Kook

No going off surfing when I should be doing homework or helping in the house.

I reckon she thought I’d try it for a bit and then lose interest, as soon as I realised I wasn’t any good.

I told Mum the night before I started that I was meeting some surfers who were giving me a lesson before school. So that was broken promise number one.

I got up in the dark and sneaked downstairs. I’d laid it all out the night before: board, wetsuit, rash vest, towel, board wax, bananas and a flask of coffee for fuel. The whole thing had to run smooth. I had to be in the water super early, surf for an hour, race home, get changed and get to the bus stop in time. And then make it look to Jade like I’d just got up, before asking her if she’d been surfing. Just like every morning.

There was a chance I’d run into her at the beach, and if I did, I’d fess up. But if I could, I’d keep it a secret till I’d at least had a good crack at it. If she was surfing, she’d most likely be on the reefs, so with a bit of luck, she wouldn’t see me.

And what would she think if she did? What would she say? It was hard to guess.

All this went through my head as I cycled with the wetsuit half on, up to my waist, and the board under my arm. The bike was old and only had three gears, so I stayed in the middle one as I couldn’t change. I was wobbling and rolling like a drunk man, and how I got to the beach without falling off I have no idea. Jade had made it look easy.

I could still see stars in the western sky, but behind the moors the edges of the clouds were burning with light pinks and oranges. I hit the clifftop at Gwynsand, not even thirty minutes after I’d crawled out of bed. I felt like half of me was still there I was so groggy. I couldn’t see much of the water, and I couldn’t hear any waves. But Rag had given me the forecast, and like he had promised, there were lines of breaking white water bumping over a sand bar on the low tide. I dumped the bike and my bag and walked down to the beach and over the sand to the sea.

There was one surfer already out there, a thin guy on a really long board. Seeing him gave me this sudden wake-up call. I felt stupid, a real pretender, like I’d been in a dream and just come round. What was I doing? Really? But there didn’t seem much sense in turning back. That would have felt even dumber.

The sand was cold under my feet, but Rag had said the water would be warmer than the land. He was right, it was. I waded in, lifting the board over the tiny waves till I was chest deep. I climbed on, but even though the board was big, and even though it was calm beyond the shore break, the board rocked and slipped like a horse that didn’t want anyone riding it. Once I did get on, the paddling bit wasn’t too hard. It was only when I got out to where the surfer was and I tried to sit on it that it went back to being a horse-with-attitude. I stretched my legs wide and eventually got balance, but if I leant too far forward or back, the board dipped. I leant the other way when it did, but that started the board rocking, or for no reason I started leaning sideways, and I lost balance and fell in. Then I had to go through the hassle of climbing back on and doing the same thing all over again. Lots of times.

The surfer just sat there, with his arms folded, watching. He looked a lot like Jesus but with long, dreadlocked hair and beard. A knackered Jesus, with brown leathery skin and watery eyes. He didn’t laugh, but he didn’t offer any help either. Eventually I got on and stayed on, and he turned away, and looked out to sea. I did the same, and in silence we watched as the last smudge of dark blue evaporated and night turned to day.

When the waves came I had a go, but they kept running under me before they broke. So I paddled in a bit and waited for one that had already broken. I gripped the end of the board and held on. The slippery horse was suddenly stable and solid, and I got on to one knee, then to my feet and stuck my arms out like a tightrope walker. I rode that wave for all of two seconds before its power fizzled out, and I fell sideways into shallow water.

It was clumsy, awkward, and it lasted a moment. But my skin was on fire and I was grinning like I’d hit the jackpot. I’d stood up. On a surfboard. On a wave. I paddled back out.

It was just a ride on white water. But it was totally unlike anything I’d ever done. Not like riding a bike, not like sledging. Carried along by water. Rushing energy. Filling me up.

The surfer was grinning, ear to pierced ear.

“’Ow was that, dude?” he said in a thick Cornish accent.

“Awesome,” I replied.

“Learning?”

“Yeah, that was my first wave. Ever.”

“It gets better. Stick with it. Good luck.” He leant forward, paddled his board, till he was smoothly riding on a bump of water that wasn’t even near breaking, and was gone.

“Awesome,” I said, again, to myself. And waited to get another one.

I did too, but I fell off quick, tumbling in the shallows.

Then I got one that was a bit bigger, and lasted a bit longer. And after that I sat further out, waiting for the larger waves. The ‘larger’ ones being all of knee-to-thigh high. But even so, it was stupidly good fun. I loved it. I got another.

Then another.

And another.

*

For some reason I thought Jade would guess, like she’d smell the sea on me, or know my still-wet hair had been somewhere other than the shower. But she didn’t. She dropped her old army bag by the bus stop, leant against it and lit a rolly.

“D’you go surfing this morning?” I asked. It was always a good opener. A way to get Jade talking.

“Nah. Nothing going on. Not worth bothering with.”

“Right. Course not…” I couldn’t help smiling. She raised an eyebrow, checking me out with a deep stare that made me feel uncomfortable and good at the same time.

“Something funny?” she said.

“No. No, not really.” I sniggered. Stupidly, childishly. In my head I was picturing what her face would be like if I was to say, “Actually the surf was okay. Small, but pretty good.” But I didn’t; I just laughed.

She reached out a foot and pushed my leg with her boot. “What’s the joke then, Sam?”

“No joke. I’m just… happy.”

“Expecting a good mark for your physics homework?”

I ran a hand through my hair, feeling the grains of sand still clinging to my scalp.

“No. No, I haven’t done it yet. I was going to do it first thing, but… I didn’t have time.” I cracked up again.

She blew a whoosh of blue smoke at me. Her eyes narrowed. I could almost hear her mind ticking away, trying to figure me out.

“Why you so interested in me surfing anyway, Sam? You always ask.”

I shrugged. “Just chatting.”

“You still not going to have a go?” she said.

“Maybe, one day.”

“Maybe? One day? Really? One day might never come, Sam. No point in waiting.” She looked away, towards the sea. And I thought, She’s actually keen for me to do it. For all her acting cool, she was trying to persuade me.

“What’s so good about it then?” I said. “Tell me.”

“If I told you how good it was, you’d be doing it first chance you got.”

“Try.”

“Can’t. It’s one of those things that’s hard to put into words, like. You only know by doing it. If you don’t go, you won’t know. That’s what surfers always say. It’s true too.”

I thought back to that morning. All that getting up and getting cold and knackering myself. All for those few seconds I’d spent standing on a wave, riding and gliding on water.

I had gone; I did know.

“Yeah, that’s probably right. Hard to put into words,” I said. “Like dancing about architecture.”