Part 2 - And we thanked the good Lord for the afternoon..

Eventually they tired of the game and someone suggested a chicken war. So Andrea climbed on Marco’s shoulders and Chelsea got up on Brandon, and the girls each tried to push the other off.
By the time they emerged from the waves and trudged across the sand to their bags, the sun was high in the sky, and their stomachs told them it was time for lunch.
“So what’d you make us for lunch, girls?” Brandon teased, eying the sandwiches Chelsea produced from her pink and white polka-dotted beach bag.
“That is so chauvinist; like we’d bother bringing anything for you!” Andrea retorted.
Chelsea smiled and passed Brandon a package of Oreo cookies. He took them and stuck his tongue out at Andrea. She pouted.
“Thanks, Chels, you just made me look bad!”
“Sorry. I brought extra for everyone.”
“Well, I’m telling you it’s a waste of cookies. He’ll scarf those down in a second and then beg for more. Guys are such overeaters, and they pretend its all ‘muscle food’.”
“Hey, you can’t complain, your lunch is bigger than ours!” Marco inserted.
Andrea looked down at her foot-and-a-half long sub bursting with ingredients, two bags of chips and two doughnuts. She shrugged, a sheepish smile on her face.
“The sea air makes me hungry.” She ripped open a bag of chips and crunched down on one to prove her point.
Brandon shook his head and took a bite of his burrito. Chelsea looked down at her ham-and-lettuce sandwich for a moment and then cleared her throat.
“Um, would you mind if we prayed first?”
“Oops,” came out of three mouths, and three pairs of hands set three lunches down and folded themselves.
“Thank you. Marco, would you mind praying?”
“Yeah, sure. Uh, Thanks God for the day, for the time together, for the food…and...yeah…Amen.”
Lunch passed with the usual amount of smart quips, chip-stealing and flirty fighting. When it was over, the boys very courteously left the mess of bags and crumbs to the gracious ladies and ran off to try their luck at surfing. The gracious ladies stretched out and tanned.
The beach had been fairly empty during the morning; the only other visitor was an old lady with a yappy dog and a metal detector. Now, as the day lengthened and the sun grew hotter, a few more people began to appear. A couple who’s bleach-blond hair, white and red complexion and Hawaiian outfits shouted ‘tourists’ talked loudly to each other and took pictures. A fat man in a Speedo just stood there, laughed, munched on a hot dog, laughed some more. Then he walked up to the water, dropped his hotdog right where Brandon was doggy-paddling on his board, and laughed so hard his enormous stomach jiggled and bumped Marco on his way toward the towels.
The boys looked at him in disgust while they lay down on their towels beside the girls.
“Retard,” muttered Brandon as he shook his head over Chelsea, splattering drops of water on her.
“Did you just call her a retard?” Andrea was all over him.
“Not her, that obese dope who’s still busting his gut over there.”
“Brandon, that’s mean!” Chelsea scolded, ignoring the shower from his hair.
“Whatever.”
“Waste of a hotdog,” Marco put in his two cents.
“Waste of a human being.”
Andrea tried to glare at him while hiding a giggle. Chelsea just looked at him for a moment, and then turned away. Brandon shifted uncomfortably. To him, Chelsea was some sort of an angel, and she had a way of making him feel like a creep. He would rather die than show it, though, so he just laughed and started imitating the fat man’s jiggles. Only Andrea laughed, then promptly punched him on the shoulder. Conversation resumed, everyone bantering back and forth.

Part 1 - Everboyd's gone surfin'...surfin' USA!

The sun was low in the early morning sky as four teens got out of a black sports car and headed down toward the beach. The footprints they left on the sand swiveled and turned every which way as the teens pranced back and forth, spinning, jumping and pushing each other around. They weren’t high or drunk, simply intoxicated with the giddiness of summer and the sounds and smells of the ocean. They reached the shore. The two boys tossed their shirts more or less towards the beach bags and ran into the waves. The older one, tall with soft brown hair and dark eyes, tried to balance himself on a surfboard. He might have been trying to impress the girls, but if so all he got for his efforts was giggles at his antics. A slightly shorter boy ran past him and dove into the water. He was a good two or three years younger, and had a deeper tan that accented his short, slightly curly blond hair. His head popped up out of the water, and in a flash he raced at the older boy and tackled him. Arms and legs thrashed as the two wrestled with each other, dunking and being dunked.
Back on the sand, the girls were taking things much easier. They had peeled off their shorts and tank tops and were arranging their towels. One girl, the one with a model figure and sparkling blue eyes, sat down and began leisurely flipping through the pages of a magazine. Her black spaghetti-strap bathing suit matched her neck-length, curly hair. The other girl flopped ungracefully onto her back, her long, silky blond hair flying every which way. She was fit, but not as slim as the first girl, with aqua-green eyes, and sported an athletic-looking blue and grey tankini. She soon tired of laying there and sat up quickly.
“Wanna join them, Chels?”
Chelsea looked up from an article on the top ten fastest ways to loose weight. Like she needed it.
“You really want wrestle those two?”
Andrea grinned, showing perfect white teeth. Chelsea had always envied her smile; three years of wearing braces hadn’t quite done the trick for her.
“Sure. Girl power and all that, right?”
“Yes, but you’re forgetting that our power lies in our intelligence, not in our muscular strength.” Chelsea replied, feigning a wise professor look.
“Hmm, who says? Aw, come on!” Andrea leaped to her feet and held out a hand for Chelsea.
Chelsea hesitated for a moment, and then grabbed Andrea’s hand, allowing herself to be pulled up. Hand in hand, the two girls raced toward the boys and leaped on them, catching them by surprise and pushing them under momentarily.
“Hey!” Said Brandon as soon as he got his head back up. “Girls against guys, that’s not fair!”
Andrea laughed and splashed him in the face. He lunged at her but she deftly dove under and came up a couple yards away from him, only to be caught by Marco in an arm lock. Brandon swirled around in the waves and looked at Chelsea, cocking one eyebrow. She pointed a finger at him.
“Oh, no. Don’t even...aah!”
In a second Brandon had grabbed her around the waist and flung her up and in. She managed to catch hold of his ankle and tripped him up. At that moment Andrea freed herself from Marco and went flying over to finish submerging Brandon by pushing his head under. Marco threw himself on top of the three of them, and soon all that could be seen of the four teenagers was arms and legs and occasionally a head splashing and kicking and pulling at each other among the waves.

This was their story...

So I'm finally putting up a blog for my story, the whole story, and nothing but the story
Why I can't come up with a better title for it.. i DON'T know
And I can't promise it will be the WHOLE story cause it's mostly in my head so far...
But anyway...
this is the beginning of what might be an interesting...eh...story...about four friends [yes i realize that is cheesy and chlichéd]...

A hotshot but all-around okay guy named Brandon...
A beautiful but slightly timid and insecure girl named Chelsea...
A confident, fun&funny tomboy named Andrea...
A slightly inmature jock named Marco...

...and this is their story...