Surf School

by Laurine Croasdale

  Fran hugged Tilly. ‘You look worn out. Why don’t I paint it up for you tonight? How’s Phil?’

  Tilly sighed, rubbed her eyes. ‘He’s straightened out again. He’s better when he’s out of bed but he’s disappointed that they won’t release him yet.’ She smiled at Fran as she pulled some pins out of her bag, ‘I hope it’s soon. Having him home will be so good.’

  Fran handed pins to Tilly and they arranged the class photos across the deck of Tilly’s board, standing back to see the finished product. ‘I’ve put them online as well,’ said Tilly. You should see the page. Sam’s just finishing the design now.’

  ‘Hey! I thought someone was going to give me a hand?’ Shane yelled, running towards them. He pointed at the two boards and scowled. ‘What are those?’ He ducked through the doorway, his head hitting the crystal and setting off a flurry of coloured dots.

  ‘We’re trying to improve the School. Bring it out of the 60s,’ snapped Tilly.

  ‘This is a Surf School, not a bazaar.’ Shane slapped sunscreen across his face and neck. ‘I hate gimmicks. We don’t need them.’ He spat the words out in disgust, rubbing cream along his arms, then emptied his water bottle in one swallow before noticing a student standing timidly outside. ‘Coming in today, Sue?’ he said, sounding awkward.

  Sue nodded. ‘For sure.’ She held up one of Fran’s bracelets. ‘I just want to pay for this.’

  Shane narrowed his eyes at Fran. ‘Pay her. I’m just the hired help.’ He pointed his finger at Tilly. ‘You and I need to talk. Today. After class.’

  Fran put the money into her pocket, waiting until Sue and Shane had gone. ‘He’s not happy, Til. Let’s just pack it all up. It’s not worth upsetting him. He’s under pressure too.’

  ‘No. Shane might’ve taught Jesus to surf but it’s Dad’s school and I think he’d like what we’re doing. Besides, Shane asked me to help and I am. If he doesn’t like it, too bad,’ she said stubbornly. Fran looked unconvinced. ‘We’ll sort it out later, don’t worry.’

  ‘While you’re sorting things out, Tilly, you should go and talk to Marlee.’

  Tilly bristled. She busied herself getting ready for the surf. ‘Why should I? She nearly let two boys drown and then ditched me, to go off with Kyle. I was stuck here alone all afternoon with students to look after, a monumental mess and Shane in one of his tempers. If anyone is owed an apology it’s me,’ she said, her voice rising.

  ‘You weren’t alone all afternoon,’ said Fran, a little fed up. ‘I was here nearly all day. You were only alone for an hour.’

  ‘You know what I mean,’ Tilly sulked.

  ‘Not really. I gave up my day to help, that means I was here just like you.’

  Tilly turned away from Fran and pulled on her rashie.

  ‘I know you’re stressed,’ Fran went on, more gently, ‘but I don’t think you’ve heard the full story about yesterday.’

  Tilly cut her off impatiently. ‘I heard enough. Shane said Marlee was showing off to Kyle. Plain and simple. She never thinks about how her actions affect everyone else. No, Marlee screwed up. And not just in the surf, but with the School. And with me.’

  Fran grunted in frustration. ‘You’re not listening! Marlee nearly drowned trying to help those two boys in the surf. They got caught in a rip because of their own stupidity. And if you think you’re alone when I’m here with you, and everyone else is helping you, even though you never seem to notice or appreciate it, then play the martyr by yourself.’ Fran hooked her bag over her arm. ‘I’ve got other stuff to do.’

  She paused at the door. ‘Did you know that Marlee’s been doing her pamphlet run at 11 pm so she can spend the day helping you as well as go to the hospital?’

  Tilly swallowed. Silent.

  ‘No. I didn’t think so. She’s tried her best to help you. We all have.’ Fran flung her towel over her shoulder. ‘See you.’

  Tilly put her head near the window to catch the breeze. Without Marlee, the bus trip home from the hospital was both long and quiet. The humidity had kicked in big time, frizzing her hair until she’d tied it in a knot, and secured it with her pen. But her hair wasn’t the only thing the heat had curled.

  As the bus chugged to stop after stop, Tilly unravelled recent events like a long piece of knotted string. The School had swallowed her life. And she’d let it. Shane could have organised things but she had taken over, trying to control it all. And not only that, Shane had practically told her to stay away and now she’d managed to annoy all her friends.

