Cinderella in the Surf Page 10

  Except now it looks like someday might have come a lot sooner than I'd planned.

  But the thing is, the idea of climbing back on a surfboard doesn't sit well with me. I'm not ready.

  Walker once told me that I can't go back to surfing until it's what I want to do, until I know it's the right choice for me, and that doing it for someone else won't ever make it feel okay.

  It made sense when he said it then, and it still makes sense now.

  And I don't really think there's much else to it.

  I can't get back on that surfboard.

  Not after Alex, not after Piper, and not after that disastrously embarrassing warm-up competition.

  I'm not ready, and I'm not going to do it.

  There's gotta be another way.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  "You seem off," Walker says.

  I snap back to reality, and try to focus on what's going on around me.

  Walker stares at me with his eyebrows raised, and an amused but somewhat concerned smile on his face.

  "Welcome back," he says. "Where'd you go?"

  I shrug. "Just thinking about some stuff."

  "Well, then, penny for your thoughts."

  "I'm not sure they're worth that much."

  "Try me. We can negotiate later."

  I breathe out a sigh, and glance down at the Volcano burger sitting untouched on the blue plate in front of me. We're back at Hilo's after Walker insisted he needs at least one helping of the onion-and-apple-hamburger goodness every week.

  I wave my hand in the air. "I wouldn't even know where to begin. It's not that interesting, anyway."

  Walker stares at me. "Do you think I'd ask if I wasn't interested?"

  "Maybe, yeah," I say after a second because I'm not sure how else to respond. But even as the words leave my mouth, I know they're stupid. "To be polite."

  He snorts. "Rachel, if you think I do anything out of politeness, you don't know me at all."

  "It's all just family stuff," I finally admit, glancing down at my nails. "Not a big deal."

  "Okay, okay, I'm done prying," Walker says, holding up his hands. He picks up the half burger that's left on his plate. "Don't wanna ruin the Volcano experience."

  "My dad lost his job," I blurt out, surprising myself and, I'm pretty sure, Walker.

  He pauses with his hands halfway to his mouth, and I watch his eyes flick to the burger for a second or two before he puts it back down on the plate without taking a bite.

  "That blows. He freaking out?"

  I shake my head. "Not really. He's been a lot quieter than usual, which might actually be scarier, now that I think about it. I'm not really sure. Mom's kind of been trying to keep it from coming up after she told us."

  "Well, that sucks a lot, Rach. Sorry." He looks back down at his burger, then over at mine. "You should eat."

  "It gets better," I say, ignoring him. "The plan was always for them to pay for things for me for college. I got some tuition handled by scholarships and grants and staying in-state and stuff, but they were gonna help with the rest and housing and food and all that. And then I was going to get a job for everything else, fun stuff I wanted to do if I didn't have an allowance money left over." I take a breath. "I know that might sound spoiled maybe, but that's how we worked it out. Except now they're telling me they can't pay for any of it."

  Walker raises his eyebrows. "Not anything?"

  I shake my head. "They can't. And it's not like I can get mad about it, either. It's not my dad's fault. He didn't ask to get fired, you know?"

  "Yeah."

  "But there's something else."

  "How can there be more?"

  "Thing is, I have an option." I sigh and look down at my lap. "I just -- I don't know what to do about it." And I'm not so sure I want to tell Walker what it is, either; I already know he's going to tell me I don't have a choice. I have to surf.

  "So we'll figure it out," he says.

  "It's surfing. Surfing. In the Invitational. If I win, we'll have the money and nothing changes."

  "Except everything you feel about getting back on your board," he says, and I nod, trying to force the threatening tears back into my eyes.

  "You get it," I say, and he reaches out across the table and grabs my hand.

  "Hey," he says quietly. "Don't let those tears out, Rach. It's okay. We'll make something work, I promise."

  I wipe away the tears with my free hand and shake my head. "It's not your problem."

  He shrugs. "I like to think that you're my problem. That means whatever you're dealing with, I'm dealing with, too. But if that's not okay, let me know."

  I stare at him, and his gaze doesn't waver from mine, and I know he means what he says, but it's so unexpected, so unlike anything I've ever heard before from someone who wasn't Alex, that I'm not sure how to respond.

  "It's okay," I finally manage to squeak out, and he smiles, and I smile, and it's not long before I feel the heat from the blush spreading across my cheeks.

  "Good," he says, giving my hand an extra squeeze before he lets go. "When is the competition?"

  I swallow hard. This is something I've been trying not to think about too much. "Next week. Nine days to be exact. Not much time."

  "But enough to get it right," he says.

  How does he sound so optimistic about this? I don't get it. To me, it feels like my insides are being ripped out, torn in two different, but equal, directions, while he sounds like he's got it all figured out.

  "So what should I do?"

  "Eat your burger."

  "What?"

  Walker nods, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. "Take a breath. And eat your Volcano before I do because I'm pretty sure I just heard it say my name."

  "About the competition," I say, frowning. "What should I do about the competition?"

  "You said it yourself," he replies with a shrug. "You have nine days to make a decision. We'll get there."

  "Easy for you to be calm when it's not your future on the line."

