“Insane,” Wencil said, and stuck his hand out to initiate a complex surfer’s handshake, hooked fingers and fist bumps, and a final, ritual thumb tug.

Olive watched. Wencil had not even glanced at her.

“I seen you at the Eddie when I was a kid,” Wencil said. “Then later—when? Ten-something years back.”

“I didn’t win,” Sharkey said.

“We gotta go.” Stickney consulted his folder, more to impress the others with its seriousness than to gather information. “We got some paperwork.”

“I hate paperwork,” Sharkey said. “I hate the word.”

“Try wait,” Wencil said to Stickney, with a flash of anger. And to Sharkey, “No, you didn’t win—not the biggest wave. But you catched a more better ride. Was a triple head-high monster and you throw yourself at the lip, you in synch on the floater, the lip bang.” He raised his arms, turning his hands. “Come down the face, make a cut back to rebound. Then find the barrel as the whole thing’s closing out on the beach. Was insane.”

“Mahalo, brah. It was a Thursday.”

“I get it—just another day. But was a gift to me,” Wencil said. “Mahalo atua.”

“I can see you’re a waterman.”

“Not like you. Nevah like Joe Sharkey.” Wencil dropped his arms, pushed his face forward in helpless admiration, breathing hard. “When you go out—you surf today morning?”

“No.”

“Was killer,” Wencil said. “Plus was killer yesterday. You catch some waves yesterday?”

“I can’t remember,” Sharkey said.

“He’s taking a break from the water,” Olive said.

“How you knowing, sister?”

“I’m his friend,” Olive said, but gently, because Wencil seemed excitable—he had barked at Stickney and was badgering Sharkey, twitching on his bare feet.

“I got one Sharkey T-shirt—you face and DA SHARK,” Wencil said. “I always want one pair Sharkey shades.”

“He doesn’t do those endorsements anymore,” Olive said.

“Waugh!” Wencil twisted, looking fierce, his teeth clamped together, and drew his arm back as though to prepare to throw a punch. “I talking to the Shark!”

“Wen-boy,” Stickney said, “we got to go to the office.”

“Bodda you?” Wencil took Sharkey’s arm. He said, “You was like a god to me when I was a keiki,” and he nudged Sharkey to the side, bumping his shoulder, and when they were out of earshot of the others he said, “Gimme a coupla bucks, okay. Man, you like one hero to me.”

Seeing Wencil whispering to Sharkey, Olive glanced at Stickney, who shrugged and rolled his eyes, then walked over to them.

Before he could speak, Wencil said, “Who dis fricken wahine?”

Sharkey said, “We have to go,” but mildly, chucking Wencil on the shoulder with a friendly fist.