Surf School Read online

  Laurine Croasdale has worked as a book editor and packager, written several fiction and non-fiction books for children and teenagers, scripts for the television show Hi5, and produced audio books. She spent her teenage years hanging out on the northern beaches of Sydney with a group of girls who remain her friends to this day.

  For Shel

  and

  in memory of Steph

  First published 2007 in Pan by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd

  1 Market Street, Sydney

  Copyright © 2007 Laurine Croasdale

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organisations), in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher.

  National Library of Australia cataloguing-in-publication data:

  Croasdale, Laurine.

  Surf School.

  For children.

  ISBN 978 0 330 42336 6 (pbk).

  1. Surfing – Australia –Juvenile fiction. 2. Teenage girls – Juvenile fiction. 3. Friendship in adolescence – Juvenile fiction. 4. Parent and teenager – Juvenile fiction. I. Title.

  A823.3

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Internal design by Liz Seymour, Seymour Designs.

  Set in Fairfield LH Light by Midland Typesetters, Australia

  Printed in Australia by McPherson’s Printing Group

  Papers used by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd are natural, recyclable products made from wood grown in sustainable forests.

  The manufacturing processes conform to the environmental regulations of the country of origin.

  These electronic editions published in 2008 by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd 1 Market Street, Sydney 2000

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  All rights reserved. This publication (or any part of it) may not be reproduced or transmitted, copied, stored, distributed or otherwise made available by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organisations), in any form (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical) or by any means (photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise) without prior written permission from the publisher.

  Surf School

  Laurine Croasdale

  Adobe eReader format 978-1-74198-131-5

  Microsoft Reader format 978-1-74198-132-2

  Mobipocket format 978-1-74198-133-9

  Online format 978-1-74198-134-6

  Epub format 978-1-74262-463-1

  Macmillan Digital Australia

  www.macmillandigital.com.au

  Visit www.panmacmillan.com.au to read more about all our books and to buy both print and ebooks online. You will also find features, author interviews and news of any author events.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Even though the writing process is a solitary one there are a number of people who have generously given their time, knowledge, support and encouragement. I would like to thank the following people for their help in shaping this book: my family; Margaret Connolly; Steph Gilmore; Lynne Dickinson from Curl magazine; Matt Grainger and Christo Hall from the Manly Surf School; Brian Williams Design; Gary Dunne at Rip Curl; Laura Enever and her family; Amber Radford; the organisers of the Havaianas Beachley Classic; the staff at Narrabeen Sports High; Helen Cross-Glover; NSW Department of Sport and Recreation; Kurt Jacobs at Roxy; Liz Seymour; Felicity Pulman; Lindy Batchelor; Kristina Schulz; Ali Hand and Amy Dunn for letting me use the Blood Book; and the staff at Pan Macmillan who have been magnificent in their support of this book, in particular Claire Craig, who got me writing again.

  CONTENTS

  THE BLOOD BOOK

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THE BLOOD BOOK

  I, Marlee Rose Finn, and I, Matilda (aka Tilly) Elizabeth Anne (my parents couldn’t choose) Hoye, are the traditional owners of the Blood Book.

  This Book is sacred to us because it holds the truth as we see it and for that reason, NO-ONE is allowed to read it. This includes you, Sam Hoye.

  Signed,

  Marlee and Tilly

  30 NOVEMBER

  Ouch! You know how much I hate blood Marlee Finn, especially when it’s mine. I feel sick just looking at it. I can’t believe you’re making me do this.

  Okay. Found another spot. This one is nice and pink; soft looking.

  Here goes.

  Right. I’m really going to do it.

  Owww! Owwwwwwowow. There. Three nice big drops, right next to yours.

  And that’s all you’re getting. If you don’t realise that I’m serious about pro surfing and the World Championship Tour, then you’ve got sand in your boardies.

  I WANT IT AS MUCH AS YOU DO.

  Don’t think that because I don’t deliver five million pamphlets on the hilliest run in town or go to a selective sports jock high that I don’t want it just as bad. In fact I’m going to jog to your place now and shove the Blood Book under your door for when you get home.

  Do your worst. I’m in for the ride.

  Tilly

  In a few years time, when I’m holding up the World Surfing Cup and you’re next to me on the dais, you’ll thank me.

  Do you remember that first day we met at the Surf School? Pink had cut her foot and you gagged when you saw the blood.

  I thought you were such a sissy I was prepared to hate you then and there, but when you caught a wave straight off, I saw your face. That’s when I got this tingling feeling that you loved surfing too. I even forgave you for pushing me off the next wave.

  Okay. Here’s the plan for every day except my pamphlet run days:

  up at 5 (that’s am in case you’re in doubt)

  stretches

  jog along Diamond Beach to the end and back

  surf for 40 minutes (or more if we can)

  breakfast (I’ll work out the food later)

  school (there’s always a down side)

  And the NO list …

  NO boys, only friends

  NO takeaway food

  NO alcohol

  NO late nights

  Marlee

  You are tough. I’ve just told Dad and Sam that they have to move out on account of them having penises and all. But they said that I’ll have to move in with you. Your mum didn’t like it when you moved into the garage. I can’t imagine how she’d take it if two of us lived there! So I’m guessing that male family members are okay?

