The Burnout

by Sophie Kinsella

“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.”