad and reaching for the handlebars, she twisted the gas grip a little. It eased forward, her legs trailing behind in the water.
When she felt ready, she gave it more gas. It reminded her of driving her old moped-- if her moped had been made for a sea lion or coney island hotdog. Finally, she gunned it a little, pulled her knees up under her, then popped up to a stand. She was doing it. And she had gotten up as fast as him, and faster than David or the other guys. She never said things like that aloud, but that didn't mean she didn't notice.
She flew along bumping over boat wakes, bending her knees slightly to take the waves smoothly. Cutting a circle back towards the group, she prepared. They were cheering and waving. As she got closer, their eyes widened. She steered right towards them, but at the last minute, cut the other direction hard. She pushed the tail of the jetski as deep as it would go. The water sprayed a perfect rooster tail over the entire group, dock, towels and coolers.
When she stopped they were dripping and whooping. She smiled smugly. Definitely the biggest spray of the day.
Just then, an odd whiny noise caught everyone's attention. They looked towards the center of the lake. A vehicle was passing in the distance. It was sort of like a jetski, but also not at all like one. The group grew silent. What in the world was that bulky monstrosity? Two passengers rode, one seated behind the other. They steered it like a motorcycle. No one stood. Where was the sport in that?
"What is THAT?" she asked.
"They're new," he said somberly. I guess they're for people who can't jetski. They're called Waverunners." The group watched quietly until it was out of sight.
"Ew," she said.
"Yeah...ew."
Not exotic.