Cinderella in the Surf (21 page)

We're going up against each other -- plus one other girl, someone named Carrie Porter -- for the championship.

And you know what that means.

I really,
really
have to win.

We're back in the staging area, which is a heck of a lot emptier now that there are only three people left to compete.
 

The guy with the headset wanders over. "See you got the numbers all figured out," he says with a smile, and I nod. "Great. Heat starts in five. You all set?"

I raise my eyebrows. "Are you asking everyone or just me?"

He flushes slightly. "I, uh, I can ask them, too."
 

"But you weren't gonna because they're not alone." We both look across the staging area where Carrie and Piper have people hanging out with them, psyching them up for the championship round.

I'm the only one who's here alone.

He swallows hard and glances around, hoping for an escape. "Sorry," he says at last. "Sorry."
 

I shake my head. "It's fine, not a big deal."
 

And it isn't, when I really think about it. This is exactly the way it should be. In all of the other competitions I've been in, Alex had been the only person at my side. So for it to just be me, knowing that he's somewhere close in the sea, feels right.

"Five minutes," he repeats before scampering off like his shorts are on fire.
 

I stand up and look out at the ocean and take a few deep, calming breaths.

I'm here. The Invitational.

How long have I been dreaming about surfing in -- and winning -- this competition?

It's time. Even if it isn't happening the way I always pictured it, even if my plans have all failed, I'm still here. The journey took more twists than I ever expected, but I've still ended up in the right place.

Can you ask for much more than this?

I bend down to strap my board to my ankle and just as I'm picking it up, I hear it.

"Rachel."
 

The voice stops me cold. It's a voice I've heard so many times over the years, and even though it's a little different, there's no mistaking it.

"John, hey."

He looks so much like his younger brother that I have to look at him twice to make sure it isn't Alex standing in front of me.

"I heard you were surfing today." John shoves his hands in the front pockets of his khaki shorts. "Good luck."
 

"From where? No one knows I'm here."
 

He looks at me like he's dealing with a small child. "Rach, you live in this town, right? You think something like you surfing in the Invitational is going to stay quiet for long?"
 

"Fair enough," I say, even though I'm mentally shooting daggers at Anna.
 

"I didn't think you were going to do it."
 

"I wasn't."

"What changed?"

I bite down on my lip, not sure what to tell him. I mean, I can't exactly say that his dead brother spoke to me last night and convinced me it's where I need to be, can I?

"I know Alex would want you here," John continues before I figure it out. "But I kept telling myself that you didn't deserve to do it. Not if he couldn't. That was wrong and I guess I just want to tell you I'm sorry."
 

"John, you don't -- you don't have to apologize to me."
 

"Yeah, I think I do. For me and my family. This has been hard on my parents especially, but I don't think there's a right thing to do when you lose someone, you know?"
 

I nod. Oh, do I know. Believe me, I know.

"Yeah."

"But I mean it, that Alex would want this for you." He offers me a small smile. "So go out there and kick some ass, okay? For my brother."
 

The lump in my throat gets bigger with each word until the tears take over, spilling down my cheeks in uncontrollable sheets.

"Rachel, stop!" John exclaims, looking panicked. "They're all going to think I just said something horrible to you."
 

I laugh through the tears and reach out and envelop him in a giant hug. "Thank you," I whisper.
 

When I let go, he's smiling back at me. "Anytime."
 

The bullhorn blares. The final round is underway.

Thirty minutes, starting now.

That's all I have left.
 

And when I walk in the water, board tucked under my arm, sun shining down, seagulls flying above me, I know I'm alive.

***

Do you ever have one of those moments where you're just totally
feeling
it? Like everything is perfect as exactly as it is right now, right here, this way, and you hope it'll never change?

But you know it will.

Yeah, that's me.
 

The waves are flowing this afternoon, perfect swell after perfect swell. I can't stop catching and riding, each one begging me to do something that'll top my trick on the last.
 

 
I've just finished a frontside snap and am getting ready to paddle out for the next wave when the horn sounds.

That's it. It's over.

I consider paddling out anyway and riding just for me, but I don't want to miss the announcement about the winners or make it look like I'm showing off.
 

"Gonna start crying again?"

Piper grins snarkily at me as we haul our boards out of the surf and walk up the sand toward the staging area.
 

I don't bother with a response.

The other girl had been riding in between us and I hadn't paid any attention to Piper during the whole heat, but I'm sure I've kicked her butt. I don't need to say anything else to prove myself to her.
 

"Scores will be in in five minutes, ladies." Headset Guy grabs my surfboard and I collapse into one of the waiting chairs.
 

Carrie and Piper head back to meet up with their friends and family for a few minutes before the winners are announced.
 

"Rach, that was great."

I spin around in my seat. "I thought you left."
 

John's standing behind me and shakes his head. "You kidding? Alex would shoot me if I went home and didn't see you win."
 

I smile, grateful not to be alone for this even if I'll never admit it to anyone. And truthfully, having Alex's brother with me feels even more right than being by myself.

"Thanks. How'd the other girls look?"
 

His forehead creases. "Hard to say. Thought one was great and the other was sort of meh. But I was mostly watching you."

"
Please
tell me it was the blonde who was crappy."
 

Before he can say anything, the PA system crackles to life and a silence falls over the stretch of beach.

"Ladies and gentlemen." Headset Guy addresses the crowd. "Thank you all for coming out for the 25
th
Annual Invitational here in lovely Southern California for the first time. I have no doubt we'll back soon. We had a heck of a day and a lot of worthy competitors. But you don't want to hear from me. Without further ado, I introduce your day's judges: Jeanne McMichael, Larry Stewart and Martin Potter."
 

