Surf School (16 page)

‘Good luck!' Tilly called, but Marlee put her hand up and kept running, not looking back.

‘What's with her?' Jamie asked, passing Tilly a sandwich.

‘Don't take it personally,' Fran said to Jamie, but looking at Tilly. ‘She's always like this when she competes. She gets nervous. Sometime she doesn't talk at all. Crazy if you ask me.'

Marlee tried to look as calm and confident as Kyle but her limbs wouldn't take any notice. As they stood side by side, she shifted constantly from leg to leg, tugging down her competitor's vest, rolling her shoulders, flicking her fingers to get the tension out. If her agitation annoyed Kyle, he didn't show it. He stared calmly at the surf, watching every wave, deciding where to paddle first.

Marlee knew she should do that too. Watch the waves. But as she moved to the right, her arm brushed Kyle's. His warmth buzzed through her and she jerked away, scanning the surf. She
and Tilly had decided that the right-hander was the best bet but the conditions had changed again. She spotted a left peeling off nicely not too far off shore and snuck a look at Kyle to see if he'd noticed it. When the hooter blared Marlee ran into the water, threw away her earlier plan and headed impulsively for the new break.

To Marlee's ears her breathing was as loud as the wave rushing towards her. She pushed herself harder, chest squeezed tight as she kept pace with Kyle. He paddled towards a right-hander she'd thought about going for, and, seizing her chance, she dug deep, directing her board towards the left.

Pink yelled from her vantage point on the deck, swinging the telescope across to Kyle, who checked Marlee, paddling faster. But Marlee had luck on her side. A wave rose up in front of her and she locked in, ripping down the face, wheeling her board in a tight arc so the fins busted out the back of the wave. She pushed downwards, crouching low to pick up speed, milking the ride for all she could.

‘Finn's charging her first wave. Nice and graceful,' the commentator called.

But the wave died quickly and Marlee flicked off, heading back out.

‘6.5. Promising start for Finn but she's going to have to come up with something pretty special to beat Parker once he gets moving.'

Kyle sat way out, astride his board. As the minutes ticked down he looked increasingly rattled and Marlee forced herself to turn away, staying focused. A set came in and Kyle pounced.
Even though she couldn't see him surf she knew he'd killed it just by the cheers coming from the beach. And the commentator confirmed it.

‘Sensational ride for Kyle Parker. It's an 8.5, folks. A very strong start. Finn needs a good wave score to keep up but she's still very much in this.'

Tilly glanced nervously at her watch. Only five minutes left. She watched Marlee bobbing up and down, retying her ponytail as though she hadn't a care in the world. But Tilly could see the stiffness in her back and knew she'd be frantically looking for something to pick up, something with a long enough ride to fit in as many turns as she could. The more turns, the higher the score. The next wave would be vital. A small right-hander was shaping up nearby and Marlee snapped into action throwing herself into a late take-off, not ideal, but she hung in there, dropping down the face, managing a cut back and re-entry before it closed out.

‘It's a 4,' the commentator said. ‘So far a 12.5 total for Finn and an 8.5 for Parker. The tally will be on the two best waves and either one of them can take this out. Time's running out and both contestants are struggling to find something to ride. My guess is whoever gets the next wave will have it in the bag.'

Marlee's head began to run, her thoughts confused, distracted by the clock, searching desperately for waves. She shook her head as though that would clear her thoughts. On impulse, she started paddling to the only spot she had a chance of getting a decent wave. Out the back where Kyle was heading. The place she and Tilly had sussed earlier.

She and Kyle streaked across the water from different directions, meeting in the same spot just as the three-minute hooter sounded. Marlee refused to look at Kyle, instead she scanned the ocean, trigger happy, ready to move the second a swell came her way. Kyle was edgy too. He paddled around her constantly, circling like a shark. She tried to ignore him but his movements distracted her. She whipped her head around as he paddled up behind her, across in front, back again.

Finally, a set moved towards them. It was a good size and Marlee was closest. She sprinted towards it, the advantage hers. Kyle sensed her movement and shifted direction, quickly closing the gap but Marlee was still marginally in front. The wave stood up, curving along the edge.

‘It's mine. You owe me,' Kyle yelled.

‘What?' Marlee kept paddling. He was alongside her now, pushing past, breathing heavily.

