Free Emmy & Oliver by Robin Benway Page B

Ocean’ or . . . ?”
    â€œOkay, yes, there are sharks in the Pacific Ocean somewhere but I don’t think—”
    â€œCould you be a little more specific about the word somewhere ?”
    â€œOliver,” I said. There was the flinch again. “If Patrick Swayze saw a shark, what doyou think he would have done?”
    â€œI also didn’t foresee this surf lesson involving that question.”
    â€œPatrick Swayze would punch that shark in the nose,” I answered for him. “And that’s what I will do for you, okay?”
    â€œFor me?” He put his hand to his chest and pretended to be flattered.
    â€œI told you, I’m a loyal friend. Kicking therapists, punching sharks, whatever it takes.”
    â€œOkay,” he finally said. “Let’s do this.”
    â€œGreat,” I said. “Now let’s see what you’re made of.”
    â€œI bet that’s what the sharks are saying right now,” Oliver muttered, but he paddled out behind me.
    He had strong arms, it turned out, and the waves were flat enough that it wasn’t too hard to get past them and out to a few bigger swells. “What do you do if the waves are big when you’re paddling out?” he asked when I pointed that out.
    â€œYou turtle,” I replied, then held on to the sides of my boards and flipped it over just as a slightly bigger wave crashed over me. The board protected me from the wave and I waited until I felt the whoosh of the water recede before I turned over and came back up. “See?” I sputtered, wiping my hair out of my eyes. “Like a turtle. Your board becomes a shell to protect you.”
    â€œPretty cool,” Oliver said. He looked impressed.
    â€œLucky for you, these are baby waves.” We continued to paddle out and when we were far enough, I hopped off my board and went to swim next to him. “Do you remember what we practiced on the shore?”
    â€œYeah, it happened, like, three minutes ago.”
    I just smiled. “It’s amazing what you can forget when a giant force of nature is rushing toward you.”
    â€œThat’s . . . really reassuring, thanks.”
    â€œI like to provide a dose of realism,” I said, then watched as a wave started to build about fifty feet away from us. “You see this wave?”
    Oliver craned his neck to look over his shoulder. “What wave? Is that even a wave?”
    â€œIt will be. And it’s going to be your wave.”
    Oliver just looked at me. “You’re serious.”
    â€œLike a heart attack. I’ll give you a shove. Now, just before the wave hits you, start paddling. Paddle like”—I had a burst of genius—“like a shark is after you, all right? Just go until you feel the wave pick up the board, then use your arms to pop up. Easy peasy.”
    Oliver’s eyes widened. “Tell me again why you do this for fun?”
    â€œBecause it’s awesome!” I told him as the wave came closer. “Are you ready?”
    â€œNo! Yes!”
    â€œGo go go go go GO!” I gave the tail of his board a shove just as the wave started to crest, and Oliver began to paddle furiously, his hands going in and out of the water at an impressive speed. “Faster!” I yelled as he started to cruise away from me. “You can do it! Stand up, stand up!”
    â€œWhat?” I heard him yell, but then he let out a shout, like a battle cry or a victory sound, and I watched as Oliver . . . did nothing.
    â€œStand up!” I yelled. “You can do it!”
    I heard him yell something but I couldn’t hear him this time, and I climbed back up on my board just so I could see a little better. He was laughing at least, his hair wet across his forehead as he literally lay on top of his board until it ground into the shore and got stuck in the sand. I caught the next wave, taking advantage of the white water so I