Chasing the Break

by Michael Panckridge

  I paddled back out. Travis was still lying on his board, beyond the break.

  ‘I didn’t see you walking, Grady.’

  ‘I didn’t see you surfing, Fisk.’

  A whistle blew. Everyone started back for shore. I caught up with Bubba, who was looking pleased to be heading back to land.

  ‘I swallowed some water. It sort of put me off,’ he said.

  ‘You don’t want to be swallowing anything you don’t have to, Fatboy,’ scoffed Fisk as he jogged past with his board.

  A group of girls came up next to us and one of them spoke to me.

  ‘Where did you learn to surf like that?’

  ‘Oh, down at our holiday place. Well, like in the water, I mean, not actually in the house.’ I was stumbling over my words.

  ‘You and Travis were way out the back. Do you know him from before?’

  ‘No, and he seems pretty mad at me for some reason,’ I said. This was about the most I’d ever spoken to a girl since school started. Actually, forget school starting. This was the most I’d spoken to a girl, ever.

  ‘Yeah, he’s mad all right,’ she said. She raced off, before I had the chance to ask why he was so mad at me.

  Later that night, we were lying in our cabin. ‘I think Fisk has got it in for you, Mitchell,’ Jack said.

  ‘Yeah, you’re a threat to him,’ added Bubba. ‘He’s not used to anyone being better than him at anything. Last year, a kid called Callan Foley beat him in the basketball. Fisk made him leave Sandhurst. Callan couldn’t hack Fisk and what he did to him.’

  ‘What was that, Bubba?’ I asked. ‘What did Fisk do to him?’

  Bubba looked at Jack, then at Bryce. Bryce put down his book and looked hard at Bubba.

  ‘Bubba, let it be. Last year, we weren’t there for Callan. This year, well, we’ll be ready.’

  ‘Hey, what are you guys talking about? What did he do to this Callan kid?’

  Finally Jack spoke up.

  ‘A week or so after the basketball comp, we were all in the pool mucking around. Fisk dragged Callan under the water and just held him down. He kept holding him under until he almost passed out and drowned.’

  Jack shrugged.

  ‘Callan told the teachers,’ he said, ‘but Fisk reckoned it was the other way round and that Fisk nearly drowned. Callan’s parents complained and made a pretty big fuss. In the end, he just left. We really don’t know what happened about the complaint.’

  ‘We think that justice wasn’t served. We think that Mr Fisk may have “influenced” the school,’ said Bryce.

  ‘Meaning?’ I asked, looking at Bryce. He had a way with tricky words.

  ‘Meaning,’ explained Bubba, looking important, ‘that Mr Fisk has a fair bit of power at this school and he’ll do anything to make sure Travis gets his own way.’

  ‘Well, let’s hope that surfing is going to be part of the whole Legend of Sport competition,’ said Jack. ‘I mean, it might be, but we don’t know yet. Mitch, you’re easily better than Travis Fisk on a surfboard.’

  ‘Oh, but surfing’s the first event, isn’t it?’ Bryce was smiling now and looking a little evil, especially by torchlight.

  ‘Nope, the first is cricket; I love cricket. It–’

  ‘Bubba, I think Bryce has got a little plan,’ said Jack.

  Just then, the door opened. A torch beam flashed around the room. Someone was whispering urgently, not to us, but to someone else at the door. We couldn’t tell who it was. There was scuffling and the sound of something being dragged. None of us moved as the beam of light disappeared.

  We didn’t think that much about it. Maybe we should have.

  The next morning, a note had appeared on the notice board in the dining room and it was causing a lot of conversation. It hadn’t taken long for Bryce’s little plan to turn into something real.

  Bryce had his head down and was tucking into cornflakes. Okay, maybe not tucking in, more like trying to find a cornflake that wasn’t a cornflake.

  I smiled at him. This kid was a legend. How did he do it?

  I found out later that he’d sent an email from his own laptop. He’d packed it in his backpack along with all sorts of other amazingly useless stuff for a camp (well okay, actually the laptop had proved useful). Bryce had sent an email, supposedly from the school, telling the teachers that the decision had been made and that the Legend of the Surf would be happening – and that it was a part of the whole Legends competition.