‘You owe me. For the other day.'

Marlee froze, not sure she'd heard right. Did he mean helping her in the surf? Isn't that something you just do?

It was the two-second break in concentration Kyle wanted and he took it, forcing her out to get the inside, pushing his board onto the wave. If Marlee took off now she'd be called for interference and disqualified. Either way, he'd won. She watched in disbelief as the back of the wave rolled by, Kyle at its crest, a low pressure system gathering in her chest.

Even though she was the furthest away, Pink's telescope had a front row seat. She saw Marlee yelling angrily. A set was lining up behind her, led by an insane right-hander that Marlee had
failed to notice. Pink went into overdrive trying to catch Marlee's attention, jumping up and down, waving her arms, her towel and finally blowing a whistle she'd grabbed in case Marlee won.

But the cheering for Kyle drowned her out. His score, a very respectable 7.9, echoed towards her. Pink kept yelling, blowing her whistle, waving her pink beach towel like a flag. Marlee gazed at the shore line, her eyes occasionally drifting up to the sky, then finally caught sight of Pink's towel, and Pink, looking like she was about to explode, pointing, yelling something she couldn't hear.

Marlee whipped around. The first wave in the set powered down on her, a towering green wall easily six foot, maybe more. Instinct kicked in and she went for it, sprinting closer and closer. Marlee beat it down, paddling until she thought her belly would split just as the hooter blared signalling the end of the heat. But Marlee kept going, this was her wave and she was going to give it everything she had. She lifted off, charging the face, the whole ocean pushing her to shore.

The fury in her head flowed into her body and there was none of her normal grace and poise, just attack and rip, carving the wave into shreds of white lace. She pushed her board hard into an arc until she ran out of wave and soared into the air, twisting it around and back down. The wave curled over and Marlee crouched low, the roaring in her ears at screaming pitch as the wave closed over her. Pink could see her foot sticking out of the barrel but that was all. And then the wave shut her down, wrapping her in its turbine, her leg rope ripped off, board gone.

It felt like hours before Marlee's head broke the surface. She gasped for air, scanning the water for her board until she finally spotted half of it washed up in the shallows. Marlee swam ashore, collecting her broken board and cursing herself for not fixing that fin chop three weeks ago. All those years she'd hated her board but now it was broken in two and she had no board at all. She felt empty, but anger was quickly filling the space.

The thudding in her head exploded as she backtracked to that moment in the surf with Kyle and a surge of fresh rage swirled into the pit. She'd lost, not just the competition but the board as well and now the unthinkable: she had nothing to ride. She ran, oblivious to the cheering and the commentator.

‘That has got to be the best ride of the day. Pity the hooter went or Finn would've been carrying a new board in five minutes time.'

Marlee ran past Tilly, Fran and Jamie, her head fizzing with fury. She darted up the beach towards Kyle who was crouching on the sand, towel across his knees, waiting for the presentation. Marlee threw what was left of her board in the sand at his feet. Kyle yelped and grabbed at his foot.

‘What was that for?'

‘You cheated me out of that wave,' Marlee yelled, fists clenched. As Kyle tried to stand, Marlee pushed him hard. He fell back onto the sand. ‘I was right about you all along.'

Christie stepped between them. ‘Marlee, pull yourself together. This is not the way to behave.'

Kyle ignored Christie, rounding on Marlee. ‘If it was your
wave how come you weren't on it, you maniac?' He wrapped his hand over his foot. ‘You lose worse than I do.'

‘I play fair,' Marlee screamed. ‘Unlike you.'

‘I play to win,' Kyle yelled. ‘And if you can't accept it, don't compete.' His voice softened. ‘It's only a board, Marlee. Calm down.'

He lifted his hand and blood oozed from where her board had sliced across his foot. Marlee gasped, watching him put his hand back, the colour draining from his face.

‘Only a board,' she said feebly. ‘No. You are totally wrong, Kyle. It wasn't only a board.' Marlee's energy melted, her body slumping.

Christie pushed in front of Marlee, wrapping a towel around Kyle's foot.

‘Go home and cool off, Marlee,' she said coldly. ‘Get your emotions under control.' She turned to Kyle. ‘You're going to need stitches. Let's wrap that up, then we'll get you up to the hospital straight after the presentation.'

