Kook. Chris Vick

It was chaos.

      I didn’t even see the first wave – the first proper full-of-aggro wave – till it reared up in front of me. I paddled over the top and plunged downwards. A miracle. I was almost relieved, but there was another wave that had been hidden by the first one. It was bigger, but again I made it, just before it broke.

      Then the third one came. A solid wall of water. As it pushed me backwards it paused, long enough to let me know what was happening. Then it tore the board from my hands and pummelled me into the sea.

      There was no up, no down, no light, no dark. The world was replaced by a tornado of blue fury, and I was in the heart of it, churning over and over like a ragdoll in a washing machine.

      It seemed to take forever. When it had finished, my lungs were bursting, and I was filled with sharp, high-pitched panic. A panic that had me by the heart and throat. I pushed and kicked and swam, desperate to get to the surface.

      Seconds passed like years.

      Eventually I surfaced, but instead of air I breathed foam, a lungful of froth that had me choking and hacking.

      The next wave hit me like a truck. No spinning this time, this one just ground me downwards. Down deep, I opened my eyes. Seeing nothing but bruise-coloured dark, I panicked. Full on. My body gave in to it and I breathed water into my lungs. I heard the next wave roll over me. I swam upwards expecting another wave, half thinking there was no point because this merciless bastard force was going to keep hammering me till I gave up.

      But then…

      Swimming up, I saw turquoise light. The daylight world of land and air. The world that I’d been torn from was there. Just there. If I could only… get to it.

      I surfaced, spasming coughs and gasps.

      There was the dog, the Jack Russell, right beside me. Lucky for the dog. I would have gone back and not even have remembered it. Right then I’d have done anything to be back on land, but there the dog was, and I clung to it. I kicked my legs and thrashed with one arm and we slowly headed to the shore.

      Hands and arms dragged me from the water. They had to get the dog from me. I didn’t want to let go. I tried to walk, but the sea had robbed me of strength. I felt like I was liquid. I bent over and puked.

      I stayed like that a while, coughing and puking, water pouring out of my nose like a fountain.

      Time slowed. I closed my eyes. I listened to the thunder in my ears. Slowly I began to breathe again.

      I looked up. There were a few of them surrounding me, including Big G in his wetsuit, holding the girl’s board and grinning with delight. I’d never seen him smile before.

      “Nice work,” he laughed. Skip was there, hopping about; Rag, a few others. The girl, Milly, was playing with the dog in the sand. Her mum appeared, a blonde woman, in wellies and a scarf. Posh-looking.

      “I’m so sorry. I went back to the car to get a flask of tea. I was only gone a moment. Thank you so much. Biscuit owes you his life.”

      A mock cheer filled the air. Everyone was smiling and laughing. Clearly what had happened was No Big Deal.

       What?

      I focused on standing upright and forcing a smile to my numb face, while streams of snotty water ran from my nose.

      Big G and his mates picked up their boards and headed past me.

      “You’re a hero,” said Skip with a nod.

      “Rescue me if I get in trouble,” said Rag with a wink.

      Milly and her mum walked off, making a fuss of the dog.

      After they were gone, Jade clapped and whooped. When I didn’t react, she put her hand on my shoulder.

      “You’re okay, right?” she asked.

      “I’m fine!” I pushed her hand away and fell down on the sand. I was shaking. Numb. I was freezing too.

      “Come on,” she said, “let’s get you back.”

      I didn’t move at first. I didn’t even speak. I had to figure out what had just happened, had to try and put it all in some kind of order in my head. I’d nearly killed myself. Why? For the dog? No. I’d done it to impress Jade. I’d nearly drowned to make myself look good in front of a girl. The only upside was that if I hadn’t gone, I’d have been sat looking at Jade rescue the dog.

      It was a pretty messed up situation all round. Half of me was telling myself what a kook I’d been, how I’d been lucky not to drown, how I’d never, ever do anything like that ever again. Ever.

      The other half of me was buzzing something stupid.

      

      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