Stacey sat under the pier. She liked it there, out of the heat, out of the sun. Not that the sun was properly up, yet; she’d come down early. Stacy had snuck out of the house—and sneaking out anywhere was a bit of a challenge lately, but she’d managed it. And so she sat, and watched the water creep closer to her toes, darting forward, and back, and then forward again.
It was just like a kitten that wanted to play, but was too afraid to pounce. Stacey watched the wavelets, then looked out at the ocean. It stretched as far as she could see.
“That is one big kitten,” she said, and stared out at the horizon, watching the sunrise colour the sky pink and yellow, loving the way the colours reflected in the sea, and very glad the pier sheltered her from the glare.
Back at the house, they would be stirring—her mum, her dad, little brother, Daniel. Stacey gave a quiet sigh, knowing soon they would come storming down to the beach in search of her. She hoped there wouldn’t be too much fuss. Truth was, she’d needed to get away from the house, from the way everyone was still feeling bad about the accident. It had been months ago; they should be moving on, just like they kept telling her she had to move on, too.
“Live your life,” her mother kept saying, especially when she caught Stacey looking out at the waves she’d never surf again. “Stop moping about what you can’t do, and find something you can.”
Easier said than done. Stacey had been a good surfer, maybe not quite a champion, but she’d been working on it, and getting closer every year. And now all that was gone. How did you move on when a large chunk of who and what you’d been couldn’t move on with you? How did you leave that big a piece of yourself behind?
Stacey didn’t know, but she was trying to work it out.
Her dad had offered to sell the beach house, to move the family into the mountains, or anywhere else for the holidays, but Stacey had shouted him down.
“It’s bad enough that I can’t surf,” she’d screamed, “but you can’t punish me by taking away the beach, as well!”
“It’s not that, Honey,” her father had said, clearly upset. “We just didn’t want you to be reminded of what… what…”
“Of what I can’t do anymore?” Stacey had asked, frustrated by the tears she could hear in her voice.
Her dad had nodded, looking close to tears himself, and Stacey had felt her anger melt away.
“I love the sea, dad,” she said. “I might not be able to surf, but just being able to go down onto the beach and watch the waves is… It’s good, okay?”
There’d been no more arguments after that. Stacey had convinced them it would be better for her to be away from school and the suburbs while she got used to the idea of being in a wheelchair.
After all, they’d had a pretty lousy time, and things were changed enough without them having to change what they usually did on the holidays. It would be better, too, if she could get used to things in a place that was familiar, a place they all looked forward to going to. Why change that?
The doctors had agreed, and that had been that. When everyone had calmed down, and mum and dad had gone off to pack and make sure the car was ready, Dan had come up to her, and given her a very careful hug.
“Thank you,” he’d said, and that had been when Stacey remembered how much her little brother loved the waves, too.
“Honestly,” she said, letting her memories fade and searching around in the sand for something to throw. “It’s time they all got over it and stopped blaming themselves.”
And that was the honest truth. Her parents were blaming themselves for what was, essentially, a horrible, terrible accident. It hadn’t been their fault the little girl had missed the ball, and then charged straight out onto the road after it; they’d been able to stop. And it hadn’t been their fault that the other car had been going too fast to stop, had jacked on its brakes, and spun into them. At least it had managed to miss the girl. It had crunched Stacey instead. The only thing that had died that day had been a dream, her dream… and the ball.
Her dad hadn’t been able to miss that. The ball had been flattened. When she had realised neither car was going to hurt her, the little girl had been heartbroken.
“My ball!” she had wailed, sobbing as though it was her world that had shattered, and not Stacey’s.
“Small price to pay, kid,” Stacey muttered, scooping her hands through the sand.
She found a shell, half-buried in the fine grains, shook it clean and pitched it as far as she could. It flew a good couple of metres, and plinked into the water, sinking out of sight. Now, she only had one thing to do, apart from dealing with her parents’ sense of guilt—what else could they have done, run the kid over?
Yeah, maybe not. Stacey sighed, and stared at the sea, the waves that were so close, and still too far away. All she had to do, now, was work out what she was going to do next.
After all, she was never going to be a champion surfer, couldn’t stand up to ride the really big waves, probably wouldn’t ever be able to stand up and ride them, ever again. It was enough to make her want to cry, but she’d done enough of that in rehab—crying because it hurt, crying because it seemed all too hard, crying because she just didn’t want to live like she was going to have to live, and crying because life had changed and it just wasn’t fair.