Marlee passed Fran and Tilly without even noticing them and walked home slowly along the shore. All the training, those wretched pamphlet runs, swimming, running, dreaming, and she couldn't even win a small club comp. What hope did she ever have of making the World Championship Tour? She pushed herself up the stone steps, across the road, down her driveway, into the garage and shut her door.

Surfing's Newest Bad Girl

Y
ou could hear sponsorship doors slamming right up the east coast yesterday after an ugly altercation between emerging local talents Marlee Finn and Kyle Parker.

    It started at the Stuart Crawford Memorial Surf Off, where Finn wowed the crowd with her massive talent, but the club friendly turned sour when an argument broke out in the surf between her and long-standing rival Parker, himself no stranger to controversy. It ended in tears with bad girl Finn taking it up with Parker after the heat, slicing his foot open with her broken board. Parker's training session in Hawaii this Christmas is now in doubt.

    ‘It was a disgraceful display of behaviour and not the way to go about finding a sponsor,' Christie Fuller, head of the Island Breeze label said.

    
The club president added, ‘Although it's healthy to be competitive, you also need to learn to keep your emotions in check. Unfortunately Marlee will learn from this the hard way.'

Diamond Beach Daily

So much salt had crusted over Marlee's windows that Tilly couldn't see in and even though she was sure Marlee was there, she wouldn't open the door. In the end Tilly pushed the Blood Book under the door and left.

 

I've just written to that stupid newspaper telling them that they need to get their facts straight. Kyle's such a bully sometimes and you're one of the few people who'll stand up to him. I saw him today and told him he should be ashamed of himself. Mind you, he looks pretty pathetic limping around unable to go in the water.

We all support you, Marlee. Me, Franipani and Pink – who managed somehow to find a mobile and text me last night. She saw it all through the telescope and she's going to tell her parents.

Don't hole up in your shed. Come and be with us. Til xxx

The computer fitted snugly into the shopping trolley with just enough room for Tilly to sit at the back. Jamie and Tilly set off towards the shops, Jamie riding the trolley like a scooter even though it careered wildly across the boardwalk, cyclists and joggers veering out of their way.

Aqua waves followed their erratic journey along the boardwalk while Tilly soaked up the huge blue sky.

‘You're being very polite,' Tilly yelled over her shoulder, a little guilty that Jamie was doing boring stuff with her when the surf was so good.

‘Huh?'

‘You're being very polite, about the surf, more specifically …' The trolley swerved sharply to the left and she grabbed the side with one hand, the computer with the other. ‘Woaaah! More specifically about you not being in it.'

‘Oh, well. It'll be there later,' said Jamie, wistfully.

‘Thanks, Jamie. You know what? I feel like you're more my friend now than Sam's.'

‘Yeah, well, he's uglier,' said Jamie, embarrassed. ‘Where is Sam? I couldn't find him this morning.'

‘At home, cleaning the bathroom.'

‘Yeah, sure.' ‘No. He's at the hospital helping Dad. But he really did clean the bathroom the other day.'

‘No way.'

Tilly giggled. ‘Yup, the old list thing worked. Should've done it years ago. I cook – well with a bit of help – and he cleans. If he doesn't clean, he doesn't eat. It totally works.'

‘Sounds good. What'll we cook tonight?'

‘How about pasta?' Tilly hesitated. ‘Dad'll be home soon and I wanted to ask you about a special dinner I'm making.'

‘Sure,' Jamie slowed the trolley down. ‘What do you want to cook?'

‘Well,' Tilly paused again, feeling shy. ‘I've already worked out the food. I wanted to know if you'd like to come. To Dad's welcome home dinner.'

He glanced past her, taking in a quick wave check before turning the trolley towards the crossing. Jamie smiled his slightly crooked smile, his head cocked to one side in a manner that was now so familiar Tilly couldn't help grinning back. You'd think she'd just offered him dinner in the best restaurant in town.

‘Really?'

She nodded. ‘

I'd like that. Thanks.'

A car horn hooted and they both jumped. Jamie pushed the trolley over the crossing towards the shops.

‘What do you mean, it's empty?' Tilly leaned towards the shop owner as though she hadn't heard him properly.

