The Turning Read Online Free Page B

nosedived or tripped over himself. He even fell off trying to sit on the thing out beyond the break; it was like riding a greased pig. But you had to laugh at yourself. With mile after mile of
deserted beach stretching out behind you there was nothing to be embarrassed about. He could have surfed in the nude if he wanted. Out in the calm he dived to the bottom and saw the ripples of the
sandy seabed stretching out forever. The water travelled over his skin like a breeze. He felt free and happy.
    When he surfaced he was startled to realize that someone was watching him. Up on the crest of the first dune somebody sat with their arms across their knees. He couldn’t make out if it was
a man or woman, boy or girl, and he hung in the water, holding his board, waiting for them to move off, but whoever it was stayed put. Vic grew a little nervous. He supposed he could lie here all
day if need be; he could maybe paddle out if he felt really threatened but he didn’t get the chance because a big set came through while he had his back to the sea. The first wave sent him
bum over breakfast onto the sandbar and snatched the board from his grasp, and the four monsters that followed slammed him, tumbling, along the bottom, holding him down so long that when he finally
surfaced, with his shorts halfway down his legs, he gave out a pathetic squeak more embarrassing than the fact of his bare arse. He dragged up his shorts and stumbled, coughing, along the shore to
where his board lay washed up.
    Over on the dune the stranger clapped. It was a girl and not one of his cousins. He wanted to snatch up the board and walk back to camp then and there but he was winded and weak at the knees, so
he sat on the thing with his back to the girl and did his best to ignore her. Bitch. But he felt so stupid with his head sunk between his shoulders out in the middle of an empty beach like this. He
was like a turtle trying to pull its head back into its shell. He hunched over, fuming. A stream of water gushed from his nose.
    Well, you didn’t see that one coming, said the girl, suddenly behind him.
    Vic whirled around and a string of snot and saltwater landed on his arm. While he scrubbed at it with his knuckles, he saw the green polish on her toenails.
    Sorry, she said. Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.
    Vic shrugged. The sun was right behind her head; he couldn’t see her at all.
    Nice in the water?
    Yeah, he said. Nice.
    I was wondering. If I could have a go on that thing.
    She stepped over and put a toe on the board. She wore Levi’s and a tee-shirt that said Phi Zappa Krappa. There was a picture of a naked man sitting on the toilet.
    Okay, he said.
    You sure?
    He shrugged again.
    Always wanted to try, she said. And Christ, I’m so bored. You know?
    Vic smiled hesitantly and wiped his nose twice – once with each hand. He got up off the board. The girl reefed off her shirt and shucked down her jeans. She dropped her mirror shades onto
the little pile they made on the sand. She wore a lime-green bikini with little plastic hoops at the hips like that Bond girl. Sunlight caught the fine down on her thighs. She had brown hair that
swung across her back. She had real breasts. She was older, much older than him.
    Any tips? she said, hoisting the board to her hip.
    Um. Don’t fall off?
    She smiled kind of sideways at him and walked down to the water. He watched her go, alert to her calves and the way her bum moved. He wondered what it’d be like to have an older sister.
How could you stand the sight of all that flesh without turning into some kind of sister-weirdo?
    As a surfer the girl was no more a natural than he was. Her hopeless floundering came as sweet relief. When she came back she dropped the board at his feet and squeezed the water out of her
hair. There was sand salted down the front of her legs. She was pretty. He didn’t know where to look.
    Thought you’d come out and help me, sport, she said, grabbing up her shirt and wiping