  No, you’re not seeing things, that 5 am is now a 6 AND, before you start – let’s just ease into it. Six until the sun rises a little earlier and the heat kicks in – and let’s jog Diamond Beach one way only to start, the full 6 ks on sand will kill me first up. (I’m doing push ups as I write this in case you think I’m slacking off.)

  WHO’S holding up the World Cup?

  WORLD CHAMPION

  Tilly Hoye

  Best Moment: Going on the WCT with Marlee and winning the World Title.

  Best Friend: Marlee Finn.

  Biggest Influence: My dad, Phil, and the amazing Diamond Beach Surf School.

  Favourite thing in the whole world: Me charging the left, Marlee going the right.

  Training Regime:
Coke and pizza (he he he).

  Best Manoeuvre: The 310, for sure. Aiming for the 360.

  Surf Faves: Melanie Bartels, Layne Beachley, Steph Gilmore, Sofia Mulanovich, Chelsea Hedges. And groms: Marlee Finn, Laura Enever, Carissa Moore, Co Co Ho, Airini Mason, Sally Fitzgibbons, Bethany Hamilton.

  Other Interests: Photography, eating and …

  BURNING THE DINNER! GTG!

  Tilly

  Six am it is, but only for a couple of weeks and then let’s crank it up.

  I’m totally serious, Tilly.

  We did this whole goal-setting thing at school last week, and this is what I jotted down:

  Start training program

  Go in the club friendly in a couple of weeks and win the board

  Apply for a wildcard to the Juniors next year; Win as many contests as I can

  Get some sponsorship

  It doesn’t seem like much written down but it’s huge, this dream of ours. And being in it together makes me feel so strong, so sure, that I could do it for both of us. Just remember, once we’re cruising to remote islands around the world and catching waves for a living, a bit of hard work now will be worth it.

  If we want it bad enough, it’ll happen. That I do know.

  Marlee

  CHAPTER ONE

  Warm foam rushed up the sand and over Marlee’s and Tilly’s feet, the bubbles collapsing on their pink toenail polish. Brilliant shards of orange light broke up the cloud, the colour floating across the sea. Tilly pointed to a little wave, glassy and green, curling nicely to both the left and the right. She nodded to Marlee and together they threw their boards into the shallows and paddled out. Fran followed them, and, a flying leap and loud yell later, so did Pink. They’d opted for the small wave away from their usual break, the one that attracted the aggro and weekend surfers. And it had paid off. They had the break all to themselves.

  Marlee picked up the pace, paddling fast towards the incoming set, spinning her board around and taking the first wave of the season. Tilly watched her charge down the face before turning back to the approaching set, carefully picking a wave and lining up her board.

  Fran took in a long, slow breath of salty air, her fingers trailing through the water on either side of her board. She winced at Pink’s piercing shriek. It carried over the crash of the surf and up the near-empty beach. Pink had caught her first wave of the season and was standing at its peak. Bit by bit, like a freeze-frame photo, she began to disappear: bottom torso, upper torso, flying hair, fists raised high, then salt spray, and finally the top of the wave rolled downwards wrapping over her, flashing glimpses of sand, flesh and pink bikini.

  Fran let the next set roll beneath her, focusing on her breathing as the sun burned its way upwards, searing the ocean-facing windows gold. The heat was already nipping her shoulders.

  Marlee and Tilly threw their boards into the rip alongside the break and rode it back out towards Fran like a towrope.

  ‘I love it when we all surf together,’ Marlee grinned. ‘It always feels like holidays.’

  ‘Well it just about is holidays. I’ve missed you, Marls. It still feels strange being at school without you.’ Tilly breathed deeply, trying to keep up as Marlee turned her board, neatly slicing across the rip. ‘Geez, slow down, I’m so sore I can hardly paddle.’

  Marlee, her face already tanned from the spring sun, laughed but slowed until Tilly pulled up closer. ‘I never said training wouldn’t hurt. Anyway, one more week until the end of school and then we’ll have even more time to train.’

  Tilly clutched Marlee’s foot. ‘C’mon, give me a tow,’ she panted.

  Marlee struggled with the extra weight but pushed herself to keep up the pace. ‘Cut your hair, that’ll make you go faster. How many pro surfers do you see with hair down to their bum?’

  Tilly released her grip and Marlee streaked effortlessly away, then spun her board around and charged the small right. Tilly splashed an arc of spray across Fran’s stomach and Fran tensed, opening an eye to check her out.

  ‘Ohhh! It was so peaceful, but that was never going to last, was it?’ she said, rolling into the water to wake herself up.

  ‘It’ll never be quiet while Pink’s out here,’ said Tilly, sitting up on her board and watching Pink paddle back out.

  Marlee was on her way back too, passing Pink and ducking under the next wave. She pointed behind Tilly to a decent-sized set steaming towards them. ‘Share wave!’ Marlee yelled and paddled over quickly.