‘Empty as in not full.' The IT guy spoke with a touch of sarcasm which Tilly chose to ignore.

‘But it can't be,' she said, desperate. ‘I've got notes, photos, a diary. Heaps of stuff on there. I don't get it.'

‘Did you check it was switched on?' He drummed his fingers on the counter, not really interested, and Tilly felt tempted to
reach across the counter and yank out a tuft of his annoying nose hair.

‘So there's nothing you can do?' Her voice sounded slightly pleading, and it even annoyed her.

‘There's nothing I can do,' he repeated, watching the door for other customers. ‘The computer's fine. It's just that there's nothing on it.'

‘C'mon.' Jamie pushed past her and lifted the computer back into the trolley, nudging Tilly in the ribs. ‘Let's go. We'll have to figure something else out.'

The curtains were closed. A rolled towel stopped up the gap under the old side door. Lava lamps were dotted across a wall of shelves Marlee and Tilly had made with bricks and old bits of wood. Globs of coloured light roamed leisurely across the old bedspread hiding the roller door, over her surf posters, and collected on the surf mags stacked neatly in the corner. Her mobile flashed with received messages but Marlee lay curled up facing the wall, throat tight with misery, arms around Blue Ted, her favourite white satin nightie wrapped around her legs.

No matter how many times she'd gone over those last ten minutes in the surf, the end result was still the same. Her insides ached like a bruise. Each day was a different colour as new emotions surfaced. She'd passed the brooding, tearful blacks and blues and moved on to the florid yellows and purples of rationalisation. She'd been so close to winning that board but no, she'd let Kyle distract her. How could she have
been so naïve? The board was gone. That she accepted. But the fallout promised to be bigger than that. The question mark over sponsorship, her surfing and her future was still there. And then there was another ache, a bigger one she couldn't quite place or interpret. It lurked inside her somewhere and that was what kept her curled up on the bed.

She hated Kyle Parker with his T-shirt fraying at the neck seam, his crossword puzzles, his knobbly knees and strong wide chest, his single-mindedness for winning at all costs, his tactics. It was clear that their friendship had been just that. A tactic. A way to get her off guard. Would she ever do that to win? Did you have to want it that badly? Marlee didn't know, wasn't sure she could throw a friendship for that.

She ignored the knocks on the door, the quiet scrape as the rolled-up towel was brushed back over the worn carpet, expecting to hear Tilly's voice.

‘Hey, Marls,' Kyle said softly. ‘It's really going off. Come and check out the surf with me.'

His voice speared through her and Marlee screwed her eyes shut. Having Kyle in her room was the final humiliation.

She sat up abruptly. ‘Don't call me Marls. Only my friends call me that. I don't want to surf with you or even look at the surf with you. Not now. Not ever.'

Kyle added quietly, ‘I won't be surfing for a while.'

Marlee looked at the thick bandage on his foot, biting guiltily on her bottom lip.

‘I've got something I want you to have.' He disappeared, coming back inside with a gleaming new board. The colours of
the lava lamps streamed down its blue deck, the light glinting as he propped it against the wall.

Marlee rolled back to the wall before Kyle could see the fat tears running down her cheeks, trying to keep her voice steady. ‘I can't accept it. But thanks.'

He cleared his throat. ‘I want you to have it.'

Marlee ignored him.

Kyle raked his hand through his hair. ‘Marlee, don't be so stubborn. I've got heaps of boards. I wasn't in it for the board. I was in it for the competition.'

Marlee had thought she'd punched every shred of anger into her pillow over the last few days but she gave it another hard smack. She jumped up on the bed, her nightie falling in soft folds around her ankles. Kyle had never seen Marlee in anything bordering on feminine and his mouth dropped open. Marlee hesitated realising how silly she must look. If she could list the ten most embarrassing moments in her life, Kyle would feature in nearly all of them.

‘You knew how much I wanted that board. How could you?' ‘I … didn't think,' he stammered. ‘I was there to win. I was always going to give you the board if I won.'

‘Give it to me anyway? What am I? A charity? Thanks for nothing. If you hadn't cheated I might've won it fair and square. Did that ever occur to you?'

‘I didn't cheat. If you think you can go onto the circuit and no-one will try and psyche you out, you're stupid. You'll do it yourself soon enough,' he said defensively.