Free Ocean Pearl by J.C. Burke Page A

blue in a hospital bed again?
    I followed Reg into the board hut. The panic was
starting to overtake my throat.
    'Okay. Where are we going to put these babies?'
    'Reg,' I whispered, 'I'm scared.'
    Reg took the board out of my arms and slid it into a
rack. 'Micki,' he said, 'there's nothing to be scared of.
It's going to be okay. I gave you my word about that.'
    'I don't know what Dad's going to do without me.'
I tried to swallow the panic.
    'Your father is not your responsibility.' Reg held my
shoulders and spoke firmly. He'd said those words to
me before, and I still didn't know if he meant them or
even if they were right. 'Okay, Micki? You are thirteen.
You are a child. You have been' – he took a deep breath
– 'admirable, courageous, selfless, caring beyond
words. Now you have to do what's best for you. Davo
wants that as well. More than anyone.'
    'But, but . . .' I had to say it. It was the only way I'd be
able to breathe. 'But it doesn't mean that I don't love
him. I don't want him to think that because I'm moving
away I don't love him.'
    Reg let me cry. He didn't try and stuff the space with
words. Instead he let me nestle my face against his
chest until his jumper was wet with my tears.
    The three of us were lying on our beds. I couldn't stop
looking around the bungalow. It was like I had to study
every square centimetre of wall and ceiling to really,
really convince myself we were actually here. Plus,
maybe if I looked hard enough I'd find a tiny detail
that'd remind me of something really happy, then that
could become my focus point.
    So far the only memory that'd hit me was when I
walked into the bungalow bathroom. If the first thing
I'd thought of was that night with Kia, then for sure it
would've been the same for her too, except multiplied
by a million.
    Kia had moved the beds around like she did the first
day back in January. Except this time it would be
Megan who was marooned on the other side of the
room. Not me.
    Already a mess of T-shirts and trackie pants and
hoodies were gathering around Georgie's area and,
typical, Kia had everything neatly put away or lined up
by her cupboard.
    The bungalow seemed the same. It was almost like
we'd never left except for one enormous, unfillable
hole – Ace.
    'No, that's not going to work either,' Georgie was
saying about the text we were trying to compose to Ace.
    The message had to make her feel like we were
thinking of her and missing her, which was one
hundred per cent true. But it also needed to sound like
we weren't excited to be at camp, which wasn't true, as
dinner with Carla and Shyan, one of the surf coaches,
had got us totally pumped. Afterwards we were like,
'Bring it on!'
    Of course, Kia was chief texter with her brand new
slide phone.
    'But Ace'd want to know about Shyan,' Kia said.
'She told us, well, she told me, to give Shyan a big hug
from her.'
    Georgie scolded: 'Yeah, but don't say Shyan was
telling us about the program 'cause that'll definitely
depress her.'
    'I thought it might make her feel good,' Kia said. 'Ace
hated the way we had a strict timetable. Six am yoga,
seven-fifteen am breakfast, nine am video discussion,
eleven am –'
    'Yeah, yeah, we get it! Remember, Micki and I were
here too.'
    'What about – what about if we tell her how Shyan
said she only just missed out?' I said.
    'That is definitely not a good idea,' Kia told me. 'Ace
might think we were talking about how she didn't
make it and stuff.'
    'True.'
    Georgie rolled onto her stomach and groaned into
the pillow.
    'How about this?' Kia started pressing the buttons.
'Shyan and Carla say hi. Brian's still the cook and a crap
one at that.'
    'His food's not that crap,' I replied. 'I mean, I have
tasted –'
    Suddenly Georgie sat up. 'Shhh!' She jumped off the
bed and opened the door.
    'What?' said Kia.
    'Shhh!'
    'What!' Kia and I crept up behind her. 'What?'
    'She's just arrived,' Georgie whispered.
    'How do you know?' I asked, glancing out the door
but seeing only darkness.
    'I heard