Ocean Rules

by Kate McMahon

  A hand lands on her shoulder and she draws in a sharp breath and lets out a little squeak.

  ‘Oops, sorry Jaspa, I didn’t realise you were miles away!’ the man laughs. ‘Hope you pay more attention in your semi,’ he jokes. Jaspa is thrilled to see it’s Thomas Sampson, the head surf coach at her school, the Institute of Sporting Excellence.

  ‘Mr Sampson, you scared the bejeezus out of me!’ Jaspa giggles, steadying her breath. She’s grateful to have bumped into her teacher. He, more than anyone, gets where she’s coming from with her surfing. She makes a mental note to tell him about her earlier encounter with Rosie, and how it helped put being a competitive surfer into perspective.

  ‘I’ve been watching your heats, girls. I’m really proud, and whatever happens from here, you should be really proud, too.’ Thomas has a particular interest in Jaspa’s journey. She’s not the most tactical on his team, but she’s definitely the most naturally gifted, and has a unique relationship with the ocean.

  ‘What’s going to happen from here is that we’re going to make it through and join Carolyn on the tour, that’s what’s happening,’ Mel states matter-of-factly.

  ‘Well, you’ve definitely got all the tools you need to achieve that, Mel. You’re both surfing incredibly. Just remember how to use positioning to your advantage and to really read the waves. Conditions are getting trickier with the tide change and the increasing swell,’ he says, nodding towards the ocean.

  ‘I know, I’ve been grilling Jaspa about not getting hassled out of position,’ Mel says with the best of intentions, albeit bossy ones.

  Jaspa grins and nods, there’s no point arguing. She has her own strategy of listening to the ocean, and surfing as though she’s the only one in the line-up, but trying to explain that would be futile – she’d just get laughed at.

  ‘Well, you girls best go and prepare. I’ll be down on the beach before you paddle out. They’ve held off the boys’ finals until after the girls have surfed, so I’m all yours,’ Thomas says with a sweep of his arms. ‘Jaspa, ask Tyler to give me a call so we can offer him some counselling services. I’m sure he’s devastated,’ he adds softly.

  ‘Thanks, I’ll definitely let Mum and Dad know,’ Jaspa replies. There’s no way in hell she’s going to tell Tyler to get counselling. She sighs to herself, hoping her big brother isn’t losing it too much.

  #18

  ‘She didn’t commit enough to her first turn, there’s no way she’ll get more than a 6.5,’ says the girl in green.

  ‘It’ll be close, but she’s totally out-surfed them the entire heat. It’s only fair she gets through,’ the surfer in pink says.

  As the siren sounds to begin their semi finals battle, Jaspa listens to her competitors speculate on the fate of Mel’s final wave from the previous heat. Having found herself in third place with only fifty-four seconds remaining and needing a 7.2 to move into second, Mel scrambled into a set wave. As the five-minute flag was raised and Jaspa paddled out for her semi final, she saw Mel take off with a bit of wobble before finding her groove to complete a four-turn combination of an off-the-top re-entry, round house cutback into the pocket, then another off-the-top before finishing with an ally-oop aerial. But what if it wasn’t enough? Would Mel be genuinely happy for Jaspa and Carolyn if they made the tour without her? Jaspa would like to think so.

  ‘Yo, focus, focus,’ Carolyn says, snapping her fingers at Jaspa. ‘Quit worrying, we’ll find out soon enough.’

  Jaspa diverts her eyes away from the shore, where she can just make out Mel pacing in front of the judges’ area like a panther. ‘Right, I guess we should think about catching our own waves!’ she says, smiling at Carolyn. ‘I’m just crossing everything Mel gets through so she has the chance to qualify with you.’

  A surge of water swells up onto the sandbank, making a beeline for Jaspa. For a moment she thinks the wave has crept up on her too quickly and considers pulling back, then thinks, all that will do is fill me with regret. What if, what IF I just went for it? As the lip of the wave throws itself towards the beach, Jaspa presses her hands into the board to stand tall, her feet freefalling, not connecting to the waxed deck until she lands with a thump at the bottom of the wave. With her back to the foam, Jaspa jams her right foot so her fins slice through the ocean like razors, then collapses her back knee and grabs the board’s outside rail to race through the tunnel. A sheet of ocean whirls around her – it’s one of the best barrel rides of her surfing existence. The wave spits her out like a stone from a slingshot and Jaspa’s tummy churns as she’s propelled forward, finishing the ride with a series of four snaps that sees the nose of her board seamlessly reach beyond twelve o’clock. As Jaspa hears the commentators cut short their enthusiasm over her ride to announce the results of Mel’s heat, she sits on her board and stares towards the beach without a blink.

