Blue Water High (20 page)

And even as she said it she realised he was looking for
someone else, someone who wasn't her. Standing in that dim red light, she knew that she wasn't being paranoid; Heath was still upset with her.

He gave her a fake smile and held out the photograph. There, in black and white, through a thin veil of wave, just behind the tiny form of an unknown surfer, was the undeniable shape of a very, very large shark.

Fly swallowed hard. She thought about them all being out there that same day, but more than that, she thought about Matt and about what he'd said. While he was performing his tactical response on his fear system, there really
was
a shark out there. Did that make him wise or mental? She ran through what he'd said, all the stuff about not drawing what you fear to you … and she felt, somewhere in the pit of her stomach, that what he'd said was right. Even though there was a shark, even though intense stuff might come at him, he was making sure he didn't stick up the sign saying
PICK ME
.

She was so busy with her own thoughts that she failed to give Heath the kind of reaction he was looking for.

‘That's amazing,' she said.

Heath was clearly after a bit more. ‘Yep. And I know who is going to think it's more than amazing. Dean Edgley.'

Fly walked a couple of steps after Heath towards the boys' bedroom door. She watched him sneak in and place the still-moist photograph just near Edge's pillow. He stood back, happy with his work, and then he realised Fly was still in the doorway.

‘Just leave that stuff where it is. I'll clean it up in the morning.'

Fly nodded. She'd been dismissed.

At breakfast, Edge delivered exactly the kind of reaction Heath had been hoping for. He was over the moon! He grinned and strutted around the kitchen like a prize rooster, waving the photo around for all to see.

‘I'll be taking apologies this morning. So if you want to form a queue …'

Matt studied the photograph the longest. He knew he was the instigator of the doubt, and he didn't have the kind of rampaging ego that needed to be right all the time.

‘I'm very sorry for doubting you, Edge. I still don't understand why the fish were so chilled.'

‘Forget the fish, just stick with the sorry bit,' said Edge.

Low rampaging ego aside, Matt also had a limited tolerance for Edge's carry on. He looked to Heath. ‘Why did you have to develop that film?' Then he said to Fly, ‘Lucky I was practising what I preach, hey?'

No-one else knew what he was talking about, but Fly did.

‘Fly!'

Fly looked up and saw Bec standing in the doorway.

‘Can you …? I need you for a second.'

Fly followed Bec out to the board shed.

‘Look!' Bec demanded.

What Fly saw was an empty space. An empty space where the seven board blanks used to be. Someone had already taken them to the glasser.

‘Oh dear.'

‘
Oh dear
? Is that all you can come up with?' Bec said.

Fly hunted for something that sounded more concerned, but she couldn't come up with anything. ‘Maybe no-one else will pick the likeness.'

‘I feel sick,' said Bec.

Fly reached out and touched Bec's forehead. ‘You don't have a temperature.'

Bec glared at her. ‘I'm telling you, I'm too sick to go to the auction.'

Fly pulled out a stool and sat down. She looked at Bec seriously. ‘Why don't we swap?'

Bec's head shot up. ‘What did you draw?'

‘Just a …' Fly had no idea how to describe what she'd really drawn. ‘Me on a big wave. But you could say you'd drawn me.'

‘What? And you're going to say you've drawn Edge?'

‘Everyone will think I'm weird, but at least they won't think I've got a crush or anything.'

‘I don't have a crush.'

Fly thought about it, adjusted her wording. ‘A thing, then.'

‘I don't have a thing either,' Bec said grumpily.

Fly knew she did have a thing. That Bec had a thing for Edge had been established during a pillow fight last week, but Fly sensed that now was not a good time to press the point. It had been a late-night giggle session where many confessions were made. Perri didn't have to be beaten to give up hers, because for all the ins and outs of her school romances, she didn't seem to hang out with anyone longer than a couple of weeks – and there were questions about why. Anna still had a boyfriend in Germany. At least that was her defence when they all started making suggestions about how much time she was spending with Bec's brother
Joe … And then there was Fly – enough said there.

Bec was still staring at Fly.

‘You are too sweet for your own good sometimes, you know?'

Was she? It was kind of good to hear, because at the moment she was feeling a long way from sweet. She was feeling as sour as a bush lemon. But maybe that's what it was all about. Sweet and sour. Maybe a bit of both was okay.

From outside the shed they could hear the chief goose calling.

‘Who'll give me fifty-five bucks for this excellent ham sandwich. Do I have fifty-five? Fifty-five? Fifty-five? No takers? Passed in at fifty-five dollars.'

They both stepped outside to see Heath taking a huge bite of his ham sandwich as he herded the rest of the crew into the van. Fly watched Deb get into the front seat. She had dark glasses on so Fly couldn't see what kind of mood she was in. As Simmo backed the van out, Fly could have sworn Deb was humming. It was a tune she knew, or at least Fly made it into one she knew. What Fly heard was a song by some geriatric band her parents loved. They were called the Mamas and the Papas and the song started with the words ‘Monday, Monday. So good to me …' It was her family's favourite road trip album because there were all sorts of harmonies for the girls to sing, and easy words to remember. Fly used to love that song. Today she hated it, because by Monday, Monday she might still be in a whole lot of trouble.

The auction was being held at the surf lifesaving club's clubhouse. It was a two-storey building with long glass windows on the top and a big open storage area underneath full of paddleboards and lifesaving rings and
battered old surfboards. The surf club had decided to make a day of it. There was a huge barbecue being set up and on the grass in front they had gathered a massive pile of wood for the bonfire they'd planned later that night.

