The Only Exception

by Abigail Moore

  “I love you too,” I reply, turning around. The horn sounds and the five finalists dash out into the water.

  Out in the lineup, I watch as Carissa and Stephanie paddle battle for the first wave. Their rivalry from past competitions seems to be their weakness. They get too focused on beating each other and forget about the rest of the field, which might be good if they’re not worried about me. Tyler heads out as soon as they get back, Lacey soon following. I just wait, and it pays off. A wave better than any we’ve seen so far in the final builds up behind me and I get in prime position, popping and snapping the lip immediately. I do a 360° carve, then a 360° shove-it to show off my control of the board, finishing with a layback. I kick out to cheers on the beach.

  A few more good waves come my way and I pull similar combos, but even without knowing the scores, I know there is no way that waves like this are going to get me first. Not over this crowd of competition. I pull another wave and throw in a Stalefish air, and another with a slob air reverse.

  This still isn’t going to get me a professional surfing competition win. Just as I start to go for another wave, I remember what Sawyer told me. “You’re every bit as good as they are. You just have to show it.” Suddenly, I know what I have to do.

  A stellar wave rolls in and as I pop up, it starts to feather a little bit. Whether being confident or stupid, I make a quick bottom turn and launch a good five, maybe even six feet off the wave, grabbing the rail with precise timing and whipping my tail perfectly into a full 360° lien alley-oop. As I glide back onto the surface of the wave, I shout with excitement and clidro a bit, going up for a vertical backhand snap, a layback and a 360° shove-it just for fun. One final slash sends up a wall of sea spray behind me and I kick out, unable to wipe the grin off my face as I let myself fall backwards off my board.

  Pulling a perfect Lien alley-oop has sparked something in me. If I can do one, I can do two, right? I only have two waves left, and I decide to make them count. In the final two minutes of the competition, I pull not one, but two more waves with perfectly executed Lien alley-oops.

  Before the scores are even announced, my entire entourage engulfs me. Even Jane gets in on it, wrapping my ankles in her leash. “Choka,” Papaw compliments. “You did wonderfully.”

  “Thanks,” I reply, turning back to the announcer’s booth. Sawyer wraps his arms around my waist and stands behind me while we wait for the scores.

  “And we have the results,” the announcer states. “In third place, Stephanie Gilmore.” A crowd to my left cheers and congratulates Steph, who stands at the front of the pack. “In second place, Carissa Moore.” Another crowd cheers, this time on my right and as they cheer, I notice Sawyer’s grip get just slightly tighter around my waist. “And finally, the first place winner of the Pro Curl is,” the announcer begins, checking the score chart. “Andrea Maverick with a total finals score of 27.5!”

  My hand automatically flies up to cover my open mouth in disbelief. I turn around to look at Sawyer. “Did he really just say what I think he said?” I inquire.

  “Andrea Maverick, you are officially a Pro Curl champion,” he confirms with a proud grin. I just shake my head and laugh as he picks me up and swings me around. Setting me down, his sparkling blue eyes meet mine and he gently grasps my face in his hands. “I told you you could do it,” he says, fitting his lips to mine. I smile through the kiss and pull away after a second.

  “Now it’s your turn,” I tell him. He smiles wide and runs for his board.

  My success is apparently contagious. Sawyer pulls several brilliant airs and some sick carves and performs well enough to earn himself second place in the mens’s division. We talk to a lot of reporters between the score announcement and the award presentation. I walk around in a bit of a daze, before and after my name is called and I get my trophy. Both Carissa and Stephanie congratulate me and I them, then the entourage and I head back to my house.

  After starting a campfire in my backyard, we let Jane loose and just stand around talking. As I stare up at the stars, I pose the question “Could this day be more perfect?”

  “I can only think of one thing that would make it better,” Daniel replies, looking, not at me, but at Amy, who is by his side.

  “What’s that?” Amy inquires.

  Daniel doesn’t say anything. Then, all of a sudden, he leans in and kissing her by surprise. I smile at McKayla as her mouth drops open and she glances at me. Amy giggles as she and Daniel pull apart.

  “Yep. This day is officially perfect,” she agrees.

  Sawyer laughs and holds my hand. I lean my head on his shoulder. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

  The next day, I wake and check my email, per Papaw’s instruction. Apparently, quite a few sponsors wanted to talk to him about me after finals last night.

  I scroll through a few unbelievable offers from sponsors (it appears Vitamin Water and Rip Curl like me a lot), then suddenly click the wrong tab on the side on accident. Before I switch back, though, Mr. Clarke’s email from a few months ago catches my eye.

  “Dear Miss Maverick,

  Earlier today, I received my finalized class lists. You seem not to be on any of them. I recall you saying you would be back unless something drastic happened before you left. I expect a five page narrative essay on what happened, so as to have an answer when Miss Carver begins to question me.

  Sincerely,

  Mr. Clarke.”

  I ponder this for a moment, then decide the sponsors can wait a little while. I switch to a writing program and let the little black cursor flash at me for a moment as I wonder how to begin. Well, I suppose I should start from the very beginning. It all started the day I left, when Amy told me about her camping trip. A high pitched shriek pierces the silence of the back hallway of Allerton High. That’s really where it all started.

  Late that night, I finally finish the story after going back and forth from my narrative to sponsors, schoolwork, meals and back. Satisfied, I type out a reply to Mr. Clarke.

  “Dear Mr. Clarke,

  I sincerely apologize for my lack of explanation and the time it took me to respond. I have explained everything to Amy, so I don’t believe she will be a problem, however, in case others ask questions, here is the narrative essay you asked for. Sorry, I ran a bit over five pages. It was a 200-page kind of summer.

  Yours truly,

  Andrea Maverick.”