Simmo really understood the power of silence.
‘After last night … and the pilchards thing … It was meant to be a joke.’
Simmo just stared, until they heard the hooter blast the end of the heat. They didn’t really need to wait to hear the scores to know the outcome, but Simmo wanted Edge to hear it.
‘Mari Knox – 6, Ally Henville – 7.5, Katie Gordon – 8, Perri Lawe – 4,’ the announcement rang out over the beach.
‘Is there anything I can do?’ Edge asked feebly.
‘Can you get Perri back into the comp?’ said Simmo.
Edge shook his head.
‘Go back to camp, Edge. You and I will deal with this later, but for now, I don’t think Perri should have to look at your stupid face.’
Edge was going to get a savaging. That was for sure. Simmo waited till he was out of earshot before he turned to Heath and Matt.
‘And you two,’ he said, ‘have the task of explaining to Perri what happened and why it was exactly that Edge was ticked off enough to do it in the first place.’
No-one was escaping today, and with Perri now out of the race, the pressure on Bec and Fly was all the greater. Simmo turned to both of them as the announcer called them down.
‘Take no prisoners.’
Fly pushed out hard against the break. She wasn’t surfing against Stacey this heat, but she’d decided to give everyone the Twinkie treatment. She hadn’t met any of their eyes once and already she was getting the tiniest thrill of what it might be like to not always come into things bowing and scraping and apologising for being alive. Fly and Bec were competing against Corin Hardy again, and a girl from the mid-north coast. Her name was Sonja and she was big and buff and she didn’t look like she’d bluffed her way into the finals.
The four of them wrestled their way out to the line-up. There wasn’t much time for chit-chat – the first of the sets was pounding down towards them. Bec let Sonja take the first wave; she’d been watching long enough to know the second was going to be bigger. Corin had tried to push for it too, but Bec hadn’t given her an inch, which meant Corin was back there with Fly. She looked up and opened her mouth. ‘Grrrr …’.
It took Fly a second to register that she’d actually done it, and that she’d done it out loud. Corin might’ve been about to ask for the time, or about to warn her about a bluebottle for all Fly knew, but she wasn’t giving her the benefit of the doubt.
Corin looked completely dumbfounded. ‘Did you just growl at me?’
Fly was glad she didn’t have time to answer. The third wave was rearing up and it was a ripper. She might’ve paddled so fast to get onto it out of sheer embarrassment but it didn’t matter – once she was on board Fly snapped, crackled and popped all the way to the end of the wave. She looked briefly to the beach. She could see Simmo standing there, leaning back, his arms folded across his chest in satisfaction. Even if she didn’t win it, she felt like she’d made him proud.
Three average waves later, Fly knew the clock was ticking down. She’d surfed well, but she wasn’t over the line yet. She just needed one more good ride and maybe, just maybe … She didn’t let herself think ahead; she needed to concentrate on now. And now there was a perfect wave heading towards her. She took off, paddling hard. Looking back, she realised that she had sensed Bec paddling equally hard beside her. But at the time, nothing else got a look in except her need to get on that wave.
It had more speed in it than the rest of them, and that meant you didn’t get an entry ticket unless you worked hard for it. Fly’s arm muscles screamed as she tried to keep up with the wave. She was so in the zone that she didn’t really notice Bec on her inside until she was almost on top of her. Suddenly there was a bash of fibreglass, and Bec’s face was close and confused, right next to hers.
‘Fly!’
But Fly was too far down the track to stop now and workshop the misunderstanding. She dug deep one more time and managed to get onto the wave. She skimmed down the face, cutting deep into the wave as she pulled off a radical bottom turn. She skipped back towards the top and railed it for a second time before she flicked out of the back. Her mind was so focused that she had no idea what would be waiting for her when she got in …
Which was Bec’s inner mongrel. The hooter had gone just as Fly took off, which meant that, legally, she was allowed to finish the wave, but everyone else had to call it a day. Bec was standing there in the white water, her board under her arm, as Fly glided into shore. She was fuming.
