Page 93 of Wild Hearts

“The fuck, B?” He scowls at me. Before he has the chance to slam the door in my face, I grab him by the arm and pull him downstairs.

“What’s this about?” Jordan asks, side-eyeing his brother as I shove him on to the couch.

Harley glances at me and I realise this was my idea, so I’m going to have to take the lead.

“Look,” I start. “We know you’re going through a really tough time at the moment.” Lachy crosses his arms over his chest and looks away, but I push on. “We loved Maribel, too. But she wouldn’t want this for you.” I eyeball my best friend. “She wouldn’t want you drinking yourself into oblivion and she wouldn’t wantyou,” I point at Lachy, “locking yourself away, ignoring your life, ignoring yourgirlfriendwho is tearing herself up inside.”

Neither of them can look me in the eye.

“We’re family,” Harley adds, leaning up against the pool table and running a hand through his hair. “We want to be here for you guys, but you’re not exactly making it easy.”

Jordan lets out a dismissive snort and I narrow my eyes at him.

“You think you’re the only one hurting?” I ask.

“We lost our mum,” he snaps. “You have no idea what we’re going through.”

“I do,” Harley grunts out. “And I didn’t just lose my mum, I lost my dad as well. But you know what?” He crosses his hands over his chest. “Tom and I, we let you guys help us. We let Maribel cook for us. We let Elouise help with the laundry. Alfonso and Jeremy helped whenever any work needed doing around the house. It fucking sucks losing a parent, but you know what helps? Hanging out with friends. Going to class. Taking it one day at a time. Does it hurt? Every single fucking day. Does it get better? Not really. But Brady’s right, Maribel wouldn’t want you living like this.”

Jordan leans forward, dropping his head in his hands while Lachy stares at Harley slack-jawed. “I’m so sorry, man,” Jordan manages to choke out. “I–fuck.” He shakes his head. “It fucking hurts.”

Harley nods. “I wish I could tell you it gets better, but it doesn’t. You’ve gotta keep getting out of bed and making her proud.”

An idea pops into my head and I nudge Jordan as I pull out my phone. “Go suit up,” I tell him and Lachy, already dialling Ivy’s number.

An hour and a half later, we’re paddling out on the water near Glassons Point in our wetsuits with about thirty of our mates. I glance up to the lookout and spot Wren with her camera. Jemima, Felicity and Penelope are up there as well, keeping my Rookie company.

Jordan’s on my right, with Harley and Tom on the other side of him. Ivy is on my left holding Lachy’s hand. She’s barely let him go since their tearful reunion in the car park. We left them to talk while Wren handed out flowers to all the surfers, and Harley coordinated the group. Jordan stayed in his car until the last minute, refusing to speak to anyone. But I got him here, so I’m counting that as a win.

Once we’ve paddled out over the break, everyone splits off, forming a circle. We hold hands as we bob in the water on our boards. I thank everyone for coming and ask if anyone has anything they want to say. Paddy, a guy we went to school with, says he wouldn’t have gotten through his year twelve exams without Maribel’s famous chocolate ripple sundaes. Samantha, one of the Scoop’s employees, shared that Maribel helped her out with extra shifts when she couldn’t afford to pay her rent.

As we make our way around the circle, some people share stories and memories, others simply share their condolences for Jordan and Lachy. They both remain quiet, but no one is expecting them to say anything. We’re here to support them.

We release the flowers into the middle of our group and share a moment of silence in memory of Maribel Rossi. One by one, the surfers head back into shore until only Harley, Ivy, Lachy, Jordan and I remain, the floral tributes floating around us.

“I know it’s hard,” Harley says, staring out into the vast ocean ahead of us. “But we’re here for you guys. We’ll help you get through this.”

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