The wave was right in front of me: like a big, blue fish tank. I shut my eyes and covered my head.
‘Hold on,’ a voice said calmly.
There were some straps on the front of the board and I grabbed them in preparation for the wave to smash us. Then the board lurched forward as if powered by a motor. The person, or whatever it was had moved forward over the top of me, causing the board to jolt forward. His hands grabbed the handle I was holding and I could feel the strength of this giant. Then we went right through the wave. I felt the water all over me and the board stopped moving forward. I could feel the wave trying to pull us back, but finally we pushed through and the wave had passed. Above me the man released his grip and moved back. I let go and tried to look up.
‘Keep holding,’ he said firmly.
There was another wave coming. Just as big as the last, looming down on us. We couldn’t stay here forever. I thought about jumping off and taking my chances by myself. I had no idea who this person was. But one thing was certain, we'd been lucky to push through the last wave and I didn’t like our chances this time. Before I could act the man sat up, putting all his weight at the back, and spun the board around, just like I’d seen Kell do with a surfboard, except this board was much bigger and I was on it!
Now we were facing the beach and the wave was behind us. Gently it picked us up and we surfed it all the way into shore. It was a long ride; we’d been a long way out to sea. The breeze flew through my hair and I felt my heart start to beat normally. The man behind me was whistling as he paddled. If I hadn’t still been thinking about nearly drowning, it would have been enjoyable. When we got to the beach, he picked me up just like he had before, under the armpit.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked.
‘Yeah,’ I coughed.
He ran his eyes over me. ‘Where are you from, mate?’
‘We just moved here from out west.’
‘You shouldn’t be trying to learn to surf on this beach. Go to Queen’s Beach.’
I looked down at the sand between my feet. ‘I went to Queen’s Beach, but some boys from school told me to find my own break. When I saw no one was here….’ I shrugged.
‘There’s a reason no one is here. This is a very dangerous beach,’ said the man.
I wiggled the sand between my toes. ‘It didn’t look very dangerous,’ I mumbled.
‘You could have drowned. You were in a rip.’
I shrugged my shoulders. Surfing was much more difficult than anything I’d tried before – no wonder Marcy liked surfers. ‘What’s a rip?’ I asked.
The man pointed out to sea. ‘You see where you were? See how the water is choppy and a different colour to the water over there?’ The man pointed further down the beach.
‘Yeah. So?’ I said.
‘Well, that’s a rip. It’s water moving out to sea and it was pulling you out too. They’re very difficult to swim against. You could easily have drowned,’ explained the man.
‘Oh, I didn’t know,’ I said softly.
I looked at him; he had long blonde hair that covered his ears, but no one would call him a girl. He was the biggest man I’d ever seen. He had a chest like a horse that was heaving slightly, and big brown arms. His tanned face was a bit like my dad’s, almost as if he was trying not to smile. But I understood he was lecturing me and that I was in trouble. I inspected the sand between my toes again.
‘Just moved from out west hey?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, my dad was a grazier, but we had to sell the station because of the drought, the government and the system,’ I said seriously.
The man laughed. ‘So now you want to be a surfer?’
‘Do you know Marcy Bliss?’
The man looked at me, raised his eyebrows, and chuckled. ‘Marcy Bliss? Why would I know Marcy Bliss?’
‘She’s the prettiest girl in my school.’
‘Ah,’ the man’s brown eyes sparkled. ‘So that’s the reason why you’re trying to kill yourself.’
‘She likes surfers.’
‘Well, then, we’d better turn you into a surfer. Get your board.’
My board had floated in and washed up on the beach. I ran and grabbed it while the man put his yellow rescue board back on its holder. He was watching the water when I got back to him.
‘Are you a lifeguard?’ I asked.
‘Yep. Call me Ryan.’ He stuck his hand out and I shook it.
‘Mitchell,’ I said.
‘You ready for your first lesson Mitchell?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Let’s go.’ He turned and started walking up the beach, away from the water.
‘Aren’t we going in the water?’ I asked.
He pointed at the lifeguard tower. ‘Nope. We’re going to watch the water. First you have to understand the ocean.’
