The Burnout

by Sophie Kinsella

knees. “D’you remember how he used to finish every warm-up session? He used to point out to the ocean and say, ‘Go get it.’ ” “Of course I remember,” says Finn. “It was like his blessing. ‘Go get it.’ ” “ ‘Infinite waves, infinite chances,’ ” I say, remembering another of Terry’s sayings, and Finn nods. “ ‘You don’t catch a wave by staring at the sky.’ ” “ ‘No one remembers the wipeouts.’ ” “ ‘Don’t doubt around all day.’ ” Finn imitates Terry’s hoarse voice. “ ‘Seize that wave.’ ” “ ‘Why are you worrying about the sea?’ ” I do my own imitation of Terry. “ ‘The sea sure as hell isn’t worrying about you.’ ” “ ‘The sea sure as hell isn’t worrying about you.’ ” Finn repeats, laughing. “And ‘The ride is it.’ ” I turn my head toward Finn. “Remember that? ‘Kids, you have to enjoy the ride. The ride is it.’ ” “ ‘The ride is it.’ ” “ ‘The ride is it.’

“You took a tumble. The sea had some fun with you, that’s all. But remember this.” He turns and points out to the gray sea. “You’re never failing, you’re learning. Learning how to manage the sea and how to manage yourself. Everything you did today, right or wrong, was experience. Experience! Can’t beat it. And you’ll learn from it, just you wait. Now, did you get any injuries? Any cuts, bruises?”

“No, it doesn’t hurt,” I tell him quickly. “It’s better now.” “Good!” He looks pleased. “So it’s just inside here we have to fix.” He taps his head. “I’d love that,” I say. “Believe me.” “You know what you’ve got to do?” He leans forward, his blue eyes suddenly cogent and intent. “Trust yourself. Believe in yourself. Will you do that?” “I…OK.” My voice is choked. “I’ll try.” “Oh, my dear.” Terry’s eyes cast around the beach again, as though he’s trying to work out the reason for my distress. “Look, look, look,” he resumes eventually. “I know your friends laughed at you. And I’m going to have a word. But what you must remember is this. No one remembers the wipeouts. They don’t! People remember the triumphs!” His blue eyes give a hint of the old twinkle. “They’ll remember all the times you caught that wave and you rode it into shore. I’ve seen you do it,” he adds encouragingly. “I know you can do it.” I can’t move. I can’t reply. His words are hitting me deep inside. “Now,” adds Terry knowledgeably, “you want to know why you wiped out?” “Yes,” I say, desperate to hear his answer. “Tell me. Why did I wipe out?” “Because you tried,” says Terry simply. “You tried, my dear. And that puts you above most people.” He lifts his hand for a high five, and as I gently slap his hand, he clasps mine, his fingers dry and papery. “Believe in yourself. You’ll do well.” “Thanks, Terry.” Two more tears spill down my face, and I wipe them away. “For…everything. Everything.”

“The board is rigid, do you understand?” Terry slaps his board for effect. “It’s helpless. Without your skill, it would get tossed about on the waves. But, luckily, you all have superpowers—let’s call them surferpowers.” He twinkles at us, knowing he’s got everyone’s attention. “So use them! Your surferpower is flexibility.” He points at Finn, and I remember how he sometimes used to do this: give us surferpowers before we went in the water. “Yours is perseverance,” he says, pointing at Sean. “And yours is vision,” he tells Lev. “Eyes forward!” “Eyes forward!” repeats Lev, who is standing stiffly on his board, looking totally uncomfortable in his surfing stance. “Got it!” “What’s mine?” I can’t help asking. I know it’s needy, but I’m worried Terry will drift away and forget me. And I really want a surferpower. For a moment Terry gazes at me with that blank, bewildered look, and I’m afraid I’m too late—but then he snaps back. “Yours is love,” he says, as though it’s obvious. “Can’t surf without love. Why do we get in the water in the first place? Why do we keep on trying, paddling, wiping out, picking ourselves up, going out there again?” He turns to survey the ocean. “Because we love it.”