Free Death Wish (The Ceruleans: Book 1) by Megan Tayte Page B

faces were
level. I wanted to pull away, but something in his eyes held me there. It was
like he knew what I was feeling; like he knew the pain.
    ‘You can do this,’ he said. ‘I know you can. I’m not letting
you off until you’ve caught one wave, or getting back out here will be all the
harder.’ I opened my mouth to protest, but he added, ‘It’ll be worth it,
Scarlett. Trust me.’
    And I found that I wanted to. I wanted to trust him.
    ‘Okay,’ I said, and I pulled myself onto the board to await
the next wave. As Luke scanned the upcoming waves for a decent one, I let my
gaze drift eastwards to where the other surfers were smoothly riding the ocean.
No sign of the boy from the churchyard today. At least that was one less person
witnessing my humiliation.
    I did not surf the next wave. Or the next. Or the next. Or
the next. But then…
    ‘This one. Start paddling. C’mon now, Scarlett. Keep
paddling, keep going… Now! Up, up!’
    It was a quick move, but each stage seemed slow: hands on
board, knees sliding, feet in contact, spread apart and then up, arms out,
balance, balance. I took in a deep breath of air, preparing for the plummet
into the deep, but there was only wind in my face and a heart-hammering
sensation of flying, fast, along the cusp of the wave. There was no time for
jubilation, only shock – and the most delicious shiver of mastery running
through every cell in my body.
    It can’t have lasted long, a few seconds at most, before I
lost my balance and the board flew away from me. But this time as I tumbled
down it was without the frown. I surfaced to the sound of cheering – Luke, up
and surfing in a way that no doubt made my amateur attempt look ungainly,
hooting and whooping as he followed my path. A few feet from me he dropped
gracefully into the water and came to stand beside me.
    ‘Scarlett Blake, I KNEW you had it in you. How do you feel?’
    Buzzing, euphoric, queen of the damn ocean, I
thought, but I stuck with the more reserved, ‘Amazing.’
    He grinned at me. ‘Not too shabby. We’ll make a surfer of
you yet.’
    His enthusiasm was infectious, and I found myself grinning
back. I’d bloody done it, and what’s more, I’d bloody loved it. Finally, I
realised, I understood the attraction for my sister – wild, pleasure-seeking,
larger-than-life Sienna.
    I had a feeling that this surfing business may be pretty
addictive.

11: ONE OF THEM
     
    As the month of July wore on, my days settled into a
pleasant routine. Mid-morning I’d arrive at Bert’s and collect Chester, and
we’d go for long, rambling walks around the village and along the cliff paths
in either direction, pausing for a picnic lunch in the noonday sun. On
returning Chester I’d stop and visit for a while with Bert, and then the rest
of the afternoon was mine to do with as I liked – browse the internet, read a
novel on the beach or, most often, meet Cara.
    It was hard to resist her constant appeals for a
shopping/coffee/beach/gossip buddy. Life was never dull with Cara. She was
always upbeat, with a refreshingly open perspective on the world (‘See that
guy? Yep, the one selling the Big Issue . Yes, the one with the big beard
and the scars. Hot, isn’t he?’), and her self-confidence was infectious.
Wherever we went, heads turned – and I didn’t think it was because of her
disability. She was one of those people with beauty inside and out, someone you
gravitate towards because she makes the day lighter.
    The hours with Cara helped balance out the loneliness of
living in the cottage alone, but as fun as they were, there was another time of
day I most looked forward to. Early evening every weekday I would meet Luke for
a lesson, and it was when walking across the beach towards him, answering his
easy smile with one of my own, that I felt lightest. In a few short weeks I
transformed from sack of spuds on a board to a credible surfer. With Luke’s
encouragement I finally got the hang of balancing, and from