  By the time the bus pulled up near her house, her body was limp with hunger, aching from sitting in a hospital chair. Her head jangled with images of blinking machines, squeaking trolleys, drip stands, her Dad’s slow movements, his tired, beaten face.

  She stepped into the heavy darkness of the house, grateful that the blinds were down. The fan barely shifted the air. The flicker of the TV screen dappled colours across the floor, and Tilly noticed a line of boys sitting along the couch.

  Sam pressed pause on the Xbox control. ‘Is he all right?’ Tilly’s face was pale, her eyes red.

  ‘Not really. He’s worn out and his leg’s agony.’ Her stomach rumbled loudly and she kicked at a tangle of towels on the floor, the sand sticking to her feet. ‘I’m starving. Did you get my text about heating up the lasagne?’

  Sam nodded vaguely, not moving. ‘I’ll get something sorted in a sec.’ He nudged Jamie and nodded towards the screen. ‘Your go, mate.’

  Dirty dishes were stacked in leaning towers in the kitchen. Drink bottles lolled in cold washing-up water and the remains of an enormous lasagne sat drying on the table, coated with flies. Tilly stormed back into the lounge room and stood in front of the TV screen, hands on hips. ‘Samuel.’

  ‘Oooooh, it must be bad if it’s Samuel,’ Matt joked.

  ‘Samuel Leon Hoye.’ Tilly heard her voice rise until it was shrill and she was shouting. ‘That lasagne in the kitchen. The lasagne Mrs Halgren kindly brought over for our dinner. Your dinner and my dinner.’ She glared at the others. ‘That lasagne. That lasagne has been eaten.’ Tears ran down her cheeks. ‘You didn’t even save me a piece!’

  ‘Okay. Calm down.’ Sam shifted uncomfortably. ‘I told you I’d get something organised, and I will,’ he said defensively. ‘Now move.’

  Tilly rubbed her stomach to ease the hollow ache and unclench the knot that had settled. ‘No, you won’t. You’ve hardly done a thing at home while Dad’s been in hospital. Look at this place. It’s a pigsty. And you lot.’ She eyeballed Matt, Jamie and Dan sitting alongside. ‘You come here every day, make a mess, eat our food and then disappear to your nice clean homes for dinner.’

  Sam glanced at his friends, then at Tilly. ‘That’s enough, Tilly. What’s got into you?’

  ‘You practically live here and do any of you ever think to clean up or help out? No.’ She switched off the TV. ‘Well, the ride’s over. Go leech off someone else. We’ve got enough problems without carrying you lot as well.’

  A long silence fell across the room.

  Tilly stood stubbornly in front of the television.

  Sam picked up his towel. ‘C’mon, let’s get out of here.’ He looked coldly at Tilly. ‘Let’s go for a surf.’

  ‘But there isn’t any,’ Dan said.

  ‘We’ll find some,’ Sam pushed him towards the door. He turned to his sister. ‘Good one, Tilly.’

  The house emptied, quickly, silently.

  Tilly followed, and locked the door behind them. As she slowly gathered the wet towels into a pile, she noticed a dark shape under the coffee table. Her heart beating fast enough to pull a bus, she picked up the Blood Book, its cover now a little faded and scratched. She remembered the furious letter she’d written and saw Marlee’s new entry.

  What a horrible letter. And so much of it is not true. I can’t believe you’d think those things about me without at least hearing my side of the story.

  I WAS fooling around in the surf with Kyle. But those boys we
re fine until they hit the rip and panicked. They weren’t listening to Shane on the beach so when it happened they didn’t have a clue what to do.

  When I realised they were in trouble, I swam out and put them on a board and helped them to catch a wave in. Before I could swim I got a bad cramp and nearly drowned. And if Kyle hadn’t been there, I would have.

  After we got to the beach Shane was hopping mad. I felt really sick and tired so Kyle took me home. I was going to call you later but I fell asleep and didn’t wake up until lunchtime the next day.

  What hurts most is that you didn’t stick up for me. I would have for you.

  And thanks for bringing up the black spots in my family history. I remember them all quite clearly. If you’re trying to hurt my feelings, it’s worked. I remember some of yours, too, but what’s the point of dragging all that up every time life isn’t going so well?

