CHAPTER II: SURF BAY
I walk away from the hostel and after a long walk through Forest Wood I come across a mooring. Next to an impressive boat covered in wood and upholstered in shiny beige, there are three young men holding surfboards who start to murmur when they see me appear there.
One of them points at me and I hear him say to another:
—Look, Logan, she's still wearing that white bead necklace!
—Hey, you! —Logan raises his voice. —Were you born yesterday?
The blonde girl accompanying them laughs at their joke.
Since I don't understand anything, I choose not to answer him. I continue on my way, turning a deaf ear. I keep going and, looking back, I can see how the young people take their boards, load them onto the boat that they have docked and leave, surely, to the same place I am going to, to the surfing competition.
After getting lost and taking the long way around, I finally arrive at the cove where the surfing competition is going to take place. A huge crowd is crowding the beach. Some surfers are already sliding over the waves that crash on the shore of the cove. In the background I see a surf academy with a giant sign that says: Surf Bay Academy. Nearby there is a group of children with banners cheering on their surfing idols. A short boy in bright red swimming trunks and a white T-shirt watches from the lifeguard stand. People, especially girls, are wearing multi-coloured Hawaiian leis. In a few moments the competition is going to start and among the crowd that has formed there I look for Monica. I finally find her and see that she is with her group of friends. They are carrying boards, so I deduce that they are going to compete. I approach them and Monica, full of joy at seeing me again, hugs me and says:
—Nomad, I'm glad you came! Come, I'll introduce you to my friends!
Monica introduces me to her group of friends. Unlike the young men I saw at the dock, these guys have a more bohemian air. I notice that they all wear a necklace similar to mine. The difference is that theirs are blue, black and white. Before the competition begins, Monica explains to me the dynamics of the surfing tournament final:
—The final consists of the four best surfers on the island competing to win the trophy. This year my friends have made it to the final and they are up against the rich guys from Palm Road, who are all conceited, but I haven't told you anything —he murmurs—. The TASURF jury is made up of experts who come from different parts of the world and who base their criteria on a very demanding evaluation.
I find the competition very exciting. I love surfing and I can't wait to get started.
—This is Fabio and Jordan, among them is the future winner —he says with a laugh.
"That's expected," they tell me in unison, smiling.
The young people shake my hand in a friendly manner. A booming voice from a megaphone calls out the tournament finalists for the competition to begin.
—Good luck!—I encourage them.
Everyone in attendance is excited and looking forward to the start of the final. I too am more eager for it to start, and as time goes by, the cove is filling up with more people. The tide is rising and the sea is painted white by the foam that slides over the waves. The surfers are getting ready to surf the high mountains of water and the public is going crazy because the most anticipated surfing final of the year is about to begin. Among the finalists of the tournament is one of the young people who had criticised me on my way to the cove. However, I don't feel any kind of resentment, I don't usually hold a grudge against anyone, in my mind there is only the same idea, which is why everyone I have direct contact with on the island is surprised or asks me about my clay bead necklace. Monica's friends were also surprised to see me, surely because of the necklace. What does it mean to them? After all, it's just a simple necklace. When I asked my grandfather about what I found in that old box, he didn't know what to say. I was filled with doubt about what it meant to me. I wanted to ask Monica or one of her friends, but they were too focused on the competition. Maybe it wasn't the right time. Maybe later.
The eager surfers take on the gigantic waves that rise above the water, forming huge mountains of foam on which they slide with their boards, disappearing between the sleeves of liquid crystal. Others skate on the sleeves and such is the speed with which they do it, that they form enormous trails of clouds over the water. The judges observe every movement of the competitors and take note of everything to give a final decision, without escaping anything. While the competition continues, a gale spreads from the west over the skies that completely covers the entire island, darkening the beach; however, the surfers illuminate it with the splendor formed by the carpets of lilies on the waves. The competition is very close, none wants to leave the waves, not so much for the trophy, but rather for the adrenaline of the moment. After twenty minutes of the first part, the surfers stop and get out of the water to find out the release of the judges. The intrepid finalists await the outcome with their hair dripping, their wetsuits soaked and tremendously exhausted from the exercise put in on each wave they surf.
The judges deliberate and the presenter calls for silence.
—The jury has decided that the finalists of the tournament are: Jordan Rizzi and Noah Ross!
When the result is known, people shout with euphoria and congratulate the selected ones. Fabio and Nathaniel Robert shake hands with the winners. The excitement in the cove increases and the nerves about who will win the most important Nomad Coast surfing trophy spread through the air like a wind that blows the palm leaves and creates a murmuring concert throughout the cove. Jordan and Noah are going to compete in the last heat of the tournament and soon after they throw themselves into the water to start the grand final. Jordan takes the first wave and, with great balance, stands up on the board. It is a huge wave, the heat expands with great ease and Jordan caresses the wall that rises around him under a tube that seems to have no end. While Jordan gallops under the water cavern, the crest that rises into the air falls like a waterfall on the intrepid surfer. The gale that has darkened the skies of Nomad Coast continues to spread across the island and Noah Ross, like his opponent, gets up from the board and performs acrobatic moves among the wild nomad waters.