  "Rach, that's not what I'm saying. Relax. All I'm telling you is that you don't have to make a choice right this second. You have time."

  "I don't know."

  "I promise," he says. "Look, you're gonna have to figure out if you're even comfortable getting back in the water at all. How can you surf for money if you can't get in the water? How about tomorrow you try to teach me how to surf and if that works, we can decide what you should do next?"

  "Oh," I say, thinking it over. "I don't know. Do I have to actually surf?"

  "Can you teach me how without getting on a board?"

  "Yeah, I think so."

  "Then let's do it."

  I gnaw at my bottom lip and consider this as he polishes off the rest of his burger and pulls a toothpick out of the pocket of his shorts. He stares at me, then lets out a low, soft laugh.

  "Rachel, stop thinking so hard," he says. "You look like you're going to explode. We'll get in the water tomorrow and see what happens. You're never gonna find a time you think is perfect to do it so why not now?"

  I try to come up with a reason why Walker isn't making any sense, but I've got nothing, and I know he'll come up with a better reason to dismiss all the excuses that flutter across my mind.

  "Okay," I finally say. "You win this round. But I'm not getting on a surfboard."

  He smiles and leans back against the booth, twirling the toothpick between his fingers. "Can't wait."

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  "For the millionth time, I'm fine," I say as Walker and I finish waxing down the surfboard he's borrowing from my brother. "As long as you keep your promise and don't make me get on this, I'm fine."

  "And for the millionth time, I don't want you to get on the board unless you want to," he shoots back.

  I get to my feet and toss the wax back into my bag, which I leave with the towels we spread out across the sand.

  "You ready for this?" I raise my eyebrows, giving him one last chance to change his mi
nd.

  "No chance I'm backing out now," he says as if he's reading my mind. He gets to his feet and picks up the board.

  "Those are so bright," I say, unable to ignore the neon hot pink swim trunks he's wearing.

  "You love them, right?" he teases, swishing from side to side as if he's a model on the catwalk. "Don't they just flatter my figure so perfectly?"

  "They're definitely one-of-a-kind," I reply. "At least I won't be able to miss you in the waves."

  He follows me down the beach to the water. Before we get in, I have him strap the board's leash to his ankle.

  The last time Alex and I tried to teach someone new how to surf, we ended up spending more time trying to track down her board in the waves than we did keeping her upright on it.

  "Okay," he says with a big cheesy grin, the board tucked under his left arm. "I'm ready, Captain. Now what?"

  I raise an eyebrow. "Captain?"

  He shrugs. "It felt right in the moment."

  "No more of that," I say. "We'll walk out until you're about waist deep in the water and then you'll paddle the rest of the way."

  "The rest of the way to where? The ocean goes for a long time, right? Like all the way to the North Pole or something."

  Now I know he's just being goofy to try to make me laugh. To ease me in. "Something like that."

  Walker wades into the ocean first. I stand back, letting the incoming waves lap at my ankles and pool around my feet for a few seconds. And I guess he realizes I'm not right behind him because he turns around and calls out to me.

  "Thanks a lot," he says with a grin. "I was just having a conversation with myself."

  I swallow hard and try to return his smile, even though I'm sure it looks anything but reassuring. "Sorry," I say, and I'm embarrassed to admit my voice shakes. "Just...working up my nerve, I guess."

  He takes a few steps back toward me and holds out his hand. "Come on, you got this."

  It's probably going to take me about ten steps to get to where he's standing now.

  And it's crazy how hard it is for me to work up the courage to take them. Something that was once so easy for me just isn't anymore; there's no other way to say it.

  As much as I'd rather turn around and run up the sand back home, I know if I do that, I'm turning my back on my college dreams, too, and I'm not wild about that idea, either.

  So I do the only thing I can: I squeeze my eyes shut as tight as I can manage and walk into the ocean.

  ***

  It's not so bad.

  The water is cold, colder than I remember it being, and colder than it probably should be on a summer afternoon in California, but I'm in it and that's all that counts right now.

  I reach out and grab Walker's hand, and he beams down at me.

  "See?" he says happily. "Did that suck?"

  I glance down as the water swirls around my calves. "Maybe not that much."

  "And now the hard part's over. Let's go, I wanna surf."

  "We should probably practice on the beach first," I say. "You know, how to get down on the board and get up and shift your balance around when you're catching a wave and all that."

  But Walker just shakes his head and smiles. "Where's the fun in that?"

  "It's the smart thing to do."

  "I'd rather just get out there."

  Apparently smart doesn't interest Walker.

  It makes me a little uneasy, taking him out into the water for the first time after what happened to Alex, but I know he's right. I don't want to -- and probably can't -- do it alone, and who else do I have? I'm going to have to do this on his terms.

  We wander out until we're about waist deep in the water, and that's when I tell Walker to put the board down and lie across it on his stomach.

  "You want to paddle the rest of the way out there," I tell him, and he immediately flings himself down on the board and promptly rolls right off.

  I slap my hand over my mouth to try to hide my laughter, but it's not working so great when his head pops back up above the water.