  And I’m not judging you for not training. We made a pact, that’s all, and to me that really means something. I’ll keep going, training, working, competing, whatever I need to do to get to the WCT with or without you, because I also made a pact with myself. So don’t bellyache to me about it any more.

  I realise that you’re having a really hard time but I’ve been trying to help you and I can’t understand why you have turned against me. Maybe it’s better if we don’t hang out together for a while.

  Marlee Finn

  The Book slipped to the floor. Tilly stared blankly ahead, tears falling. She’d hurt one of the best people she’d ever met and even though Fran had tried to warn her, she hadn’t listened. Marlee was right, she would’ve stuck up for Tilly. And she had been for weeks.

  Shafts of light grew towards her through the side windows and as the afternoon faded, so did Tilly’s energy. Her body drooped, a deep aching tiredness fanning along her limbs. She dragged herself onto the sofa, eyes closed, ragged breaths slowly getting longer, deeper as the afternoon sounds filtered through in muffled bursts: a car backfiring down the street, the beep of her mobile, the sound of a board being placed against the wall and the swish of water as someone rinsed their feet.

  She ignored the gentle knock on the door and the side window sliding open. She kept her eyes shut as Sam shuffled through the window and landed inside with a soft thud and grunt. She slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  The late afternoon surf rolled in. Big. Explosive. Clean.

  Marlee studied it, memorising the waves peeling off the banks, looking for the best take-off point, where to paddle out, rogue waves. She worked through her usual mental check list as she squeezed her head through the tight opening of her rashie.

  ‘How’s it going? I’ve been thinking about you. You okay?’ Kyle pushed the nose of his board into the sand beside her, stretching his arms upwards and leaning first one way, then the other.

  At the sound of his voice Marlee’s stomach went to wash and she took her time pulling down her shirt.

  ‘Really? I’m fine,’ she said, a little shy.

  Marlee had thought of nothing else since the day of the rip. She recalled the soft look on Kyle’s face when he’d helped her in the surf and wondered yet again if he’d have kissed her if she hadn’t pulled away. But now that he was standing beside her she felt foolish, like she was imagining it all.

  ‘Better than Tuesday,’ she managed to say.

  Kyle didn’t answer, absorbed by the next set shaping up and Marlee felt sure it had all been a mistake. But when she finally looked at Kyle, he was watching her.

  ‘Sorry about my old man. I talked to him about it last night.’ Kyle laughed in disbelief. ‘He thought we were ignoring those kids. He had no idea you’d helped them in.’

  ‘I know.’ Marlee’s voice caught in her throat. ‘He told Tilly that too.’

  ‘Well have you told her what really happened?’

  Marlee turned back to the surf, eyes squeezed together against the bright sun, a hand shading her eyes as she thought about Tilly’s letter. She wanted to say more, explain to Kyle about the letter but anger bunched up in her throat. She shook her head.

  ‘I’ll go and talk to her,’ said Kyle.

  ‘No. I can sort this out myself.’ Marlee swallowed hard, caught his arm. ‘Thanks again.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Well, not letting me drown, for one thing,’ she laughed nervously.

  Kyle shrugged it off. ‘I was hardly going to let that happen. Anyone would have done the same thing.’ He stared at her like he had more to say and Marlee shifted uncomfortably, beginning to stretch her legs, one by one.

  ‘I’m scared I’m going to get a cramp again.’ She bit her bottom lip, and bent to attach her leg strap. Her legs felt light, useless, and she pushed down the fear surging in her stomach.

  ‘You’ll be fine. Best thing is to get back out there.’ Kyle smiled reassuringly. Marlee nodded, following him down to the shallows.

  As soon as she hit the water Marlee’s spirits soared. This wasn’t the same ocean she feared moments ago. As the water lapped around her she felt alive.

  Kyle flipped his board over to wet the deck, then called out to Marlee, who’d already started paddling, ‘Hey, wait up.’

  ‘Paddle faster, loser,’ she joked, but then slowed slightly so he could catch up.

  They paddled at an easy pace, a companionable silence between them, ignoring the curious glances from other locals. ‘Wanna get something to eat after?’ said Kyle.

  ‘Sure. I’m starving,’ Marlee said, ignoring the stitch in her side and pushing herself to keep in front. ‘But there’s one condition.’ She cut in front of Kyle so he yelped, and yanked his board out of the way. ‘Well, two: I get the first wave and no hassling.’

