I explained the whole surfing beach thing to my mom the next morning, and it only took a little begging to get her to agree to let me go. (She even took me to the surf shop to get a rash guard and a rope bracelet, just like Nick’s!) As soon as we got back, I headed down the beach and quickly realized that it was a walk I should have taken long before. Sure, there was no boardwalk, just old houses and beach grass, sea oats and dunes. But each section of beach had its own unique appeal, you could say.
There was our beach, designed exclusively for the zero-to-six-year-old set. But there were also stretches of beach filled with newlyweds and other adults who were still young enough to run around, plus one that seemed to be full of people with gray hair (or no hair) on their heads. There was one place that was all surf fishermen, standing knee-deep in the waves with their lines out, and one stretch that was just for dogs and their Frisbee-throwing people. There was even one beach that, to my surprise, was completely empty except for a sign that said, NO PLAYING OR BATHING—LOGGERHEAD TURTLE NESTING AREA.
The sun was blistering, as usual, but bearable if I kept my feet where the waves could reach them. Then again, to get where I was going, I would probably have walked across the sun. I felt free, and grown-up, and like I was on a true vacation—for the first time in a month.
At last, I rounded a corner and could see several figures bobbing and paddling in the water. I felt my heart actually leap up. It was like I had discovered my own New World! (I would not be surprised at all to learn that Columbus felt the exact same way back in 1492.)
It took a while to find Nick, because surfers all look pretty much the same when they’re out in the water. In fact, the first person I recognized was another lifeguard, Jasmine—because there were fewer girls in the water, and because no one else in the world could have hair as curly and long as hers was.
Then another wave rolled in. A few surfers chased it, and one with wet brown hair popped up on his board. As soon as he was up, I could see that it was Nick, and I got this weird feeling of pride as I watched him ride the wave in.
When the wave broke, he jumped off his board and landed waist-deep in the water.
“Hey, Nick!” I called, raising both arms and waving them wildly. “Over here!”
He shielded his eyes with his hand and gazed around until he saw me. Then he waved back, and my heart jumped once more. He walked out of the surf, grinning and shaking his hair out, with his board under one arm. He was wearing a blue-and-green rash guard and bright yellow shorts.
“Hey,” he called. “You came. What, no board?”
I smiled. “I told you, I’ve never surfed before.”
“So do you want to learn?” he asked.
Do I ever! “Well…” I pretended to think about it. “Why not? Sure!” I promptly jogged off toward the water. What were we waiting for?
“Hey, hang on!” I heard Nick call. I turned around just in time to see him gently lay down his board. “Before you dive right in,” he said, “let’s practice a few things on the sand first.”
I shrugged. “If you say so.”
It wasn’t like I’d never been on a boogie board or anything, but whatever. A little practice never hurt anyone. And I tried—I really did!—to pay attention as Nick demonstrated how to lie on the board and paddle, one arm at a time, and then stand up.
“Okay,” he said when he’d finished. “Now it’s your turn.”
I lay down on the board and put my arms right by my rib cage.
“Perfect,” he told me.
I grinned and flutter-kicked a little. Thank you very much!
“Okay, keep your chin up and pretend you feel the wave under you,” he went on. “Now push your chest up and slide your feet under you…”
“Like this?” I said, jumping to my feet.
“Almost,” Nick said. “But try to land your foot right where your belly button was. And make sure you stay on the stringer—”
“The what?” I asked.
“This line right here, down the middle of the board.” He pointed to it.
“Right. Got it,” I said, and tried it again. I nailed it! “Ta-da!”
Nick laughed. “Pretty good. But, hey, do you mean to be goofy?”
Goofy? My arms fell to my sides. “Oh, sorry,” I said. I do try to be goofy, sometimes. But I definitely wasn’t going for that just then.
Nick pointed to my feet and, grinning his super-white smile, slowly shook his head. “What I mean is, do you naturally stand like that, with your right foot out in front?” he said.
I sighed (with relief!). “Oh yeah,” I said. “Like in snowboarding.” I suddenly remembered the term goofy coming up on a ski trip the year before. (I am definitely learning to snowboard next year, by the way. I learned to ski because that’s what my parents do. But snowboarding gear is so much cuter!) “I guess I am goofy,” I told Nick. “I’m left-footed in soccer, even though I write with my right hand. My coach says it makes me a great forward. But is it okay to surf that way, too, do you think?”
Nick nodded. “Yeah, no problem.”
Phew!
“So?” I asked eagerly. “Can I go out and really surf now?”
He looked me over once more and pressed down gently on my shoulders. “Okay,” he said, “but remember to keep your knees bent and your body low. Stand straight up, and you’ll wipe out,” he warned.
“Got it.” I nodded and crouched down very low. Then I held my arms out to the sides and pretended to ride a huge wave.
Those itty-bitty waves I was looking at had better watch out!
