Moonfin (14 page)

Kai spotted Lizzy and ran up to meet her.

“Where have you been? We've been looking all over for you, and you'll never guess what!” She didn't wait for Lizzy to guess. “The fat little gimpits are actually
for
real!
We've already caught a bucketful, and we're filling up a second.”

“I've had some excitement of my own, but I'll tell you all about it later,” she said, still a bit shaken from the eel ride. “But hey! Isn't that big surf competition coming up in a week? Are you still going for it?”

“You bet! I'm gonna win it too.”

“Golly, Kai, you shouldn't be so shy,” Lizzy teased.

Then her brain caught up with the commotion surrounding them.

“Wait. Did you say the gimpits are
real?
”

She could hardly believe her eyes! All along the beach, droves of people were scooping sardine-like fish into buckets; children splashed and grabbed handfuls of the little gray and lavender fish, their fingers bursting with flickering diamond-shaped fins to boil, bake, and fry. Goofy songs continued to carry on the breeze.

“Yep, I guess it's not just a dumb bedtime story, after all.”

Lizzy could hear Sugar bragging on and on about her booty.

“I'm gonna make us something delicious that would make my daddy proud. The first thing will be gimpit pot-pie!” She danced around the pick-up truck inspecting each and every bucket, counting every little fish.

Lizzy leaned in for a closer look. Their little webbed fins flapped against the bucket rims as they tried to escape their culinary doom. Not exactly
cordon bleu
, she thought, and she wasn't sure about eating gimpit pot-pie, either, but wouldn't spoil it for Sugar.

“Pile in the back, kids!” Sugar hollered. “And keep a hold of those fishies for me!”

Jade and Lee walked up from the beach with the last bucket to put on one of the flatbeds nearby. Lee's hair was wet and dirty. Lizzy noticed he was limping.

“Ugh. I don't ever want to grow up and have someone like that dude follow me around,” said Kai, cringing.

Lizzy hopped up onto the truck next to Jeff, who was surveying the sardines greedily. “What happened to him?” she said, nodding toward Lee's stumbling form.

“Don't know—he showed up late with his hair all wet, fumbling around like that … maybe he slipped and fell or something.”

Lee looked up in time to catch Lizzy staring at him. A wide smile stretched across his face, in contrast to the cold glint that flashed in his eyes. She quickly put her head down and pretended to tend the newly caught gimpits.

“Looks like he's been up to
something,
all right,” she muttered to herself.

 

*
a small note on gimpits
—The older townspeople of Blowing Prawn would have you know that the gimpits are not to be confused with their skimpy relatives, the grunions, which are more well-known. The gimpit has fins that glow at night and double as wings, is far plumper, with little crawling legs and webbed suction cup-like toes to tread on land and in sea, larger, slyer, and the tastier of the two.

Chapter 11
WAVEFEST

K
ai stood at the kitchen sink and scraped burnt cheese from a sauté pan while staring dreamily at the daisy wallpaper that covered the inside of her little trailer home. After finishing this task, she dutifully placed the milk in the cupboard and filled the cat's dish with frosted flakes.

The cat meowed loudly.

Half-dazed, Kai looked down to see Tipper, her orange Bobtail, sniffing inquisitively at his food bowl.

“Oh Tip, I'm sorry!” she cried, snapping out of her daydream. She promptly dumped the cereal in the trash, filling up his bowl with Nibbly Bits instead. The cat meowed once more, in thanks, and ate hungrily.

Mrs. Kane, meanwhile, popped open a can of fizzy soda and poured it over crackling ice cubes.

“Honey, please finish the dishes and help your sister get ready for dance class. Now, there's a good dear!” She slumped onto the sofa in front of a small television, some daytime drama lighting up the screen in front of her.

Kai took a deep breath. “Shake it off,” she kept saying to her bundled nerves all morning, but it only made her jumpier.