The two finalists are battling it out with great intensity, as the final minute is almost here. Noah Ross slides along the wall like a gecko crawling along a stone wall to catch an insect, and he doesn't stop until he has caught his prey. As he skates over the barrel of the wave, Noah tries to climb onto the pocket to bag himself as much as he can. However, the lip collapses and the foamy crest falls on the TASURF finalist. Jordan is able to get up on the box, but unfortunately he loses his balance and knocks him down, making him lose the opportunity to get ahead of his opponent. At this point, Noah Ross keeps trying and finally manages to do what he couldn't before and the jury is amazed by the sharpness of the Palm Road surfer. Noah Ross climbs the water walls with his board and with spectacular moves. Finally, the gale disperses in the skies of Nomad Coast and now you can only see it disappear from the distance. Jordan, who is very close to his opponent, makes a mistake on one of the waves he has caught. He has entered the heat late and the crest has swallowed him before he can reach the pocket. The surfer from Palm Road manages to slide over the pocket and makes a quick and radical turn. A horn blow marks the end of the heat. Noah Ross ends up jumping so hard on the wave that he and his board are suspended in the air for a few moments, as if gravity did not exist. The public is completely stunned. Jordan does not come out of the water in such a magnificent way, he comes out exhausted and assuming the worst. When he comes out of the water, the presenter of the competition approaches them and together they await the final decision of the jury amidst the expectation of the public.
Noah Ross is crowned victorious. The people of the Palm Road district go wild with joy when they hear Noah's name come from the announcer's lips. The winner of the tournament raises his arms to the sky and, together with his teammates and friends, celebrates the coveted trophy.
The presenter awards the finalists with a medal and hands the trophy to Noah Ross. Noah, with a certain air of vanity, climbs up to the podium and with trophy in hand, gives a speech that says these words:
—I am very excited about this award, more than deserved, which would not have been possible without the support that I received since the competition began from my family and friends at Palm Road. Throughout my career in this wonderful sport, surfing has taught me many things, it has taught me what is really important in this life, and, above all, that surfing is like life. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. Sometimes you fall and other times you manage to stay on your feet. But the important thing is to keep surfing —Noah concludes, raising the trophy to the skies of Nomad Coast, followed by the applause of the public.
Noah Ross seems a bit arrogant to me, but I found the last thing he said very interesting.
At the end of the awards ceremony, lively music begins to play in the cove.
—Now it's the celebration party. We all celebrate the winner's victory —says Monica.
—Are you staying too? —I ask, somewhat surprised.
—Of course! Jordan is a finalist, you can't always win —he answers me.
The atmosphere is friendly and family-like. Excited children rush towards the winner, asking for an autograph and chanting Noah's name. It is dusk and in the distance the sky is turning orange. Warm strings of lights strung between palm trees illuminate the cove. The crowd is thinning out as the sun disappears over the horizon.
—Well, Monica, I'm going back to the hostel, it's getting late —I tell Monica.
—But what are you saying, the party isn't over yet!
—Oh, no? —I say, looking at her with a certain air of strangeness.
—After the final, we're having a night of drinking at the old docks in Old Town — he explains — Are you coming? I won't take no for an answer.
I smile at her and follow Monica and her group to the party venue. I'm surprised that they've welcomed me so well even though they don't know me at all. There's something different about this island that I've never seen anywhere else before.
We arrive at the old dock. The first thing that catches my eye is an old shelter supported by wooden beams eaten away by the passage of time. On the platform there are some young people enjoying the atmosphere. In the distance, on a hermetic inlet, lies a huge sailing ship that is in ruins and that has surely been there for many years.
—Hey, Monica, what about that sailboat? —I ask her with enormous curiosity.
—It's El Dorado and it's as old as the Nomad Coast island itself —he answers me.
"I'd like to see it up close," I ask, almost begging him.
—Sure, let's go!
The Dorado is half sunken, the steel of the hull is corroded and the keel is covered by a blanket of barnacles and algae. Most of the sails are tattered or have disappeared, only the mainsail was preserved in good condition.
—I find it fascinating, do you know anything else about the ship? —I ask Monica with great intrigue.
—Yes, the Dorado is an emblematic ship for the island. It is said that the founding father of Nomad Coast arrived on it. It was also formerly a temporary school. For many years now, the Dorado has been abandoned.
