The Tour

seven / fanboy

I glanced back at the shoreline, peering through the crowd of people. It had been a few weeks since the end of the Australian leg of the tour, and we were back in the United States for a comp. Specifically, I was sitting out on my board next to the Huntington Beach Pier. The waves weren't quite as nice as they had been in Australia, but you could only ask for so much.

No matter how hard I looked, I couldn't seem to spot my parents on the beach. They had promised to visit because it was one of the closer stops to home, and I was itching to see them. The escape from home had been nice at first, but the distance wasn't easy.

One of the surfers from South Africa was taking off on a wave and managed to get tubed for a few seconds at the end of the wave. Cheers could be heard from the shore, and I groaned internally. Just another five points that would have to be recovered within the next ten minutes.

Frustrated that I had simultaneously wasted time looking for my parents instead of the waves and had lost my lead, I turned back to the horizon. It was astoundingly flat at the moment. The seconds ticked by quickly, and my mood was not improved when another surfer asked for a score check.

"No need to rub it in my face," I thought spitefully. There were only a few minutes until the heat would end, and only the winner would advance to the semifinals.

Finally a small set was visible on the horizon. I maneuvered my board into a position to catch the second wave and took off, gliding on the surface of the wave. It was starting to close out, so after a frantic glance at the lip I decided to attempt an air to get a few more points.

The second that I was in the air I realized that it wasn't going to end well. The wave was moving too quickly, and all of my momentum was going straight up instead of forward. My board continued into the air as I released the rails and tumbled into the water below.

Wave after wave crashed over me, and by the time that I was able to reach the surface and paddle anywhere the loud cry of the buzzer filled the air. The South African surfer raised her hands in triumph, already knowing that my meager pair of turns wouldn't be enough to upset her.

The water pushed me back to the shore quickly, and I made my way up the beach with my head down. Plenty of people had already gotten their autographs this weekend, and they had at least caught me in a good mood. I had almost made it to a tent when a pair of firm hands grabbed me by the shoulders.

"You're good River, it happens. Come see your mom," my dad peered down into my eyes with a soft expression.

Whenever he attempted to calm me down after a tough loss, I only ended up getting more frustrated. Hearing that I hadn't surfed well only made me feel worse about myself, and I struggled to shake myself out of it as he led me over to my mom.

She rushed into my arms with a hug, beaming and completely disregarding my soaked jersey. I forced a smile as I leaned over her shoulder, stiffening up as I tried to lose the edge of my frustration.

"Hey, hon. I missed you so much," my mom sighed after releasing me. "I'm sorry that it didn't go better today, but we can head back to our rental and forget about it.

Just as I was turning around to head back to the Ripcurl area and collect my stuff, a pair of strong arms engulfed me.

"You didn't think that I would miss out on a chance to see my baby sister, did you?" Evan grinned at me as he set me down.

I groaned into his shoulder before seeing another pair of figures behind him. They each gave me a hug, albeit a slightly less enthusiastic ones than Evan's. "How did you guys get here?" I wondered.

"We figured that we would put our one weekend off from baseball to good use." Will said as he released me from his hug.

"Well then, I'm sorry that I couldn't put on a better performance."