Cinderella in the Surf (6 page)

"The best."
 

Piper shrugs. "Maybe you were."
 

"Alex dying doesn't take my wins away."
 

"Of course not," she says, nodding. "But ask anyone in Australia. I'm the best they've got. They'll say the same about you here. But unfortunately for you, I'm going to take that away when I win the Invitational in six weeks."
 

"You won't."
 

"Oh yeah?" She raises her eyebrows. "Who's going to stop me?"

I don't say anything because what can I say to prove that she's wrong? It's not going to be me. I can't do it.
 

And if Piper's good enough for Ahe to be able to pick her out of a crowded market to warn me about her, maybe there isn't anyone else around where who can take her down.

"That's what I thought." The slow smile seems to take an extra long time to spread across her face. "But I suppose I should actually be thanking you. I always want to beat the very best, of course, that will never change. But you're going to make it a heck of a lot easier for me to go to the top." Piper reaches out and touches my shoulder, and I immediately shrug it away. "I couldn't do it without you, Rachel."
 

"What is this? Some kind of trick to get me back surfing or something? I'm not going back! Everyone needs to get over that already. I won't do it."
 

Her eyes widen a fraction of an inch. "You think I want you to get back on your board?" She shakes her head. "No chance. I can get rid of you and get my name out there even more than it is now. People will know who I am, and it's all because of you." She pauses for a second. "Well, you and the wave that killed your friend. I'm gonna owe you both everything."
 

My stomach turns and all of a sudden, it feels like someone's snuck up behind me and sucker-punched me right in the gut.
 

Who is this girl to think she can walk up to me and say something like this?

She doesn't know me.
 

And she doesn't know Alex.
 

And I can't let her have this.

All of me -- from my scalp to my fingertips and straight down to the tips of my toes -- is aching -- screaming, even -- to not give up this easily, to get out there, on my board, in the ocean right in front of me, and take what Piper thinks she's going to get so easily.
 

"You will get nothing," I say, my voice hissing out in spurts between clenched teeth.
 

"You're going to stop me, then, are you?"
 

I suck in a deep breath, and try to force the rapidly-rising bile back down my throat.

This isn't fair, it isn't right and she doesn't deserve the surfing title. This girl is flat-out vile, and she's going to get away with it all because I can't get on a surfboard.

Piper smirks and flips her short hair over her shoulder. "That's what I thought." She gives me a light pat on the upper arm. "See you around, Rachel."
 

And she turns and walks away.

CHAPTER SEVEN

"Fancy meetin' you here."
 

I shake my head. "People still say that?"
 

Walker shrugs. "I don't know much about other people, but I sure do."
 

I'm sitting on the rounded side of a long log split in half in front of a small fire burning on the beach. It's something I used to do with Alex and some people we'd hang out with, and it feels right being here tonight.
 

"Mind if I sit down?" he asks, and then he drops onto the log before I can answer.

Typical.

I'm still tracing patterns into the sand with a stick I picked up somewhere along the beach. I'm not sure what to say to him, not after I ran out of Hilo's a couple days ago.

"What are you doing out here?" I ask mostly out of curiosity instead of annoyance at being interrupted.
 

"My uncle keeps his boat docked at the marina at Western," he says, naming one of the neighboring beaches I hardly ever go to. "Just walking home on the sand and I saw you."
 

He reaches into his back pocket and slides a toothpick from a carved wooden holder probably designed for cigarettes.
 

"Reformed smoker," he says, tapping his index finger twice against the box when he catches me staring. "Helps to keep my mouth busy and out of trouble."
 

I smirk. "And how's that working out for you?"

He grins back at me. "How do you think?"

"Touche," I say. "Kind of late to be out boating."
 

"Not for me. I like it out there at night. It's quieter in the dark."
 

"Lonelier, too."
 

I can feel his gaze shift over to me and linger. "For someone who's by herself a lot, you don't really seem to like it all that much."

I flinch but try to hide it. Because the thing is, I'm kind of learning how, well, lonely it really is to be alone.

"That's just the way it is."

"You have to have other friends that aren't Alex."

"Yeah, we knew the same circle of people."
 

"But not friends."

"Not like what we were."
 

"Maybe you should lean on them more."
 

I wave my hand dismissively in the air. "I did in the beginning. But it felt forced and not right and weird without Alex. I dunno. I'm better on my own."
 

He shakes his head. "I don't think you are."
 

I swallow hard, my stomach beginning to twist. "I don't know," I say quickly. "I'm all over the place tonight. I just need to clear my head after meeting Piper today."
 

Walker chuckles softly. "After meeting what? You say it like it's a poison."
 

"Might as well be," I reply. "And it's not a what, it's a who. That's her name, Piper Monaghan. Apparently, she's Australia's crown jewel of surfing."
 

Understanding dawns on his face and I watch as the corners of his mouth twitch up slightly. "So she's the foreign version of you, huh? I can't imagine why you don't like her."
 

"No, you're all wrong," I inform him. "I don't have a problem with other surfers. But Piper Monaghan is disgusting."
 

"What happened?" He still looks skeptical that this is anything other than typical silly jealousy.

So I tell him, everything from Ahe pointing her out to me at the market, to sitting by the canoe, to her letting me know how grateful she is that a wave wiped out my best friend.
 

"And
that
is why she's disgusting," I say in conclusion, tucking a stray strand of long brown hair back behind my ear, then folding my hands in my lap.
 

"What's the Invitational?" Walker asks, and I feel a surge of irritation flush through me that this is the first thing he wants to talk about when I'm done with my story about the evils of Piper.