  I looked over at Travis Fisk. His bowl of cereal, fruit, sugar and milk was untouched. The note was definitely bothering him. He knew I could surf better than him and that I was going to take an early lead in the Legends competition. How long Bryce’s little prank could last for, I didn’t know, but hopefully as long as possible.

  That afternoon, we were at it again: surfing. Fisk wasn’t talking to anyone. Not even Richard Mazis or Jimmy Paisley, his thuggy mates. He paddled straight out beyond the break line and lay on his board, waiting for a wave. The swell was nowhere near as good as yesterday.

  I decided to give Jack a few tips. He was pretty annoyed that he couldn’t get on the board himself. Bubba was splashing about in the shallows again. Bryce was studying his knees. He didn’t have his leg rope attached to his ankle and his board was drifting away with the tide, but he didn’t notice, or seem to care.

  ‘Okay, Jack,’ I said, ‘I’ll hold your board and you climb on and stand on it.’

  Jack looked embarrassed.

  ‘C’mon, Jack, you’ve got to get used to the feel of it. It’s easier here on the flat water than when you’re on top of a wave.’

  Jack’s face was still red as he scrambled onto the board. He put a hand on my shoulder and struggled to his feet.

  ‘Cool. Now which foot feels like it should go forward?’ I asked him.

  Jack just stood there, wobbling and looking at his feet. Slowly he slid his right foot forward.

  ‘Jack, you’re a goofy foot!’

  He looked at me as if I’d just insulted him. ‘If you have your right foot forward, it means you’re a goofy foot. It’s just a saying, you know.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘You ready to start moving?’

  ‘Yep, but just slowly, Mitchell.’

  I started to pull the board back. Jack was doing a good job, actually.

  ‘Hey, Mitchell, when’s my lesson?’

  The girl who had spoken to me yesterday was standing behind me. I’d found out that her name was Luci Rankin. I let go of the board and turned around.

  ‘Um, right, well I reckon Jack’s ready to give the waves a try now, eh Jack?’

  At that moment, Jack fell backwards into the water. He came up with a grin. Throwing his body onto his board, he started paddling out to the swell.

  We finished our surfing session early so Mr Spears could tell us about the ironman and ironwoman competitions. He said we would have time to practise the three events – swimming, beach flags and paddling. The beach flags event was going to be a test of fitness. There’d be hardly any time between races and you had to finish in the top half of the beach flags to get through to the next round. If you were one of the last two to survive, then you were in the final.

  Mr Spears had finished speaking. We were still sitting on the sand. I turned to look at Jack. He was turning white. Bubba was biting his lip. Everyone started to move off. Fisk was looking pretty hard at us too – but I didn’t know why.

  I was staring at Bryce. He had this strange grin on his face. He finally noticed me staring at him and started talking.

  ‘You know that stuff about there being more stars than grains of–?’

  ‘Bryce?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Were you listening to Mr Spears just then?’ I asked.

  ‘Actually, no, but as I was–’

  ‘Bryce,’ interrupted Bubba, ‘Mr Spears said that Mrs Waite is coming on Thursday. To camp.’

  Bryce just looked at us as if we were telling him two plus two equal
led four.

  ‘Your email, Bryce. They’re going to realise the email was a fake,’ said Jack.

  ‘They were going to realise that eventually,’ he said calmly. ‘Thursday, Tuesday, some day. No one knows who wrote the email, except for you three. Anyway, what kid could have possibly managed to send an email from camp? Relax people. In the grand scheme of farting, this is a pathetic little pop.’

  Fearing a nasty smell, Jack and I got up, leaving Bubba to hear Bryce’s bit about sand and stars. I stopped and turned around.

  ‘What about “reply to sender”, Bryce?’

  Bryce looked at me. ‘You don’t think I sent it from any of my email addresses do you?’

  I got the feeling that when it came to computers, you didn’t question Bryce.

  ‘Nah, course not. I was just wondering whether they might, you know, recognise who sent it by clicking on “reply to sender” and then checking the address.’