  They lined up side by side. Marlee went right, Tilly left, skating along the lip, then flicking her board back trying to spin a full 360 degrees. As the wave sank beneath her she dropped back onto her board, paddling towards Marlee.

  ‘I love watching you surf,’ Marlee said. ‘No-one around here surfs like you.’

  Tilly pulled off her white crocheted hat and wrung it out, her plait falling, wet and heavy, down the length of her back. ‘Is that good?’ she asked, unsure. ‘I don’t exactly have all the right technical moves for the judges.’

  ‘Of course it’s good,’ Marlee reassured her. ‘You always stand out. Believe me, that’s good.’

  Pink waded through the shallows towards them. ‘C’mon let’s get breakfast, I’m starving.’

  ‘But we only just got in,’ Marlee said. Tilly lingered, reluctant to get out.

  ‘Not really. It’s been ages and the surf’s tanking. Who feels like corn pancakes or smoothies and hot chips? My shout.’ Pink marched up the beach, carelessly dragging her new board by its fin.

  Tilly chased after her. ‘No, I’m buying today. Remember? Dad buys breakfast on our First Surf Day. Besides, you’re always buying, Pink.’

  ‘Sure, if you want to.’ Pink dropped her wet board onto the sand. ‘Who’d have thought one surf class would’ve kept us surfing together seven years later?’

  Their towels stretched across the sand in front of the Surf School like a big flag. Pink snatched up her towel and ran towards the sheltered side of the club house. She leaned against the sun-warmed wall and dried off. The others followed, rubbing the goosebumps off their skin.

  Half an hour later they sat huddled together on the beach, hoodies pulled up and towels around their waists, sipping hot chocolate and eating pastries. Even though it was still early, the beach had crackled to life: walkers and joggers pounded the path along the waterfront; an endless stream of cars pulled into the car park, some backing out a few minutes later when the occupants decided to try another beach. Parents with small kids set up umbrellas and eskies for the day and the Surf School sign went onto the footpath to attract customers.

  ‘Here, happy summer,’ Marlee said, spinning a CD to each of them like a frisbee. ‘Are we getting too old to keep doing the present thing? Maybe this should be our last year …’

  ‘No way!’ Pink cut her off. ‘You’re never too old for presents and it’s fun to celebrate the day we all met.’ Pink waved her Island Breeze shopping bag, wriggling with excitement. ‘Oh, I so hate being the centre of attention,’ she laughed and stuck her hand slowly into the bag before pulling out a stylish brown one-piece with a halter-neck for Fran, who raised her eyebrows at the sleek racing machine – it was far more self-assured than the simple black two-piece she normally wore.

  Fran ran the rich brown fabric through her hands, checking the stitching, admiring the detail. ‘Thanks, Pink. You’re so lucky. I wish my parents owned a surfwear brand. I could design clothes and jewellery for their shops.’

  ‘Well maybe one day you can, Fran. Hey that rhymes!’ Pink tossed a costume to Marlee. ‘For you, Marlee Rose.’

  ‘Thanks, Pinkie.’ Marlee caught the bright floral shorts and top, twirling them on her finger and smiling broadly at Pink.

  Tilly clapped her hands at the aqua bikini trimmed with lime green – her two favourite colours. ‘I was saving up to buy this – how’d you know?’ She hugged Pink. ‘So, what did you get?’

  Pink dived into the bag, pulling out two tiny slips of black lycra that
barely covered the palm of her hand, then grabbed one of the straps to pull the pieces apart.

  ‘Woah!’ Marlee laughed. ‘That is so not there. I can’t believe Christie would let you wear that.’

  ‘She wouldn’t.’ Pink pulled back her blonde hair and held the tiny top against her ample chest. ‘Mum brought me home a black one-piece with a built-in bra! She said it’d be slimming.’ Pink chuckled. ‘But when she went overseas I took it back to the shop and changed it.’

  ‘Hey, I’ve made presents too.’ Fran reached into her basket, the tiny bells on her bracelet giving a shimmery tinkle. She pulled out a thin strip of leather thonging. On it a flat glass bead glinted in the hot morning sun, flashing the deep blue-green of the winter ocean with swirls of whitewater through the centre.

  Marlee gasped as she caught it. ‘It’s like the ocean’s trapped inside. Thanks, Franipani.’

  Fran passed an anklet with four tiny glass ladybirds on it to Tilly. Their backs were shiny red with tiny black dots. And, for Pink, an anklet with soft pink beads, far more subtle than the raging hot pinks she tended to go for. When Fran laid it against Pink’s skin, the colour was perfect.

  ‘I love this, Pani. Mwa Mwa.’ Pink kissed both Fran’s cheeks. ‘You should be selling these.’

  Fran’s face lit up. ‘Maybe I will, one day.’ There were flashes of white as Fran’s last anklet slowly untwisted. ‘And this one is mine.’ She tied it against her rich brown skin so the buttery yellow frangipanis sat at the top of her foot.

  ‘Oh no!’ Tilly leapt up, flicking sand over the last pastry. ‘Back in a sec.’ She ran around the club house into the Surf School. Phil, her dad, was on the phone.