f i v e

*

San Diego is beautiful. Almost painfully so, knowing that we'll hardly be here any time at all. On the way to the beach, Sam drove us up to the Mount Soledad cross and we all walked around in virtual silence. Part sleepy; part awestruck. Arjun didn't say a word as we walked around the base of the huge cross and he crouched down to take a photo, and I felt no need to break the silence.

Not until we pull up at the beach, and we tip out into what has to be a photograph. White sands and palm trees; a calm blue ocean. The stuff of daydreams. Except ... not. This is real. The sand between my bare toes is soft and white and real. The cloudless sky is really there; so is the ridiculously picturesque sea.

After I've taken five hundred thousand photos and sent a few to my family chat, I let out a quiet, "Holy fuck."

"Bit late for that," Arjun says. "The cross was way back there."

His joke sails over my head at first, and I'm too distracted to appreciate it anyway. Ogling the perfection before me, I idly follow the rest of the group to an undisturbed patch of beach.

Young-mi sidles over, utter awe on her face. She almost walks straight into me, she's so transfixed on the sea, and her hand flies up to her mouth. "Oh! I'm so sorry, March!" she says. She pronounces my name like mash. Scooping jet black hair off her face and tying it away from her neck, she beams at the beach and says, "I've never been to the ocean."

"Really? Never?"

"I never left Chongqing. Until now," she says. Her eyes are bright and full of life and she tears her gaze away from the sea to look at me. "Not that I remember, anyway."

"Oh?" I look at her, but she's staring at the sea with a childish grin.

"I was born in Gangneung, in South Korea," she says. "So close to sea. But we move when I was small, to the middle of China. Long, long way to the sea." She lets out a heavy sigh and shakes her head. "You're from England, yes? You have the beach there."

"Yeah. It's not like this though," I say. "It's usually cold and grey. Pretty sad. This is, like, a whole new meaning to the idea of a beach."

"This is amazing." Young-mi sheds her flip-flops where Sam has laid down his towel and she runs to the sea, and I can hear her laugh when she splashes into the water. The twins join her and I'm not sure where everyone else is, but suddenly Sam and I are alone together.

"Hey, man," Sam says, shading his eyes to look up at me. He's sitting on a towel, elbows on his knees and his feet in the sand. "How's it going?"

I sit, mimicking his position. The whiteness of the sand makes my feet look even browner. The Californian sun seems stronger than whatever pathetic British iteration I've grown up with, because I look more and more like my mother with every day. I wiggle my toes and say, "It's going well. This is ... I don't have the words. It's amazing."

"Right?" Sam lets out a happy sigh and leans back on his elbows, stretching out his legs and crossing his ankles. He seems right at home here, and he has the look of a surfer dude to match. Long hair tied in a shaggy bun, and baggy clothes, but well-maintained stubble.

"So," he continues, "I like to get to know all of my trekkers – especially as we're gonna be together for the next, like, twelve days – and you've escaped me so far. I hope you're up to being DJ at some point. Everyone's gotta take a turn as co-pilot."

"Sure," I say, "if you don't mind being subjected to a mix of early-noughties UK top forty hits and American country."

"Oh man, that is my jam," he says with a grin. He pulls on a cap, tilting it to shade his eyes from the powerful sun. "So, how're you holding up? What brings you to the golden state? You're my youngest trekker, man!"

Not by much, I think. Arjun is only eight months older than me, and I don't think there's much age difference between us and Young-mi. I dig my feet deeper into the deliciously warm sand and look out at the sea, where Kristin and Klara have persuaded each other to dunk themselves in the water. Young-mi, it appears, needed no encouragement.

"I'm taking a gap year," I say. "This seemed like a good way to kick it off."

"Late decision?"

"Hmm?" I meet his eye.

"You were pretty late booking – only, like, a month ago, right? I just thought maybe it was a late decision, taking a gap year."

"Oh, no, no," I say, shaking my head. "I always wanted to do a gap year. Maybe a gap five years. But this, yeah ... this was a bit of an impulse booking. Alcohol was involved."

"I've been there," he says with a knowing laugh. "What made up your mind?"

"Nasty break-up," I say, hoping I can keep it as vague as possible. I don't really want to dig into the core of my issues, and I'd rather not taint this beach with a conversation that'll bum me out. I focus on Young-mi instead, splashing in the sea like a child, and hope Sam won't probe too deeply.

