The Summer Strikes Back, Part 1

“Come on, Leia!” Luke Walker flashed one of his sunny grins over his shoulder at his twin sister. “Let's get everything inside. I want to find the guys. Biggs told me the waves are awesome this summer! The 1983 season is going to be the best!”

He'd been looking forward to this all year. The Cottages stood across from the quiet end of the boardwalk, buffering the small town of Ocean View, New Jersey. They'd once been painted white with pale blue or sea-green shutters. Now most of them were faded, the paint on the shutters chipped. They huddled together behind the protective dunes and narrow boards, hiding their flaws from passers-by.

Leia Walker sighed, shaking her head at her goofy twin brother. The Cottages may have been eyesores now, but they were Uncle Ken's babies. They were originally built in the 20's as an alternative to the big, fancy hotels that littered the southern side of town. Uncle Ben and her parents bought them in 1952, then sunk all their money into renovating them. Leia and Luke used to spend every summer at #2, the cottage on the end, next to Uncle Ben's. She was actually glad he'd said that one was currently occupied. She didn't know how she'd deal with the memories, especially with their parents and Adam gone.

She carried her suitcase and a bag of groceries up the porch steps. Luke was already barreling around the one-floor building, exclaiming over everything. “It's so...so...old! It's great!” His straight, sandy hair was flying in the breeze. He probably thought he looked like a blond, mustache-less Tom Sellek in the Hawaiian-print shirt and white shorts he'd so carefully selected for this trip. In truth, the shirt was a cast-off from Biggs and was about two sizes too large for his skinny frame, with the most god-awful combination of neon pink flamingos and lime-green palm trees she'd ever seen.

The cottage consisted of a living room, a kitchen, a closet-sized bathroom, and two bedrooms. Although Uncle Ben had recently repainted the rooms a cheery nautical blue, white, and shell pink, he otherwise hadn't had the money to update in years. Most of the furnishings were still the same walnut wood tables and whitewashed wicker frame beds she remembered from her childhood.

Perhaps to save money, genuine sea-side items were used wherever possible. A net festooned with real seashells hung over the slightly threadbare couch. The coffee table was a sturdy crab trap with a heavy wooden slab on top. The thick wooden TV console looked about a decade old. She bet they didn't even get HBO.

Luke didn't care. “Hey Leia, where's the suitcase with my bathing suit?” She had to jump aside as he ran back out to the driveway.

“Luke, the beach will wait!” She groaned. “We haven't unpacked or loaded up the fridge yet!”

“We can do that later.” He came back in with two suitcases and his old L.L Bean backpack. “Did you see those waves coming in? They were huge! Biggs told me he's going to teach me how to catch the big one this year.”

“And you'll fall on your head, like you do every year.” Leia went back in for a cooler and her electronic typewriter. She wanted to get a head-start on her recommendation letter for Senator Martha Mothma, whom she was hoping to intern with in the fall. She greatly admired her dedication to environmental issues and creating new jobs.

The typewriter was her high school graduation gift from her aunt and uncle. Luke's was a surfboard, one of the glossy new X-Wing models. He'd had to talk their uncle into it. Uncle Owen thought Luke's surfing obsession was ridiculous. Leia suspected Uncle Owen would have preferred Luke staying in Philly and taking over the Lars Hardware Store, but Luke's heart was never really in selling nuts and bolts.

Her twin came out in his bathing suit, carrying a brown plastic bottle with a gold tropical-print label. “Hey Leia, would you put the sunscreen on my back? I can't reach the middle!” He already wore his white and tan OP bathing suit. She didn't want to imagine what his room looked like, even after five minutes of occupancy. She hadn't seen the floor of his room at home in years.

He sighed as his sister rubbed the white lotion on his back. “Luke, you know Uncle Ben wanted to meet us as soon as we came in. We're here to help him with the cottages, not go running off with your surfer buddies all day.”

“Aw sis,” Luke whined, “you're no fun. I don't need a mother. We came here to get away from Aunt Bertha and Uncle Owen, remember?” He turned around and let her do his front. “Besides, I want to spent time with you, too. This is going to be our last summer together.”

“I know.” She kissed his cheek. “Luke, I love you. You're my twin brother. I just have to do this. You know how important getting into Drexel was to me.”

Luke's sunshine smile fell. “Can't you join the Coast Guard with me?”

“I wouldn't be any good at it, just like political science bores you silly.” She put her arm around him. “The beach isn't going anywhere. Let's get the food put away, then go find Uncle Ben.”

Leia did manage to get Luke back into his flamingo shirt and ancient green-and-red flip-flops. She was grateful she'd opted for the pink Laura Ashley skirt and lacy white blouse and tan sandals. At least she looked professional.

Luke followed Leia down the road in front of the beach. The sun was shining, the breeze was blowing, and it was hot, but not humid, something that didn't often happen at the Jersey Shore in the summer. The beach was already dotted with long rows of brilliantly-colored umbrellas and tents. You could barely move around the towels and blankets.

She could see a bunch of Luke's buddies, including Brian “Biggs” Darklighter and Walter “Wedge” Antilles, riding waves closer to the old Cape Holly Lighthouse. Skinny Chip Thompson and his best friend, short and stout Arturro Detonski, were just running out of the ocean. Both had navy blue rental rafts under their arms.

Luke waved to them. “Hi, fellas!”

Wedge waved back. “Hey, man! You're finally here!” He almost leaped over to the porch for a hug. “When did you get in?” Luke started to answer, but was cut off by Wes Jansen and Derek “Hobbie” Kilivan, Wedge's best friends.

“Yo, Luke!” Hobbie had one arm around a neon pink and green surfboard. The other was around a cute girl in a green and yellow striped string bikini. “You gonna join us on the beach? You too, Leia. We could use some back-up here. Darklighter thinks he's gonna show us how it's done.”

Biggs smirked under his thick black mustache. “I know I am. I'm better than most of you idiots. I've been down here since May. Some of us college boys get sprung earlier.”

“We'll be down in a few minutes.” Leia was already tugging Luke down the sidewalk. “We have to talk to Uncle Ben first.”

“Bring him along!” Wes emerged with a can of Diet Coke. “He's a great old guy. He tells radical stories, man.”

Chip and Arturro waved as they marched up to the sand. “Hullo there!” Chip's clipped British accent chirped. “I'm so glad to see you!” Arturro grinned and let loose with a greeting in his native language. He was from some Eastern European country. Only Chip was sure which one, since he was really the only one in their group who could understand him.

“When you do come on the beach, please take care. There's all kinds of awful things here!” Chip shuddered. “We were out in the water when a crab nipped my toes! How rude can you be? I'd say he was a very crabby crab, but that does seem rather redundant. And I know I saw jellyfish! Do you know what their sting can do to you?” Arturro rolled his eyes; the tone of his voice was annoyed and scolding. “You say the water is too cold for jellyfish? Arturro, I know what I saw!”

Leia shook her head. Those two may have argued constantly, but they were the best of friends and were never seen without one another. They'd been sharing Cottage 3 together for the last couple of summers. “We'll down in a minute. We just need to talk to Uncle Ben.”

Arturro nodded, his voice enthusiastic. Chip nodded, too. “Do give Mr. Kenobi our regards,” the tall British boy insisted. “We haven't really had a chance to talk to him since we got here. We've been busy working at the boardwalk. Miss Maz pays fairly well, even if she can be a very peculiar woman.” Arturro's voice was defensive. “I like her too, but face it. She's a bit odd. Perhaps it's her age.”

Uncle Ben's cottage was the largest one on the very end of the street, across from the beach. He wasn't really their uncle. He'd been a good friend of their father and their brother Adam, before their parents died in a car accident and Adam after he came home from Vietnam. He liked to talk about how he'd come over from Scotland after World War II with barely a penny to his name, but his father helped him on his feet.

“Luke! Leia!” The old man waved from his porch. He'd been sweeping the steps with an ancient cornstalk broom that looked like it should have had a witch perched on the handle. Luke and Leia swept him into a hug as soon as they got on the porch. He looked the same as he ever did, a dear, skinny old man with a thin silver beard, short flyaway hair, and an elegantly craggy face. “I'm sorry I couldn't greet you. Cottage 5 had a problem with a backed-up toilet. Kes Dameron's son was dropping his Hot Wheels airplanes down the toilet again. Poe is a good boy, but his curiosity does get the best of him at times.”

Luke chuckled. “Sounds like what Leia and I used to do when we were kids. Remember when Uncle Owen caught us trying to flush our Matchbox cars down the toilet in the back room of the hardware store because we were bored?”

“It was your idea.” She winced at the memory. “Uncle Owen sure gave us a walloping for that one.”

Whatever Uncle Ben was going to say was drowned out by the sound of motorcycles. Screams came from the beach as bikes ripped umbrellas out of the sand, overturned coolers, flattened sandcastles, and crunched through plastic buckets and inflatable life rafts. Helmeted figures in white and black leather jackets, dirty white jeans, and old white muscle t-shirts threw soda bottles at the crowd, jeering at them when they threw soda bottles or clam shells back.

The old Scot's eyes were narrowed. “The Imperial Gang. They're a local motorcycle group. They've been involved in crimes ranging from civil disobedience to arson in this area for years.”

“Isn't someone going to do something?” Leia waved her hand at the chaos on the beach. “Shouldn't we be calling the cops?”

“I'm way ahead of you.” Ben was already stepping inside. “I'm not going to let them get away this time.”

The last motorcycle on the beach came to a stop directly across from Uncle Ben's cottage. It was by far the largest, a massive black and silver Honda that looked more like a space ship than a bike. Despite the warm day, the rider was dressed all in black, from his Members Only jacket to the black boots with the silver tips. The voice that hissed through the helmet sounded deep, but surprisingly raspy, like he'd been smoking eight packs a day for the last decade.

“So this is what they're letting hang around our beach these days.” He kicked at the twisted remains of a once-colorful beach chair. “Buncha morons. Everybody outta here. This beach belongs to the Imperial Gang. You've got ten seconds to get off our turf.”

