Читать книгу Kook - Chris Vick, Chris Vick - Страница 12

THE ONLY TIME I’d seen her hideaway above the garage was that first day, when she’d taken me to Tin-mines. I hadn’t been allowed in. But now I was. She didn’t want to have to explain anything to her dad by bringing me to the house.

I shivered as I stripped off my wet clothes. She didn’t do me the favour of looking away as I got down to my pants. Every time I leant forward, a fresh stream of snotty water poured out of my nose. I kept coughing up water and couldn’t get the salt sting out of my eyes.

There was a makeshift bed there, of rugs and blankets on old crates. Jade made me lie on it.

Apart from the bed, there was an old captain’s sea chest and a blue rug. Driftwood shelves had been clumsily nailed on to the white painted walls. She had books, and a pile of tattered surf mags. On the wall, a few torn out and stuck up mag pics of girl surfers.

“Who are they?” I asked.

“Layne Beachley, Lisa Andersen. Old school surfers who carved a space for us girls in the water.”

“You going to be like them?”

“Nuh-uh. They’re competition surfers. I’m going to be a big wave surfer. Sponsored. The first famous UK female big wave surfer.”

“The Devil’s Horns?”

“Yeah, when one of those storms come. What did you call it, equinoocibingbong?”

She’d remembered what I’d said that first day, even though it had been weeks.

“Equinox,” I said.

“Equi. Nox. Cool word. You know about that shit, huh?” She eyed me up. She wasn’t teasing.

“You get bigger storms in autumn. Ever wonder why?”

“Nah. 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.