"Ah." Sam looks at me, then holds up his hand. "Say no more. But, you know what they say."

I don't. I have no idea what he's hinting at, and my confusion must be evident on my face because he cracks a grin and says, "The best cure for a broken heart is a two-week camping trip in a foreign country with a bunch of strangers."

I laugh, my chest feeling lighter. "You know, somehow I've missed that highly specific saying. It's a good one, though. And hopefully accurate," I say, holding up crossed fingers.

"Well, I can tell you one thing, man. I've been doing this gig for six years. I don't even know how many trips I've led, but I do know that I've seen broken hearts mended by travel. Before you know it, you'll be falling in love again–"

I'm about to protest with a wrinkled nose, but he's not done.

"–with the grand old US of A. America, baby. She's not perfect, but she's my heart and soul." He places his hand over his chest and closes his eyes, and for an alarming moment I think he's about to sing the national anthem. Thankfully, he doesn't burst into song, just sighs as though he's in heaven as a blissful smile breaks out over his lips.

I hear the soft swish of feet slipping in sand. We won't be alone for long, and I crane my neck to see that it's Arjun approaching, with an icy bottle of water dripping condensation. Before he reaches us, Sam meets my eye.

"You ever need to talk, you can have both my ears," he says. "One thing this job has taught me is how to listen, and that sometimes it helps to share with someone you'll never see again once the trek's over."

"Thanks, Sam. I appreciate that."

"Any time, March." He salutes me and pulls himself into a sitting position as Arjun arrives, dropping onto the sand and twisting open the water, half of which is gone in one thirsty glug.

"God, I needed that," he says. His voice is somehow relaxing, so rich and steady. "Oh, and I met your next girlfriend."

"Huh?"

"The girl selling water is called May," he says with a straight face that doesn't last, dissolving into a wry chuckle. "You never know, you might find a whole set. Though I guess half the months aren't really names ... I bet there are some Junes and Julys around, though."

"And Augusts," I say, watching for his reaction. The slightest twitch of his eyebrows, a flicker of understanding, that he tamps down. He reinforces his grin and finishes off his water.

"True." He nods. "Might even spot a January. And I once knew a girl called November. Or if you're really up for a challenge, look out for someone called, like, Violin. Or Piano."

I stare, lips pursed. "Ok, you've lost me," I say after a moment, wondering if there was an interim sentence that I missed, something to link the two. But I don't think I'm that bad at zoning out, no matter how much my dad rolls his eyes at me for forgetting to listen.

"Marcello," Arjun says. "Ever thought about Cello being your nickname, rather than March?"

He speaks so drily, his voice so serious, and it's such a juxtaposition with what he's actually saying that an involuntary laugh splutters out, catching me by surprise. His lips twitch and he lies down, as though his job is done – he made me laugh.

"What brings you to my homeland, Arjun?" Sam asks. He's got us all down pat already.

Arjun's lying on his back with his eyes closed and his hands crossed over his stomach, and he doesn't move when he says, "Making the most of my time as a free man before the shackles of life wrap around my wrists once more."

That shuts Sam up, who raises his eyebrows and opens his mouth, but no words come out. After a moment, he asks, "Are we talking about work or relationships or..." He trails off, waiting for Arjun to fill in the blank.

"Education," he says. "I'm trying to avoid dwelling on the inevitable next step in my scholastic adventure by filling my final months with fun."

I don't know what to say and neither does Sam.

Arjun sits up on his elbows, biceps flexing. I guess I was too tired yesterday to notice that he's pretty ripped, tight muscles beneath dark brown skin. All of a sudden I wish I'd bought a bottle of water too.

"Also," he says, "my ex called me boring and said I'd never do anything like this, so. Here I am. Partly savouring my summer; partly proving Taylor wrong."

He keeps talking, but I zone out. Not because he's boring, but because my mind has snagged on the name and my gut twists, my cheeks suddenly warm. Taylor. All I can think is ... girl or a guy?

It doesn't matter. It's none of my business. I push the question from my mind and turn my cheeks to the sun as Sam and Arjun keep talking, their conversation drifting to the trip itinerary before I zone out and find myself in my own world.