  He grabbed Marlee’s leg, pulling himself alongside her and Marlee held onto the rails so she wouldn’t slide off.

  ‘Deal,’ he smiled. ‘So long as you get out the back first.’ Then he took off, paddling fast. Marlee duck-dived the wave in front of her, pushing her arms deep through the water and gradually closed in on Kyle. He glanced over his shoulder and laughed but she quickly lined up and charged the first wave while he was still distracted.

  The first thing Tilly felt was a handful of fur. She flattened her hand across a broad neck and followed it down to a pearl collar. She smiled, then said sleepily, ‘Hello, Marnie.’

  Marnie’s tongue lolled out happily and she shuffled her front paws forwards so Tilly could pat her head, her tongue returning the hello with a friendly swipe across Tilly’s cheek.

  The rich fruity smell of hot olive oil wafted into the lounge room, followed by the sizzle of onions and garlic, a smell so rich and enticing that Tilly’s stomach rumbled, loud and insistent. After days of pizza she’d almost forgotten food could smell so tantalising. She bounded off the couch then stopped at the door, confused.

  ‘Oh, hi, Jamie,’ Tilly paused. Of all Sam’s friends she knew Jamie the least. He barely said a word to Tilly. He was always hanging back watching what was going on. It was only since he’d been mooning after Pink that she’d even noticed him. He stood at the kitchen bench, T-shirt hanging out of his jeans pocket, tea towel over his bare shoulder, scraping chopped ginger into the wok. Tilly stopped at the kitchen door rubbing her eyes.

  ‘Was that you who came through the window before? I thought it was Sam.’

  ‘Yeah, hope you don’t mind. The door was locked.’ Jamie grinned apologetically, stirring in shallots.

  Another rumble echoed loudly from Tilly’s stomach and she laughed, embarrassed. ‘Mind! You kidding. That smells unreal. And prawns!’ She watched him throw the prawns into the pan, drooling as they turned a rich pink before her eyes. ‘They’re my all-time favourite. This must have cost you a fortune.’

  ‘It’s only a stir-fry, pretty basic really, and my dad owns a fish shop, so no big deal about the prawns.’ He laughed selfconsciously, tossing hot noodles into the wok, moving around the kitchen with the grace of a dancer. Tilly jumped onto the bench alongside as Jamie pulled the wok
off the heat, throwing in bean shoots, and sprinkling crushed peanuts, chopped mint and coriander over the top.

  ‘That looks like something out of a food magazine. I never knew you could cook.’ Tilly realised that she didn’t really know anything about Jamie except that he played Xbox, was a cool surfer, a better skateboarder, had soft brown eyes, and that he must spend hours shaping those thin sideburns down the edge of his cheek bones. She’d never really noticed that he was cute either and wondered again why Pink wasn’t nicer to him.

  Jamie flicked his fringe back, slightly embarrassed. ‘Mum showed me how to cook a dish so she’d get a break from cooking and it sort of went from there. Now she complains that she never gets to cook!’

  Tilly quickly found bowls, glasses, juice, even folded a couple of paper napkins, setting everything on the table before toasting him with her orange juice.

  ‘Well, please feel free to cook here any time.’

  She held the bowls out while Jamie spooned in the stir-fry, garnishing each with extra chopped coriander. ‘I’ve tried to cook but nothing ever works out. Would you show me how?’

  ‘Yeah, sure. It’s not that hard really.’

  Tilly didn’t speak again until her bowl was half empty. She smiled at Jamie gratefully.

  ‘Starving,’ she muttered, and kept eating until the noodles were gone and she got up for seconds.

  ‘I’m sorry about this afternoon,’ Tilly said sitting back down. ‘I don’t know what’s up with me. I keep losing it. I don’t mean to, but something happens and I just explode.’

  Jamie had hardly touched his food. He pushed the prawns around his bowl and Tilly was sure he hadn’t heard a word but just as she forked in another huge mouthful he pushed himself upright, looking directly at her. ‘You were right. We do hang around your place all the time. We won’t any more though. Gordo’s is the new hang this week.’

  Tilly glanced up from her bowl her cheeks pink with embarrassment. Jamie was swinging back on his chair. When he saw her face he laughed, holding up both hands. ‘Joke!’