‘You took me out.’
‘No I didn’t,’ said Fly. ‘I was on the inside.’
‘Only after you shouldered me!’
Simmo could sense the disharmony and was already striding towards them. ‘What happened out there?’
‘She pushed me off the wave,’ said Bec.
Fly shook her head. That wasn’t true …
‘You dropped in on me, Fly. You deliberately shouldered me.’
Not true again. And it was like Fly had used up her Twinkie points today because there just wasn’t any growl left in her.
Simmo took over. ‘What’s done is done. Stuff happens out there.’
Both girls snapped to attention as the PA crackled to life.
‘Sonja Grant – six, Corin Hardy – six, Fiona Watson – eight, Bec Sanderson – five … That puts Fiona Watson into the finals with a cumulative score of thirteen. She’ll join Stacey Jervis, Ally Henville and Emily Cameron.’
Fly was stunned. She didn’t know whether to be more stunned about the fact that she’d managed to make the finals, or the fact that the one time she’d gotten into a tussle with Bec it had made the difference between her getting through or not.
‘I hope you’re happy. That’s me out, thanks to you.’ Bec spat the words out as she stormed off.
‘Bec?!’ Fly called after her. But Bec kept right on stomping.
How was it possible that two milliseconds after hearing she’d won the heat, she could feel so bad? This was not how it was meant to feel, was it?
‘Forget it, Fly. She’ll calm down. It’s all part of winning and losing.’
Fly looked up at him seriously. ‘Is it?’ she asked.
Simmo nodded. ‘And right now, my girl, you are a winner. You did everything we talked about and more. Well done.’
Fly stared down at the boiling white water. If this was winning, she wasn’t sure she wanted a bar of it.
Chapter 24
It was not exactly happy campers all round on the drive back. Heath sat next to Fly, but not a word was spoken the whole trip. Not a word … Edge was sitting on the step of Simmo’s caravan when they finally pulled into the driveway. He stood as soon as they bumped their way in. It had obviously been a long wait in Camp Simmo on his own. Simmo sat behind the wheel for a moment. Fly could see the weight on his shoulders. Now, after everything that had happened today, he had to deal with this! He stepped out of the car and used his finger to call Edge over. The two of them walked slowly towards the pit toilet.
Simmo told Edge what a stupid, stupid thing he’d done. Edge didn’t need convincing. He told Edge that he was very lucky today’s comp wouldn’t affect Perri’s ranking or he’d be stripping points off him left, right and centre. Then Simmo seemed to get very interested in the pit toilet. He explained that he and his mates had been camping there for close to twenty years and in all that time they’d had the same old torch for going to the loo in the middle of the night. The magic torch. The torch that never ran out of batteries. Not bad for twenty years. Simmo went on to explain that last night, in the middle of a nature call, he’d dropped the torch … And he’d really like it back. The thing was, this pit was started last year and there were an awful lot of chiko rolls, hot dogs and pies down there – not to mention last night’s pizza – so it probably wasn’t going to be a pretty job.
This was Edge’s penance, and as ugly as it sounded, Fly would’ve swapped it in a flash. Because she wasn’t being offered a way out. She was just suffering
the cold shoulder. Bec was the chilliest, but Anna and Perri were freaked out enough to be kind of coolish too. Fly couldn’t really blame them. Who knew what it had looked like from the beach? The three of them had disappeared into the tent the moment they’d gotten back. They were probably deciding she was the biggest snake of all time for all she knew.
After ten minutes she couldn’t stand it any longer; she edged over to the tent. She almost knocked, like it mightn’t be okay for her to go into her own tent. In the end, she just cleared her throat and pushed on in. They didn’t appear to have been making voodoo dolls with Fly’s face on them. They were actually getting dressed. Perri was steering in a pair of coral earrings and Anna was actually in a skirt. Something serious must’ve been going on.
‘Where are you guys off to?’ she asked.
‘We’ve been invited to a losers’ party at the clubhouse,’ said Anna.
‘Losers’ party?’