  ‘Thanks for your patience, folks. We now have the final scores for the women’s first semi final.’ The crowd falls silent. Jaspa closes her eyes and holds her breath.

  ‘Melissa, your final wave scored a 7.5!’

  The crowd goes nuts as the announcer continues. ‘Final results are: Lisa Campbell in first place, Melissa Appleby in second place – you’ll both be moving through to the final,’ the commentator continues. ‘Commiserations to Rebecca Oldfield in third and Tara Watson in fourth. However, Tara still qualifies for next year’s tour. Congratulations!’

  Jaspa grins and swings her board around just in time for Carolyn to soar over her on a cloud of foam.

  ‘Yew, did ya hear that?’ Carolyn screeches as her head pops up from the water like a bobbed apple. ‘Mel freakin’ made the final!’

  Jaspa stops paddling and turns to face Carolyn, one eye on the lookout for sets. ‘I know, I’m so excited for her! Hey, I’ll see you out the back,’ she says, drawing her palm through the ocean and pushing it underneath her board to steer herself forward.

  ‘Actually, you won’t,’ Carolyn smirks. ‘I’ve got a little problem to contend with, so you get out there and nail this semi!’ Carolyn waves a broken board over her head, hyping up the crowd, who respond with a cheer. A soft giggle escapes Jaspa and she smiles to herself, thinking how lucky she is to call these incredible girls her friends.

  At the end of her heat, Jaspa doesn’t bother to return her rashie, instead running straight towards Mel and Carolyn, who are sitting on the fence behind her parents’ tent. Over the sound of sand squeaking between her toes, Jaspa can hear their hoots and cheers getting louder.

  ‘You slayed that heat, you style-master!’ Mel beams, springing from the rail to embrace Jaspa. ‘Check this out for listicle-worthy commentary,’ she adds, handing her phone to Jaspa, who looks down at Mel’s status update:

  The top seven reasons semi two rocked!

  The waves are cranking. Nuff said.

  This is hands-down the best girls’ surfing I’ve seen this year.

  My homie Carolyn Fitzgerald charged a huge foam-ball floater.

  Sure, the floater broke Carolyn Fitzgerald’s board, but this little legend has qualified for the tour. Yew!

  I saw a flash of lightning far out to sea and it was spectacular.

  My bestie Jaspa Ryder just surfed as stylishly as ever to come second …

  … this means she’s in the finals with meeeeeeee!

  A bubble of happiness bursts from Jaspa’s heart to leap up into her throat and a tear rolls down her cheek, collecting ocean drops along the way. ‘You ripped too, Mel. I saw your last wave and held my breath until I heard your score. I almost passed out!’ Jaspa picks up Carolyn’s surfboard to inspect the nose, which flaps precariously on a thin film of fibreglass. ‘Whoa, you got your money’s worth out of that snap! I’m sorry you didn’t make it through, though.’

  Carolyn leans on her hands and draws her feet underneath her to balance on the rail. ‘Yeah, but I’m stoked because now I can relax and cheer for both of you in the final. I am bummed about the board, but my boss said I could replace it for free.’


  ‘What a legend, that’s so generous of her. Plus, you know there are plenty of spares in our shed, take your pick!’ Jaspa says, wrapping Mel’s towel around her shoulders.

  ‘Jazz, let’s go, we’ve gotta check in for the final. Watch this for me please, amiga,’ Mel says, chucking her backpack to land underneath Carolyn.

  Jaspa holds up a hand. ‘I’ll catch you in two secs, I just wanna say hi to Mum and Dad.’ Bounding towards the tent, she stops short when she sees Tyler approaching. Her dad gives him a back-slapping hug.

  ‘You should be very proud. You surfed fantastically, and that’s all you can do,’ Anthony says while Ellen offers Tyler a veggie patty sandwich.

