Blue Water High (7 page)

‘So, just to show you how it'd work …' Simmo pulled out a marker and started scribbling on the board.

‘If today's training had counted, Matt and Bec would've taken out five points each, Edge, Heath and Perri three points, Anna two and Fly … just the one today.'

There it was in black and white.

‘Don't take it personally, Fly. Someone's gonna come lucky last every week.'

Fly smiled bravely. She just hoped that the someone wasn't always going to be her. Even though Simmo quickly wiped the example off, it still burned in Fly's brain. What bright spark came up with the idea that last was lucky?

It was only eight o'clock on the first day and Fly felt like she could sleep for a year. Not that sleeping was an option. They had twenty minutes to eat, get into uniforms and dive straight into their new school. Fifteen minutes of that time Fly spent waiting to get into the bathroom. Perri was in there tweaking her uniform – turning up collars, rolling up sleeves, struggling to find some sort of style in the seriously daggy skirt. Fly couldn't have cared less about the uniform – if it meant she didn't have to think about what else to wear, she was thrilled to have one. Fashion was never a big-ticket item on the farm.

Bec marched up, toothbrush in hand. When Fly explained what Perri was doing Bec was much less polite
than Fly. She just barged in, leaving the door ajar. She motioned for Fly to join her. Perri was now up to her elbows in a large and expensive toiletries bag, transferring an army of skincare products from the bag onto the top shelf of the bathroom cupboard.

‘You can have the bottom shelf, Fly, cause you're the …' Perri trailed off.

‘Shortest?' asked Fly.

Perri turned and flashed the superwhites. There wasn't a hint of embarrassment. It was just the truth.

Fly placed her toothbrush and solitary bar of soap on the shelf beneath Perri's department store of products.

‘Plenty of short people at the top of their field,' Perri added. Like that made it better?

At the other end of the sink Bec was furiously brushing her teeth. She spat out savagely, stared at Perri.

‘Yeah, those seven dwarves really rocked.' She spat again.

Perri and Fly both stared at her – shocked at the harshness of the words.

‘What? I'm not saying Fly's a dwarf or anything.'

If this was the way Bec defended you, Fly was sure she never wanted to be on the receiving end of an attack. Not that it was the first time Fly had been nominated as one of the crew of seven. She squeezed toothpaste onto her brush and got on with it. If she was keeping score today this was strike two. This morning at training she'd come last. Now it was official. She was the shortest too.

Maybe school would be better.

Blue Water High was a rambling affair. It was perched high on the headland overlooking the coast, with lots of low buildings spread out across the grassy grounds. Before it was a high school, it had been a naval base.

The morning assembly was held on what used to be a parade ground. It was a large square of gravel which had been dug down a couple of metres lower than the rest of the grounds. Fly supposed it was so the naval bigwigs could look down on the cadets while they marched around in funny formations pretending to be serious about the whole thing.

The school principal, Mr Exeter, had clearly tapped into his inner bigwig, because he stood above the quadrangle of students with his chest puffed full, wielding that microphone like a light sabre.

Assembly had clearly been going for some time when the Solar Blue kids snuck in late at the back. Over the summer break, Jilly had obviously forgotten how long it took to get seven separate bodies ready to do the same thing at the same time. Maybe they would've escaped Mr Exeter's attention if almost every other kid in the place hadn't turned around to have a giant perv at the new kids from the academy. The crowd rippled with murmurs and, without being paranoid, a lot of the staring didn't look too friendly.

Being a local, Bec was prepared for this. It happened every year. She assured them that the absolute hate wouldn't last for more than a couple of weeks. You couldn't blame them for being jealous. The Solar Blue crew got lunchtimes and sport to surf. They got to take time off school when there were regional carnivals; they had a shot at a spot on the world circuit, for goodness' sake. So maybe a little aggro from the locals wasn't too much to put up with.

‘Ah, our special friends from the academy have decided to join us!' boomed Mr Exeter over the microphone.

Bec raised an eyebrow and a hand. She gave the whole school a wave.

‘Yes, now's as good a time as any to take a look. Get it over and done with,' Mr Exeter went on. ‘Because even though they might look glamorous, I can assure you they are simply mere mortals. Flesh and blood, just like you. Bound by the same rules and regulations, just like you. One of which is being on time – isn't it?'

He was clearly hoping for a response, and finally the school gave in, winding up into a bored response.

‘Yes, Mis-ter Ex-et-er,' they chanted slowly. Everyone except a couple of meatheads in the Year 10 row at the back, who yelled out, ‘Yes, Mr Exterminator!' instead.

A Mexican wave of sniggering wriggled its way right around the quadrangle. Mr Exeter suddenly looked like there was too much blood in his head. He very quietly, very calmly told Mitch Campbell and Simon Gardiner to wait for him in his office. Everyone knew that he wouldn't be very quiet or very calm when he got there.