“And
really
, I don't see why you need to be in this surf competition,” Mrs. Kane boomed across the trailer. “That's for boys. Girls should learn to
cook
and
clean—
none of these screwball notions in my house!”

Kai packed her sister's lunch
. Oh, where are the juice boxes …

Her mom pulled out a piece of red licorice from a round plastic tub and waved it at Kai like a tipsy conductor—“You're never satisfied, that's your problem—just like your father—always looking for more.” She plunged the licorice into her glass and started slurping the bubbly substance through the hollow middle like a straw.

Kai stuffed a tutu and ballet slippers into her sister's dance bag, pausing to take another deep breath and check the clock on the wall …

“Life is not
fun
, after all. It's a big, fat lot of drudgery, if you ask me. Nothing more. Stop looking for the pot at the end of the rainbow. There isn't one, darlin'. No pots. No rainbows.” With wagging fingers and red-faced nods, Mrs. Kane leaned into the worn cushions, put her feet up on the coffee table, and leafed through the television guide, mumbling complaints under her breath.

Kai wiped the cookie crumbles from her little sister's mouth. Five-year-old Gracie didn't look anything like Kai, with her strawberry curls and soft hazel eyes. They were both half Tahitian, but Kai's dark skin and black hair always stood out most among her siblings. It made Kai wonder if one of them had been dropped off by a band of Gypsies.
Most likely it wasn't Gracie or the boys
.

“And besides, you never win anything. Stop trying to be a fancy-pants-show-off. Now where is that remote? I need to tape my show today while I'm at the hairdresser—don't want to miss anything
juicy
. Karl is supposed to marry Felicity for the
fifth
time,” she said sluggishly. “That's gonna be more important than the royal wedding!”

Kai slipped the tote over Gracie's shoulder and led her through the tattered screen door in front of their trailer home. It wasn't exactly a real house they lived in, but more like a camping trailer on rusty wheels. She and Gracie slept on the fold-out couch: an old ripped-up cushion that slid over the kitchen table they ate on by day, and dreamt on by night. Her brothers slept outside in hammocks next to the grass-hut workshop, where they stored and worked on all their prized surfboards. If it rained, they only had to pull their hanging beds into the hut to stay dry.

“Don't forget to get home right after that surf thingy! I need you to ride up to Smith's and get some groceries,” Mrs. Kane yelled out through the screen door. “Get some of that stuff—what's it called? Gravy in a can—Yes!—with sausage … that will be
so good!
We'll dip pretzels sticks in that for dinner.” She rolled into the familiar groove of the couch and tucked in for a nice morning nap. “All this housework is so
tiring
…” she mumbled and drifted off to sleep.

Kai strapped her shortboard to her bike with bungee cords and settled Gracie on the seat. Pushing her slowly up the street, she dreamed of rip-curls and wave-tubes all the way. Gracie steered the handle bars and pretended she could ride a big-girl bike just like her sister. They stopped in front of the neighbor's front steps and Kai flipped down the kickstand. She lifted Gracie off the seat and twirled her around in the air before setting her down by the front door.

“Okay now, stay out of trouble. I'll pick you up after I'm done winning the Wavefest.”

Gracie shuffled her feet and looked down.

“Will you bring me some candy from the wharf?”

“Maybe.”

“Some shells from the shore?”

“Maybe.”

“Some—”

“Don't push your luck, girlie, I'll see what I can get, okay?” Kai kissed her on the forehead, wishing she could stay small and innocent forever. “Now go have fun with your friend.”

Kai watched as Gracie skipped-hopped up the concrete steps and disappeared through the screen door, then she leaned into the handlebars of her cruiser, gripping tightly to bring her squirrely nerves in check. The salty sea air blew around and through her, pushing away negative thoughts. Her mother's words did little to hurt her anymore, since the only thing that kept her going was the hope of winning surf contests and traveling around the world …
away from here
.

