Stroke of Luck (girlxgirl)

Part 5

She finished her bowl of cornflakes and then wandered back into the granny flat to make her bed. Her mother's strict rules and coaching around etiquette meant she could never feel relaxed at another's house unless she left it better than it was before she arrived. Tom, Dusty and Leeroy had headed off to the shop to put in a half day. Tom had said he might pop down to the beach to watch once they had clocked off.

She checked the time on her watch, six thirty. She knew heats started from seven so she figured it best to head off now. It's not like she had anything else to do. She decided on a pair of jeans and her blue and pink neon jumper. She had never really considered how much neon she had in her wardrobe. Though now amongst the sea of flannel and denim in town, she realised she rather stood out.

It didn't quite feel like a Saturday morning in Garlo Bay, there were so many people up and about. There was an energy here that didn't exist in the city. Most people were still sleeping at this time, nursing hangovers from work drinks the night before. There was definitely a different sort of buzz this morning. She could hear the echoes of a loud speaker down at the beach reverberating around the neighbourhood. Kids were speeding past her on bicycles and skateboards towards the sound. Countless vans chugged past her with surfboards piled in the back.

It was clear that this competition was quite a big deal. Almost every customer that had come into the store yesterday had been talking about it. The same name repeatedly came up in their discussions, Ryan Gregson. Apparently, he was a teenage prodigy that had all the hallmarks of being the next big thing. Far fewer times did Beth's name come up. She had to wonder if that was due to Beth's humility or just an inherent sexism that was still so prevalent in sport.

Sand poured through the fabric of her sneakers as she climbed the dunes to the beach. The feeling was so unpleasant, she tried to tread delicately to avoid the sand cascading in. Young kids pushed past her in their bare feet and shorts, afraid of missing any of the action. One elder gentleman even scoffed and shook his head as he moved past her, himself barefooted. She heard a buzzer sound and decided what the hell, she'd take her shoes off when she got onto the beach. She jogged the last little way, the ocean sparkling as it appeared over the sand. The morning light was hitting it at just the right spot to send light refractions up and down the shore.

There were three men paddling out in different coloured jerseys, a number and their last name embroidered on the back. She wasn't sure what the colours or numbers meant, some sort of ranking system perhaps. The beach was already quite packed with picnic rugs and beach umbrellas. It was clear people were setting up for the day. One gentleman was even holding a beer. She couldn't stomach the thought of drinking this early in the morning.

She decided on a spot, on top of the sand dunes, the shrubs behind her providing a little bit of shade as she sat down. Her pale English skin wouldn't be able to cope with a full day of sun and for some reason she hadn't thought to bring a hat on her trip. She made a mental note to visit Kerry's boutique in town later in the day.

Numbers were routinely called over the loudspeaker to a raucous applause from the crowd. It didn't seem to matter what the score or who the surfer, the town was just excited by each and every wave. She was mesmerised by the men in their seal suits, the way they were able to stand so quickly as the wave descended beneath their feet. Then as they gathered speed they would turn sharply up into the face and then continue racing down the line until the white water crashed beneath their board. The scores were virtually meaningless to her, she didn't understand what they meant. But she could appreciate the grace of the sport. The rhythm of the waves and the boards excited her.

As the events wore on and new surfers entered the water, she found herself beginning to follow along with the loudspeaker. Understanding which surfer was in the lead, though still not being able to differentiate the waves herself. She scanned the crowd and the tents around the judges for a sign of Beth, but she hadn't seen her. She heard one of the 'groms', a word she had just learnt that morning that meant a young surfer, say that many of the surfers warmed up at the next beach over before their heats. She wondered if that meant Beth too.