Chapter 5
‘Dad, can I have a surfboard for my birthday?’ I asked.
He put down the paper and studied me. ‘What’s wrong with the one you have?’
‘Ryan says it’s too big for me. He says it’s for an adult.’
‘Who’s Ryan?’
‘He’s the lifeguard teaching me to surf.’
Dad folded the paper and glanced at Mum; she was busy feeding Suzie. It was a Sunday morning – our first real breakfast together. We’d been in the new house for a fortnight now. I’d finished my first week of school, Dad had finished his second week of work, and Mum had unpacked everything. Things around the house were starting to feel normal, although Dad was always tired. On the farm he’d always worked from sunrise to sunset, but for some reason the new job was tiring him, nearly every night he and Mum had argued and he’d cursed the drought, the government and the system.
‘You want to surf?’ he asked.
‘The kids at school call me Witchetty Grub.’
Dad rubbed his chin. ‘Witchetty Grub?’
‘Because I don’t have a suntan. There’s this one kid, Kell, he called me it first and now the whole school calls me it.’
‘Do you remember when ate some witchetty grubs?’ he asked.
‘John,’ Mum interrupted in a stern voice. ‘The boys here are a lot different to his old school.’
Dad took a sip of his coffee, it was no longer hot, but that was the thing about Dad, nothing went to waste. He always ate everything on his plate and he always finished his cup of coffee, it didn’t matter if it tasted awful or if it was cold.
‘How much do they cost?’ he asked.
‘Ryan says I can buy one second-hand for about two hundred dollars.’
‘Two hundred dollars!’ Dad blurted. He glanced out the glass doors into the backyard.
‘But I can sell it again when I get too big for it and I can buy another one,’ I added.
‘Another one,’ my father whispered.
‘Please, Dad.’
‘I don’t know.’
‘We could sell Pippa,’ I said.
This caused him to turn his head back to me, and his eyes formed thin slits. These were the eyes he used when he was surveying the land and inspecting the clouds. Usually the words that followed were: bloody drought.
Pippa was the horse he’d bought for me for Christmas two years ago. She was a lovely horse, kind and gentle. Now that we’d moved we’d put her in some stables an hour’s drive away and I didn't think I would see her much.
‘She’s a fine horse,’ Dad said.
‘Mitchell, honey, are you sure you want to sell her?’ asked Mum.
‘Well, there’s no use for her here!’ I stammered. ‘Look at that backyard. There’s no room for a horse. When am I going to see her? She’s no use to me now!’
Dad glared at the backyard. He was used to having a backyard that was a thousand times bigger. I knew he hated this one.
‘We’ll see,’ he finally said and finished off his coffee and unfolded his paper, lifting it up so he was hidden behind it. Mum leaned over to him and put an arm on his shoulder. ‘John maybe we can go and see Pippa next Sunda
y.’
Mum always uses Dad’s first name when she wants something.
Dad didn’t move his paper. ‘Maybe.’
‘Mitchell, maybe Stephanie and Marcy would like to come.’
‘Really?’ I asked. Stephanie was Marcy’s mum and apparently she and Mum were once really good friends. When they were young they used to compete in show jumping competitions together. Then Mum met Dad at a rodeo and moved to the country. Mum said that nobody knew horses like my dad and that there wasn’t a horse in the country he couldn’t ride. He’d been a rodeo champion in his day and back on the station people would often bring wild horses to him for help in breaking them in. But here, in Horseshoe Bend, no one sought his counsel. I knew he was as unhappy as I was, but that just made me even angrier with him.
‘Why not? Are you working next Sunday?’ asked Mum.
‘No, I don't think so.’
‘I’ll ring Stephanie and arrange a babysitter for Suzie then,’ Mum said.
I could hear in her voice that she was excited. She still loved to ride, but there’d never been much to see on the station except dead grass and dry plains.
‘Fine,’ Dad replied.
‘Yes!’ I said and ran into my room. I wondered if Marcy even liked horses; some people didn’t like horses because they were scared of them. But Pippa was so gentle that even people who were afraid of horses liked Pippa. Everyone I knew liked Pippa. Would Marcy like her?
