CHAPTER II: SURF BAY
I leave the hostel and after a long walk through Forest Wood, I come across a dock. Beside an impressive wooden-clad boat with gleaming beige upholstery, there are three young people holding surfboards, who start murmuring when they see me appear.
One of them points at me and I hear him say to another:
—Look, Logan, he's still wearing the white bead necklace!
—Hey, you! —Logan raises his voice—. Were you born yesterday?
The blonde girl with them laughs at their joke.
As I don't understand anything, I choose not to answer. I continue on my way, ignoring them. I keep going and looking back, I can see the young people taking their boards, loading them onto the docked boat and leaving, surely, for the same place I am headed, the surf competition.
After getting lost and taking the longer route, I finally arrive at the cove where the surf competition is to be held. A huge crowd fills the beach. Some surfers are already gliding over the waves that crash on the shore of the cove. In the background, I see a surf academy with a gigantic sign that reads: Surf Bay Academy. Nearby, a group of children with banners are cheering for their surf idols. A short boy in red swim trunks, a very intense red, and a white t-shirt, watches from the lifeguard stand. People, especially girls, wear colorful Hawaiian leis. In a few moments, the competition is about to begin, and among the crowd that has formed, I look for Monica. I finally find her, and I see that she is with her group of friends. They have boards, so I deduce they are going to compete. I approach them, and Monica, full of joy to see me again, hugs me and says:
—Nomad, I'm glad you came! Come, I'm going to introduce you to my friends!
Monica introduces me to her group of friends. Unlike the young people 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 the dynamics of the surf tournament final to me:
—The final consists of the four best surfers on the island competing for the trophy. This year my friends have reached the final and are facing the rich kids from Palm Road, who are conceited, but I didn't tell you anything —she murmurs—. The TASURF jury is made up of experts from different parts of the world who base their criteria on a very demanding assessment.
The competition seems very exciting to me, I'm a surf lover and I can't wait for it to start.
—These are Fabio and Jordan, among them is the future winner —she says, laughing.
—That's the expectation —they say to me in unison, smiling.
The young men shake my hand amicably. A booming voice from a megaphone calls the tournament finalists to begin the competition.
—Good luck!—I encourage them.
Everyone in attendance is expectant and eager for the final to begin. My own desire for it to start also grows, and as time passes, the cove fills with more and more people. The tide rises and the sea turns white with the foam that glides over the sleeves of the waves. The surfers prepare to ride the high mountains of water, and the crowd goes wild because the most anticipated surf final of the year is about to begin. Among the tournament finalists is one of the young men who had criticized me on my way to the cove. However, I feel no resentment; I don't usually hold grudges against anyone. In my mind, only one thought lingers: why does everyone I come into direct contact with on the island seem surprised or ask me about my clay bead necklace? Monica's friends also seemed surprised to see me, probably because of the necklace. What meaning could it have for 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 tell me. The doubt about its meaning floods me inside; I want to ask Monica or one of her friends, but they are very focused on the competition, perhaps it's not the ideal moment; maybe later.
The eager surfers ride the gigantic waves that rise over the waters, forming enormous mountains of foam on which they glide with their boards, disappearing into the sleeves of liquid crystal. Others skim over the sleeves, and such is the speed with which they do so that they form enormous trails of clouds over the water. The judges observe every movement of the competitors and note everything down to give a final resolution, without missing a thing. While the competition continues, a squall spreads from the west across the sky, completely covering the entire island and 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, neither 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 hear the judges' verdict. The intrepid finalists await the resolution with their hair dripping, their wetsuits soaked, and tremendous exhaustion from the effort put into each wave surfed.
The judges deliberate and the announcer calls for silence.
—The jury has decided that the finalists of the tournament are: Jordan Rizzi and Noah Ross!
Upon hearing the result, people scream with euphoria and congratulate the selected ones. Fabio and Nathaniel Robert shake hands with the winners. The anticipation in the cove grows, and the nervousness about who will lift the most important surf trophy in Nomad Coast spreads through the air like a wind that sweeps the palm leaves and creates a murmuring concert throughout the cove. The last heat of the tournament will be disputed between Jordan and Noah, and soon after, they throw themselves into the water to begin the grand final. Jordan catches the first wave and, with great balance, stands up on the board. It is an enormous wave, the heat extends 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 over the intrepid surfer. The squall, which has darkened the skies of Nomad Coast, continues to spread throughout the island, and Noah Ross, like his opponent, gets up on the board and performs acrobatic movements among the wild nomadic waters.
