Emerson and Spencer

chapter one

 Emerson jumped out of her sister's car. She began to walk, slowly and deliberately, towards a jetty. Her bare feet trod over jagged bitumen, its sharp pebbles pinching her soles. She didn’t notice the ache; she walked with purpose. She sauntered over a section of broken glass, each shard glinting dangerously in the dawn. She didn’t care; glass couldn’t hurt her. The wind caught onto the edges of her shorts as she walked toward the sea. Tattered and frayed, they were her trophy. This simple garment represented her absolute refusal to comply to the world around her- but mostly her refusal to comply with her family. Her family was ‘all class’, with sophisticated elegance, conservative clothes and an air of superiority. They liked bands and art; live theatre and operas. Emerson liked grungy, simple, boho clothing that resembled a sullen hippie. She liked dj’s and movies and concerts. She had a laidback approach, comical and devil-may-care. These shorts were her icon.  Emerson looked to her watch. She was late.

Emerson ran, feet burning on the hot concrete, to a jetty. She hoped this was where the sailing camp was taking place, a course she actually wanted to take. Unlike all those others her mother made her do. You see, there was something about sailboats that Emerson liked. The way they caught the wind and rode the waves, strong and dependable. The fun of controlling and gaining knowledge about such a vessel also was attractive; Emerson loved learning. People called her things like smart and talented, but she ignored their words. They simply bounced off her, not denting her blanket of low self-esteem. In her mind, she was boring. Worthless. Nothing. Maybe that’s why I want to go on this damn camp, she thought to herself. I’ve always loved the sea. Maybe it’ll help me. Maybe it’ll fix whatever’s wrong with me. Maybe I’ll make a friend. Maybe I’ll meet someone. Maybe… maybe… maybe… The truth is, she just didn’t know.

She had finally arrived at what looked like where everyone who was doing the camp congregated. She had evidently missed the entire safety briefing and most of how to control the boat- both a shame and dangerous, Emerson thought. The instructor guy was mid-sentence when Emerson began listening. "-a gybe. Look at the wind. Hike if you have to. Do not fall off the boat. Ok. Now go, set up your Pacers." Emerson had no idea whatsoever what was going on, or what any of that meant. Everyone seemed to be in pairs. And there she was, alone. With no clue. Much to Emerson's relief, the instructor guy, who later introduced himself as Trev, wandered up to her. He had noticed Emerson's late arrival thus her lack of knowledge, and also how she appeared to have no partner. Trev shouted, "Anyone willing to pair up with this newbie girl, c'mere."

 A guy her own age jogged towards them. Emerson knew him. She used to go to his school. They were friends- in fact, Spencer was once her best guy friend. Bronzed skin, an athletic build. And eyes the colour of the ocean spread beneath them, a deep cerulean. Wearing a pair of boardies and no shirt. Emerson gazed at his rock hard abs. Surely this could not be the guy she was paired up with? Spencer must be some kind of instructor. Assistant maybe? But no. He was her partner. For the rest of the week. Her mind went blank, as she mindlessly walked towards her boat.