Back at the party, we see Fabio and Jordan with two other girls. They are carrying plastic bags with drinks.
—What's up guys! —Mónica greets the group.
"Here we have the cargo," says Fabio, lifting the bags with a smile from ear to ear.
—Oh, I forgot! Nomad, these are Summer and Nicki —she introduces them to me.
"A pleasure," I reply laconically.
Suddenly, Noah begins to make his way through the crowd, followed by his group of friends. He is the winner of the tournament and his presence does not go unnoticed. Eyes turn towards him and people begin to cheer his name. Noah makes his way through the crowd, waving and receiving congratulations. His friends surround him like courtiers of a main entourage. They all wear a navy blue sweatshirt with the logo of the surf academy and the name of the island. Seeing their triumphal entrance, I quickly realize that they are the most popular group on the island.
Music fills the old pier, it is getting dark and the beach is packed with people. Some dance to the music, others laugh and drink in small groups, the more reserved escape from the revelry and philosophize on rocks far from the cove.
—Nomad, are you having fun? —Mónica says to me, excited. —Jordan, get him a drink.
—I appreciate it, but I don't drink. I'm going for a walk —I tell him.
I step away from the hustle and bustle and walk along the shore. I take the opportunity to approach the old boat again. As he watches it with fascination, I glimpse a faint light barely perceptible between the cracks in the worn wood. Curious, I approach and see that there are people on the deck. On the starboard side, some young men are ready to jump in without fear. I focus my gaze and realize that it is Noah Ross and his group of friends.
—Come on Nicki, get down! —he urges Noah.
—Nicki, Nicki! —the others shout from the water.
Noah insists again to this Nicki, and despite the waves, Nicki, undecided, jumps and falls into the water. Suddenly, a boy with very blue eyes shouts from the deck:
—Guys, get out of the water, the cops are coming!
Noah and the other two boys, terrified, start swimming quickly towards the shore and run away to avoid the police. Nicki stays behind and suddenly, in the darkness that covers the entire sea, a huge wave rises. Nicki doesn't see it coming and the wave swallows her up. Without a second's hesitation, I jump into the water.
It's dark and the waves are more violent. After a hard fight against the tide, I grab her and grab her by the arm to drag her to the shore. I do this with some difficulty, because the tide pushes us back to where we started. However, with a lot of effort, I manage to get Nicki out of the water. I lay her on the sand and carry out the protocol that must be followed in such situations. Blue and red lights begin to illuminate the place. The ambulance has arrived. I look up and see myself surrounded by a large group of doctors, police officers and the young man who warned that the police were coming, very overwhelming. I let the doctors do their job and approach the boy.
—Hey, calm down, he's going to be okay —I console him.
—She's my fucking sister —he tells me between sobs.
The boy calms down a bit, but he is nervous, still not knowing what to do. One of the doctors approaches us and says:
—Justin, son, relax. Your sister is going to be okay.
The doctor is his father. Very worried, he approaches me and says while giving me some keys:
—Could you please take our son home? He is in no condition to drive.
"Of course," I answer him, kindly.
“Thank you so much for getting my daughter out of the water,” he says, placing his hand on my shoulder. “Take my number. Call me when you get there.”
The ambulance van selling the beach. We get in the car and I ask Justin:
-Where do you live?
—Palm Road, number four —he stammers.
I enter the address into the GPS and we head towards the place indicated on the screen. After a while of driving we enter a huge avenue guarded by a security guard. The guard immediately recognises the car and proceeds to let us through. As we drive on, we see the various luxury developments, nothing like my hostel in Forest Wood. In the darkness of the night, I turn right onto the huge avenue where tall palm trees stand, swaying in the night breeze and murmuring among themselves with their talkative leaves. From there I continue a few metres further ahead. I turn a roundabout, where a huge stone statue stands, cold and damp. After a few minutes, the GPS indicates that we have arrived at our destination.
I park and we get out of the car. The street is deafeningly silent. Justin takes out his keys and tries to open the front door. He is so drunk that he decides to help him.
—What are you doing? Get out of the way! —he says to me angrily.
He manages to open the door and, without saying a single word, leaves. Without giving this any importance, I take out my cell phone and call the doctor to tell him that his son is safe and sound.
—Mr. Bassett? —I ask.
—Hi, I'm Anne, his wife. —she answers.
—Your son is home now, is Nicki okay? —I ask with concern.
—Yes, that's fine. Thank you.
—I'm very glad, have a good night.
—Hey, Charles and I want you to come over to our house for lunch tomorrow. You saved our daughter.
—Well, it will be a pleasure. Thank you —I answer, timidly.
—Perfect. See you at one.
I walk back down the long, silent avenue. I still have a long way to go to the hostel, a good excuse to reflect on the strange night I just had.
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