Kook

Jade flicked her dead roll-up away. “What?” she said, frowning like I’d said something in Japanese.

“This old singer Mum likes was once asked to describe his music, and he said talking about it was like trying to dance about architecture.”

She took a deep breath, ready to make some piss-take comment. But she paused, thinking.

“Right,” she said, nodding. “I get that. But you’ll never know, will you?”

I grinned a bit more. I couldn’t help it.

“It’s going to be a great day, isn’t it?” I pointed at the blue sky. She stared at me, wary.

“You know, Sam, you’re not just a kook. You’re also weird.”

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UNLESS THE SEA was flat or totally messed up by wind, I went surfing. Every day, pretty much. Weekends were good. As long as I helped out with Teg, and spent time helping Grandma with shopping, it was cool for me to go. But I did most of my real learning on schooldays.

I had the same routine: wake in the dark, bolt a sandwich I’d made the night before, neck coffee, cycle like mad, surf for an hour, race home, change, get to the bus stop. And then act with Jade like I’d crawled out from under the sheets two minutes before, which was a hard thing to do as I was always buzzing like a bee with the high of it, a high that didn’t leak out of my muscles till mid-morning, when I’d almost fall asleep in class.

I got good at it – not surfing, that took time – but the whole routine. Whitesands was my choice surf spot; a half-moon of golden sand, backed by dunes and rocky hills. A cool beach, always, but in the light of dawn, with a mist on it and the sun coming up, it was something special. I was struggling to even remember London.

Whitesands was near enough for me to get to, but far enough that I knew Jade and the others wouldn’t go there. There were better spots nearer to where we lived.

Sometimes I’d get there and it wouldn’t be breaking, or low tide, so all the waves closed out, smashing straight on to the sand, with no chance of a ride. But I never turned around and went home. I’d sit on the huge, rounded rocks on the edge of the bay, watching the sea change, grey to blue. I’d get a little lost in my mind then, feeling kind of stoned, like round the campfire with Jade and the others, just looking at the sea, waiting for the waves to start breaking. Surf or no surf, I never got tired of the place.

Most times though, it was working. Sometimes I’d spend the whole time paddling, being ripped around by vicious currents, or have a whole hour of fun just getting battered. I got held down a few times, but never for long. I tried that Jade trick of counting, but I never got to more than a few seconds before the wave let go and I could come back up. That day, when I’d rescued the dog, it had been worse than it looked. Or maybe I was just getting used to it now, and knew what to do. What I’d been afraid of to begin with began to be normal.

Some days I got a total of two rides, other times I lost count. But whether it went good or bad, I got to understand how waves broke. Waves that were fat and friendly and slow, others that had a nasty, fast edge. Ankle-snappers and shoulder-high white-water mushburgers. And everything in between. Over the days, I spent less time under water, less time paddling and jostling, and more time riding. I mostly rode the white froth of broken waves. But it was surfing, and I was learning.

*

Mum was okay about it at first. Like I said, I reckoned she thought I’d lose interest.

But then, after weeks, it became an almost daily thing. And even with me helping out in the house loads to make up for it, it got to the point where she was going to say something.

I came in from school one day to see the table laid. We usually ate tea on our laps in front of the telly.

“It’s your favourite,” she shouted, from the kitchen. I already knew it was, from the smell. Roast chicken. And that meant crunchy roast potatoes, peas and a dark, steaming gravy. My mouth was already watering.

“Great,” I said. I threw myself on the sofa, groaning, putting my feet on Teg’s lap. I did this every night, crashed out on the sofa, waiting for dinner like it was my first meal in months. That was how it was from the surfing. I was always hungry and always tired. I’d scoff dinner, then turn into a surfed-out zombie till I melted into my bed, seeing the waves in my head, mind surfing them all over again. Wondering what it would be like the next day.

When Mum brought tea in, it was a massive effort just to get up off the sofa.

We sat down, and ate in silence for a bit.

“It’s not going anywhere,” said Mum. “No one’s going to steal it.”

I paused, with my mouth full.

“Huh?”

“You’re wolfing it down, Sam. You’ll enjoy it more if you eat it slowly?”

I stared at my plate. Almost empty. Mum and Teg had hardly started theirs.

“Oh, yeah, sorry.”

“Make you hungry does it, this surfing?” she said.

“Yeah, loads.” I tucked in again. It took me a second or two to realise they were both staring at me, still not eating. I felt a bit awkward. I slowed right down.

“Will you play Lego Star Wars after dinner?” said Tegan. Teg was only six but she was dead good at this Xbox game. She loved me playing it with her too.

“I’m a bit tired to be honest, Tegs.”

“Oh,” she said, pushing a potato round her plate. Mum glared at me.

I carried on eating. Mum put her knife and fork down.

“You must really love this surfing, if it makes you too tired to spend time with your sister. Sam … you’re always tired. And when you’re not surfing, you’re not really… here. Like your head is somewhere else.”

“I’ve been helping out,” I said. “Shopping, gardening and that.”

“Yeah, but you’re in another world. You barely talk to us.”

She had a point. I was somewhere else. Mostly thinking about surfing, or Jade. Or Jade and surfing. And when I was in the water, I felt like I belonged there. Like everything in between was just waiting, some dream I woke from when I hit the surf.

I wasn’t even any good. Yet. But I still lived for it. So much, it needed Mum to point out I was forgetting all about her and Teg.

As I ate, I thought. They were new here too. Mum didn’t have any friends here yet. Most of her old friends here had been couples, folk that had been friends of Mum and Dad’s. It was Dad that had been brought up here. She was from up country. Every face she knew, every place she went, they had to be reminders of him. I hadn’t even thought about that.

Shit, I thought. I love surfing, but I shouldn’t let it turn me into a selfish prick.

I smiled at Teg, looking for forgiveness.

“You used to be fun,” said Tegan. “Play Lego. Pleeeease?” She reached out a hand.

“Okay,” I said taking it.

“Thanks, Sam,” said Mum. “Actually, I’m going to need you to spend more time with each other. Look after each other a bit.”

“Oh, um, sure. Why’s that then?”

“I need to earn some money. For a while anyway…” her voice trailed away. She meant till Grandma died. Till we inherited the house. And maybe money too. I never asked about that. Didn’t seem right. “I’m going to do some pub work,” she continued. “Lunches, a few evenings, bits at weekends. You’ll need to be home then, Sam. Is that okay?”

“Sure.”