  Tyler grumbles a sort-of acknowledgement and takes a massive bite. ‘What’s going on with the girls?’ he asks through a mouthful of bread in a mumble only a mother could decipher.

  ‘Mel just scraped through into the final, and Carolyn and Jaspa just finished their semi,’ Ellen replies.

  Tyler swallows down his jealousy. ‘What do they need to get to make it through, then?’ he grunts.

  ‘Carolyn has already qualified by making it to the semis. Mel needs a third in the final,’ Ellen says.

  ‘And Jaspa still has a lot of work ahead of her. She needs to win the event,’ Anthony interjects.

  Tyler snorts condescendingly. ‘Looks like we’re both on the bench next year, then.’

  Those last words knock the wind from Jaspa. She can’t believe her own flesh and blood would rather see her fail than succeed without him. Tyler’s tantrums are beginning to wear thinner than her one-mil springsuit. Gritting her teeth, Jaspa heaves a silent sigh and creeps away without being noticed – something she might need to get used to, considering all the eggshells she seems to be walking over lately. Shaking her head, she jogs to the contest area, deciding it’s time to quit guilt-tripping herself.

  The final starts in fifteen minutes. She deserves to be there.

  Bring. It. On.

  #19

  There’s a photo on the event’s Instagram showing Mel, Jaspa, Pepita and Lisa all in their competition vests holding their surfboards under their arms. The caption reads: Wiloonga Junior finalists hit the waves in fifteen minutes. Go girls! The photo doesn’t get nearly as many comments as the one that was posted a couple of hours earlier showing Tyler chucking his board, his top teeth biting down on his bottom lip just before he’d fired off a round of f-bombs. The caption reads: Ten bucks says Tyler Ryder is not mouthing ‘fabulous’ as he waves goodbye to next year’s World Junior Tour.

  Jaspa and Mel walk down towards the shoreline. The sand is starting to cool as the sun makes its descent, currently hovering over the Bungaloo mountain ranges. Jaspa’s grin widens. While she mightn’t be too fussed about the hassling and sly tactics that can come with competing, she’s definitely buzzing on her achievements, way more than she ever imagined. When she surfs a wave well it isn’t ego that fuels her ambition. She doesn’t particularly care if anyone thinks she’s good or not. It’s the feeling of reading a wave perfectly, of putting yourself in risky positions but knowing the ocean well enough to trust that she’ll be okay, that’s what she’s addicted to. Imagine being able to do all that and travel the world with her two best friends …

  ‘Hey,’ Mel interrupts Jaspa’s daydream. ‘I know it’s daunting that you need to win this event, but you’ve got this,’ she continues, picking up the slack in her leg-rope. ‘Just make sure you surf a smart heat, okay?’

  ‘Sure Mel, I promise. You, too,’ Jaspa replies, before placing her hand on Mel’s forearm. ‘Wait up a sec.’ Jaspa turns to face Pepita and Lisa, who are walking 50 metres behind them.

  ‘Hi,’ Jaspa greets them as they get within hearing distance. ‘I’m Jaspa, I don’t think we’ve formally met.’

  Mel rolls her eyes and keeps walking. Jaspa’s clearly not adhering to her ‘no friends in a final’ rule – best friends excluded, naturally.

  ‘I’m Pepita – Pep – this is Lisa.’ Pep has scrunched up the sleeves on her pink rashie like a muscle shirt and her black hair is pulled into a blunt ponytail that sprouts from the back of her neck. ‘We heard about the Salt Action post. Nice one,’ Pep offers dryly, not allowing the conversation to flow much further. Her deadpan voice sounds like it only travels from the back of her throat. The kind you hear from the indie city chicks. Probably because she is a city chick, thinks Jaspa, albeit more punk-indie than cardigan-wearing, craft-making indie.

  If it wasn’t for surfing, Pepita Mapstone could very well be one of the best drummers in Sydney. Her high school band, No Kitty Bad Kitty, were winners of triple j’s Unearthed High competition two years ago, and scored a record deal with Stealth Music shortly after. But pretty soon her musical and surfing careers were running neck and neck around the track of success, neither getting ahead of the pack. She decided to take a break from the band to concentrate on surf comps in an attempt to qualify for the junior tour. Making it past the quarter final means she’s done just that.

