Page 132 of Ride the Wave

Having been lingering to the side of them since his phone call ended, waiting for a good moment to interrupt, Ethan’s coach smiles apologetically.

‘We’ve got an interview, Ethan,’ he says, gesturing to the door.

Ethan nods and with a sharp nod goodbye to Leo, he follows him out. As they leave, Leo exhales with relief. His eyes drift to me and he smiles. He looks lighter. As Adriano dabs at the corner of his eyes, I wander over to Leo and he wraps his arms around me, the palms of my hands resting against his chest. I tip my head back to smile up at him.

‘That was a nice line. The “no one I’d rather lose to” one. I’m impressed.’

‘I have been hanging out with a writer recently.’

I give a soft laugh as he presses his forehead against mine, closing his eyes. We stay like that for a moment and then he takes a deep breath, lifting his head.

Turning to look at his dad, he receives a nod. It’s time.

‘Let’s go find out how the article ends,’ he says, releasing me and moving to take his board from Adriano.

‘I’ll be on the beach waiting for you when you come in,’ I tell him.

He tucks his board under his arm. ‘Promise?’

‘Promise.’

*

As Leo and Ethan paddle out together, it strikes me that I’m oddly calm.

Usually, it’s around now that I’m feeling sick with nerves, but maybe it’s been the build-up to the Final that has actually been the most stressful bit. But he’s here now; he made it. He doesn’t have anything else to prove. Aside from the crowded stretches of sand either side of me, it feels like one of those calm mornings in Burgau when I’d watch him head out with his friends to surf. He looks relaxed, flicking the water out of his hair after duck diving through a wave, paddling just ahead of Ethan.

Despite the time difference, I’ve had a flood of messages from people asking me to wish Leo luck. Flora and Kieran, Naomi, Toni, and Marina, who has set up a projector and is screening it live at the bar. She sent me a picture of everyone earlier; it may be the middle of the night over there, but the place is rammed, all the locals out to support Leo. My mum is currently making her way here from Tasmania where she’s been for several days.

‘Tell Leo I’ve had a surf lesson!’ she told me on the phone yesterday.

‘Youwhat?’ I said, unable to even picture my mum on a surfboard.

‘My teacher said I’m a natural,’ she informed me proudly.

‘That’s… that’s brilliant! Mum, I didn’t know you were going to have a go at surfing.’

‘I thought it would be a fun thing to get into. Then the three of us will be able to go surfing together some time.’

It was one of the nicest, most moving things Mum’s ever said to me.

Glancing around the excited surf fans crowding the beach, I turn to look back at where Adriano is positioned halfway down the steps to the beach. His eyes meet mine and he smiles, before peering out at his boy, rubbing his hands together apprehensively.

That’s when I see her.

My lips part with surprise. Michelle Martin standing near the top of the steps, Jenna tucked just behind her. I don’t think Adriano knows she’s here. There’s no camera crew surrounding her; there’s been no fuss made about her arrival. She’s easy to spot in her cream, tailored trouser suit and oversized, designer sunglasses, but it would seem that she’s making every attempt to blend in and not cause a scene. As she surveys the beach, she spots me gaping at her. I think about waving, but can’t quite bring myself to do it. It might be a trick of the light, but for a moment, I think I catch a glimpse of her giving me a nod.

But I blink and she’s turned away, her eyes fixed on the contest.

Following her lead, I return my attention to the waves, a warmth filling my stomach. I may strongly dislike that woman, but I’m glad she’s here.

The forty minutes on the clock has begun – they have that bit longer for the Final. The waves look big out there and forty minutes gives Leo and Ethan plenty of opportunity to show off what they’ve got. When Leo pops up for his first ride of the heat, taking a smaller wave than Ethan, he seems perfectly balanced and connected, looking as though he’s barely trying as he puts in four brilliant turns with perfect rhythm, before throwing in a rotation at the end, hopping down into the white foam to an eruption of gasps and applause from the crowd. The scores come in: a seven-point ride, compared to Ethan’s starting four point six.

It’s a strong start, but if Bells Beach has taught me anything, it’s that the tide can change. On these waves, anything can happen.

The competition carries on and no one around me is able to stay composed. There’s an incredible buzz on the beach, the crowd making a lot of noise at each turn they put in, and it feels like both Ethan and Leo can feel that energy.

It might be the encouragement from the spectators or maybe he’s a little inspired by Leo, but Ethan starts to push that bit harder. He’s fighting back. His scores creep up and Leo is no longer dominating the Final; he’s winning but not by much. It’s two unbelievable performances with one difference – it’s clear that while Ethan is so focused, he’s stiffer, perhaps that bit more nervous, the dream of winning again after all this time within his grasp and dampening his fun. Where he’s climbing the face of the wave, Leo is floating. Ethan returns to playing it safe; Leo is playing with flips.

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