Free Raw Blue by Kirsty Eagar Page A

don’t want to be around the hassling. But that Shane guy comes for me anyway. He catches a wave in and paddles out so he’s right behind me, singing to himself – these boots are made for walkin’ … nah nah nah-nah nah nah … gonna walk all over you . I glance around at him and his eyes are glassy, not looking at me, but even so he’s making some sort of point. A hand squeezes my stomach. He’s lean and wiry, with cropped blond hair. The tattoos on his forearms are lurid swirls of red and green like decaying Christmas decorations. His face is sharp, so beautiful it cuts, and there’s something erotic and poisonous about him.
    He stops just on my inside and stares back at the beach, raising his right arm in the air. There are two guys walking towards the Alley, boards under their arms. One of them waves in return.
    In a lull between sets, he turns his attention to me.
    ‘Excuse me, young lady.’ His tone, overly polite, starts my heart thudding.
    ‘Yep?’
    ‘You wouldn’t happen to have the time on you, would you?’
    I look at my watch. ‘It’s ten to nine.’
    ‘Nine o’clock?’
    ‘Yeah.’
    ‘Time for a fuck?’
    I act like I haven’t heard him, my face frozen.
    He laughs and paddles across to a guy not far from us, saying, ‘Did you hear that, mate? It’s fuck time. Fuck o’clock.’
    I feel sick. Why’s he targeting me? Because I’m the only female out in the water and he wants to make something of it?
    The two guys Shane waved to are paddling past me now. With shock, I realise one of them is Ryan.
    He gives me a hard stare and sucks air through his teeth. ‘Gettin’ a few?’
    When I don’t answer, he frowns as though he’s going to say something else, but then one of the crows calls out, ‘Hey, Rhino! Wet the bed, mate?’
    And he moves on, paddling over to talk to the crow, drifting belly down beside him on his board.
    Shane has paddled through the main clump of guys and continued on so he’s deep inside. I see him go on the first wave of the next set through. The wave’s massive and hollow, with a slicing lip sharp enough to take your head off. It’ll barrel, but there’s no way he’ll make it out. He takes the drop anyway and I see him driving his board forward into the pit before the shoulder of the wave blocks my view. He eventually surfaces in the sea of white water that follows, washed all the way in near the beach. He gets out in front of the car park and starts walking towards the Alley rip. Which means he’ll paddle out near me again.
    In a panic, I take the next wave coming through. I don’t look to see if anyone’s on it. I’m thinking I’ll ride it in and hang out in the whitewash until Shane’s passed, then go home. Leave. Give up.
    ‘Oi, oi, oi!’
    I look over to see a guy charging across from deep inside like a train. I pull off and he goes into a hard turn, spraying my face. This becomes some sort of nightmare because then a massive set rolls through and I’m right in the impact zone. I hesitate for a second then start paddling forward, really ripping the hell out of my shoulders to get clear. And then Ryan takes off, deep inside on a right, his backhand. I see him coming and I’m right in his path and my head’s all screwed up because I panic and start paddling left, trying to beat him to the shoulder, which is something you never, never do. He sees me now and his eyes widen in confusion, a split second of indecision. Should he try to bottom turn around me, or cut across the wave face above me? He goes to bottom turn, late, off-balance, and that’s when I realise he’s going to hit me. I abandon my board, sliding over the side, arms up to protect my head.
    I hear the thunk of fibreglass hitting fibreglass, his body slams into me and the lip crashes down on the two of us. Then everything’s a churning mess as we’re dragged under by the suck. Grey-white turbulence swirls like a hallucination, my chest is tight and I fight the panic to breathe. I’m