‘It’s a tradition,’ explained Perri. ‘Those who don’t make the final get to throw a party.’
Fly could feel Bec staring at her.
‘But seeing you’re such a winner, you get to have an early night and rest up for tomorrow. Lucky you, eh?’
Fly stood there stinging. She had no response. Her inner mongrel was nowhere to be seen. And maybe that’s because Fly didn’t want it. She hated this kind of aggro. They were supposed to be friends and now, because Fly had been so interested in winning, they hated her. The more she thought about it, the more she thought she might cry, so she turned and pushed out through the flap of the tent.
As she stepped away she heard Bec defending herself.
‘What? What?’
Anna and Perri must’ve given her the eye, bless them, but Bec wouldn’t be moved.
‘Did I say anything that wasn’t true?’ Bec demanded.
She hadn’t. She just had a way of delivering the truth that made it feel like you’d been whacked over the head with a marlin.
Bec, Anna and Perri went off to the losers’ barbie, so Fly was the only girl at dinner. Edge had been busy on his torch-finding mission and Heath and Edge were too embarrassed to serve pizza two nights in a row so they’d decided to brave the fire and cook something. Fly was halfway through her bowl and she still didn’t know what the something was. Not that her tastebuds were in gear anyway. She was too busy replaying the afternoon’s incident, going over every angle, trying to see where it had gotten so tangled up.
Simmo offered to go through some strategies for tomorrow, but Fly’s heart just wasn’t in it. She felt like the sooner this whole thing was over and done with the better. Edge was finally allowed to give up his search due to darkness, but only on the condition that he took it up again at first light.
When the tinned peaches came out for dessert Fly excused herself. She needed a walk. Heath declared he suddenly felt in need of an old leg stretch himself. They walked high out along the headland, watching the first of the stars come out. Fly knew she should probably talk to him about the hurricane in her mind, she knew that’s why he’d come, but she didn’t know where to start.
Finally she just came to a standstill.
‘I don’t know who to be anymore. The old me was a loser who was nice to everyone and everyone liked her. Now I’m this aggro nut case who knocks people off waves.’
Below them a huge sheet of water crashed against the rocks, unleashing a giant wall of spray.
‘You didn’t do anything wrong. If you had the judges would’ve disqualified you.’
‘You know the weird thing? For a second there I was really happy that I won. That I beat Bec.’
Heath looked up at her. ‘So what? You think Bec would have worried if she’d beaten you?’
Fly stopped and sat on a rock. ‘I don’t want to be like that. A person who thinks that winning is everything.’
‘What do you lose if you win?’
She looked up at him, confused for a second.
‘Um … well if you go by today’s example, I lose my friends.’
‘So they’re your friends when you’re cute little Fly. Nice and polite, happy to let them take the lead.’
Fly stared out to sea, she wanted him to stop, but at the same time she wanted him to go on.
‘I think she’s a fake.’
Fly looked up. She did a quick U-turn on her last thought; maybe she didn’t want him to go on at all.
‘Beg yours?’ she said.
‘I do,’ Heath nodded. ‘I think she’s old school. She’s a habit. And sometime – could be this weekend, could be next year, could be ten years from now – you’re going to work out that she’s actually a pain in the butt.’
Fly couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
‘Are we … Are you supposed to be my boyfriend?’
‘It’s your theory: old Fly/new Fly. I’m just going with it,’ he said. ‘Seriously, what would the old you do about what’s happened?’
Fly thought for a minute.
‘I’d wait up feeling miserable till the girls got home, and then I’d apologise to Bec, because she was probably right, and then things would go back to normal.’
‘So why don’t you do that?’ he asked. ‘Why are you sitting out here freezing your knickers off talking to me about it?’
‘I really don’t know.’
‘’Course you do. You’re out here ‘cause the old you doesn’t fit anymore. Telling Bec she was probably right would be a lie and it sticks in your throat. And that’s a good thing.’
They sat in silence for a while.