After Mr Exeter had dismissed each of the years one by one, he made a beeline for the Solar Blue kids. He was smiling in a spookily friendly way.

‘Hello, hello.'

Bec whispered under her breath. ‘He actually needs to be nice to us. They need us on the team for the interschool surf comps.'

Mr Exeter reached them. ‘Apologies for the little wristslap about being late. Have to set an example to the others, you know.'

Up close, Fly could see he was younger than she first
thought. And maybe, just maybe, having to be a capital A Authority Figure all the time was actually a bit of a bore. It was like he was secretly allowed to be a normal person with the Solar Blue crew.

‘Anyway, what's ten minutes lateness between friends. I saw the swell out there this morning. I just trust all this training is going to pay off at the Interschool Comp.'

‘I'm sure it will, Mr Exeter,' said Bec.

‘Good-oh.' He scanned the group. ‘So, I'm assuming most of you will be joining the fine folk in Year 11.' His eyes came to rest on Fly. ‘I know you come from Western Australia, Fiona. But are you old enough to be in Year 11? Or do we need to find a Year 10 class for you?'

Fly felt like she'd been slapped in the face. Everyone was staring at her, waiting for her answer. ‘I'm still fifteen,' she stammered, ‘but I'm up to Year 11 this year.'

Mr Exeter just nodded. ‘Well good for you, Fiona. You'll be the youngest in the year, I think.'

He turned and motioned them to follow, oblivious to the blow he'd just dealt Fly. She tagged along in a daze behind the rest of the group, down the buzzing hallways towards their homeroom. Slowest. Shortest. Youngest. That'd be three strikes, any way you looked at it. Fly could hardly wait for the day to end.

She dived straight into the breaking wave, letting its cool fingers do their work. She'd been hanging all day to get out of that uniform and into the water. Back where she felt like she knew what she was doing. It rarely failed to wash
off the rubbish, and it wasn't long before Fly's smile was where it belonged.

As they messed about in the gentle afternoon waves, Fly couldn't help the odd glance at the other girls. Bec was a really solid performer; once she got onto a wave she wouldn't be moved. Perri had lots of flair – she was the kind of surfer who somehow managed to disguise the effort involved. Perri's style was much more like dancing – she glided gracefully to her feet and then kind of salsa-ed her wave down the face. Anna struggled – but that wasn't too surprising – she was coming from a fair way behind. And even though her technique mightn't be up there with the other girls, you could tell she was going to catch up fast. She had the physical training and the experience that meant she was going to be a real contender much faster than anyone thought.

And even though they were all good, Fly didn't feel they were doing stuff she hadn't also done before. It made a dent in the small pot of homesickness she could feel herself cooking. And that was a good thing.

She paddled hard for a looming wall of blue-green water, the wave's lip curling and foaming playfully. This one's mine, she thought.

There was a jolt as she jumped to her feet, taking the wave, owning it. The curtain of water hollowed out around her, and she sped back and forth leaving a trail of frilly white seawater behind her. The wave found its second wind and suddenly Fly was in the green room – that's what they called it. Being inside the tube was something there were no words to describe. This was the real Blue Water high.

Fly could feel the power in the tube mounting. She
could hear the wave take a deep breath, filling its lungs as it prepared to shoot her out. Fly braced for the sudden dose of speed. She aimed the nose of her board at the lip and shot straight into the air. She hung there, suspended while the wave raced onto the shore without her. She let her head hang back and shouted at the sky. ‘Yeaahhh!'

And then
thwack
! Her board hit the water and she was still on it. She could suddenly hear the hooting and cheers from the rest of the crew. They might have been competitors but they couldn't be happier to share in what she'd just pulled off. Matt's voice was the last to add praise, and maybe that's why she heard it most clearly.

‘Way to go, little Fly.'

Those five tiny words punched a great hole in Fly's good feeling. On any other day she probably wouldn't have cared. But today, the day she was feeling slowest, shortest, youngest, adding ‘little' to the pile burned.

She glared at Matt. ‘Drop off.'

The words were out of her mouth before she even knew that's what she was going to say.

Matt was dumbfounded. He had no idea what his crime was.

But there was no time to explain. Edge was whistling hard to get their attention from the shore. He yelled out against the onshore wind – there was a message for Fly to call home.

‘Like now,' he called out. ‘It's urgent or something.'

Fly pounded up the beach. She wasn't thinking about how fast her ‘little' legs could carry her. She was only thinking about home. She belted up to a surprised Simmo, thrust her board at him, and slipped through the glass doors, dripping all over the floor as she raced for the phone in the corner of the kitchen. Her hands shook as she jabbed in her phone number. She stood there frozen, the ring tone bonging around her brain, willing someone to answer. She tapped impatiently on the list of Emergency numbers pinned to the noticeboard – numbers for Deb and Simmo, for parents and Jilly. Numbers they weren't ever supposed to need.