The two finalists battle with great intensity, as the final minute is approaching. Noah Ross slides on the wall like a gecko crawling up a stone wall to catch an insect, and he doesn't stop his performance until he catches his prey. As he surfs the barrel of the wave, Noah tries to get into the pocket to gain as much speed as possible. However, the lip crumbles, and the foamy crest falls on the TASURF finalist. Jordan manages to rise on the swell, but, unfortunately, he loses his balance and falls, costing him the opportunity to overtake his opponent. Meanwhile, 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 watery walls with his board and performs spectacular movements. Finally, the squall disperses across the skies of Nomad Coast, and now it can only be seen disappearing in the distance. Jordan, who is very evenly matched with his opponent, errs on one of the waves he has caught. He entered the wave late, and the crest swallowed him before he could reach the pocket. The Palm Road surfer manages to slide into the pocket and makes a quick and radical turn. A horn blares, marking the end of the heat. Noah Ross finishes with such a powerful jump on the wave that he and his board are suspended in the air for a few moments, as if gravity did not exist. The audience is completely dazzled. Jordan does not emerge from the water so excellently; he comes out exhausted and expecting the worst. As he exits the water, the competition presenter approaches them, and together they await the jury's final decision amidst the public's anticipation.
Noah Ross claims victory. The people of the Palm Road district go wild with joy upon hearing Noah's name come from the announcer's lips. The tournament winner raises his arms to the sky and, along with his teammates and friends, celebrates the coveted trophy.
The presenter awards the finalists with a medal and presents the trophy to Noah Ross. Noah, with a somewhat vain air, steps onto the podium and, trophy in hand, gives a speech, saying these words:
—I am very excited about this well-deserved award, which would not have been possible without the support I have received from my family and friends since the competition began. Throughout my career, surfing has taught me many things; it has taught me what truly matters 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 audience's ovation.
Noah Ross seems a bit arrogant to me, but what he just said was very interesting.
As the award ceremony ends, upbeat music begins to play in the cove.
—Now it's the celebration party. Everyone celebrates the winner's victory —Monica says.
—Are you staying too? —I ask with a hint of surprise.
—Of course! Jordan was a finalist, you can't always win —she replies.
The atmosphere is pleasant and familiar. Excited children rush towards the winner, asking for an autograph and chanting Noah's name. Dusk is falling, and in the distance, the sky is painted in orange hues. Strings of warm lights strung between the palm trees illuminate the cove. The crowd gradually disperses as the sun disappears over the horizon.
—Well, Monica, I'm going back to the hostel, it's getting late —I tell Monica.
—What are you talking about, the party isn't over!
—Oh, really? —I say, looking at her with a hint of surprise.
—After the final celebration, we have a drinking party all night at the old dock —she explains—. Are you coming? I won't take no for an answer.
I smile and follow Monica and her group towards the party. I'm surprised they've welcomed me so warmly without knowing me at all. This island has something different that I've never seen anywhere else.
We arrive at the old dock. The first thing that catches my attention is an old shelter supported by wooden beams, eaten away by time. On the platform, some young people are enjoying the atmosphere. In the distance, on a secluded inlet, an enormous, ruined sailboat is docked, surely having been there for many years.
—Hey, Monica, what about that sailboat? —I ask her with enormous curiosity.
—It's the Dorado and it's as old as Nomad Coast island itself —she replies.
—I'd like to see it up close —I ask, almost begging.
—Of course, let's go!
The Dorado is half-sunk, the steel of the hull is corroded, and the keel is covered by a mantle of barnacles and algae. Most of the sails are tattered or have disappeared; only the mainsail was still in good condition.
—I find it fascinating, do you know anything else about the ship? —I ask Monica, very intrigued.
—Yes, the Dorado is an emblematic ship for the island; it is said that the founding father of Nomad Coast arrived with it. Also, in ancient times, it was a provisional school. For many years now, the Dorado has been abandoned.
Returning to the party, we see Fabio and Jordan with two more girls. They are carrying plastic bags with drinks.
—What's up, guys! —Monica greets the group.