I heard Mum ring Marcy’s mum and I crossed my fingers.
Chapter 6
The second week at school was no different from the first. Kell ignored me and I could never find Marcy. Steve and I were in the same English class and we sat beside each other. We talked heaps, but as soon as Kell was around, Steve ignored me too. I think he wanted to be a good surfer, but he wasn’t very athletic – at sport he ran really funny. Ryan said that to be a good surfer you need a good centre of balance and you could tell if people had good balance by watching them walk. He said I had a great centre of balance.
Marcy and her mum were coming horse riding and I was dying to talk to Marcy and tell her about Pippa and to ask if she liked horses. I wanted her to know she’d be safe riding Pippa.
I saw her and Kell holding hands at lunch time and when I asked Steve if they were going out he said they were just friends. Apparently there was a girl in another school, Chelsea Blake, who Kell really liked and who was a really good surfer, maybe even better than Kell. There was a surfing competition at the end of the term and Kell wanted to beat her.
‘Hey, Kell,’ I said as we were walking out of the school grounds.
‘Yeah, Witchetty Grub, what do you want?’
‘What’s this surfing competition you’re in?’
‘The Horseshoe Bend Grom Comp.’
‘Can anyone enter?’
Kell flicked his eyes over me. ‘Yeah, but you need to be able to surf.’
I glanced at Marcy. ‘Are you entering?’
‘Maybe,’ she replied.
‘You serious?’ Kell asked.
Marcy mumbled something and looked away.
‘Chelsea will carve you up,’ Kell continued.
‘I’ve still got a few weeks,’ Marcy replied.
‘Yeah, and you’re going to need them. Chelsea can do a cutback.’
‘Whatever,’ Marcy said.
‘Hey, you should come and see how real surfers surf,’ Kell said, staring straight at me.
‘Maybe,’ I replied.
He started to walk away and then stopped. Marcy was still standing beside me and I could smell apricots and peaches.
‘Hey, Marcy,’ he called. ‘Maybe we can go surfing Sunday afternoon, I’ll help you with your cutback.’
‘I can’t,’ she replied.
‘Oh. Right.’
‘We’re going horse riding,’ I said.
‘Horse riding. Youse serious? Who goes horse riding?’ He laughed loudly and stared at Marcy.
She was looking down at the ground and I could see she was clenching her jaw shut. My ears were red again; I wanted to explain to Kell how much fun horse riding was, but I figured he didn’t want to hear. Thankfully he saw Steve walking out the other gate. ‘Hey, Steve, wait up’ he yelled, jogging towards him. ‘You want to hear something funny?’
‘Thanks a lot Witchetty Grub,’ Marcy said and stormed off in the other direction.
***
Sunday didn’t come around fast enough. Saturday is normally my favourite day, but it was so slow – each hour took forever. Finally, it was Sunday morning and I awoke to the smell of bacon frying. We always had bacon on Sundays; it was Dad’s favourite. I looked at the clock – it was nine o’clock. Drats! I’d wanted to get up early to be ready. I quickly had a shower and dressed in my favourite clothes: a red and white checked shirt, dark blue jeans that were really tight, and my riding boots. The boots felt funny because I hadn’t worn them for ages; my feet were now used to being barefoot or in thongs.
Dad was washing up, but there was some bacon and eggs left for me. Even though I was too excited to be hungry the smell was so good I ate them anyway. When Suzie’s babysitter came we jumped in the car and drove around to pick up Marcy and Mrs Bliss. Mrs Bliss was an older version of Marcy – brown skin and long curly brown hair. She was dressed in proper riding clothes too and even had a pair of boots like Mum, although I think she’d just bought them. They got in the back with me and as Marcy climbed into the middle she smiled and I knew it was going to be a great day. She was wearing a pink collared shirt with a pair of jeans. She didn’t have boots, but that was okay. You didn’t need boots for a little ride.
‘Your hair smells nice, like apricots and peaches,’ I said.
She smiled again. ‘Thanks.’