  "What the heck," he sputters, wiping droplets out of his eyes. Walker looks over and reaches out to playfully swat at me. "Hey, stop laughing! This isn't funny."

  I feel tears prickling at the corners of my eyes and for the first time in a looong time, they're not threatening to spill over because I'm sad.

  "Yeah," I manage to choke out between chuckles. "Yeah, it is."

  He shakes his head and corrals the board that's currently bobbing around in the surf. "Now I see why you wanted me to chain myself to this thing."

  "Want to try that again?"

  He hoists himself back onto the surfboard, a bit more slowly this time, and turns back to look at me with a satisfied smile when he wobbles but doesn't tip.

  "Now you paddle." I show him how I cup my hands into scoops and propel them through the water to move forward.

  "And how far out am I going?"

  "Until you get to Santa's workshop," I say, and he laughs. "We're going to the lineup. It's the point past where the waves break. Usually you'll see some other surfers but I guess there aren't any around today. Lucky for you, I don't have to teach you the rules right now."

  He makes the mistake of looking back at me as I follow his board through the water and tips slightly but regains his balance. "The rules?"

  "It's like etiquette of the water, I guess. You know, who gets to catch what wave and paddling around the break instead of right into it and stuff."

  "Never would've thought of that," he says.

  I nod. "Yeah, well, you're not alone. Most people don't, not even the ones who have been surfing forever."

  We're coming up on a breaking wave; usually, I'd just dive under and pop back up on the other side like nothing ever happened, but these aren't usual circumstances.

  I stare at the quickly-approaching wave and make a last-second decision to turn my back to it, feeling its power and strength plow into me, but I stay on my feet.

  That's gotta be a good sign, right?

  I glance around for Walker. Oops. I see the board first, then his head bobbing just above the water. Wipeout.

  "Seriously?" he calls, struggling to his feet and tugging on the board's leash. "This is ridiculous."

  "Sorry," I say, and I mean it this time. It's my fault he fell off; I didn't warn him in time about how to get around the breaking wave with a surfboard because I'd been too worried about how I was going to handle it. "My bad."

  Even from fifteen feet away, I can see him roll his eyes. "No kidding," he grumbles, getting back down on the board. He starts paddling again. "Any more surprises?"

  I shrug. "That's what I used to love about surfing. You never know what you're going to run into."

  I'm not thinking about Alex when I say this, but my mind immediately turns to thoughts of him and how unpredictable it all was. How's that for irony? The one thing that made surfing great somehow managed to ruin it for me, too.

  Walker and I make it out to the lineup without running into any more waves trying to knock him off the board, and I'm starting to feel a little bit better about all of this.

  I push my feet off the bottom and stretch out, floating on my back, staring up at the blue sky dotted with hundreds of white puffy clouds. A small, quiet sigh makes its way out of me; this doesn't feel wrong now, letting the water carry me, hold me up, the way it's done all my life.

  Maybe I really can handle this.

  "Rach? Rachel?"

  Walker's voice worms its way into my ears and I snap to attention and stop floating.

  "What am I doing here?" he asks, and I realize I've left him floating belly-down on his surfboard in the middle of the ocean.

  "Oh," I say. "Right. You can stop laying down now." He shakily manages to bring himself to a sitting position and starts to use his hands to turn around and face the shore. "No, no. Stay how you are. You want to be looking at the horizon."

  He wrinkles his nose. "Isn't that backwards?"

  "How else are
you gonna know when the wave is coming?"

  Walker pauses. "Okay, you win that one. So, what, I see the wave, then turn around and go?"

  I nod. "Pretty much. You've gotta paddle, too." I explain when he's supposed to start paddling and how fast. "Don't stand up this time, though. Just see if you can catch the wave first."

  He pouts. "You take all the fun out of things, Rachel."

  I know he's only kidding and that this is how -- or maybe who -- Walker is, but I'm lying if I say his words don't sting me just a little.

  Maybe because it reminds me of what Alex said right before he died.

  But I decide to just play along. "Oh yeah? You think you can stand up on the board without my help? Let's see it"

  Walker wiggles his eyebrows and grins. "Challenge accepted." He looks out over the horizon and his eyes grow wide. "How about this one?"

  I check out the wave that's slowly building maybe twenty feet away and nod. "Yeah, go for it."

  He starts turning around, waiting for the wave to approach, and I study him, sure he's going to flinch or look back nervously over his shoulder as the wall of water gets taller and taller, closer and closer.

  But he doesn't, and it looks as if he's some kind of seasoned pro out here. I've never seen anyone look so comfy in the waves their first time before, and maybe that's what bothers me the most.

  It's not supposed to be this easy for him.

  It's supposed to be this easy for me.

  It was this easy for me, and not all that long ago, either.

  I'm not paying attention to what's going on around me, and that's when the wave slams into me. It knocks me down, and I'm spluttering around, trying to break the surface, but it's nothing like the last time I was lost under the sea.

  It takes an extra second or two before my head pops up and I suck in some air. I look around for Walker, bile rising in my throat, hoping this isn't going to be a repeat of the worst day of my life, but relief floods through me when I see him standing in ankle-deep water, smiling broadly, surfboard tucked harmlessly under his arm.