I've always been a daydreamer. It exasperates my parents, who have to log in with me to be sure I'm listening, and it exasperates me – I don't intentionally drift away with the fairies – but it always amused George. Any time he noticed my eyes glaze over, he would slip ridiculous sentences into whatever he was saying, until something snagged my attention.

He'd love it here. My heart aches and I instinctively rub my chest, as though there's some physical wound I can soothe. But I've tried. There isn't. It's all inside, which is so much worse. I've had more than my fair share of cuts and scrapes and broken bones, and I'd take the worst of those over this.

This awful, gut-wrenching feeling that rears up out of nowhere and grips me in a headlock, pressing down on my chest until it's hard to breathe.

My anguish is probably evident on my face. I force myself to my feet and mumble something about the sea, leaving my phone with Arjun, and I head to the shore. The shallow water is warm on my feet and I wade out until the gentle waves are lapping my calves. Young-mi, Kristin and Klara are a few metres further out; Young-mi waves me over and I inch over, forcing George from my head.

It isn't easy. He's been a main player in my thoughts for seven years. So many of my memories are centred around him. My entire high school experience features him; he was the focal point of my social life; he was the first guy I loved.

I make it to the girls and I notice Young-mi is the only person in the group who's shorter than me: the twins are tall, at least five foot eight, and Adedayo and Brannan are both over six feet. Standing next to Carrie last night, our eyes were level.

"The water is warm!" Young-mi cries out, speckling her glasses with water when she pushes her frames up her nose. "I can't wait to live here."

The warmth of the water is weird. I'm used to the ice-cold shock to the system that is every English beach I've been to, when it's a challenge to run in and out of the water without ending up with hypothermia. Last time we went as a family, Flo and I challenged each other to stay in the water and both ended up stiff-limbed and blue-lipped, shivering so hard we could hardly talk.

This is no English beach.

"You're so lucky," I say, wading in the thigh-high water. "You can go to the beach every day."

"I will." She sighs and spreads out her arms, turning her face to the sun. "This is heaven."

Her glee is contagious and I find my worries melting away, dissolved by the salty water of the Pacific Ocean. I've only ever known the cold greyness of the North Sea and the English Channel.

This, for now, is my reality. George is six thousand miles away, along with half of my heart. But I'm right here with the other half, and I'm still going. The sun is hot on my shoulders and my face and I close my eyes and mimic Young-mi's position, palms up to the sky.

I'm not sure I believe in heaven, but if I did,this would not disappoint.

When I look back at the beach, Arjun is standing close to the water with my phone in his hand, taking photos. When he notices me noticing him, he grins and yells, "I thought you might want to remember this!"

I wade back to him, stumbling against the gentle tide and almost falling flat on my face a few times, and he shows me the photos. They're really good. Somehow, he's angled it so I look like I'm the only one in the sea, my eyes closed as I look to the sky.

"That's amazing," I say, shading my eyes to look at it. "Thank you."

"Anytime. I love taking photos. My sister's a big believer in soaking up the world away from a camera, but I like to capture every moment so I can scroll back through my memories."

He passes me my phone, and I instantly post the photo as my second check-in on Facebook. The first was when I landed in L.A., cue a bunch of confused comments from my cousins, who had no idea I'd flown out.

I've lost track of what time it is back home, but I get a notification of a like almost immediately. I expect it to be Mum, who seems to always be up when I am, but it's not. I have to squint, even with enlarged font, to see the notification that says Lily Gupta liked your photo!

Lily's the only person from my year who I've kept in touch with since finishing school, aside from George, and she also happens to be an ex. The second of three, and the other half of possibly my most successful relationship. We lasted from the end of Year Ten until the summer after Year Eleven, and we're still on good terms. Evidently, considering we're still friends, and she likes my post, and then comments.

Lily Gupta commented on your photo: omg!! so jealous!! If I'd known you were going to Cali I would've hidden in your suitcase!

I laugh and give her comment a heart, and I take a moment to remind myself that Lily kind of broke my heart too, that I loved her too, as much as fifteen-year-olds can be in love, but I moved on from her. Surely I can move on from George too.

*

i hope you like this! I have found myself counting down the minutes until posting time, I get so excited to be sharing this story!

As I mentioned, I'll be posting photos from the time I did this trip. Most are mine, some are borrowed from the people I did the trip with. Here's a snapshot of San Diego!