Hit the Beach! (4 page)

The next morning, we woke up to blue skies and sunshine. “Perfect beach weather!” squealed Fliss, leaping out of bed and twirling round the room. It was all the rest of us could do to stop her going down to breakfast in her bikini and sunglasses.

I pulled on my favourite Leicester City shirt and my comfiest shorts and flip-flops, and raced Frankie down the stairs. On breakfast duty this morning was the M&Ms’ team.

“What d’you reckon it’ll be – slugs on toast?” I said as we all clambered into our bench seats.

“Yeurgh!” said Lyndz. “You’re making me feel sick!”

In fact, breakfast turned out to be surprisingly normal. There was a choice of cornflakes or muesli and then toast. The team, helped by Aidan, had made fried bananas too, which looked weird – brown and squidgy – but tasted really good. I reckon Lyndz ate about four of them.

After breakfast we had to get ready for our activities. Not a single person, it turned out, had signed up for pony-trekking – I guess because no one could bear to miss out on the beach on our first day.

“Don’t forget your sunscreen, everyone!” called out Mrs Weaver.

The beach was only a shortish walk from our hostel, so we set off in a long straggly crocodile, with Bethany and Aidan leading the way, and the
teachers at the back making sure no one got lost.

“Hey, where did you get those flip-flops, Fliss?” said Rosie. “They’re so cool!”

I think Fliss had changed about three times that morning already – she wasn’t sure which of her ‘beach outfits’ to wear first. Now she had on a lime-green t-shirt and a bright pink sarong, and her flip-flops were matching pink, with an enormous fabric flower over the bit that goes between your toes.

“I think Aidan will like those flip-flops,” I said, winking at Frankie, who was walking next to me.

“Definitely – oh and Fliss,” said Frankie loudly, “did you see on the list that Ryan Scott’s signed up for surfing too?”

Ryan Scott’s this boy in our class that Fliss has a thing about (yep, she’s seriously weird). Fliss just turned round and stuck her tongue out at us, but she wasn’t really cross – we were all coo excited for that.

The minute we got to the beach, everyone kicked off their shoes – including the teachers.
There’s nothing like the feeling of warm sand under your bare feet, is there? The way you can squidge your toes down, squiggle them right into the sand – bliss!

“OK,” said Aidan, “everyone who signed up for beach volleyball – you’re with me.”

“Boo,” muttered Fliss.

“And all the surfers – come this way,” said Bethany.

The teachers split up too – Mrs Weaver and Mrs Daniels went with the volleyball group, and Miss Walsh came with us, as we followed Bethany to a different part of the beach.

“D’you think the water’ll be cold?” said Lyndz.

“Are you joking?” I squinted skywards. The sun was pretty baking, and there were just a couple of tiny fluffy white clouds.

“But sometimes the water takes ages to heat up,” said Lyndz. I think maybe she was still wishing we were doing the pony- trekking, but I was so pleased we’d persuaded her – this was going to be ace!

At last, Bethany stopped near a beach hut, put her bag down on the sand and turned to us. “This area of the beach is reserved for learner surfers,” she explained. “It’s important you don’t get tangled up with people who are trying to swim. And believe me, you don’t want to be on the same patch as the surfers who think they know it all, either!”

She gestured over her shoulder. Quite a long way further down the beach, I could see a load of people on the sand carrying surfboards under their arms, and more of them bobbing about in the water.

Bethany fished in her pocket and pulled out some keys. Then she unlocked the beach hut and called, “Any volunteers to help me get the gear out?” In a spray of sand, Frankie and I dashed over.

“Cheers, girls,” said Bethany, giving us a grin.

Inside the hut there was a big stack of yellow and blue boards. “Hey, Leicester City surfboards!” I said, nudging Frankie in the ribs.

“Saddo,” she mouthed, laughing at me.

“They all need to come out,” said Bethany, nodding towards the boards. “I’ll bring the rest.”

Outside, the boys were already kicking sand at each other, and Fliss had stretched out for a quick spot of sunbathing. As I brought out the last of the boards, I heard Bethany behind me say, “Well,
you
took your time.”

I turned round. There was a boy about Bethany’s age leaning against the door of the hut as if he’d been there for hours. And – I kid you not – he looked
exactly
like Brad Pitt. It was spooky.

As Frankie and I went back to sit with the others, I could see Lyndz and Rosie nudging each other. Fliss still had her eyes shut.

“Maybe it
is
Brad Pitt,” Rosie was saying. “Maybe he flew over to see Madonna now that she lives in London, and he thought while he’s here he’d come and check out the beach life…”

“Wait till Fliss sees him,” giggled Lyndz. “She’ll never look at Aidan again!”

“What? Who?” murmured Fliss, sitting up.

“Everyone – this is Jude,” said Bethany, raising her voice. “He’s going to be teaching surfing today, along with me. We’ll split you into two groups…” Quickly, Frankie, Lyndz, Rosie and I huddled together as Bethany waved her arm, cutting an imaginary line down the middle of where everyone was sitting.

“You’ll be my lot,” she added, looking at our half. Phew! We were all together! Then Bethany turned to the others, “And you’re Jude’s group, OK?”

“Fliss, what’re you doing?” hissed Lyndz.

“The dividing line was, like,
here
,” said Fliss, waving her arm between her and the rest of us. “So I must be in Jude’s group.” She looked pained. “It’s a
real
shame that I’m not with you guys, though …”

I caught hold of her sarong and yanked her back over to us. “Just cos he looks like Brad Pitt you’re not splitting up the Sleepover Club,” I said.

