Up Over Down Under (25 page)

“You think we sound funny? You're the one with the accent,” he said. “You sound like a movie star or something.”

Eliza laughed at that. It was the first time anyone had ever compared her to a movie actress. She decided that she could live with that.

 

 

The smell of a proper fried brekkie managed to rouse the rest of the group from slumber, and the next couple of hours were spent preparing eggs, coffee, and toast for people as they slowly emerged from their respective tents, sleeping bags, and blankets. Everyone was in a good mood, and the weather was beautiful—the early sun revealed a clear sky with a few high clouds glowing yellow in the morning light.

From up on the hillside they had an unobstructed view down to the beach. The guys could see the waves breaking and were talking about which break they wanted to hit first.

“Those down there are breaking nicely, and when the wind picks up, I bet we'll see some barrels off that left break,” Whiz said, gesturing with his arm.

“Yeah, they look like they're closing out now, but give it a little time and they'll be sweet.”

As they talked they pointed to different areas and used all sorts of terms Eliza had never heard before.

Surfing is a lot more complicated than I ever would have guessed,
she thought as she dug her swimsuit out of her bag.
But at least there's one thing I know how to do—lie on the beach and soak in the sun. Finally!

 

 

Once at a parking site, everyone climbed out and the guys pulled off their shirts, kicked off their sandals, and pulled their wet suits on over their swim shorts. Eliza realized she'd never seen a boy in a wet suit before, other than in the movies. They certainly were…formfitting. And Macca certainly had a…fit…form…

She hoped she wasn't drooling. Cool Americans with movie-star accents didn't drool.

“Zip me up?” Macca turned so that his back faced her, giving her access to the long zipper that ran down the back of the wet suit. Eliza briefly gathered her composure, then zipped him up.

They walked off down a path through the dunes. Each of the guys had a surfboard under his arm, as did Annelise, who wore a hot-pink wet suit. They also brought the cooler with drinks and a bunch of towels down with them.

Soon they arrived at a long curving crescent of beach with sand stretching from end to end. There were a handful of other people already out in the water surfing, but once they headed away from the path, they had a stretch to themselves.

The boys quickly dropped their things and ran into the water with Annelise and hopped on their boards, while Eliza and Kat laid out their blankets and began slathering on the suntan oil. Eliza pulled out a couple of tabloid magazines she'd brought along. She had discovered that they had an Australian version of
People
called
Who
, and they loved their
Hello
magazine, though all of the royalty gossip was a bit beyond her. She put on her earphones, but she chose to watch the others surf for a while before settling in with the latest in celebrity news.

After an hour, Eliza had begun to thoroughly bake and needed to stretch her legs and cool off some.

“You want to go put our feet in the water?” she asked Kat.

“Yeah, that'd be good.”

They walked down by the water and stuck their toes into the surf. Eliza felt goose bumps up and down her legs as the water swirled around her ankles. It was chilly, for sure, but not nearly as bad as the Atlantic would be this time of year; after a moment, it even felt cool and refreshing.

“Macca really likes you. I've known him and the guys a long time. I just get the sense he's into you.”

“You think?” Eliza asked, trying to play it cool, even though she wanted to jump up and down and shake Kat by the shoulders, demanding details.

“Yeah, for sure.”

“He's great. It's just too bad that I only have the semester here. I wish I could stay longer.” Not only for Macca, of course, but he was definitely a large part of it.

“Why don't you?”

“I have to get back to the States at the end of the semester and see my family, finish school. I've got college SATs to start thinking about.” All true. But none of which was nearly as exciting as hanging out in the Australian surf with cute boys.

Kat shrugged. “That's a lot of pressure.” She gestured toward the expanse of blue that stretched before them. “At least you're here, now.”

“True.” Eliza smiled. “Very true.”

She was here, now. And she was determined to make the most of it while she could.

 

“Oh, man, it is absolutely spectacular out there. We are totally getting you up on a board after lunch,” Macca said to Eliza with a grin as he toweled off his hair, his wet suit peeled down to his waist.

“We'll see,” Eliza responded, trying not to stare too hard.

“Come on, everyone to the cars. I'm puckish, and it's time to grab some lunch.”

They drove into Torquay, parked, and walked around Surf City Plaza, sort of the world headquarters of surfing. All the famous surf companies (with which Eliza was now well acquainted from looking at Billie's posters) were based here, and there were a ton of surf shops and restaurants.

They found an open place that looked out toward the beach and scarfed down some food. The guys were starving from spending all morning in the water, and all they could talk about was catching this wave and that and who'd had the best ride.

“So, Eliza, Macca's gonna get you out there, right?” Will asked between bites of his sandwich.

“I don't know. I'm guessing he's overestimating his abilities as a teacher.”

“Easy, people,” Macca protested. “My abilities and I will be just fine. I guarantee I'll have her riding big waves like a legend in no time.” Macca bit into his sandwich with gusto.

“We'll see,” Eliza said with a devilish grin.

She wasn't sure she'd be a natural surfer, but she was looking forward to her private lesson. Another glance at Macca made her stomach do a quick flip.

Actually,
she thought,
maybe the private lesson can't come soon enough…

 

 

Eliza successfully wriggled into Annelise's wet suit—an exercise that caused her to bend into any number of enormously unflattering poses that she was glad no one had witnessed. She joined the guys at the water's edge, looking out at the waves.