Ryan had told me that the secret to getting a girl to like you was to tell them nice things, but don’t over do it. One compliment an hour, and make sure you mean it, otherwise they can tell. I really meant it about her hair – it smelt so strong it filled the car. We didn’t get much of a chance to talk because Mum and Mrs Bliss were talking the whole time. Mrs Bliss was really excited and kept saying how much she’d been looking forward to this.
‘Marcy, have you ever been horse riding?’ Mum asked.
‘Oh, no Mrs Sheehan.’
‘Stephanie,’ Mum scolded, ‘you haven’t taken your daughter for a horse ride. Shame on you.’
Mum turned back to look directly at Marcy. ‘Your mother and I used to ride in horse competitions together. She was really good.’
‘Oh,’ Marcy said, turning to look at her mum.
‘Times have changed,’ Mrs Bliss said. ‘Now it’s just the beach and the shopping centre.’ She turned to me.
‘Do you ride, Mitchell?’
‘Yes, M’am, I’ve got my horse, Pippa, you’ll see her, she’s beautiful.’
‘He’s a good little rider,’ Dad commented from the front. I cursed under my breath: I hated it when he said that. He was always saying I needed to get some strength to be able to control the horse, but the beauty of Pippa was that she didn’t need strength. She responded to gentle commands and I never had to force her to do anything. She was scared of Dad; he could bark a command at her and she’d jump ten feet in the air and come running to me.
‘You have a horse?’ Marcy asked.
‘Yeah, Pippa.’
‘Can I pat her?’
‘Sure, you can ride her too. She’s probably the best horse to ride. She’s really safe. Dad will probably let me ride one of the stallions.’
Marcy smiled. She had a lovely smile. I hadn’t seen her smile much before. She seemed a lot different today than what she was like normally: she was more relaxed. I wanted to ask her all sorts of questions, but her mum and my mum were talking loudly. So I just smiled and looked out the window. Ryan had said the secret to being cool is letting nothing worry you.
I hoped Marcy liked Pippa.
Chapter 7
The stables were in the middle of a forest and
we had to drive along some really rough dirt roads to get there. In the car we were bouncing around like jelly beans and Marcy kept bumping into me. It was okay though and we kept laughing.
When we got out of the car and walked over to where the horses were, Pippa came straight over to me. I climbed up on the fence so I could pat her. Marcy had followed me over and was standing behind me.
‘Climb up here,’ I said.
She climbed up beside me. ‘Pippa, this is Marcy. Marcy this is Pippa.’
Marcy was holding the railing tightly and Pippa ran her nostrils over Marcy’s hand.
‘You can touch her.’
‘I don’t know.’
‘She won’t bite.’
Slowly Marcy raised one hand and patted Pippa’s nose.
Pippa neighed gently.
‘Here, girl,’ I said and held out a carrot that I’d brought.
I helped Dad saddle up the horses. He was going to let me ride one of the stallions, which meant Marcy could ride Pippa.
We set off; Dad went first then Mrs Bliss and Mum, riding beside each other, and then Marcy and me. It was obvious the horse I was on liked Pippa and I had to keep pulling on the bit – the piece of metal in a horse’s mouth that allows you to control the horse. I had to pull hard to make sure my horse stayed on the path instead of being distracted. Maybe it could smell apricots and peaches too, I thought.
Pippa was really good and walked along gently. I showed Marcy how to sit properly and how to control Pippa using the reins. We rode through the forest and it was really nice to listen to the birds chirping. When we came to a large clearing about the size of a football field, Dad, Mum and Mrs Bliss got their horses to trot, which is faster than walking. Mrs Bliss squealed excitedly as her hair flew out behind her. Mum was laughing happily too.
Dad had said Marcy couldn’t let Pippa trot because it was her first time on a horse, so we rode alongside each other. I was glad it was just the two of us and I wanted to talk without anyone else hearing us. But I didn’t really know what to talk about. I didn’t want to talk for the sake of talking and I could see Marcy was concentrating really hard on riding Pippa.
‘You’re doing fine,’ I said.