A smattering round of applause fills the air as the three middle-aged judges trickle onto the platform and wave to the audience.
 

Jeanne McMichael -- a legendary former surfer -- picks up a microphone.

"Thank you, Todd, and thank you, Southern California!" More cheers. "We know you don't care what we've got to say other than who won, so we won't drag this out. First, Larry with the men's winners."
 

The graying man with tortoiseshell glasses takes the mic from Jeanne and unfolds a white piece of paper he'd been holding in his sweaty hands.
 

He runs through the men's winners, but I tune him out. Without Alex surfing, I really don't care who takes home the top prize. I don't even know if any locals are competing today, and a guy from the south of France wins the $125,000.

My stomach tightens as Larry passes the microphone over to Martin Potter so he can get on with the important stuff -- like whether or not I'm going to college in the fall.

"Thanks, Larry," Martin says, clearing his throat. "It was a fantastic day of sea, surf and sun." I roll my eyes. "But we're not done yet! We still get to announce our fantastic female champion. In third place and taking home a ten-thousand-dollar prize is..."
 

I swallow hard, trying to push back the bile that's rising up in my throat. I want to hunch over in my chair, curl up into a little ball and stick my fingers in my ears. I can't do this. I can't handle it. It's too much for me, too soon, I feel sick. It's going to be me. I'm going to finish third and Piper's going to beat me, but at least she'll be flying back to Australia and I can get rid of her on my beach and --
 

"...Piper Monaghan!"
 

Oh.

I sit up a little straighter in the chair. The sickness isn't gone, not by a long shot, but I'm suddenly feeling a heck of a lot better.

And I'm pretty sure my smile stretches from here to the moon.

I stare at Piper as she walks, shakily, toward the judges and accepts her prize. She smiles when the photographer's camera flashes in her face,
 
but I know that look, the emptiness in her eyes and the forced curve of her lips. I've worn it well over the last two months.
 

John reaches out and grabs onto my shoulder. This is it. Time to forget Piper.
 

"And now," Martin continues, obviously relishing the drama of the moment, "for your grand prize winner. It was very close. So close, in fact, that we even considered holding a tiebreaker, but in the end, one person scored two decimal points higher than the other, and so she will be our winner."
 

Martin pauses, and I want to punch him in the face for drawing this out so painfully long.
 

"Congratulations...Carrie Porter! Our grand prize winner for the 25
th
Annual Women's Invitational!"
 

John squeezes my shoulder once, but I barely feel it. I'm staring forward, right at Martin Potter, and watching as Carrie Porter squeals and rushes up to the stage to claim the prize I'd known belonged to me.

I lost.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

I lost.

And it's okay.

No, really. I think it's okay.
 

My breathing is coming out a little funny and I need to possibly put my head between my knees and the smile on my face might be turning into a grimace, but other than all of this, everything's just peachy.

I'm not the winner of the Invitational.

Dangit, I've never even
heard
of Carrie Porter until today.

But she's just kicked my butt, and honestly, I'm fine with it.

Second place still comes with a pretty big jackpot, more than enough, I think, to get me started at college, and that's all I need.

But it's not why I did this.

"Rachel. Rachel. Hello, you home in there?"
 

John's kneeling down in front of me and his face starts out fuzzy but slowly comes into focus.

"What?" I say. "Yeah, I'm fine."
 

He smiles, but still looks worried. "Well, that's good, but I didn't ask yet if you're okay," he says with a small chuckle.

"I am, though," I insist. "I am."
 

"Rachel West, if you could come up here please," Martin says into the microphone.

Crap
. I've forgotten that I'm going to have to trot up there as the loser and smile for the cameras with Martin and Jeanne and Larry and Piper and Carrie. Fabulous.
 

John helps pull me to my feet and I make my way up to the stage to applause and cheers.

"Your second place winner in the Invitational -- Rachel West!" Martin announces with an exaggerated flourish of his arm.
 

I smile politely and give a little wave to the crowd. Pretty sure my introduction is the loudest, since I'm the only local to place this year, so at least I have that going for me.

Martin hands me one of those dumb oversized checks that no one ever knows what to do with for the amount of $75,000. It's no $125 grand, but it'll be more than enough. We pose for a few pictures, then me with all the judges, then me with Carrie and Piper, who does a great little tap dance routine to ensure she's not standing next to me, and then all of us together, until finally, blessedly, it's all over.

I sigh as I'm packing up my bag and getting together all my stuff to head home.
 

There's an after-party tonight at a different resort downtown, but I doubt I'll be there.
 

I need some time to just be me now.

"That was incredible. Hope you'll get me out there surfing like that one day."

I freeze as I'm taking out the safety pins holding my competition number to my wetsuit.

Slowly, I turn around, and sure enough, here he is.
 

"Hey."
 

"Hi." Walker pulls a toothpick from between his lips and readjusts the shoulder straps of his big canvas painting bag.

"Piper did really well, too. Tell her congrats from me when you see her."

He does this little smirking thing with his lips that infuriates and intrigues me all at once. "You'll have to tell her yourself. We're not friends."
 

I raise my eyebrows. "That's a new twist," I say, trying to keep my voice even and diplomatic, but he only laughs.

"You can say what you're thinking, Rach."
 

"Saw her true colors, didn't ya?"
 

He nods. "Something like that."
 

"So then why'd you come today?"

"Isn't it obvious? To watch you surf."
 

"Even after the other night?"

"Don't think I'm here to pressure you or anything like that," he says. "I know what you told me. I get it, and I can live with it, even if I don't want to. But I have something for you."