The lifeguards, having recovered from their high whitewashed bench being tipped over, stormed over to the gang. The female guard put her hands on hips, barely clad in a pair of very tight red shorts. Her “Ocean View Lifeguard” tank top was so huge on her small frame, she'd knotted at her waist to keep it in place. “Look, buddy,” she snapped, “you're already in violation of about ten different beach rules, starting with the one about no vehicles on the beach and ending with the fact that I don't see any beach tags on your person. You might want to get out of here, before I have to send you and the Loser's Club up to the lifeguard station for some up close and personal time with my boss.”

“Oooh, little girl thinks she's a tough chick!” The guy in the black mask gave her a shove. “Go back to playing with your widdle pink bears, kid.”

“Watch it, buddy.” Her friend, a small, slender man with short, dark hair and a thin mustache, came up behind her. “I'd suggest you listen to her, unless you'd like to write about how you spent your summer vacation in jail.”

The Imperial shoved the smaller man. “Watch it, punk. Why don't you take your little girlfriend and shove off?”

“We ought to do something, Leia!” Luke's pink lips narrowed. “Where did they get the idea that the beach belongs to them, anyway? This is a public beach, at least the last time I checked.”

They came on the sand just in time to see the male lifeguard point towards the steps. “Look, I don't want this to get ugly. This is a public beach. There's the exit. Use it, before someone calls the cops.”

The tallest Imperial Gang member in the black Members Only jacket lifted him into the air by the collar of his tank top. “You think you can tell me what to do, little man? No one tells Vader what to do! Nobody!”

Biggs took his arm. “Hey man, why don't you take a couple dozen chill pills, then get back to him? You're being a real ass. This guy and the chick are in charge.”

“I'll show you a nuisance, Darklighter.” Vader hit him square in the gut, then followed it with a right to his chin that left him flat on his back. “This is what happens to those who mess with the Vader.”

Arturro ran into the man, pounding at his stomach. He barely made a dent. “Arturro, are you mad?” Chip called. “That man is three times larger than you are! Let him have his beach. We were just leaving, anyway.”

“Yeah, shorty. Listen to your friend.” Arturro spat a stream of the nastiest curses he could think of at the taller man. Vader just laughed. “Too bad I don't speak that shit. I might be offended.” He finally threw Arturro into Chip, knocking both against a family's sandcastle.

It was turning into a free-for-all. Families scattered as fathers and mothers dragged their little ones away. Young adults, teenagers, and local kids jumped on Vader's group. Leia didn't like how many people she saw bloody and bruised under the fist of a white-and-black-clad Imperial Gang member. Wedge was attending to Biggs' bruised lip, while Hobbie and Wes flung the volleyball net over two of the gang members.

Luke jumped in front of Vader. “You leave my friends alone, you big bully!”

Vader nearly fell over laughing. “And who's gonna make me, Stick Boy? You?”

“Yeah!” Luke put up his fists. “You're not so tough! I'll bet I could...”

He never got the chance to find out. Vader laid him out on the beach with one punch to the face. “Sure, Stick Boy. You couldn't hit a sick snail.”

“Don't you dare touch my brother!” Leia had enough. She never tolerated anyone picking on Luke. Not at school. Not in their neighborhood in Philly. Not here. She rammed her knee as hard as she could into Vader's crotch, allowing the woman lifeguard to trip him into the sand next to Luke and Biggs.

The girl lifeguard grinned at Leia. “Hey, you're damn good!”

“Thanks.” Leia lifted her chin. “No one hits my brother and gets away with it.”

The lifeguard put out her hand. “Jennifer Erso. Most people around here call me Jyn.”

“Leia Walker.” She shook her hand, then nodded at Vader. “What are we going to do with the trash?”

Even as Leia spoke, sirens could be heard in the distance. Jyn grinned. “Let's get this guy to the lifeguard station. Our boss and the cops can pick them up there.”

Vader had been just leaning back on his shoulder, his helmet aimed at her. She couldn't be sure if he was staring at her, or making faces, or what. “You...chick...” his voice sounded...shocked? Awed? “You were just...amazing.”

“And you,” snarled Leia, “are a creep.”

“I'm a creep who doesn't wanna get arrested.” He rubbed Leia's arm. “You know, I like girls who can give me a real challenge. Wanna go up to the old sunken concrete ship at the Point, so I can show you where else to put your knees?”

Leia shoved his hand away as Jyn and her male friend helped Luke. “After what you did here? I wouldn't go out with you if you were Indiana Jones!”

He chucked her chin. “Too bad, babe. I could be a real adventure.”

Leia's glare would have been more effective if it hadn't been directed at his helmet. “Get. Out. Now. Or else.”

“I'd say 'Or else what,' but the look in your eyes pretty much answers the question.” Vader almost literally leaped on his bike. “Later, babe.” He roared off, just as Ben hurried on the beach, the cops behind him.

Ben looked concerned when Luke showed up with a black eye and a bloody lip. “Luke, are you all right? What happened?”

“Uncle Ben,” Luke insisted, “the leader attacked Biggs! He really wailed him. He might have broken something. I had to help.”

Leia crossed her arms. “And I wasn't going to let my brother get hurt.”

The older man sighed. “I want you both to come to my cottage. We need to have a long talk.”