There were a few things I took away from the surfing beach when I left two hours later. (I’d promised Kiki I’d go back and build a sand castle—with a pool and a Zen rock garden—for her Polly Pockets after lunch.)
One: Even little, itty-bitty waves can pack a serious punch. As Nick and his fellow surfers would say, not only did I wipe out; I got “worked”!
Two: It hurts to “pearl” and go “over the falls” (which basically means that your feet are too far forward on your board, and there’s no way you can stay up). I should know. I did it a lot.
Three: Nick was an excellent teacher, because after five, or six, or maybe seven tries, I was almost standing up. (A possible record, he told me!)
And four: I was stoked to snowboard in the winter, because Nick said it’s exactly like surfing—and surfing is fun!
Thanks to Nick, even on my own stretch of beach, I finally had something to do besides sit in pits of sand surrounded by preschoolers. (But no, that didn’t stop completely. It was hard to say “no” to Kiki—and five dollars an hour. I don’t know if I had finally gotten used to it, but somehow it didn’t seem like such a chore anymore.)
On top of my new hobby, Nick actually let me do some real lifeguard work when he was on duty. I mean, it was just piling sand in front of the stand and propping the foam rescue cans up, but it was still fun. Which was why I noticed right away when, one morning at ten, he didn’t show.
“Hey, Chip. Hey, Lexy,” I said. They were both sitting on the stand, looking out over the water. “Where’s Nick?” I asked them.
Lexy smiled at me and pointed way out in the distance, where I could just barely see a head bobbing in the water. I knew the lifeguards liked to swim out far, but I’d never seen them way out there. Was that really Nick? And was that even allowed?
I waved, and for a second I thought I saw him waving back. But then his hand kept on waving, and the other one started up, too. That was weird. Maybe he was just happy to see me? Or—it hit me suddenly in the gut, like a jab from Josh—was he waving for help?
No, I thought to myself. He was way too good of a swimmer. But his hands kept waving…and the next second, Chip jumped up.
Nick was in trouble!
The next thing I knew, Chip was blowing his whistle like crazy, and immediately, a whole series of whistles sounded along the beach. Lexy, meanwhile, had a rescue tube over her shoulder and had leapt off the stand onto the sand pile, and was now charging toward the waves as fast as she possibly could. A second later, Tate and Caleb appeared out of nowhere with rescue tubes of their own, and followed her.
I stood there, frozen, dying to do something—anything!—to help. But all I could do was watch as Lexy, and then Tate, swam out to Nick.
Hurry! I silently pleaded. Hurry, hurry, hurry! You’ve got to save him!
It seemed to take forever, but at last Lexy reached him. It looked like she wrapped the tube around Nick’s chest, by which time Tate had joined them. Caleb, meanwhile, stood on the shore holding a rope that ran all the way to Tate and Lexy. They gave him a signal, and very quickly, hand over hand, he began to pull.
By then, there were a dozen lifeguards waiting at the water’s edge, plus a stretcher (oh no!), and a crowd of kids and parents wondering what was going on. The lifeguard whistles were still blowing, blowing, blowing…making the whole scene seem even worse!
At last, Lexy and Tate reached the shore with Nick between them. They rose to their feet and dragged his limp body out of the water to the dry sand and laid him down.
Get up! Get up, Nick! I thought. But he didn’t move.
No! It wasn’t possible! Sure, I’d gotten lectures about riptides, and I’d even seen the guards help a few swimmers out of them. But I’d never really thought that the ocean could be so dangerous. And I’d never imagined someone I knew—especially a lifeguard!—could get into trouble out there.
Suddenly, I couldn’t feel the scalding sand, or the sun beating down on me anymore. As for everything inside me, it felt like some intestinal supernova had turned it all into a black hole. I was just a shell as I watched Nick lie there, with the lifeguards all around him. For the first time in weeks, I didn’t feel hot. I just felt small and scared and cold.
I covered my eyes. I couldn’t watch them do CPR—or whatever!
And that was when the claps and the cheers broke out.
I opened my eyes slowly…just in time to see Nick jumping up with a giant smile on his face. What?! Then—this was even harder to process—he and Lexy and Tate and Caleb all took a big bow.
“Woo-hoo!” several people cheered.
“Great drill, everybody,” said an older man wearing an orange hat and holding a stopwatch. “Four minutes. Good time, Lexy. Next time, Nick, it’s your turn.”
I was trying to understand what had just happened (and trying to breathe again, I admit) as Nick walked by and waved cheerfully.
“Are…are you okay?” I asked slowly. I regretted it right away.
Nick kind of laughed. “Did you really think I was in trouble?” he said.
“What? Me?” I made an “as if” face and blurted, “Of course not!”
I was glad that my insides seemed to have jelled. The world around me was coming back into focus. But I was not enjoying the feeling of that hot, hot sun again.
Nick reached out and patted my shoulder. “Good. You looked a little freaked-out. Hey, the water’s great, you know. You should go in.”