You’re wasting your time,” he said. He leant down, took a long drink from the fountain, then walked off.
“I live here. Why shouldn’t I surf?” I said to Skip.
“He was talking about Jade. That’s what he meant when he said you won’t get anywhere.”
“Oh. That’s… it’s… that’s not why,” I stammered, feeling hot in the face.
“Some have had a go, you know,” he said. He rolled his eyes when he saw my shock. “I don’t mean been there. I mean Rag tried it on with her, and G. Maybe he did more than try… She doesn’t seem that interested. Maybe she’s into girls. That’s what Rag reckons.”
I was burning up wanting to ask about that. But I didn’t.
“I just want to learn to surf,” I said, casual as I could.
“Whatever.” He picked up his bag, then hesitated. “By the way, how much?”
“What?”
“How much were you going to pay me? To teach you.”
“Nothing. I just thought…”
“Shit, you really are a kook,” he said, unable to stop himself smirking. “But thanks, you’re funny. You’ve made my day.” He smiled, winked and walked off.
*
I tried my luck with Rag. He got the same bus as Jade and me, but was always almost missing it. So I went to the lockers at the end of the day, knowing he’d be pissing about with books and bags. I wanted to get him alone, but he was talking to two girls.
“Rag. Have you got a mo?”
“Shoot.”
“It’s a bit… Can we talk… alone?”
“Oh, right, yeah,” he said, nodding, like he already knew what we were going to talk about. “’Scuse us, ladies.” He put his beanie over his mop of curly locks, put his arm round my shoulder and walked me out of the building. He looked over his shoulder a couple of times before he whispered in my ear.
“I don’t know who told you about me, but they’re fucking dead! I can’t get expelled. I want names, you hear? Then G will have a word with the loose-tongued bastards. Anyhow, seeing as you’re here… Mind-fuck or Mellow Summer’s Day?”
“What?” I said. I had no idea what he was talking about.
“The Mellow’s better in my humble, but most dudes go for the bang-you-into-a-coma gear. God knows why. Its proper name is Cheese or something, but I call it Mind-fuck, so no one says I didn’t warn them.”
Then I twigged. He was talking about weed. Rag dealt drugs.
“I don’t want any weed.” I said.
“Then why are we talking?”
“I want to surf. I was thinking you could help me.”
“I ain’t got the time, man.” He took his arm off me. “Sure you don’t want any weed?”
I shook my head. “I know you won’t teach me but… some tips?”
He scratched his stubbly chin.
“Sure. Don’t do it. It’s bastard hard, and distracts you from other stuff you should do. Like live your life.” He raised an eyebrow, looking serious, like he was thinking about some deep subject. “On the other hand, it’s the best thing you can ever do. Better than girls and spliff and… other stuff I can’t think of right now. That’s just my opinion. But it’s also a fact. Any surfer will tell you the same, or they’re lying. I haven’t even got it that bad, but every idiot I know who stuck at it has. Does that help, Sam? How much were you thinking of paying me anyway?”
I tried not to look too hacked off.
“Okay, forget I asked,” he said.
“How am I supposed to learn?”
“There’s only one teacher.”
“What does that even mean, Rag?”
“You’ll see. Need a board?”
“Yeah.”
“Come round Saturday morning. My bro’s got some stuff too shagged to sell to the shops. He’ll give it you cheap.” He gave me the address, and said I’d find it easy.
I WAS DEAD PLEASED Rag was going to help me. But even if he hadn’t, I’d have found a way.
I had a lot to prove. To myself. But to Jade too. Even though I had no idea how she’d react. Would she be pleased? Or would she just piss herself laughing? There was no point worrying about it. I’d decided.
Rag lived on a council estate on the moor side of a small village called Lanust. All the houses were dull and granite and square. Rag’s house stuck out because of the choice artwork above the garage door. It was a graffiti-style spray job, about four feet high, showing a grown-up, sexy Red Riding Hood. She had a basket full of spray cans instead of apples, and with one in her hand had scrawled a message next to her, in spiky red letters, two feet high:
A thumping rap tune was blasting out of the window. It took a lot of knocking before the door was answered.
Rag took me to the garage to meet his brother, who was exactly like Rag only older, about eighteen, and perfecting the stoner look even more than Rag, with scraggy, thatched hair, a wispy beard and glazed, bloodshot eyes. There was no sign of any kind of Responsible Adult.
If Aladdin had been a surfer, his cave would have looked something like Rag’s brother’s garage. At one end was a workshop with a bench, with a half-finished board on it, and a shelf with masks and sanders. The floor was covered with a snowfall of ground white foam. Next to the bench was a line of clean, white, new boards in a rail. In the middle of the garage there were more rails, with more boards. New, old, long, short, wide, thin, white and stainless, yellow with age, smooth and pristine, dinged and knackered. Boards with single fins, boards with three fins, boards with pointed noses and pinpoint tails, longboards with blunt noses, boards with ends shaped like fish tails. At the back there were no rails. It was just a messed up mountain of boards and suits.
All round, Aladdin’s surf cave.
Seeing all this made the whole ‘me surfing’ thing very real, and not just about Jade. I thought riding one of those things might feel good. And going out in the sea and not almost-drowning might feel pretty good too.
“Ned buys and sells, fixes and
