Free The Only Exception by Abigail Moore

make yourself a threat,” Papaw instructs. “That was good, sticking to 180 airs. Don’t go for 360 or big airs until tomorrow.” I nod and glance at Sally, who’s laughing with a group of other surfers and shoots me a look that, to anyone else would appear a sweet look, but there’s an underlying hate to the sweetness that makes me roll my eyes and turn back to everyone else.
    A bit later, I see Sawyer heading down to the edge of the waves, getting ready for his heat. As I watch him surf, McKayla comes up behind me and comments “Told you he was good.” I don’t reply. I hate to admit it, but he’s more than good. He’s amazing.
    Papaw and Grammy take me home for a few hours to relax and rest up for the next event, then I’m back on the beach and in the water in heat five of the girls 17-18 division. I’m in the water with that Kara Vanderbilt, so obviously I have to kick it up a notch. Just as I’m about to step up my game, she loses her footing and takes some serious dirty lickings. Well, that stinks. Better today than tomorrow.
    She recovers well, though. I have to watch out. She’s in it to win it. With this in mind, I pull a clean ride that should score pretty well. The two of us battle for waves, but when I’ve got five good ones under my belt, I let her go for them. Play down my skill. Show off tomorrow. This is gonna be fun.
    I come out of the water satisfied. The scores come and I’m twelfth. Mac is fourth. Sally’s third, Kara’s second and Paige LeGroe is first. “Aw, too bad,” Sawyer remarks, coming up behind me as I pack up to leave. “Poor little gremmie. Good luck tomorrow.”
    “You too, kook,” I return, not looking back. The sweet boy that cried during Three Hours Too Soon last night is gone and apparently has been replaced by a smack-talking jerk. Joke’s on him when he sees my style tomorrow.
    “Oh, my gosh,” Mac says suddenly, covering her mouth after she’s said it.
    “What?” I inquire, puzzled.
    “No. Just no,” she laughs. “You’d kill me.”
    “Mac…” I say warily.
    “Never mind,” she giggles. “Just, don’t worry about it.”
    “Has the saltwater gone to your brain, Mac?” I ask jokingly.
    “I’m good,” she says, still smiling uncontrollably. “See you tomorrow!”
    “Yeah, see you tomorrow,” I reply, raising an eyebrow at her. I laugh and shake my head, following Grammy to the car to head home and get some sleep. After all, I have to be well-rested to prove Jerkface wrong.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Nine
     
     
     
     
    The next morning, I stand at the sign-in table picking up my day two heat sheet with Mac at my side. “Okay, you’re heat one of six for quarters for 15-18,” I tell her, flipping through the heat sheet. “And heat one of six for 17-18 quarters. I’m heat four for 15-18s and heat three for 17-18s.” She marks hers down on her arm, then passes me the Sharpie. I do the same and stuff it in my bag, along with the papers. Once again, the Hensleys have camped out next to my grandparents and the Atwoods.
    I sit down and take out my water bottle and Mansfield Park by Jane Austen, setting up for a good long wait before my heat. Like yesterday, the 15-18s will go before the 17-18s even start. Before I can start reading, though, they call Mac’s heat and Sawyer’s heat. I head down to a prime view spot to watch Mac.
    As the horn sounds, Mac and her four competitors, including Sally Emerson, Paige LeGroe and Kara Vanderbilt, run into the water. The first one up for a wave is McKayla. She pulls off a good ride. Not stellar, but solid. When she’s going for her third wave a few minutes later, Paige LeGroe drops in in front of her and snakes the wave out from right underneath her feet. Half the crowd and I groan simultaneously, while the other half cheer Paige on. It was a dirty trick, but not enough to get her disqualified.
    I glance over to see Sawyer up on a wave, in the middle of a jump. He lands smoothly and