Fliss went pink and scowled at me, like I was
a major spoilsport. But I mean, come on – loyalties or what?

It turned out we’d all had a narrow escape. Jude seemed really grumpy as he trudged a little way off with his group and started explaining to them what they were going to do. It looked like he’d prefer to be anywhere in the world rather than on Rawnston beach with a load of Cuddington Primary pupils.

“Well, he’s a bundle of laughs –
not
,” said Frankie.

“And why does he keep shooting Bethany such dirty looks?” added Rosie.

“Because she’s just obviously massively better and cooler than he is,” I said.

And Bethany
was
cool. She was really fun – cheerful and friendly, and she didn’t talk down to us like we were five year olds, either.

Our group was just the Sleepover Club, plus Alana ‘Banana’ Palmer. She’s a bit of a drip and she often hangs around with the M&Ms – which shows she’s got no taste. Sometimes, they’re
quite horrible to her too – she must be crazy!

Anyhow, we didn’t much mind having her in our group, though of course it would’ve been cooler if the Sleepover Club had had Bethany all to ourselves.

“Right – I just want to check that you’re all strong swimmers, yes?” said Bethany. “It’s really important that you tell me if you’re not.” She looked round at each of us.

A while ago Rosie would have had to stick her hand up. I don’t know if you remember when we did that swimathon at Cuddington Baths? We found out then that Rosie couldn’t swim at all. After that, she started having lessons, though, and before we knew it she’d turned into a total mermaid! She’s the strongest swimmer of us all now, I reckon.

Anyway, next Bethany told us a bit of general stuff about surfing. About how the idea, for a beginner at least, was to wade out into the water, waist- or chest-deep, turn round, wait for a wave, then lie on your board and
let the wave shoot you back in to the beach.

“What you’ll see the other guys doing down there…” she nodded further down the sands “…is putting their boards at an angle to the beach and surfing
across
the face of the wave as it comes in. Ignore them – that’s advanced stuff. We’re just going to stick to the little waves for now and the simple moves, OK?”

We all nodded. But it looked like it was going to be a while before we even got to go in the water. First, Bethany wanted us to practise our positions on our boards – on the sand.

“The hardest thing at the beginning is learning how to balance on the board,” she said. “You’ll start off lying on your tummy – that’s quite straightforward. Then we’ll practise getting to a kneeling position. And then we’ll try standing. Don’t worry if it takes you a while – there’s a kind of knack to it. It might be frustrating at first, but all of a sudden, you’ll just get it. And then it’ll feel brilliant.”

“Oh no,” groaned Rosie. “I’m going to spend the entire week falling in, I just know it.”

Bethany told us to find a level bit of sand to put our boards on. Because each board had a little fin on the bottom, you had to dig a hole in the sand before it could lie flat. Then, because the underside was slightly curved, you had to pack some sand in round the edges of the board to stop it rocking. What a palaver, as my gran would say!

“Now, lie on your tummy with your toes on the end of the board,” instructed Bethany. “In this position, you can use your arms to paddle, or if you’re letting a wave bring you in to the beach, you can grip the sides of the board.”

I hoped none of the expert surfers was watching us. “Hey,” I muttered, “anyone else feel stupid doing this or is it just me?”

“Now push on your arms and bring your legs under you, so that you’re kneeling,” said Bethany. “Sit back on your heels – that’s right.”

“This is so cool!” said Fliss. “It’s like a weird dance routine!”

“When you’ve had a bit of practice, you can slide your feet in and go straight to standing, like this,” said Bethany. She lay on the sand, pushed up on her arms and brought her feet under her in a crouching position, then stood up. “Your feet should be turned to the side, see, one in front of the other. Keep your knees slightly bent to help you balance.”

“Wheee!” said Lyndz, pretending she was zipping through the water.

“We’ll never do this in a million years,” moaned Rosie.

Frankie was busy doing silly dancing on her board, holding her nose and sticking her other hand up in the air, and squiggling downwards like she was shimmying underwater.

“Good!” said Bethany, who was looking the other way, watching Alana. “OK, then – two more pieces of equipment before we get wet.” She delved into a box she’d brought out of the beach hut. “First, we all need to wear one of these.” She was holding up a couple of padded
sleeveless jackets in neon orange and yellow.

“Are they life jackets?” asked Alana.

“Similar.” Bethany nodded. “They’re actually called buoyancy aids. Catch!” She threw one to each of us in turn and then showed us how to put them on.

“And finally,” said Bethany, “your leash. It’s the stringy thing attached to your board.” It was a thin lead, kind of like a dog lead, but a bit stretchy. One end was attached to the board and the other end had a Velcro strap on it.

“I wondered what that was for,” said Lyndz. She giggled. “I thought it might be in case your dog wanted to come surfing too!”

“The Velcro strap goes round your ankle,” Bethany explained. “It means that if you let go of your board in the water, you won’t lose it entirely. But, even so,
try
not to let go of your board. If a wave picks it up, it could hit you or another surfer, which wouldn’t be fun.”

So then we went into the water, right? Wrong.
Then
we all had to sit next to our
boards while Bethany gave us a lecture about different sorts of winds and waves and stuff.

“When you get more advanced, you can paddle out to deeper water,” said Bethany. “You should watch the waves – they normally come in a series, called a ‘set’. Generally, there are three waves in a set, with a calm bit in between.”

“I never knew that!” said Frankie, as if it was really interesting or something.

I pretended to swallow a yawn. “Are we going to get in the water any time this
year
, d’you reckon?” I whispered. I was starting to wish we were down with the others, playing beach volleyball.