Page 13

Adam

Sophie scooped her long strawberry-blonde hair into a bun while I dumped my rucksack in the beach hut. My phone vibrated with a succession of messages.

‘Do you need to get that before we go in?’ A lock escaped from her fingers, tumbling down her cheek.

‘Hmmm. Not at... I mean, well, no.’ I swallowed hard.

I understood abstract algebra, vectors and the rules of integration, but couldn’t string together proper sentences around her.

She was the most gorgeous girl I’d ever seen.

I’d noticed her surfing with friends when we moved here at the start of the holidays and hadn’t been able to rip my gaze away.

She was fearless and radiant. She looked free , as if she didn’t have a care in the world apart from the need to catch the next wave.

Her boss at the surf school had mentioned she was a pupil at Kingsland comprehensive, and entering the sixth form, like me.

This was the perfect opportunity to meet and, hopefully, impress her ahead of term.

I folded my arms, attempting to look decisive. ‘It’s nothing important.’

My phone buzzed aggressively, as if challenging my statement.

Sophie planted her hands on her slim hips, which were encased in a wetsuit. ‘Answer it – I’ll wait outside.’

When she left, I discovered four missed calls from Dad. My heart sank. Now Mum was ringing. Reluctantly, I answered.

‘There you are! Dad’s checked your desk – he says you haven’t done any pre-work. Your assignments have to be handed in on the first day of term. He wants you to make a start today – you need to create a good impression at your new sixth form.’

The elation I’d felt at finally plucking up the courage to book private coaching with Sophie drained away. I pictured the A-level textbooks piled high on my desk, the spines waiting to be cracked open, and felt a familiar flutter of panic.

‘There’s plenty of time. I’ve signed up for surfing lessons this afternoon.’

‘Why? That won’t look good on your applications for Stanford or Cambridge. We’ve all discussed this – you need to concentrate on things you’re great at, like tennis, running and debating.’

‘Sure... I’m great at tennis, running and debating.’ I parroted her gross exaggeration back at her. ‘But I’m guessing everyone around here must surf!’

‘Private school pupils will be way ahead—’

I rolled my eyes. ‘You’re breaking up, sorry. It’s bad reception.’

‘Adam?’

‘Thanks for the heads-up, Mum. Tell Dad I’ll do it tonight. Bye!’

I turned off the phone, threw my towel over my shoulder and walked out into the sunshine, misjudging my step. I tripped, staggering towards Sophie.

‘Are you throwing yourself at me?’

She raised an eyebrow. I couldn’t stop staring at her greenish-brown eyes, which had gold flecks. I’d never seen such an extraordinary colour.

‘Erm, yes! I mean no. I’m not usually this clumsy.’ I took a breath, attempting to make up lost ground. ‘I’m actually quite good at sport.’

‘Yes, I’ve heard you’re great at tennis and running,’ she said with a poker face. ‘But let’s not forget your talent for debating.’

Aagh! The tips of my ears and neck burned horribly.

‘Sorry!’ she said, smiling at my discomfort. ‘I’m a terrible eavesdropper! I’m guessing your mum thinks surfing is a waste of time?’

I exhaled heavily. ‘You have the same problem with micro-managing parents?’

‘The exact opposite. It’s just my mum and she’s busy running yoga retreats here and abroad. She’s not around much.’

Sophie looked down at the ground and spotted an overturned beetle, its legs frantically paddling. She nudged the bug with her foot, righting it, before inspecting the surfboards that were stacked on a wooden rack.

‘Oh, so you and your mum . . .’

‘Here you go!’ She hauled out a board with a turquoise stripe, passing it to me. ‘This should suit you.’ She picked out another, shorter one for herself, and propped it against her leg.

‘Because it matches this?’ I pointed at the surf school T-shirt she’d given me to wear over my wetsuit.

The corners of her mouth twitched as she pushed an escaped tendril back into her bun. ‘I meant it’s the right weight and length for a beginner.’

‘I knew that!’ I added quickly.

‘Sure thing, ten A*s boy. Let’s go.’

‘W-w-what?’ I trailed after her towards the packed beach, my cheeks burning hotter.

‘Your mum’s telling everyone she meets you were in the Daily Mail last week because of your top GCSE results,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘News spreads fast – Adam Bailey is a genius destined for great things.’

‘Bloody hell!’

