Chasing Xaris Read Online Free PDF

whitewash. I dug my heels into the board’s edge and shot up the face. My board’s nose stuck straight up in the air. Swinging my hips, I whacked my board down into another bottom turn.
    Wind and water whipped around me. The wave’s power surged under my feet. Bliss.
    I carved the face of the wave and rode the whitewater the rest of the way. In the shallow water, I took off my leash and picked up my board. Farther out, Ari was trying my vertical backhand snap. He got caught at the top of the wave and fell into the whitewash. His board shot forward without him.
    I smiled, savoring his defeat, and trotted up the beach. Jordan was stepping out of the water when I passed the pier.
    My feet slowed before I realized what I was doing.
    “Leaving already?” Jordan asked.
    “Grandpa,” I said simply. “You?”
    “I have to give my report in Mr. Whit’s class today. Still have to finish.”
    “You’re not ready?”
    “All the slides are done. I just have to add some pictures.” Jordan shook out his blond hair, flicking me with water. “See you in class, Miss Bloom.” He gave me a quick pat on the arm and sprinted up the beach toward his yellow pickup in the parking lot. It always amazed me how much Jordan moved like a wave when he ran—fluid, bobbing, and inexplicably fast.
    I watched him go, then began the run back to my grandparents’ house. I breathed in the salty air and let my thoughts turn to Jordan. The guy did like to use pictures on his school reports. One time he’d used a photo of his uncle’s black lab in a report on President Andrew Jackson.
    And then an image flashed across my mind—Jordan pointing to a picture of a wheel with a blue rim, green spokes, and a bright blue center. The same symbol as Ari’s tattoo.
    My feet moved faster beneath me.
    What had Jordan been presenting on? I tried to remember more of his slides but nothing came. The presentation had been over a year ago.
    I groaned in frustration and hurried the rest of the way to my grandparents’ house. I texted Jordan, but he didn’t respond. Which meant I’d have to catch him before class. So I rushed through my morning routine, ate a quick breakfast with Gran and The Weather Channel, and then drove to school.
    Once I’d parked, I made a bee line for the picnic tables. Jordan wasn’t there or by his locker. I went to Mr. Whit’s classroom next, thinking that maybe Jordan had headed to class early. He hadn’t.
    I walked back to my desk and saw that Mr. Whit was reading another book with yellowed maps of Florida. He was so absorbed that he didn’t even notice me as I sat down and waited.
    Jordan didn’t slip into the classroom until the bell was ringing. I kept sneaking glances at him while other students presented. My fingers itched to text him, but Mr. Whit would totally see if I did.
    “And now we’ll be hearing from Jordan Lane,” Mr. Whit announced, from his stool behind me.
    “You lucky class,” Jordan said, rising to his feet.
    I smiled and several people laughed. Winnie wasn’t one of them.
    At the front of the room, Jordan pulled up his report on the computer. He cleared his throat and launched into his report on the Lusitania , a British ocean liner sunk by a German U-boat during World War I. He had a smattering of pictures to accompany his report—the ship at port, the stern-looking captain, and a random picture of a sea otter. Still, despite the otter, the report was well-researched and Jordan was a natural speaker.
    “ Gracias Jordan,” Mr. Whit said. “Thank you for building that bridge from the past to the present. I think we’ve all learned a little more.”
    “About sea otters,” Winnie muttered.
    The bell rang and Mr. Whit dismissed us. Jordan jumped to his feet and left without even glancing in my direction.
    I felt a slight pang, but then I reminded myself that Jordan and I weren’t close anymore. We’d talked yesterday and this morning, but that didn’t reverse all the ways I’d rejected him