The Uneventful Life of Harvey Mackler

c h a p t e r | t h i r t e e n

"IN GENERAL, THE best time for 'dawn patrol' is right before sunrise, but considering this part of the beach never gets busy, that doesn't really matter. The best waves to practice on around here are at 9 AM, which is why we're here now."

I teeter along the sandy strip that bordered the sea from the shore, letting the gentle waves wash over my feet before moving away again.  I take a cautious peek up at Finn who is listening to me intently, devoting his full concentration to every word that leaves my mouth.

"I'm surprised you came out early today," I add, training my gaze at the ground, watching the rhythmic waves lurch at the shore, dissolving and recoiling back to the sea. "I thought you'd be too tired after last night. I think Hayden could sleep through a fire alarm right now."

When I glance up again, I notice Finn is staring at me with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "I think you forget I have parents at home. I can't just do anything I want — I think I was probably back home by 11," he replies lightheartedly. "Besides, it was so difficult convincing you to coach me in the first place. I wasn't going to miss this."

"Hmm, well," I answer, scanning Finn's face for any signs of insincerity; turning away when I come short, "let's get on with it then, shall we?"

Finn adjusts the surfboard in his arm. With a grin, he asks, "You're letting me in the water today?"

"Just in the shallow part, for now," I say. "But first... hand me your surfboard."

He does as I say, helping me lay the board flat on the ground. I pull stray wisps of hair away from my face, tucking them into my ponytail. Then I straddle the board and pull out some chalk out of the pocket of my shorts. With the white chalk, I mark the board at proportional intervals.

"Is that supposed to help?" Finn questions, looming over my shoulder. "Won't it just wash away in the water?"

"That's why you'll practice on land first to familiarise yourself with the positions," I reply. "Did you get that camera I suggested for your surfboard?"

"I was going to order one tonight," Finn says.

"No need," I tell him as I get up, "I found my old one. It still works, so you can just borrow it instead — though we don't need it right now. We'll set it up later when you get back to actual surfing. For now, we're just going over the basics, tightening up your technique."

"Sounds like a plan."

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The strangest part about coaching Finn is how easily he follows my instructions. He blindly accepts my tutelage without much objection, and it makes me wonder if he really doesn't realise I don't know half of what I'm doing. All I have are half-buried memories (and a few saved links on the Internet to help jog them from time to time) acting as the basis of my lesson plans, but Finn doesn't seem to mind.

We quickly get into a routine of meeting up. In the morning or in the afternoon — or whenever else we felt fit, seeing Finn's face becomes a familiar part of my day. Sitting beside him in the Hole, surveying footage from him surfing earlier that morning and analysing his technique... doesn't seem as odd a thing to do as it did a few days ago.

"I do have one condition though, for coaching you," I tell Finn on this particular morning, pausing the video I'd taken of him surfing.

Finn turns to me with curious eyes. "What?"

"You can't actually let me have 80 percent of your earnings, no matter how much prize money you get," I say. "It's your surf competition so you should get more than just the medal. How about I take 10 percent?"