I let out a sigh. "It's a big surfing competition that happens in a different place ever year. It was Hawaii last July and Ecuador the year before. My family's never had enough money to send me to it. Until now."
 

"Because it's here."
 

I nod. "Yeah. The entry fee is only a hundred bucks. The day's been circled on my calendar for as long as I can remember."
 

"And now you're not gonna surf in it."
 

"I don't have a choice."
 

"So then I guess Piper isn't wrong," he says, then quickly blushes when I look up at him sharply. "Wait, wait. Hang on, that came out bad. What I'm tryin' to say is, she's obviously awful for bringing up Alex the way she did. That's terrible and there ain't no place for that kinda thing. But she's right. You can be the one to stop her, you know. You should be out on the board for that competition."
 

I shake my head. "I still don't get it. What does she want?"
 

Walker shrugs. "Who knows? Does it matter? She's buggin' you."
 

"Yeah, she said she's happy my best friend is dead. I think that'd be enough to bug anyone."
 

Walker cracks a grin. "You raise a good point."

The flames spark and crackle in front of us, shooting a stream of fire into the sky before the thousands of tiny pieces flutter harmlessly down to the sand and go dark.
 

"Looks like a volcano erupting or something," Walker says, and the change of subject is obvious but not unwelcome.
 

"I have to go back, don't I?"
 

"You can't ask me that, Rachel."

"Why not?"

"Because it can't be a question," he says, shifting on the log so he's facing me, and I want to look away from the truth in his eyes, but for whatever reason, I can't make myself do it. "When you're ready to surf again, it's gotta be because you know you are. Can't be because it's what I or anyone else told you to do."
 

"They've been telling me to go back since it happened and I haven't listened to anyone. I know what I have to do. I can't let her get away with what she said." I toss the stick into the flames and listen to it crackle as it burns.
 

"You're sure?"
 

I shake my head. "I don't know. Maybe I'm not ready, but it feels like it's time. And even if it's the wrong thing to do, then I'll just find out surfing was only good for me when it was us."
 

Walker nods and smiles. "Good," he says. "Good. You should do this."
 

I take a deep breath and watch the last end of the stick burn and fade into nothing.
 

I feel a chill run down my spine as I realize it doesn't exist anymore. Here one second, gone the next.

Like so many things.

"What now?" he asks.
 

I look down the beach toward our bungalow, one of the hundreds of tiny lights littering the shoreline, but of course I can't pick ours out among all the others.
 

It doesn't matter, though, because tucked neatly under one of these lights, resting comfortably behind some storage bins and probably propped up against one of the stilts, is my old surfboard.
 

My beautiful red and pink board, so much a part of me for the last decade that I'm surprised I've managed to function this long without it, is waiting for me.
 

I stand up from the log and dust off the back of my white shorts. "I have to go."
 

"Wait," Walker says, getting to his feet. "I'll go with you."
 

"No." I'm already several steps away. "I have to do it myself."

He nods and grins. "Then get out of here," he says, and my eyes flicker over to the fire I started. He follows my gaze. "Don't worry about that. I'm a southern guy. I'll put out the flames."
 

I smile and turn and run from this spot so close to the canoe, so close to where it all happened, and to the bungalow, where I'll finally find my long-lost love.

Again.

It's not until I'm home with the door shut tightly behind me that I realize Walker and I never talked about what happened at Hilo's the other night.

And how it hadn't been weird at all.
 

CHAPTER EIGHT

By the time I got back to the bungalow last night, I'd realized taking the board out into the ocean probably wasn't my best move. It was late, almost midnight, and I'd be completely alone.

Maybe that's how it's going to be when I get back in the water, but I'm thinking being by myself is better with daylight on my side.

I'm ready to surf again, but I'm pretty sure I'm not ready to be stupid about it.
 

But before collapsing into bed, I logged onto the website for the Invitational's smaller tune-up competition and registered myself. Maybe I'll get back on my board today and realize I can never surf again without Alex, but you know what? At least now I'll be able to say I tried.

But I don't think that's going to be a problem.

It's like what I told Walker when I first met him: I love surfing and I certainly love Alex, but I don't need the two of them to be together to feel passionate about either one.

I can love them all the same, with or without each other.

It's just going to take a little time to get it all right.
 

The small competition is today, this afternoon, just a few beaches over.
 

No better time to prove I've still got it, right?

Daylight streams in through the sheer white curtains hanging over my windows, and I know I'm ready to get out there and do this.

I dress in my old bikini and wetsuit and wander into the kitchen.

Mom's standing over the kitchen counter, pink mug of coffee in hand, staring aimlessly out the window. She spins around and jumps when I walk in.
 

"Oh!" she exclaims when she sees me, her empty hand fluttering over her heart. "Rachel, you scared me!" She looks at me -- really looks -- for the first time, her eyebrows shoot up and she sets the mug on the table with an unsteady hand.
 

"Are you...?" she trails off.

I nod, and it's hard not to smile. "Yeah," I say. "I'm going back."
 

"In time for the Invitational?"
 

"It's something I've wanted my whole life," I say with a shrug. "Alex and I were always working toward it. I can't sit it out."
 

"Well, finally! This calls for a celebration." She opens the fridge and begins rummaging around. "What do you want? Eggs? Bacon? Waffles? Heck, I can make them all."
 

"Maybe later," I say. "I've got a lot to do."
 

Mom nods and smiles, then goes back to her coffee. I'm left to stand here for a second, stunned by what I see in her eyes, like she really couldn't be happier that I've finally made this decision, and it fills me with even more confidence that this is what I'm supposed to be doing.