When Johnny Banzai isn't banzaiing, he's a homicide detective with the San Diego Police Department, and Boone knows that he welcomes the opportunity to argue about things that aren't grim. So he's on it. “Basically flip-flopping them?” Johnny Banzai asks. “Based on what?”

“Deep thought and careful consideration,” Boone replies.

Hang Twelve is shocked. The young soul surfer stares at Boone with a look of hurt innocence, his wet goatee dropping to the black neoprene of his winter wet suit, his light brown dreadlocks falling on his shoulder as he cocks his head. “But, Boone-all-female outrigger canoe teams?”

Hang Twelve loves the women of the all-female outrigger canoe teams. Whenever they paddle by, he just sits on his board and stares.

“Listen,” Boone says, “most of those women play for the other team.”

“What other team?” Hang Twelve asks.

“He's so young,” Johnny observes, and as usual, his observation is accurate. Hang Twelve is a dozen years younger than the rest of The Dawn Patrol. They tolerate him because he's such an enthusiastic surfer and sort of Boone's puppy; plus, he gives them the locals' discount at the surf shop he works at.

“What other team?” Hang Twelve asks urgently.

Sunny Day leans over her board and whispers to him.

Sunny looks just like her name. Her blond hair glows like sunshine. A force of nature-tall, long-legged-Sunny is exactly what Brian Wilson meant when he wrote that he wished they all could be California girls.

Except that Brian's dream girl usually sat on the beach, whereas Sunny surfs. She's the best surfer on The Dawn Patrol, better than Boone, and the coming big swell could lift her from waitress to full-time professional surfer. One good photo of Sunny shredding a big wave could get her a sponsorship from one of the major surf-clothing companies, and then there'll be no stopping her. Now she takes it upon herself to explain to Hang Twelve that most of the females on the all-female outrigger canoe teams are rigged out for females.