—Here's the cargo —Fabio says, raising the bags with a wide smile.
—Oh, I almost forgot! Nomad, these are Summer and Nicki —she introduces them to me.
—A pleasure —I reply, laconically.
Suddenly, through the crowd, Noah begins to make his way, followed by his group of friends. He is the tournament winner, and his presence does not go unnoticed. All eyes turn to him, and people begin to cheer his name. Noah moves through the crowd, greeting and receiving congratulations. His friends surround him like courtiers of a main retinue. They all wear navy blue sweatshirts with the surf academy logo and the island's name. Seeing his triumphant entry, I quickly realize that they are the most popular group on the island.
Music fills the old dock, it's getting dark, and the beach is crowded with people. Some dance to the music, others laugh and drink in small groups, the more reserved escape the revelry and philosophize on rocks isolated from the cove.
—Nomad! Are you having fun? —Monica 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 her.
I move away from the hustle and bustle and walk along the shore. I take the opportunity to approach the old boat again. As I watch it with fascination, I glimpse a faint light barely perceptible between the cracks of the worn wood. I approach with curiosity and see that there are people on the deck. On the starboard side, some young people are ready to jump without any fear. I fix my gaze and realize that it is Noah Ross and his group of friends.
—Come on, Nicki, jump! —Noah urges her.
—Nicki, Nicki! —the others shout from the water.
Noah insists again with 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, begin to swim quickly towards the shore and run off to avoid the police. Nicki stays behind and suddenly, from the darkness that covers the entire sea, an enormous wave rises. Nicki doesn't see it coming and the wave swallows her. Without hesitation for a second, I dive into the water.
Everything is dark and the waves are more violent. After a tough battle against the tide, I manage to grab her and pull her by the arm to drag her to the shore. I do this with some difficulty, because the tide pushes us back to the starting point. However, with a lot of effort, I manage to get Nicki out of the water. I lay her on the sand and perform the protocol for such situations. Blue and red lights begin to illuminate the place. The ambulance has arrived. I look up and find myself surrounded by a large group of doctors, police, and the young man who warned that the police were coming, looking very overwhelmed. I let the doctors do their work and approach the boy.
—Hey, calm down, she'll be fine —I comfort him.
—She's my sister, damn it —he tells me, sobbing.
The boy calms down a bit, but he's nervous, still not knowing what to do. One of the doctors approaches us and says:
—Justin, son, relax. Your sister is going to be fine.
The doctor is his father. Very worried, he approaches me and says, while handing me some keys:
—Could you please take our son home? He's not in a state to drive.
—Of course —I reply, kindly.
—Thank you so much for getting my daughter out of the water —he says, placing his hand on my shoulder—. Here's my number. Call me when you get there.
The ambulance van leaves the beach. We get into the car and I ask Justin:
—Where do you live?
—Four Palm Road—he stammers.
I enter the address into the GPS, and we head towards the location displayed on the screen. After a while of driving, we enter a huge avenue guarded by a security doorman. The guard recognizes the car immediately and proceeds to open the gate for us. As we drive, I observe the various luxury housing developments, nothing like my shelter in Forest Wood. In the darkness of the night, I turn right onto the enormous avenue where tall palm trees sway in the night breeze, their talkative leaves rustling among themselves. From there, I continue a few more meters forward. I turn a roundabout, where a huge, cold, and wet stone statue stands. After a few minutes, the GPS indicates that we have arrived at our destination.
I park and we get out of the car. A deafening silence reigns in the street. Justin takes out his keys and tries to open the front door. His drunken state doesn't allow him, so I decide to help him.
—What are you doing? Get away!—he tells me angrily.
He manages to open the door and, without saying a word, he leaves. Without giving much importance to this last point, I take out my cell phone and call the doctor to tell him that his son is safe and sound.
—Mr. Basset?—I ask.
—Hello, this is Anne, his wife.—she replies.
—Your son is home now, is Nicki okay?—I ask with concern.
—Yes, she's fine. Thank you.
—I'm very glad, have a good night.
—Hey, Charles and I want you to come over for lunch tomorrow. You saved our daughter.
—Well, it will be a pleasure. Thank you—I reply, shyly.
—Perfect. See you at one.
I walk back along the long and silent avenue. I have a long way to go to the shelter, a good excuse to reflect on the strange night I just experienced.
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