She laughed, but not in a nasty way, and waited for me to catch up.

‘Let’s see if you get an A* in surfing!’

An hour later, Sophie was close to awarding me an E, after I fell off the board for approximately the hundredth time. The more I attempted to impress, the worse I performed. I couldn’t concentrate around her, and my balance was shot.

‘Do you want to call it a day?’ she shouted. ‘It’s almost time.’

Water had got behind my contact lenses, stinging my eyes, and my arms ached, but I refused to quit. I had to improve; failure wasn’t an option. I was good at most things; there was no reason I couldn’t get the hang of this.

‘What about that one?’ I asked, pointing to a wave swelling in the distance.

I’d seen Sophie surf much bigger ones last week with her blonde friend, Lily, who was also an instructor.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yep . . . 100 per cent.’

We paddled alongside each other towards the expanse of gathering water.

I wanted to reach over and grab her hand for reassurance but managed to resist. The boys she surfed with weren’t scared.

What was there to be afraid of anyway? Waves were just the displacement of liquid by the moon’s gravitational force.

‘Remember, pull yourself on, jump to your feet and balance. Are you ready?’

The horizon blurred horribly into a series of grey, undulating lines.

I imagined my future towering above me: A levels, university, a PhD, postdoc research and a maths professorship.

My life was mapped out, but if I messed up, everything would come crashing down.

I’d be a huge disappointment to my parents.

Dad most of all. Panic rose in my throat as the long cord attaching me to the board became entangled around my legs.

I ripped off the ankle strap, releasing myself, and attempted to turn round and paddle back to shore.

‘Stop doing that!’ Sophie cried. ‘You have to be straight on.’

My throat had seized up. My hands were concrete, my legs even heavier.

‘Adam!’

The wave struck me, dragging me down into masses of frothing bubbles.

A roaring sound grew louder in my ears as I was tossed around, washing-machine style.

Breaking for air, pain erupted across my face.

I opened my mouth to cry out but gagged and went under again.

The fizzing white foam settled and became clearer the deeper I sank.

This is what it’s like to drown , I realised. It’s not scary.

I felt at peace, as if inside a tunnel that formed a protective shield, keeping out the chaos. I didn’t have to try so hard anymore or do anything . I could give up for the first time in my life. Fail.

A hand grabbed my shoulder and hauled me upwards.

Air burned my nostrils and ripped into my lungs as I broke through the surface.

Sophie forced my arms on to the board and pushed me to shore.

Reaching the shallows, I fell on my knees, coughing.

Blood streamed down my face and dripped into the water.

‘Oh God! Are you okay? Lean forward while I fetch your towel.’ She returned a few minutes later, gently pressing the fabric against my nose.

‘You’ve probably broken it. I’ll fetch ice from the snack kiosk and see if I can find someone to take you to A nearby holidaymakers were already staring. ‘Please don’t go. It’ll stop bleeding soon.’

‘Let’s give it another few minutes.’ She knelt beside me. ‘What happened out there? Why did you take off the leash?’

My brain scrambled for a plausible excuse. I couldn’t tell her the truth...

‘Sorry, like you said, I’m ten A*s boy and a massive geek,’ I blustered. ‘I spotted a mathematical spiral shape in the pattern of the wave. It looked like a Mobius strip.’

‘What?’ She stared hard at me, her eyes narrowing.

‘Well, the Mobius strip is a—’

‘Stop bullshitting! That had nothing to do with maths.’ Her tone softened. ‘A boy at school has panic attacks. He completely closes down – glazed eyes, that frozen look, the full works.’

I opened my mouth to deny it.

‘You don’t need to be embarrassed or ashamed,’ she added. ‘Things overwhelm me sometimes, and I’m desperate to escape from everything, everyone. ’

Relief surged over me. Sophie could see through my lies, really see me , but she wasn’t repelled or judgemental. She wasn’t laughing. She looked like she cared. I barely knew her but sensed I could be completely honest.

‘You’re right... it was a panic attack. I wanted to quit. Not carry on anymore. It’s stupid, I know...’

She gathered me into her arms. ‘Don’t you dare give up again, Adam Bailey. I won’t let you.’

I clung on to her and for those few seconds it felt as though the world had stopped spinning. I didn’t want to let go.

As a lifeguard ran towards us, I was certain about two things: Sophie Leroux had saved me.

Also, I was head over heels in love with her.