Surf School (15 page)

‘Oh, classy,' Kim laughed. ‘That's just perfect.'

Pink felt wretched. She pulled her hair back, and wiped her mouth on her shirt. She pushed her hand against the van door, head down, trying to catch her breath.

‘Gotta give it to you private school girls,' said Kim. ‘You really know how to have fun.'

With the nausea gone, Pink's senses cleared. She felt humiliated, angry that Kim could be so nasty. The sooner he was out of her life the better. Being free of him was all she could think of, but not before she'd got her own back.

She shut the door, sticking her head through the open window, her stomach clenching again at the smell. Unable to ignore the smug look on his face she said, ‘Thanks for the ride.
Oh, and check the web. Those photos of your lovely kombi with all the pretty pictures you want to patent will be on every site I can find for the whole world to copy. Explain that one to your friend.'

She waited a few seconds, watching the transformation on Kim's face as the information sank in and as soon as she heard his car door open she took off, racing down the street. The kombi revved up and headed towards her, its U-turn leaving black tyre marks across the road. Pink looked over her shoulder and glimpsed Kim's face. She wondered if he meant to run her down. She cut down a pathway connecting to another street, and slumped behind a set of bins, gasping. She vomited again. This time from fear.

The kombi's grinding engine made such a distinctive noise that she could hear it come around the block towards her, nearer and nearer, any exit blocked off. Pink pulled her legs in as the headlights flashed on the bins, and sat, barely breathing, as Kim rounded the cul de sac, shining the van's lights down the path she'd just run along.

Gradually he clunked the gears into reverse and drove back the way he'd come but Pink didn't move. She lay against the bin and half-slept for hours, not daring to move in case he was waiting at the end of the road.

M
arlee woke later than she'd hoped. Her pre-contest plan had already gone wrong. Leaping over the sleeping Fran and Tilly, she jogged across to the beach, squinting in the harsh morning light and cursing herself again for going to that stupid function last night. If she hadn't gone she would've had a surf and eaten breakfast by now. If she hadn't gone, she wouldn't have seen Kyle either but now the memory of him, out with another group of girls, stayed with her and Marlee felt foolish to think he'd ever want to hang out with her.

She dived into the water to clear her head, swimming parallel to the beach to loosen up, then jogged back to their usual seat to study the surf, feeling the direction of the wind against her body, noting where the banks and best waves were. Her legs jiggled, fingers tapping against the bench, and even
though she looked at the water, she didn't register any of the information she needed, her thoughts circling and returning to that one moment last night. She felt warm, firm hands hold her shoulders and then Evelyn peered around.

‘Hi there. Haven't seen that lazy daughter of mine have you?' she joked.

‘Fran's still asleep. So's Til.'

Evelyn nodded. ‘Ready for today? How are the nerves?'

‘Bad.' Marlee smiled, trying to stop her body from fidgeting.

‘Have you eaten yet?'

Marlee shook her head. ‘No. I get like this every contest. I can't eat and my nerves get worse and worse. I'm not sure if it makes me a better surfer or not.'

Evelyn massaged Marlee's shoulders, calming her a little. ‘Just go out there today and give it your best. Try and have fun. You always surf better like that.'

‘Yeah, you're right.' Marlee hung her head forwards and Evelyn's strong fingers massaged along her neck. ‘I see all these amazing surfers and think I'll never be as good.'

‘Well, my theory is that there are some surfers with natural talent and some who have to work a little harder to get there. Give me the workers any day, they're more focused and determined, whereas a naturally talented surfer doesn't always develop those skills.' She squeezed Marlee's shoulders, feeling them softening. ‘You've got talent and skill, just remember that. Got a game plan?'

‘Not yet. Tilly and I usually work that out with Phil.'

‘Well, I'm happy to take Phil's place if you need me but why
don't you wake those girls up and you can all come over for some breakfast.'

‘Thanks,' said Marlee, rolling her shoulders back. Her stomach growled and Marlee realised that she hadn't eaten since yesterday lunch. No wonder she felt weak and tired. ‘I'm starving.'

Kyle jumped off his bike looking well-slept and fit.

‘Hi, Marlee.' He stood next to her checking the water, then looked at her. ‘Coming for a surf?'

Marlee leaped up, her legs jiggling uncontrollably. ‘Later.' Her voice sounded sharp and she struggled to keep her emotions in check. He was the last person she wanted to see right now.

Kyle flinched, wondering at the harshness in her tone. ‘Marlee. Last night, I …'

But Marlee didn't wait. ‘I've really got to go.' Then she yelled over her shoulder, ‘Good luck today.'

Pink felt badder than bad. It was okay to do stuff and get away with it but when you have to face your olds so stressed out, that was hard. By the time she'd stumbled home around dawn she was relieved and glad to see her parents, even though she expected them to be furious, and as much as she dreaded the moment, she couldn't wait to be home, with them, and safe in her own bed. Pink had pictured her mother's disgust at her turning up in bare feet, smelling of vomit and rubbish, with long black trails of mascara running down her cheeks but Christie had hugged her as if she was the most beautiful thing
she'd ever seen. It was the one moment of the whole horrible night that Pink kept returning to and each time it made her feel smaller than she already did.

But what Pink hadn't counted on were her father's tears. As he wrapped her in his arms, shoulders heaving, Pink felt as small as a tiny pin head while her rational part sought to deal with the consequences.

