“I know,” he says. “I came to the same conclusion. Which is hard because you’re a big part of everything that’s here. I’ve spent the last hour debating back and forth, trying to figure out the right thing to do.”
“Good,” I say.
He stands up and looks out over the water. I stand up next to him.
“Actually,” he says, “I spent fifty minutes of it trying to figure out the right thing to do . . . and ten trying to figure out how to tell you.”
That sounds ominous, but oddly I feel strong enough to hear it, even if it means he’s heading home. He turns so that he’s looking right at me and his back is toward the ocean.
“Okay,” I say. “I’m ready. Whatever it is.”
He has a strange look on his face, and it takes me a moment to realize that he’s slowly falling backward. By the time I do, I reach out to grab him, but it’s too late. He plummets toward the water fifteen feet below and lands with a big splash.
I let out a surprised squeal as I look down at him. “What on earth are you doing?”
“First of all, it’s not on earth, it’s in the sea,” he calls up. “And it’s just what all good loggerheads do. I’m following the moonlight into the ocean.”
I look down and see that smile, that amazing smile, as he looks up at me from the dark water.
“What’s your decision?”
“You’re going to have to come down here to find out.”
“How’s the water?”
“How do you think it is? It’s awfslome!”
I empty my pockets, take off my sandals, and without so much as a second thought, I jump. I feel a charge rush through my body, and I close my eyes to brace for the impact, ready to splash into the water and see where the current takes me.
STEADY EDDIE’S
SURF SCHOOL GLOSSARY
aerial: when a surfer rides up the face of a wave, launches into the air, and comes back down, landing on the same wave
barrel: a breaking, hollow wave, also called a tube
boogie board: also known as a body board; used in order to ride waves lying flat on the belly
carving: turning on top of a wave
cutback: turning back into the wave, closer to the wave’s power source
duck dive: paddling under a wave that is coming straight at a surfer
fin: the curved piece underneath the surfboard
fins-fee snap: a sharp turn where the fins slide off the top of the wave
fish: a short and thick surfboard used to ride smaller waves
floater: when a surfer rides along the top of a wave
grommet: a new and inexperienced surfer
hang ten: riding a surfboard with the toes of both feet hugging the front edge
Kelly Slater: born and raised in Florida; considered to be the greatest surfer of all time
leash: the cord that attaches a surfer’s ankle to the surfboard
pearl: when the nose of the surfboard digs under the water and propels the surfer over the front of the board
rail: the side edge of a surfboard
rash guard: a swim shirt worn to protect one’s skin from the wax and sand on the surfboard
rip current: a strong current flowing from the shore out toward the sea
roundhouse: turning one hundred and eighty degrees
snap: when a surfer shoots down the top of a wave
soft board: a beginner’s surfboard with a soft, foam top
stringer: a thin strip of wood that runs down the center of a surfboard, making it stronger
shred: term used to describe a person surfing well
vertical backhand snap: when a surfer builds up as much speed as possible before sticking the board up off the top of the wave and whacking it back down
Her future first love lives in the past.
Lose yourself in this totally awesome sneak peek of
by Gaby Triana.
Miss? Miss, are you okay?”
I cough water. My tongue hurts.
“I think she’s waking up.”
“Don’t crowd her. Give her room.”
All around me I hear water rushing, kids screeching, and people talking in hushed tones. Except for this one guy who sounds like he’s in charge. “She’s coming to.”
My eyes hurt. My head hurts. I’m outdoors. I know the sun is out because I see orangey red behind my eyelids. I’m lying on sand, I think.
“Miss, can you hear me? Are your parents here?”
I can hear you. My parents wouldn’t be here together.
“Just give her a minute.”
A different voice, a woman’s. “Did she slide with you? How come you didn’t see her, Becky, for goodness’ sake!”
“Mommy, she was already there when I slid down the slide,” a little girl cries. “I fell right on top of her!”
“Ma’am”—the guy in charge is talking again—“she couldn’t have slid with her. The lifeguard up there makes each person wait until the person ahead of them passes the orange flag. Then they can slide.” I crack my eyelids open to peek at him. “My guess is she fainted when she entered the water.” He’s crouched on his knees hovering over me, but he’s talking to people around him. He has black hair and a white tank top. And a mustache. Like, an actual mustache.
“It might’ve been a seizure.” Another guy’s voice, somewhere behind my head.
“But she wasn’t on the slide, I’m telling you!” the little girl continues to argue with her mother. Her blond pigtails are dripping wet, and she has a pink one-piece on. “She wasn’t ahead of me in line!”
“Ow. My tongue hurts.” I bit it.
The people around me—I see them now, there’re like ten or more of them—are all watching me, though it’s hard to see their faces with the sun shining directly above them. “She’s opening her eyes. She’s talking.”
“Told you it was a seizure,” that guy says again. This makes the tank top guy in charge come closer, taking up my whole view. He looks like a lifeguard.
“Miss, don’t move. You passed out in the water. Now you’re on the beach. Just tell me your name so I can find your folks.”
“I found you in the water,” the blond girl says, crouching close to my face, “or else you might’ve died.”
Thank you, I say, or think I say. I don’t even know where I am. What is this place? Where’s Mom? Or am I with Dad today? Is this camp? I can’t even think of my name. I can’t talk. I have to get up. “Ow.”
“You sure you want to do that?” A whistle around his neck dangles above my face. He turns his attention back to the people standing around us. “It’s common following a seizure for the victim to be confused.” He turns to me. “Are you confused?”
Right now, I’m more irritated by his questions than anything. I want a place to lie down that’s not in front of a bunch of people in weird bathing suits. I sit up, trying to get onto my feet. The crowd makes room for me. The upside-down lifeguard offers his hand. “Here, let me help you.”
I look at this tanned hand a moment, then take it. He pulls me easily to my feet. He’s wearing shorts that are a little on the short side. The lifeguard steadies me, then lifts a walkie-talkie to his mouth. “This is Jake at RC. We need a medic unit, pronto. Over.” He attaches it to his waistband and holds my arms as a reply crackles through the speakers. Jake says, “You need me to carry you?”