“Come on, we'll take Johnny's long board, which is nice and easy, and we'll get you up on a wave by the end of the day.”

“Easier said than done,” Eliza said doubtfully.

“Trust me. You just have to feel the wave and go with it. You'll get it.”

“Um, I'm not sure you understand what I'm saying. I'm not someone who really ‘feels' waves. Usually I feel things like ‘sleepy' or ‘thirsty,' you know?” She shot him a grin to show him that she was kidding. Mostly.

“Don't worry, it'll be great. Besides, when you fall, it's just water.” Macca seemed so confident that there was no way for Eliza to disagree. Now,” he went on, “stop making excuses and let's go!”

 

After a few graceless hours in the water, Eliza had managed to lock down a routine of sorts:

It wasn't quite surfing, but it was something.

Eventually she started getting the hang of it. That was to say, she got the hang of those four steps.
Paddle, hop up, freak out, fall over.
At least she finally stopped looking like she was being attacked by a swarm of bees each time she hopped back up onto the board. Soon she could even stay up on it for a few seconds and, yes, even “feel” the waves carrying her along.

The best part, though, was when they would take a break to catch her breath. She would climb up to sit on the board, and Macca would climb on behind her, resting his palms on her shoulders as their feet drifted in the surf. She would lean back against him until she felt up to another go. They'd wait for the right wave, Eliza lying on the board and Macca floating next to her, his hand on the small of her back until he would yell “Go!”

Eliza would paddle furiously and then hop up onto the board and, once in a while, the wave would catch the board and begin pushing it toward the shore. And there would be Macca, catching her eye, a smile on his face as big as the one on Eliza's.

Ocean City was nothing at all like Surf City, back home, but it took Billie only about thirty seconds to decide that she'd take it, regardless.

“What do you think?” Mr. Ritter asked, beaming at Billie as he grappled with a complicated set of knotty things.

“It's a beaut.” She wasn't sure whether she meant the sunny, chilly afternoon, the view of Northside Park in the distance, the Ritters' sailboat—or all three—but she decided that it didn't matter.
All of the above, definitely. Absolutely.
She turned to Heather. “Right?”

Heather nodded happily. “That's for sure.” She slurped eagerly at a Diet Coke and tilted her head backward into the sun.

When Billie had first raised the suggestion to Heather of her joining them for the weekend, her friend hadn't hesitated for a moment. So after a short drive down on Friday morning, here they were, bobbing peacefully along, soaking in the warmth of the sun and admiring the glittering surface of the bay. Even Mrs. Ritter looked totally relaxed and at home, her face content underneath enormous designer sunnies.

“We love to come down here on weekends when we can. And Eliza practically lives here in the summer,” Mr. Ritter went on. He was fiddling with the boat's sails in a manner that seemed to be called “jibbing”—not that Billie knew what that meant.

Billie propped herself up on her elbows and unzipped her fleece hoodie. “Eliza comes here on her own?” She couldn't imagine that. Her parents' place in Sorrento was great, and sure, yeah, she and her mates hung out there all the time—but not alone. Billie's parents were laid-back, but not
that
laid-back.

She suddenly wondered just how Eliza's cunning plan was working out. She hadn't heard anything from down under, but in this case, she wasn't convinced that no news was good news.

“She's very mature for her age,” Mrs. Ritter chimed in. “Grew up quickly with a father in the public eye. Very poised. You know.”

Billie wasn't so convinced that Eliza was as grown-up as all that. More like, good at keeping up appearances. At least, from the little she'd heard about her American twin. And now, all of those years of playing at perfect were finally starting to catch up with her. Still, Billie only nodded. What did she really know, after all? “I'm sure,” she said.

She sat up suddenly. “Are those people picnicking?” she asked, delighted, taking in the blankets dotting the landscape of the park.

Mr. Ritter nodded. “Sure are. Don't worry—we've got a basket in the cooler.” He indicated the storage space underneath the deck of the boat. “Are you hungry?”

“Not yet, actually,” Billie said, realizing that it was the truth. “I'm happy just to stay out here on the water for a bit longer. We're in no rush, right? It's just a holiday weekend?”

“No rush,” Mr. Ritter confirmed. “None at all.”

Billie decided that she liked the sound of that.

 

“Do the twins even know who the Orioles are?” Heather asked, laughing.

Billie glanced down at her shopping bag spilling over with Orioles paraphernalia: two pennants, two T-shirts, two refrigerator magnets, two bumper stickers. It had been a busy Saturday afternoon.

“And are your parents really going to let them stick both of those on the car?” Heather pointed to the stickers.

“We do have two cars,” Billie said defensively. It was actually somewhat of a sticking point for her. She'd been after them for ages now either to give one up or at least trade one in for a hybrid. “Anyway, you don't know what it's like having twin brothers. It's a constant competition. The only way around it is to buy two of everything.”

“Hence the excess baggage. Never underestimate the power of a good bribe, huh?” Heather shrugged. “Hey, I'm not the one who's going to have to stuff all of that mess into a suitcase when it's time to go home.”

Billie was silent for a moment. It was true, her time in D.C. was finite. They were more than halfway through the exchange by now, but it still felt as though she had just arrived yesterday. She hoped the second half of the semester didn't whiz by as quickly as the first had, but she had an idea that she wasn't going to get that lucky. There were some things over which she simply had no control.