And there were. Consequences. Pink might not have been able to spell the word but she sure understood its meaning.

Grounded for one week. No phone. No TV. Worse, no MSN. Total lock down. Her room to clean up. Five unexplained absence letters from the school. Empty Cruiser bottles in the bin. It made her head ache even more than it already was.

She quickly sent a message to Tilly –
groundedoneweekno computernomobilenophone
– before handing her phone to her mother. Then she went to bed, her black, filthy feet sticking out the side of her pink cotton sheets, the alarm set for the start of the contest.

The smell of grilling sausages drifted along the beach. The white medieval-shaped tents were lined up along the path overlooking the best break and the club flag was flying. The contestants' gathering bays were marked out on the sand and marker buoys provided a clear surfing area. The announcer's chirpy voice floated towards Tilly, Fran and Marlee.

‘Welcome to the Stuart Crawford Memorial Surf Off, folks. We can promise some great surfing today so stick around.'

‘They're pushing it to promise great surfing in that,' Tilly said nodding at the two-foot slop.

‘Mmmm, how about a barbecued sausage sanger?' Fran suggested.

Marlee shook her head, her gaze focused on the surf. ‘Maybe after, Pani, I don't think I could keep it down.'

‘Let's sit here for a while and check out the banks.' Tilly squeezed Marlee's hand but she didn't respond. ‘Calm down. You'll be fine.'

‘Once I'm out there I will. It's the waiting around I hate. I can't think clearly – it's like I've got bugs crawling in my stomach.' Marlee rubbed her belly, sitting down on the beach wall where they had a clear view of the competition area. Fran and Tilly sat either side and watched silently as the first heats were run.

A hot wind blew on shore and the waves ran into the beach at angles with no definite pattern. As the tide came in, a decent-sized set reared up out the back. Tilly pointed to the first wave forming.

‘That's what we want, more of those. We might be …' The rest of her sentence was lost as the hooter blared.

Jamie and Matt ran to the shallows, skimming their boards into the water and diving after them.

‘Let's hope the wind picks up some more.'

Marlee stood up, her face pale, intent. She smacked her hands against her thighs, then began to stretch out her legs. ‘Let's get our shirts.'

‘Don't you want to watch Jamie?'

But Marlee didn't answer so Tilly stood up. ‘Good idea, let's do it,' she said. ‘Have we got a plan?'

‘The plan is that there is no plan,' said Marlee. ‘Those conditions change every five minutes so all we can do is pick the best break and hope it pays off.' Marlee strode purposefully to the registration tent.

Tilly lingered, crestfallen. All her apologies, all her efforts to cajole Marlee into the comfortable space they had once shared hadn't worked. She watched her friend walking away, shoulders set resolutely square and wondered what it was going to take to get Marlee back into her life.

‘Hold up,' she called, running to catch up.

Pink rolled out of bed in a fog of fatigue, occasional waves of nausea still sweeping through her, taking her by surprise so she'd have to run to the bathroom, her body in a cold sweat. The apartment was silent. Her parents had gone to the contest without waking her.

She sat on the cool bathroom tiles, arms wrapped around the toilet, head against the seat, breathing in ragged breaths, willing the surge in her stomach to go away but it only took one sharp memory of the awful smell in Kim's van to trigger it and she'd leap up, head into the bowl, heaving and gagging, even though there was nothing left to bring up.

Pink sank back to the floor, glad she'd been grounded. Even if she hadn't, there was no way she'd go down to the beach until she was certain Kim had gone. She realised that apart from his dreads, his voice and his cute smile, she didn't know anything
about him. She hadn't even known his real name until last night.

She shuffled into the shower, the hot jets of water easing her aching shoulders, trying to recall the conversation she'd had with her parents early this morning. That was only the start. Tonight Pink would be questioned on her every move of the holidays so far.

The breeze on the deck revived her a little and only then did she uncover her dad's telescope, scanning the beach until she spotted Tilly, Fran and Marlee on the wall near the judge's tent. Her father was in the judge's chair glancing at his watch, and her mother sat under a massive Island Breeze umbrella talking to a friend.

‘Bad luck, Tilly.' Marlee handed her a towel but avoided Tilly's eyes.

‘Sienna surfed better. Pure and simple.' Tilly slumped on the sand, exhausted, eyes stinging from the salt. ‘Just my luck to draw her first up.'

‘You could beat her if you'd set your mind to it,' Marlee said quietly. And when Tilly raised her eyebrows she added, exasperated, ‘You know you can. You've more talent than all of us.'

‘That's unfair. She got lucky with that freak set that rolled in. Better than the slop I had,' Tilly said, annoyed. ‘Besides, it's only a club competition.'

Jamie swooped down next to Tilly holding three sausage sandwiches and biting all of them at once.

‘You totally ripped that second wave,' he mumbled. ‘Shame Sienna was on form.'

Tilly looked at Marlee feeling vindicated, but Marlee had put her headphones on and was warming up – kicking out her legs, swinging her neck from side to side and working her jaw to relieve the tension. Tilly nudged Jamie's shoulder, then bit into his sandwich.

‘Thanks, big fella. Let's hope Marlee goes well in the final. She's so close to making her first dream come true. It's just a shame she's up against Kyle.'

Without a word to the others Marlee collected her board and ran down to the marshalling area.