I just want to know when the swells are coming. If I get footage of me surfing the Horns, I’ll be made. Sponsorship, free boards and travel, the works.” She looked up at the pictures with a glazed far off look in her eyes, then snapped out of it and turned back to me.
“Spliff?” she said. But I shook my head. She didn’t ask me about the vodka. She just got a flask, metal cup and a leather tobacco pouch out of the sea chest, then poured me a drink and started rolling herself a cigarette.
“Drink,” she ordered. I took it off her with a trembling hand.
“What’s wrong with me?” I said, trying to laugh.
“Bit of shock.”
“I did nearly drown,” I said. The vodka burnt my throat. I liked it.
“You got slapped about a bit, but you were close in. I was there, Big G too. I’d have got you if you’d been in trouble.”
“If? I nearly drowned,” I said again, glaring at her. But she was focusing on rolling her cigarette.
“How long do you think you were down?” she said.
I thought back, to what it had been like under there, to what had happened.
“A minute. Two?”
“No, you kook! Fifteen, twenty seconds. Then you came up, and then you were down another ten. It feels like everything, but it’s nothing. It helps if you count when you’re down.”
“Count what?”
“Count the seconds. If you know what you can do on land, you know you can do it in water. It helps keep the fear off. Ten seconds down there can seem a lot longer than it is. If you surf, you get used to hold-downs.” Jade put the roll-up in her mouth and lit it, checking my face to see if I got what she was saying. “You get to like it.”
“Like… it…?” I said slowly. I’d liked it afterwards, sure. I’d felt good. But at the time?
“It was scary, right?” she said. “But you came out the other side. Didn’t it feel good?” She was calm now, focused.
“I don’t know,” I said. It was the truth. I didn’t know what I’d felt. Scared? Freaked out? Thrilled? Battered? All those things. But mostly just really alive. And I felt good I’d had a go. If she’d had to get in and rescue that dog, Jade would have been disgusted with me. Instead, here we were, talking about my adventure. And I liked her looking at me the way she did, legs crossed, smoking her roll-up, staring coolly, like she couldn’t quite make me out.
“Next time hold your breath,” she said.
“Next time? You’re funny.”
“I practise in the bath.” She reached out, took the cup off me, drank some vodka, then gave it back. I imagined Jade in the bath. Then tried to shake the idea away before I went red. Or got a boner. “I hold my nose and count, put my head under and see how long I can do. It’s not the same, but it helps train for hold-downs. You were brave. Tell Tegan. She’ll be dead proud of you.”
I had my reasons not to. I had my reasons not to tell Teg or Mum that I’d nearly drowned. Good ones. They’d have freaked.
“…and I didn’t know you couldn’t swim,” she added.
“I can swim!”
“Not really.” She squeezed the white cold flesh of my shoulder with her warm fingers. “See. Weak as shit. It was stupid of you to go in. But cool. Maybe you’ve got potential, even if you are a kook.”
Potential for what, I thought.
*
I went home once my clothes were dry. I made excuses about needing to do homework, and went and lay on my bed, watching clouds through the skylight.
Thinking.
My dad had drowned. And I wasn’t much of a swimmer. I had plenty reason not to get in the water.
But that kind of pissed me off. You shouldn’t always run away from things, should you? Sometimes, the things you are afraid of are the things you need to face up to.
I liked how I’d rescued the dog, and I’d liked lying in the den talking to Jade about it. But I hadn’t liked looking weak, like I’d almost needed rescuing.
Jade didn’t need to face up to anything. She had no fear of the water. She loved it. She loved surfing. She was happy to let it rule her life.
And I liked Jade. I liked her a lot.
I lay there a good hour, just thinking about what had happened.
About Jade. About surfing.
I GOT SKIP by himself, at school, by the water fountain.
“All right?” he said, wiping water off his lip, ready to bounce off somewhere.
“Can I ask you something?”
He put his bag on the floor and leant against the wall. “What’s up?”
“I want to surf.”
“Is that all? Jesus, you looked so serious. But you? Surf?” He shook his head. “You sure that’s a good idea after the other day? No offence, dude, but you were a real kook in the water.”
“Will you teach me?”
“There’s surf schools for that,” he said, laughing.
“I don’t want to wait till next summer…”
“They do stuff at weekends. You get to wear a yellow rashie, with ‘surf school’ on it. Might as well be an L-plate. You’ll stand out from the ten-year-olds.” He picked up his bag and started to walk away.
“Is that how you learnt?” I shouted after him. He turned. Suddenly it wasn’t a joke.
“No, I just did it. Got in, kept at it till I rode green waves. Straight up? It’s the only way. Even if you get a lesson or two, to start you off, then you got to go at it full on, for a long time.”
“Right, but you could help me?”
He came back, and spoke slowly, so I’d understand. “Me? Like I get enough hours in the water and I’m going to waste time teaching a kook. And anyway…”
“There’s only one teacher,” said a voice from behind me. Big G put a hand on my shoulder.
Shit, I thought, he must have heard it all.
“You. Surf. Why?” he glared at me.
“You
