Olivia Christakos And Her Second First Time - Plot & Excerpts
Not too many people showed up, and that was okay. I didn’t want to see anyone else I knew. His parents, grandparents, me, my family and of course Steven Marcon, who’d recently begun insisting we call him Steve-O, sat in fold-up chairs under a tent in the hot sand. Well, I wasn’t sitting among them. I was sitting out of the tent on the sand, trying to get some sun. My parents had bought Wyatt a skateboard. I’d tried to talk them out of it—he didn’t skateboard—but we couldn’t think of anything else to get him. “He’ll learn and he’ll love it,” my dad had said in Wal-Mart and I shrugged. Wyatt’s face paled as he unwrapped it but his smile never faltered. My mom turned and smiled at me like, see, he likes it! But I could read his eyes. He was scared of the damn thing. Scared. I wanted to laugh at him, as arty stuff like film and sketchbooks surrounded him. He had his new fancy camera strapped around his neck and he was engrossed in all the buttons and screen options.
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