Out in the water two long wooden surf boats bashed their way out through the white water, oars flapping madly in the air like a couple of multi-legged water insects. At the shoreline clumps of little red and yellow capped Nippers sprinted on the sand. A group of the littlest boys strutted around, flexing their muscles and flicking their Speedos up into their bums, just like the big men they wanted to be out there in the boats. By the time Simmo backed the Solar Blue van up to unload the boards, there were about thirty locals gathered.

While they all lined up their sheet-covered boards out the front, Simmo headed over to talk with the tanned old president of the club. Fly didn't think she'd ever seen someone so brown or wrinkled in all her life. Maybe he was sixty, but he could've been one hundred and sixty from the way his skin hung in loose folds from his wiry limbs. It struck Fly that this was what tanning really was. In the old days, before baking yourself in the sun was supposedly a good idea, tanning was a technical term – it described the process by which people stretched out, toughened up and dyed animal skins. Fly was definitely going to get extra serious about that old sunscreen thing.

Simmo tapped on a microphone and called everyone around. ‘Alright, folks, we're going to do this in two parts. Half the boards now, half after the sausage sizzle. We'll unveil the board, introduce the artist and then you know how it goes – time to put hands into pockets.'

Simmo gestured for the first board to be brought up.
The sheet came down and everyone peered at the design. It was a partial map of the world featuring Australia and Germany. The ocean funnelled down between the two countries into a glue pot.

Anna jumped up off the grass and headed up to Simmo. He held out the microphone and she grabbed it with both hands. ‘Hi everyone. Maybe you know I'm from Germany.' Anna always beamed when she said it. She was very proud of her roots. ‘And the drawing. I guess it's about the ocean being the glue that binds my two worlds together.'

There was a solid round of applause.

Simmo took over the mike. ‘The artwork on this is brilliant. Don't think we can start at less than two hundred.'

As the auction warmed up and people started to get into the swing of things the numbers slowly grew. They bounced back and forth between a young guy in the front and one of the lifesavers and then an older couple at the back came in suddenly at the end and offered to pay four hundred dollars. Anna grinned, proud of the fact that her board had raised so much money. It wasn't that hard to be happy with earning yourself two hundred bucks into the bargain.

Matt was up next. Simmo pulled down the sheet and revealed a huge knot of sewerage pipes wriggling across the face of the board. The pipes all spewed refuse out into the aqua ocean and a tiny surfer dodged his way through the plastic bottles and rotten food.

‘Yeah so, probably doesn't need too much explanation. I'm going to donate my half of the money to Surfers Against Sewage.'

There was a spontaneous burst of applause from the crowd. Heath leaned forward to the others.

‘Such a suck,' he whispered.

Perri sat behind Heath, and Fly saw her hand snake out and pinch Heath's ear in Matt's defence. Perri seemed to be enjoying not talking to Matt a lot lately too … And there wasn't as much talk about boys from school. Now that Fly thought about it, the number of names on Perri's pink phone list had been getting smaller and smaller over the last few months. Maybe she was talking enough to someone at home.

The crowd really got into Matt's design and the lifesaver who'd lost out on Anna's board wasn't going to be beaten this time. The numbers soon hit five hundred.

Perri's artwork was the next to be unveiled. Perri had drawn the most intricate and beautiful mandala – all shades of blues, purples, forest greens swirling out from the centre of her board. It had circles within circles within circles and the design was so intricate that it tricked your eyes into thinking the patterns were dancing with each other in 3D. Fly let out a long whistle.

The crowd were blown away. Simmo had to race to catch up as the bidding bounced frantically around the group. Fly watched as a young blonde girl looked pleadingly at her parents, promising to be good for the rest of her life if they bought it for her. It could be her Christmas present for the next ten years. The parents had a hushed conversation and then placed the final bid: $1400. Perri nearly choked on her water and Fly saw the blonde girl well up and hug her parents in an almost fatal way. As Perri sat back down on the grass, Anna was already starting to grumble about the unfairness of having to go first. Auctions were like that, people were nervy at first, and it was always going to happen that the boards up for
grabs last would get the highest prices. Perri had been thinking this too, and she had an idea; they should all add their money together and divide it equally – all except Matt of course. It only seemed fair.

Heath pushed up off the grass.

‘Can I give you my answer once I see what my masterpiece brings?'

No-one even bothered to reply.

‘Heath Carroll created our next work of art. We want a really big price for this one, and then I promise, sausages will be ready.'

Heath did the honours, pulling the sheet away from his board to reveal what he had declared Fly wouldn't understand. In the centre was a still blue lake. On one side was the shore and in the middle was a small island. On a rock at the edge of the island crouched a young Maori man playing a flute. The notes of the flute floated out across the night, drifting down towards the surface of the lake where a beautiful young woman swam through the water. This was the love story of Hinemoa and Tutanekai.

‘So a long time ago,' Heath began, ‘there was a beautiful maiden named Hinemoa. She was the daughter of a big tribe which lived on the shores of Lake Rotorua. Everyone wanted to marry her, but in those days the family chose the hubby and her family were pretty fussy.'

He pointed to the young man playing the flute. ‘This dude is Tutanekai. His family lived on the island and at one of the festivals Tutanekai and Hinemoa saw each other and – you guessed it – they fell for each other. The problem was her family didn't think he was much chop and there was no way they were ever going to be allowed to be together.'

Heath let his eyes meet Fly's briefly before he continued his story.

‘Anyway, Tutanekai went back to the island, but his heart was smashed and he couldn't get her out of his head. So he sat on this rock playing sad, sad music all day and all night. Hinemoa was sad too, and every night she listened to the music floating across the shores until one night she couldn't take it anymore. She snuck into the kitchen and stole some big calabashes and went back to the shore. She made them into water wings and stepped into the black night. There was nothing to guide her but the sound of Tutanekai's flute, and she followed it all the way across the lake to the other side.'