Page 17 of Britta & the Beach Boy
Annie wraps me in a tight embrace, and I fight back tears as I’m engulfed with the scent of coffee and browned butter. She smells like Mom. This takes me off guard, but is such a sweet realization that I give her an extra squeeze. I’ve missed Mom so much, but realize that more than that, I’ve missed the sweet memories of her. The last few years were so difficult that maybe they crowded out my memories of the mom I had before she got sick. That’s made it easier to be mad aboutBritta’s.
“Thank you, Annie.” I pull away and smile. “You’ve helped me as much as I’ve helped you.”
She smiles softly. “Get out of here before Stella comes back asking more questions about my Aussies.”
I take a second to realize she’s talking about Dex and his friends, but when I do, excitement bubbles up the center of my chest. I tap it down, afraid that acknowledging my feelings would be like popping the tab on a can of Coke that’s been rolling around the backseat of a truck after that truck’s been four-wheeling.
“Let me help you clean up first.” If I leave now, I’ll give into the temptation to google Dex and re-read everything Stella’s already told me about him.
“Absolutely not. Mitzi and Diva will clean up.” There’s no room in Annie’s stern voice for argument. “You’ve got an early morning tomorrow if you’re going to make it to thatcompetition. I’m packing up some of Dex’s favorites that I made for after the competition. Since you’re going, will you get them to him? He’s going to be nervous; some lamingtons will remind him of home.”
“Okay.” I reluctantly slip off my apron and hand it to Annie.
In the time she takes to grab the box of goodies in the back for Dex, I’ve already texted Archie back, finally answering his message from this morning.
Send directions, please. We will be there with delicious baked goods from Annie.
With the box in hand and plans to help Annie again the day after Dex’s competition, I send Stella a text to meet me outside the cafe.
She’s there when Annie lets me out the front door. There’s a huge smile on her face and her hands are behind her back.
“Did you find a good book?” I ask, holding back a yawn. It’s only three o’clock, but I’m wonderfully exhausted, and I’ve barely thought about Dad orBritta’sall day.
Stella nods enthusiastically, then whips her hands from behind her back to show me a softcover photo book emblazoned with the stars ofSurf City High.A whisper of disappointment runs through me when I don’t see Dex’s face on it, but I quickly brush the feeling aside.
I still take the book and flip through it, stopping only long enough to look at the one page devoted to Dex’s character Slater—named in honor of famous surfer Kelly Slater, who I’d known nothing about until Dex’s tutorial this morning. Then I hand it back to Stella.
“That’s a good find.”
She lets out a dismissive laugh. “I found better than that. Check out this video of Dex.”
She holds up her phone, and for the next thirty seconds, I watch a very young Dex in a Rip Tide commercial. It has over two hundred thousand views on YouTube. That number doesn’t take into account how many people saw the commercial when it first aired.
And my earlier feeling of humiliation from not understanding who Dex was, grows from slight to utter and complete. Dex is a VBD—very big deal, and I had no clue. Because I’ve spent my life—the past five years in particular—in a little town serving up coffee instead of experiencing the world. I’d planned on seeing the world, but then Mom got sick, and I got… stuck.
I chose to go back to Paradise after college instead of taking an internship opportunity right here in LA, a city I’d always wanted to come to. It was the right decision, but I guess, somewhere in those years of taking care of Mom, I decided I’d never be able to leave Paradise again. I can’t even pinpoint when it happened. Especially since I just noticed it right now.
Watching Dex ride the inside of a wave opens something inside of my chest, releasing the tightness that’s been there so long I’ve forgotten it. His hand outstretched, gliding through the wall of water at his side and the smile on his face softening his look of intense concentration feels like freedom.
Stella tries to show me more videos, but I wave her off. Instead, we window shop, sit on the beach, get some dinner, and basically do nothing until all I want to do is curl up into bed. Which is exactly what I do once we return to the apartment.
But I don’t close my eyes. Once I’m snuggled into Georgia’s downy comforter, I pull up the videos of Dex and watch him surf wave after wave until I fall asleep.
Chapter seven
Dex
I’m in a quiet spot overlooking Lowers sitting cross-legged on a towel when Archie taps my shoulder and holds up both hands while he mouthsten minutes. I give him a shaka then close my eyes again to focus on the meditation music flowing through my headphones and the breath flowing in and out of my lungs.
When I first made not only the Championship Tour but also the final five, I was a nineteen-year-old rookie. That was nearly ten years ago. Back then, my music of choice before my heats was rap. Kendrick Lamar, Eminem, Kanye. They all got me amped up before hitting my wave. I’d go out fast, angry, and aggressive.
Tooaggro.
That was my downfall. Over the following four years, I sank in the rankings, losing more and more sponsors every year.
I replaced my dad with Archie as my manager in 2021, the same year I moved full time from Queensland to California. Things have been better since then, even with my back injury in 2022. I worried I wouldn’t surf again, but Archie stuck by me, making sure I got all the medical care I needed through six months of recovery. It’s because of him I’m at the World Championships today.
Once I finish the meditation practice I go through before every competition, Archie and I navigate around arriving spectators to walk from a corded off spot on the beach to a cluster of temporary and permanent structures set up for this event. A few of the other surfers in the finals linger outside them, and I nod to Caitlin Simmers and fellow Aussie, Molly Picklum. They’re not my competition, and I’ll be cheering for Molly in her heats.