  ‘Well if they do, they’ll see it came from Mrs J. Waite, Sandhurst School.’

  Jack and I must have looked confused.

  ‘I set up a temporary school-based address, sent the email, then deleted the address from the school server. I’m actually hoping that–’

  ‘Bryce, you’re the man,’ said Jack.

  Bryce looked pleased.

  ‘C’mon, Mitch, let’s do some beach flags practice,’ Jack suggested.

  There was plenty happening on the beach. Some of the kids were running in pairs and threes, sprinting about fifteen metres to grab a flag (actually just a stick, a bit like a relay baton) poking out of the sand. Travis Fisk was practising his sand diving. Jimmy Paisley would yell ‘dive!’ and Fisk would launch himself at the flag. He was trying to get the timing exactly right so that his dive would get him to the flag first. I had to admit, he looked impressive.

  Jack and I lined up behind the others and waited for our turn at the starting line.

  ‘How many?’ shouted Matty, one of our instructors. He was down at the finishing end, with the flags.

  ‘Two,’ called back the teacher.

  Matty pulled out a flag from the sand so that there was only one left.

  ‘Okay boys, lie down on your stomachs facing away from the flag. Rest your chin on your hands.’

  ‘Mitchell, I’m fast.’ Jack was grinning at me.

  ‘So am I,’ I replied.

  ‘Heads up!’ I looked up at Mr Spears. ‘Heads down,’ he yelled. ‘GO!’

  I was in a daze with all this head nodding. Jack was ahead of me already.

  We scrambled to our feet, sand flying everywhere. After a few stumbly paces, I was in my stride. The sand was soft and it was hard to run on. It wasn’t long before I was gasping for air. Jack was just ahead, almost crossing in front of me.

  I dug deep, driving my arms hard. We were neck and neck. Body to body. One minute Jack was next to me, the next, he was flying through the air, hands outstretched, reaching for the flag. I did the same, but a fraction too late. I smashed into the back of him as we both came down. We lay there in the sand, panting and puffing.

  Finally Jack managed to speak.

  ‘Geez, I hate that part. You want to hear the bad news?’

  ‘Jack, I don’t care that–’

  ‘No, it’s not that. Travis Fisk is way faster than me.’

  His chest was heaving up and down, the stick clenched in his hand.

  ‘Well, perhaps not too much faster, but stronger at the end.’

  ‘Got any good news?’ I puffed.

  Jack took a few more deep breaths. ‘Actually, no.’

  I was surprised to see Luci Rankin on the bus the following morning. She was the only girl.

  ‘Couldn’t sleep?’ yawned Fisk to her as he passed her seat.

  She looked away.

  There were only seven of us on the bus. Two boys who I’d noticed were good surfers, as well as Jack, Fisk, Jordie, Luci and me. I found out pretty quickly why Jordie was on the bus.

  ‘Mitchell,’ he whispered urgently to me. ‘You know the email? I think we’ve been sprung. I heard Fisk talking to Mr Spears. About how Bryce has a computer and–’

  I didn’t wait a second. The bus had started to move, but I jumped up and shouted to Mr Spears that I’d forgotten my towel, at the same time shoving it across to Jack, who stashed it under the seat.

  ‘Well, maybe you don’t deserve to have it with you then.’

  ‘Actually Mr Spears, I could go to the toilet quickly while he gets it,’ came an urgent voice from just behind me.

  ‘Luci Rankin, Mitchell Grady, you’ve got sixty seconds, both of you, then this bus goes!’ Mr Spears said.

  Luci and I scrambled off the bus.

  I raced into our dorm.

  ‘Bryce, where’s your laptop?’ I shouted. ‘Quick!’

  ‘In my bag, under the bunk. Why?’

  I didn’t bother answering. I raced over and tore the bag open. I knew straight away it wasn’t there – the bag was too light.

  ‘Bryce, listen. Somehow, we’ve been caught out. I don’t know how. But someone’s got your computer and I reckon it could be Fisk. Put your thinking cap on. I’ll be back in an hour.’

  I sprinted for the door, then turned round. Bryce hadn’t moved. He was staring at something that looked like a book of puzzles.