Well, crying had never changed anything. All it did was make her head feel like a six-tonne boulder was trying to bust out of it, and her nose like an over-stuffed turkey was sitting in the middle of her face.
Of course, this didn’t mean she was never going to cry again, but it did mean she tried to find something else to do than just cry, just sometimes. Like today. When she’d managed to get the chair all the way out of the house without waking up her parents, and then all the way down to the beach and the boat ramp. On her own. Without tipping over. Without getting stuck. Not once.
That had earned her the grey-lit peace of the sand and the sea before dawn.
Mum’s going to have kittens, Stacey thought, but no one was using the ramp yet, and the tide was out. And that meant the sand was just hard enough for her to edge the chair down under the pier, so she could slide down onto the beach, and watch the waves come in.
Stacey wasn’t sure what she’d do when the tide did start to turn, but she figured her family would have found her by then, so it probably wouldn’t matter. In the meantime, she was going to enjoy the waves and the sea, and the total lack of fuss.
Stacey lifted her head and looked again, out at the sea. She couldn’t see the sun, because it still wasn’t quite up, but the sky had turned a lighter grey around the pink and yellow of its coming. A small breeze skittered across the water, stroking Stacey’s cheek with cold fingers, but that didn’t bother Stacey.
She watched the bright spot on the horizon that was the sun, and saw its glow light the water. She loved the way the light slanted across the depths beneath the pier, showing the barnacles clinging to the supporting timbers, the seaweed waving around each long post.
As the sun grew brighter, Stacey stared harder, hoping to see something else, like, maybe a fish, coming close to the surface to enjoy the glow’s faint warmth. Nothing moved, but it didn’t matter.
The sound of the sea sloshing against the pilings was relaxing, the way the seaweed wove patterns in the tide almost mesmerising, and Stacey let her mind drift as she leant against the side of the chair. She had almost drifted asleep, when she saw a gleam of movement dart between the pilings. It flashed once, catching the growing dawn light, and then slid into a darker patch of water.
It had been a long shape, and moving too fast for Stacey to make out, but she got the impression of long, blonde hair, and a blue-green glitter. And then… nothing. What had that been?
For a few long minutes, Stacey kept looking at the water under the pier. She couldn’t help noticing the little wavelets becoming bolder, sometimes daring to touch her toes. She hadn’t noticed the water creeping closer, had no feeling in her feet to let her know it had touched her.
She shook the thought away, focussing on what she’d almost seen. What had it been diving under the pier? Something covered with light-coloured seaweed? A dolphin? A shark? Stacey glanced up at the wheelchair, and then at the water now lapping the base of the boat ramp.
She noticed how the tide was slowly nibbling at the tracks she’d left behind her in the sand. Maybe it was time she thought of getting back home. If she was lucky, she might even be able to make it before she was missed.
The question was: if she couldn’t reach the boat ramp, how was she going to get her chair up the beach on the other side of the pier? Her parents had thought about sand tires for the chair, but they hadn’t gotten them, yet—and the ones she had just wouldn’t cope.
Stacey sat and thought about that. Looking at the way she’d come, she decided it was definitely not going to be the way out. Water already covered the very base of the boat ramp, and the sand beneath would be too slippery-soft for her to reach it. Yet, on the other side of the pier, the damp sand soon gave way to dry, white sand that would clutch at her wheels and stop her moving anywhere at all.
She was just contemplating sitting under the pier until her family came to find her, when the noisy roar of a motorboat ripped across her thoughts. Annoyed by the interruption, Stacey looked towards the sound, and noticed that the beach was no longer empty.
There were people already setting up for the day. Some were walking their dogs, others had grounded umbrellas and spread towels, surrounding themselves with picnic baskets, eskies and children’s toys—claiming their own bit of beach space, before it got crowded.
Well, Stacey thought. If I get stuck, I can always shout for help… but she wasn’t sure if she really wanted to.
Still, the people on the beach weren’t what had caught her interest, and Stacey looked for the motorboat that was disturbing the quiet morning. It took a minute, but she finally saw it, a long slender craft rounding the rocks at the other end of the bay. Stacey hated the boat. It was loud—too loud for this quiet stretch of coast—and it was dangerous. The men in it weren’t paying any attention to the people on the beach, not even the people who’d just started dabbling in the water.
They drove their narrow craft past the rocks and straight up onto the sand, not even bothering to anchor it before they leapt out and began inspecting the rocks they’d just come around. They were looking for something, and they were doing a very thorough job of it. If whatever they were chasing was anywhere on the beach, they were sure to find it.
Stacey wondered what it could be.
And then she wondered if it wanted to be found.