  Her kickass stick skills aren’t exactly wasted, though. Her main sponsor, Volcom, use shots of her drumming as part of their Wild Things campaign; a series featuring their team riders surfing on one side of the page, usually popping an air, then shredding at their out-of-water passions on the other. She’s in the company of graffiti artists, motocross riders, other musos, parkour enthusiasts and more.

  Realising the conversation has dwindled to dead air, Jaspa smiles and waves goodbye, which in truth feels awkward, given she’s only a few inches away. It’s like the moment you hone in for a first kiss, then hesitate at the last minute, thinking, cheek or lips? Lips or cheek?

  ‘Good luck,’ Jaspa offers, before finding her own sand space. She stretches out her legs, flexes her feet and leans forward to fold her fingers over her toes. ‘They seem lovely,’ she says, craning her neck to look at Mel.

  ‘I’m sure,’ Mel replies bluntly, twisting to face away from Jaspa.

  Mel shivers and shakes out her shoulders.

  ‘Are you nervous?’ Jaspa asks lightheartedly. She’s about to surf with just three other people in the water, she can’t wait!

  ‘No,’ Mel snaps. ‘Look, just make sure you win this damn final, okay?’ She stands up and pads down the velcro of her leg-rope, shooting her a look that suggests if Jaspa falls short, Mel will have no hesitation in swooping in like a seagull stealing a chip from its buddy to claim victory.

  The four finalists straddle their boards. The sea rises and falls like the belly of a sleeping giant. They hold their collective breaths and are blanketed by an eerie calm as they wait for the first person to catch a wave.

  Pepita breaks away fast from the pack to power-stroke into a sizey left-hander. Her competitors watch from the back of the wave as she disappears down the face, leaving a series of sprays to bookmark where she’s been.

  Mel and Jaspa are in position to take the second and third waves in the set. Mel slices hers to pieces with several vertical backhand attacks of risky in-the-pocket positioning. Jaspa’s graceful ballerina-like turns mesmerise the crowd as she links flawlessly from re-entries and cutbacks to floaters and tube rides. Any doubts about her power ability are quashed each time water explodes from beneath her board.

  Mel, Jaspa and Pepita continue a wave-for-wave exchange over the next twenty minutes, with less than two points between third and first place. And then it happens: Jaspa makes the mistake of paddling over to where Lisa is positioned.

  ‘Oh geez, what’s wrong?’ Jaspa asks, seeing Lisa sobbing into her hands.

  Lisa draws in a breath and explains in a quivering voice that she’s yet to even catch a wave. That means once she’s back on dry land, crap will hit the fan, all at the hands of her father. ‘He’s gonna lose it. It’s bad enough that I’m going to come last, but to not even post a score … oh man,’ she whimpers, shaking her head.

  Jaspa grabs the nose of Lisa’s board and draws the two of them closer together. ‘You’re in the final. You sho
uld be stoked about that, and I’m sure your dad will be, too.’

  ‘You don’t know hi–’ Lisa begins, but she’s cut off by an announcement.

  ‘Lisa Campbell in blue, you are yet to score. Pepita Mapstone in pink you’re in third on 15.4. Jaspa Ryder in green, you currently hold second position on 16.5, and Melissa Appleby, in yellow, you are the heat leader on 16.8. Surfer in green, in order to progress into first place you need to better an 8.3. Competitors, there are seven minutes remaining.’

  Jaspa lets go of Lisa’s board as she spots a perfectly-formed right-hander storming in towards her like a freight train. She’s on the inside of Lisa with priority. The wave is pitching in exactly the right spot along the rip bank in a way that could see it run for 50 metres or more. Jaspa’s belly is bubbling with excitement – this is her chance to try for first place. She swings her board to assume take-off position, but before she even realises what she’s doing, before realising she’s about to make the biggest mistake of her life, she pulls back and screams at Lisa to take the wave.

  #20

  A rock smashes against the beachside fence, thrown by a furious Tyler. He screams expletives through gritted teeth and kicks over an empty esky, knocking it into the gazebo.

  ‘Tyler,’ Ellen warns, ‘watch your mouth, there are kids around. That is not okay behaviour.’

  ‘She doesn’t even give a crap, Mum. She’s so close to getting through … she’s an ungrateful little bitch!’ Tyler flinches as his dad swings around to face him.