The short jaunt to Mongabay flew by as she thought about the Wavefest Junior Classic held there every year. The contest was open to teens looking to enter the surfing track and pick up a sponsor—if they were good enough. Kai planned to make her mark there today.

She parked next to the competitor's booth and picked up a roster of the day's events, and also pinned a number to her blue rashie. Jeff and Lizzy were already waiting there for her.

“Aren't you a tad young for this contest?” asked Jeff.

She glared threateningly at him. “Who's gonna tell?”

Lizzy groaned loudly.

“I guess I can't talk you out of this. The surf is crashing down hard today.”

“No turning back.”

“You know, they brought a guy in on a stretcher a few minutes ago”—Lizzy wrung her hands anxiously—“something about paralysis and—”

“Chill out, Liz, or you'll blow a squeaker!” (Lizzy looked highly offended) “—and don't make that face at me—nothing
bad
is going to happen. You worry too much!” Kai ran a hand down the sharp angle of her board, making sure the wax lay smooth
. Nicks and rough spots aren't going to hold me back today.

Lizzy flapped her arms like a scared penguin. “That's a
bazillion-foot
moving mountain of water! And … and I hate surf lingo. What's a squeaker, anyway?”

“Bazillion, huh?—more like eighteen. Don't exaggerate.”

Lizzy huffed resignedly. Kai was going to do this insane competition no matter what, might as well stick around and try to be helpful.

“
Fine
. If I'm going to watch you slide through torturous barrels of water—how can I help you stay in one piece?”

“Just be around when I come in from the heats; I'll need my pit-team here cheering me on.” She smiled in that perky way that made them feel like everything was going to be okay, even in the face of death.

“Be cool and rip-it-up,” Jeff said, trying to fit in with the surf scene. Of course, the loafers and cricket cap prevented that from happening.

“Yeah—surf insane,” mumbled Lizzy.

“Thanks, guys, gotta go! They called my name.”

Kai grabbed her yellow board and splashed down onto the incoming tide, paddling hard to where the other surfers were already in the lineup. She had only thirty minutes to catch four waves and get in as many maneuvers as she could. Concentration would be key.

The horn sounded. Kai could hear the announcer call the moves as her group scrambled to catch the first wave. She knew the rules: the surfer closest to the peak when it breaks, takes it. She felt the power of the ocean pulse in every fiber of her being.

“
I will conquer this
,” she whispered to herself.

The first wave hit and it was hers. It broke right under her board—she pulled herself to a standing position. Jeff and Lizzy cheered like crazy from the beach as the announcer spilled over the loudspeaker:

“
HER GAME IS ON—UP AND RIDING HER BACKHAND! SHE'S SNAPPING IT IN THE POCKET WITH A SOLID LIP TURN—ANOTHER PADDLE OUT THE BACK, QUICK MOVES—PUSHES OUT SOME WATER WITH SOME SMOOTH FOOTWORK BY NEW GIRL, KAI KANE
!
”

Kai sported a big smile as she breezed through her first wave maneuver.
Three more to go. I can do this.
She whipped her board around and headed back out to the lineup.

“Check that girl for gills, she practically lives in the water,” said Sugar, walking up to where Jeff and Lizzy were sitting.

“Hi, Sugar, what's up?” Lizzy smiled at the gill joke. It was true.

“Thought you kids could use some lunch, so I brought some leftover fish soup for you.”

Jeff licked his lips, while Lizzy's face contorted into something more like revulsion. “Uh, thanks, you shouldn't have,” she said, and meant it.

“Kidding—I know you can't stand gimpits—I packed some PB &Js and a thermos of cherry Kool-Aid. Sorry, Jeffrey, I know you like all things fishy and slimy.”

“Where'd ya find the jelly?”

“Didn't—bought some more and hid it from
you
.”

“Must be a new hiding place—I know all your old ones.”

“Kai is back up!” shouted Jeff.

The announcer churned out of the loudspeaker: