Blue Water High (33 page)

Fly couldn't quite believe it when the announcer read out the final scores as the girls were pushing in through the white water. That last wave had scored her a nine – and that nine had pushed her into a place she had never been before. She had won.

All of a sudden she was surrounded by a rush of people. Some of them she knew, some of them she didn't. But they were all beaming and telling her she was a star. Then she was lifted up, high in the air, someone took her board and they marched her right across to the judging area. When she looked down she could see Heath walking along behind her, smiling proudly. And Bec behind him, she seemed to be smiling proudly too. In the middle of it all, she felt Simmo close by, talking up at her. She couldn't quite catch the words, but she got that they were built on pride too.

There was no time for nerves. As soon as her feet touched the ground the announcer was calling it out. ‘In first place, with a total score of 27.5, Fiona Watson. Congratulations, Fiona. Would you like to come up and accept the award?'

Fly looked up at Heath, standing beside her. ‘You can't accept on my behalf?'

But it was only half a question. Twinkie was already up there strutting around proudly, so she might as well join
her. As she made for the podium there was a flash of cameras and suddenly the trophy was in her hands. She held it high, and everybody cheered their brains out and she loved it.

Stepping down from the podium, there he was again – Darren Crocker of the
Marley Beach Gazette
.

‘First under-seventeen regional win, Fiona. How does it feel?'

‘It feels … great.'

Darren Crocker nodded, and after their last in-depth interview he probably reckoned this was about as much as he could hope for because he gave her a nod and started walking away.

‘Darren?' Fly called after him. ‘There was something else I wanted to say.'

Fly Watson? Something else to say? Calling back a reporter? Asking for more limelight? Darren was up for it.

‘I just wanted to say thanks to Solar Blue for the opportunity. And to my friends at the academy for their support, ‘specially to Heath, and special thanks to my coach, Simmo.'

In the van on the way back they had all declared her an A-grade suck. But the hassling was good-natured and Fly didn't care. All she cared about were the words ringing in her brain, words Simmo had called up to her as they'd carried her to the judging tent … words that came back to her clearly now.

‘You surf like that in a month, the spot is yours.'

You surf like that in a month, the spot is yours … You surf like that in a month, the spot is yours
… She played it over in her head first thing in the morning. She gave it a rerun at lunch, she gave it a burl in the evening, and – why not? – one more time before bed. She couldn't get enough of it. For the first time in her life, she was looking ahead at something and she thought she could win it. Not just do well, not do her best, not give it her best shot, WIN IT!

Everyone noticed the change. And for a week they hassled her about having a head the size of an elephant. They all claimed to miss their old friend, to wish they'd left her behind at the servo on the way back, but for all the hassling, they loved it. They loved that she nipped them back when they hassled her and they loved that she wasn't so quick to take the blame. But it didn't really matter whether they loved the new improved Fly or not – she was here to stay.

They hassled Heath too about whether he could cope with having such a bossy girlfriend. Heath played along with the joke, but Fly could see there was something else
on his mind. It was Heath's turn to be haunted by the numbers. The ones that came back on the bottom of his assignments. The ones that said he was so close to failing that all his worries about whether he could beat Matt or Edge in the water were a big, fat waste of time.

As the siren blared out that
school was finally over
Mr Savin walked along the rows in their home room handing out big white envelopes containing their results.

‘Most of you have made me very proud.' He paused in front of Heath then kept going. He kept going with Heath's envelope in his hand until all of the others had been handed out. They'd made a pact at breakfast that they would open their results together, but suddenly things weren't going quite to plan. Most of the class were piling out the door, but the rest of the crew hung back, not knowing what to do. Mr Savin looked up at them.

‘Off you go,' he said. ‘Heath and I need to have a little chat.'

Fly let the others lead her out of there. They waited at the bottom of the stairs.

‘What do we do now?' said Edge.

‘He could be in there for hours. I don't think I can wait,' said Bec.

They looked for Fly, waiting for a nod.

‘Open them, he won't mind.'

They ripped through the white paper and scanned the pages. There were big sighs of relief, slapping of backs – they'd all passed. But with Heath still hanging over the cliff it just didn't feel like they were expecting it to.

Fly kept staring up at those empty stairs.

‘I just want to go and …' she trailed off, but they all knew what she needed to go and do.

Fly took the stairs up to the home room three at a time. She must've been puffing so hard by the time she reached the closed door that Mr Savin heard her.

‘Come on in, Fly.'

Fly froze. And then the door opened and Mr Savin nodded her inside. She didn't know what was going on, but she went with it.

Heath was sitting at his desk, a blank look on his face. Blank wasn't a good sign.