‘And worse than that,’ said Heath, ‘now that I’m on a roll, the old you might even go out there tomorrow and end up performing ordinarily enough to make sure she only came second. ‘Cause no-one hates seconders, do they? They only hate winners.’
Maybe Heath was right. Maybe, ever so slowly, she’d been leaving the old Fly behind. But she was stuck in the middle at the moment, and she didn’t know which way to swim.
‘Could you whip out your flute and bang out a few riffs for me to follow?’
Heath smiled. He got the Tutanekai reference and he liked it. ‘Ah, if only I could. But it’s your swim, Fly.’
He got up and left her there. She didn’t know whether to curse him or thank him for the talking-to. What she did know was that if Heath put as much thought into school as he did into the way the rest of the world worked he wouldn’t be in the jam he was in. But it wasn’t him in the hot seat right now; it was her.
She sat there for a long time, batting around the options. Heath was right. Waiting up and grovelling felt like the island she’d left behind. Gritting her teeth, ignoring it and not caring about the consequences turned her into Edge. Maybe there was a middle way. Maybe she would talk to Bec and state her case, calmly and gently, and whatever happened at least she would go to bed with the truth as her friend.
She strode back to camp and nudged Heath, who was snoozing by the fire, with her foot.
‘You want to come for a walk?’
‘Another one?’ he said.
This walk was quicker. It was a walk with purpose. By the time they reached the clubhouse, it was going off. There was a DJ, a drumming troupe, fire twirlers and a huge projector showering them all in the reflected light of wicked big wave surfing. These losers really knew how to celebrate.
It didn’t take long to find Bec. She was by the bar talking to one of the other losers. Fly marched up without preparing a speech. It was time to shoot from the hip.
‘This is a party for losers, remember?’ Bec said.
She’d got in first. Fly was on the back foot already.
‘I just wanted to say I’m really sorry about how things worked out.’
That was a good, calm middle-of-the-road kind of thing to say. She wasn’t taking the blame, she was just expressing she wasn’t pleased with what had happened.
‘So you admit you shouldered me?’ Bec said.
This was where it’d get interesting.
‘No,’
Fly said. She could feel herself holding her breath. ‘I’m just sorry you’re knocked out and I don’t want us to not be friends.’
Maybe she should’ve prepared a speech. Bec was a street-fighter from way back and she didn’t cut Fly any slack.
‘So if you’re actually not apologising, what are you here to say?’
Heath had been standing at Fly’s shoulder for moral support, but Fly guessed he must’ve thought she needed more than that.
‘She beat you fair and square, Bec,’ he said. ‘It’s not like you haven’t shouldered people in the past.’
Fly glared at him. She knew he was only trying to help, but she hadn’t shouldered Bec. She’d bumped her!
‘Only if they got in my way.’ Bec was arguing with Heath now. Fly might as well have not been there at all.
‘So you got in Fly’s way!’
Bec shook her head. ‘You know what? I don’t need this.’ She was already heading across the room.
When Fly looked up she realised that Anna and Perri had been drawn to the fight. They didn’t know which way to go.
‘Don’t let her get to you, Fly,’ said Anna. ‘She’s just upset.’
No kidding.
Something must’ve snapped inside Fly. Maybe it was the safety net holding her back against the old island, stopping her from swimming too far. She didn’t know what it was, all she knew was that there was a wicked African beat coming from the jembes and she was sick of feeling bad. She looked at Heath.
‘Do you want to dance?’
It was rare that Fly took Heath by surprise.
‘Now?’
‘Sure,’ she said. ‘What’s the alternative? We walk back to camp, talk it over on the way, don’t reach a decision, same old stinky story in the morning.’
She had a point; maybe they could stay for half an hour.
But half an hour crept into an hour, and then it crept into two, and three hours later Heath was still trying to peel Fly off the dance floor. He didn’t know what she was doing, but he suspected it wasn’t just youthful exuberance. There was something sad about the madness of her dancing. Something manic about her smiles. And Heath didn’t buy it for a second.
Blue Water High Page 21