  ‘Bryce, did you hear me?’

  ‘Say what?’ Bryce was on another planet.

  ‘Don’t worry, Mitchell, I’ll tell him. You go.’ Bubba to the rescue.

  ‘Okay, Bubba, thanks,’ I called, sprinting back to the bus.

  Luci was already back on, sitting in the seat behind Jack.

  ‘Everything okay?’ she asked.

  ‘Um, yeah, I think so.’

  ‘Good. Well, if I get cold, can I use your spare towel?’ She was smiling.

  ‘Oh no,’ I said. I’d forgotten to bring back a towel. ‘I couldn’t find it anywhere, Mr Spears,’ I called out lamely, noticing Mr Spears looking at me oddly.

  Matty, the camp instructor, had agreed to meet us at the beach, which, except for an old guy with a long stick and a couple of dogs tearing about the shallows, was deserted.

  ‘I know some of you are quite good surfers and this will give you the opportunity to really hone your skills. I’m around to offer any advice you want. I’ll blow the whistle at seven o’clock. I want everyone out then, okay?’ said Matty.

  ‘Okay, Grady, let’s surf. Just you and me. None of your little friends to keep you in the shallows.’ Fisk had sidled up to me as the group broke up.

  That was fine by me. Sure, Fisk could surf, but he didn’t seem that agile on a board. Once again, we paddled out beyond the break. The weather was cool and misty and there was a good swell with plenty of waves coming through. The breeze was offshore. These were ideal surfing conditions. In fact, the surf was pumping.

  ‘You want to ride the same waves or what?’ I asked him.

  ‘Yep, my call first.’ He looked behind him. Good waves passed underneath us. We drifted. Suddenly he yelled, ‘This one!’

  We both started paddling. After a few strokes, the wave was on us. Fisk was on his knees leaning his board towards me. He had a mean look on his face. I realised what he was up to. I broke left, but too late. His board rammed me in the side and knocked me clear off mine. My board flew over my head and dragged me along while the wave broke and crashed on top of me. I came up, my ribs aching. Fisk was gliding into the shallows.

  I flopped onto my board and felt to see that each rib was still intact. Maybe the idea about the surfing competition was backfiring. Fisk seemed fired up enough to kill me. He was paddling back out.

  ‘So Grady, you still keen on surfing with me?’

  ‘Fisk, you’re a thug. You’ve just convinced me to work my guts out to beat you in every sporting event they put in front of us this year, starting with the ironman and surfing.’

  My side was aching.

  ‘My turn to choose a wave,’ I said, trying not to grimace.

&n
bsp; I turned on my board and paddled further out. This time, I would be on the attack.

  A huge set was building out the back.

  ‘Third one,’ I said and turned my board slightly away from his. I let Fisk get slightly ahead then paddled like crazy to catch the roll of the wave. Fisk was trying to get to his feet. The wave was a beauty. A big lazy monster. As it broke, I veered towards him, totally in control, pushing my front foot down on the wave. At the last moment, I cut back away from him. But Fisk was totally fooled. Thinking I would ram him, he jumped off his board and tumbled into the water. I cut back again myself and went over the top of the wave.

  ‘Unlike you, Fisk, I can get you off your board without having to touch you.’

  He was treading water, fuming. Maybe I was going to regret this. Still, that moment was worth it, even if my ribs were screaming at me to go and lie down somewhere for a week – or a year.

  I turned around and headed out to the back again. There were still plenty of good sets coming through. I was going to ignore Fisk and get some good waves.

  For the next hour I forgot about Fisk, the new school and the competitions as I rode wave after wave. Once, when I rode a wave almost to the shore, I noticed Luci sitting halfway up the beach staring out at the water. I didn’t know whether she was watching me, Fisk or one of the other kids. Or maybe she was just staring at the ocean waves. There are a lot of people who like doing that.

  The waves were getting bigger. They were scary to paddle back through. For a moment, as another monster approached, I could see nothing but a massive wall of surf about to dump thousands of tonnes of water on top of me. I went up the face of the wave, almost vertically, over the crest and then there was nothing but calm flat water, until the next wave was over me. Then another one loomed.