‘You don't mind, do you, Heath?' asked Mr Savin. ‘You usually enjoy an audience.'

He walked slowly to the front desk and picked up Heath's envelope. Fly didn't know whether she should stand where she was in the doorway, or go and sit by Heath and hold his hand.

Finally Heath spoke. ‘Mr Savin, if you're gonna fail me, I'd rather you made it quick.'

‘It's not that simple.'

‘Why not?'

‘You're right on the line, Heath. I could give you forty-nine per cent, which means you fail or I could give you fifty per cent and you'll pass.'

Fly could see Heath's gut start churning, but he tried to make light of it. ‘So my whole future's in your hands.'

‘Oh, no, Heath. You can't palm it off that easily. Your future's squarely where it's always been. Entirely your responsibility.'

Fly wasn't sure if this was a good thing or not.

‘The real problem with you, Heath, is that you push your luck.'

Heath was starting to tire of the game. His nerves were
stretched and when they were stretched he played back, said things he probably should've kept to himself.

‘The way I see it, Mr Savin,' he started.

‘Heath?!' Fly said. She couldn't help it. Her nerves were stretched too and she didn't want to see him smart-talk his way into the forty-nine per cent corner.

‘It's alright, Fly,' said Mr Savin. ‘I want to hear the way Heath sees it. It won't make any difference to the outcome, but I'm curious.'

He looked back at Heath, nodded for him to go on.

‘I was gonna say, the way I see it, you go with the flow in life and then luck decides if you win or lose.'

‘You also have to put yourself in a position to take advantage of the luck when it comes.' Mr Savin pushed up off the desk and moved to the blackboard, rubbing the last words of the year away.

‘Homework and study, for example,' he said, ‘so you're ready to get lucky in the exams. Training and practice, so you can get lucky in a surf comp.'

Heath shrugged. ‘Maybe.'

Mr Savin reached into his pocket.

‘Let's put your theory to the test, shall we?'

He opened his hand to reveal a coin. ‘Heads you pass, tails you fail.'

Fly could see Heath starting to spin out. ‘You're gonna toss a coin to determine my results!?'

‘I agree. Not exactly Education Department policy.'

‘But if it's tails …' Heath was panicking now. ‘If it's tails, it's all over for me with Solar Blue.'

‘That's luck, Heath. Right? So here's to your future.'

He spun the coin high into the air. It spun as if in slow-motion … Suddenly it hit Mr Savin's outstretched palm and he cupped his other hand over it. Fly and Heath stared at those hands, transfixed.

‘Okay, Heath. Let's see what luck's delivered you this time.'

Mr Savin slowly pulled his top hand away to reveal the coin in the palm of his other hand. Heath leaned over to see his future, but Fly was too far away. She stared at him – nothing on his face.

She couldn't stand it any longer. ‘Heath?!'

Heath looked up. He took a deep breath. ‘Guess I've still got one heat to surf.'

Fly screamed. She was not usually a screamer, but today she screamed and bounded across the room and wrapped her arms around Heath's boofish head and squeezed the living daylights out of him.

She was still squeezing him as they came down the stairs. The rest of them could see Fly beaming, even if Heath was still a bit green about the gills. They wrestled him to the ground and pretended to beat him for making them suffer for so long. And then they decided that finally, at last, they could really celebrate.

The walk home was full of good-natured argument about what they should do, where they should go. Anna copped most of it 'cause there was a general agreement that anywhere playing German hip-hop was definitely off the cards. They had a whole week of training hell in front of them and they wanted to make their last night out count. After all they'd been through, they figured they owed themselves.
Jilly was at the table toiling away at her last uni assignment when the noisy flock burst in.

‘Judging from the mood here I'd say you all seem to have passed.'

‘Got it in one, Jilly,' said Bec.

‘Except Matt, of course,' added Perri.

This was news.

‘He got a certificate of distinction.'

‘Suck to the end,' said Heath.

‘So we have a full dance card for the finals?' said Deb from the doorway. Simmo stood behind her and, for two people who'd succeeded in getting half their job done, they didn't seem too thrilled.

‘Just in time, you two,' said Perri. ‘We're issuing a formal invitation for you to join us for a Big Night Out.'

‘It's nice to be asked, but we're going to have to give it a miss,' said Deb.

No-one got what she was really saying, but Fly could tell something was up.

‘Come on, Deb. I'm sure you're much better at dancing than bowling,' said Edge.

‘Sorry, guys – I mean I don't think any of us should go out tonight. You included.'

It just didn't seem fair that after all the hard work they wouldn't be allowed one night off.

‘Deb,' moaned Bec, ‘we're about to become prisoners for a whole week of solid training before the finals. What's the problem with going out tonight?'