Pulled Under

At this point my strategy is simple. I have to surf better than I ever have in my life to get to third place. I need to post two monster scores. There’s no value in getting a couple of safe scores out of the way like in the earlier rounds. I’ve got to go for as much as I can get.

I come out swinging and nail an aerial on my first ride. I don’t know how far I get into the air, but Bailey Kossoff high-fives me when I get back to the lineup. I have another great run during which I pull several moves in quick succession, each one flowing directly into the next. In a weird way they all play like music in my head, as if I’m riding from note to note.

I feel good about my rides, but it doesn’t feel like third. I need one more and I need it to be epic. As the clock winds down, the only two people left in the lineup are Bailey and me.

“It’s all yours,” he calls out as a wave comes. I start to paddle, but then I pull off. I don’t think it’s going to be any good. He smiles and takes it instead. A part of me worries that I just blew it.

I know I’m short on time, but there’s something I’ve learned coming out here every day. The pier is an odd break, and a lot of times after there is a set of good waves, there will be one stray wave that comes along even better. I look down at the board for a moment and see the Eye of the Storm design. It gives me focus. Then I look back at the water and see the stray wave I was hoping for.

“There it is!” I say, even though no one is around to hear me.

I lie flat on my stomach and paddle with all I’ve got. I try to flush everything out of my mind, but I can’t. Except, instead of thinking about the wave and surfing, I think about everything else. All these images shoot through my mind: meeting Ben, teaching the campers, the kiss on the end of the pier, waving good-bye to him at the airport, the look on Nicole’s face when we got our surfboards. It’s like I’m watching ten televisions at once.

A wave is a cosmic event, and this one is more than just the gravitational pull of the moon and the force of the ocean. This wave is the result of a summer like none I’ve ever had before. My ride is almost dreamlike. And before I know it I am surrounded by water on all sides. I am in the barrel of the wave, and everything is collapsing around me as I shoot for the light at the end of the tu

I can imagine how nuts they’re going up in our little cheering section, and when I burst back out of the tube and ride up the face of the wave, I feel invincible. I snap back and turn and ride until the last bit of it dies off. That’s when I step off into the shallow water. It’s like I’m asleep, and then the horn sounds and wakes me up. Time’s up. I finished with only seconds to spare, but I finished in time.

The first two to greet me are Nicole and Sophie, who wrap me in a hug so violent that we end up crashing into the water.

“That was awesome!” Sophie screams. “Awesome!”

It’s strange because, other than when I rode through the tube, I’m not really sure how it went. I just kind of did it all by instinct.

“Oh my God, Izzy!” Nicole says as she kicks water on me. “Oh my God!”

I pick up the board and we walk up onto the beach, where I take off my leash and sit on the sand to catch my breath. I can see a lot of activity in the scoring tent as they add up the final scores, and I get up and walk over there.

“Sweet ride, Surf Sister,” Bailey says as I walk by him. “Very sweet.”

“Oh, and Bailey!” I shout after him. He turns around, swiping away the wet hair sticking to his forehead. “Tell your fearless leader thanks, but no thanks.” With a deep breath, I try to take it all in. The beach, the sound of the ocean, the amazing feeling rushing through me. “I can’t surf for him. I won’t.”

Bailey smiles. “I’d hope not. Till next time, Surf Sister,” he says, joining his team, already congratulating him.

Mo breaks free from the clutch of people in the scoring tent and walks over to me. Her eyes are red, and I think she’s about to cry. My heart sinks.

“Did I make it?” I ask. “Did I finish third?”

She quietly shakes her head. “No, sweetie. You didn’t.”

Heartbroken, I lower my head forward onto her shoulder. She puts her arm around me and pats my back. And then she whispers something into my ear that I never imagined I could possibly hear.

“You won.”

The Surf Sisters victory celebration starts on the beach and migrates to the shop, where it turns into a full-fledged party with music and food. There are more celebratory hugs and kisses than I can count, and at one point I even cry when Mickey and Mo have me pose for a picture with the King of the Beach trophy in front of the original steady eddie’s surf school sign.

Hours later it still hasn’t sunk in. I ca

“If you’re the King of the Beach, what does that make me?” asks Ben. “The First Dude? The Royal Boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend?” I ask with a raised eyebrow. “Is that a label we’re using?”

He hems and haws for a moment.

“I win King of the Beach and suddenly we’re boyfriend and girlfriend again?”

Now he looks horrified, and I bust out laughing.

“I’m just kidding,” I say. “You pretty much sealed the deal as my boyfriend the moment you put on the coconut bra and danced the hula. That saved me. I was panicked and flustered, but when I saw you out there on the pier, I realized that everything was going to work out. And not just in the contest. Everything.”

“The end of the pier’s been pretty good for us,” he says.

“It most definitely has.”

He leans over and gives me a quick kiss.

“You know, at some point, we’re going to have to have the talk.”

I look up at him as we sway to the Hawaiian music wafting from the sound system below. We have not talked about how all of this comes to an end. There haven’t been any discussions of attempts to make something work long distance. It’s so complicated. But I’m still not ready to say it all out loud.

“I’ve got ten days left in the most amazing summer of my life. I know it’s going to end, but there’s nothing that I can do about that. So I’m going to make the most out of every one of those days.”

“You certainly did that today.”

I allow myself a moment of pride as I flash a big grin. “I did, didn’t I?”

“Okay,” he says. “We’ll wait and have the talk the night before I leave.”

“At the end of the pier,” I say. “But for now we just dance.”

He gives me a little look. “I didn’t realize you were in charge.”

“You didn’t? We’re on the beach and I am the king. I’ve got a trophy over there to prove it.”

He laughs some more and holds me tighter. I press my ear against his chest, and we continue to move to the mellow music. I feel completely different than I have ever felt in my entire life.

Earlier in the summer I had expected that these last days would be the worst. I thought I’d be filled with dread as the clock kept counting down toward August twenty-fifth. Oddly, that’s not the case. I don’t know if it’s because I’m living in some sort of denial and will be a total cry factory on the twenty-fourth, or if I’ve somehow come to accept that I can’t control the things I can’t control. This is not to say there aren’t moments when I get in a funk or wallow in a momentary flurry of self-pity. But for the most part these are just quick and they pass.

The last day of summer camp is memorable because all of the kids celebrate our victory in the King of the Beach. As members of the Surf Sisters team, Rebecca, Tyler, and I are presented with cardboard crowns that we wear for most of the class. Normally I wouldn’t, but the kids really want me to, and I can tell that it drives Kayla crazy. Ben has a special little waterproof camera that he uses to shoot video of all the kids surfing. Then he pulls out a surprise and shows them how good he’s gotten at surfing too. At the end of the class, we have a graduation ceremony where Mickey and Mo present them with their official surf-plomas and we all pose for a group picture.