seeing his cheeks flush. He’s a bit vulnerable. Like a flash it’s gone, cheeky-chappy persona reinstated.
“You into sports?” I enquire, feigning innocence after my Facebook stalking.
“Mountainboarding’s my passion.”
“That explains the injuries.” I point to his lacerated elbows.
“I fractured my hand last year. It absolutely
caned
for weeks. Could stand the pain but not being able to ride really got to me. Set my training back and I messed up the comps. This is my year though. I’m ready.”
“When’s the comp?”
July. Read it on Facebook.
“The UK Board Battle’s in July, but got a warm-up comp at the weekend. Come watch me win, tiger!”
“I might,” I say casually.
I’m so there
.
I get up and do another spring. And another.
“Slow down, you’ll tumble right out of the park!”
I muster an upside-down frown. “I like to tumble.”
“You’re quite the
woman
. Bendy. I like that.”
“I just do it now and then. Helps me relax.”
“You stressed then?”
“A little. New school. Coursework. Future depending on results. Pushy mother who wants me to be a scientist or a doctor or lawyer or practically anything other than what I might want to be.”
“You shouldn’t get hung up over that stuff. Havelock and school. It’s just another stick in the spokes. You gotta ride that bike of life, tiger. Grab the handlebars and pedal. Forget about them.”
“You come out with some bollocks. Really. You do.” I sit on one of the swings, out of breath. But maybe Finn’s right. I should do what I want.
“You love it, tiger.” I steal a glance at him, his eyes wide with excitement. “Hey, can you teach me how to do that flippy thing?”
I take a run and cartwheel. “This?”
“Yeah.”
“If you want.”
Finn gets up and bins his chips. He starts stretching, pulling one arm, then the other, across his chest. He touches his toes.
“Stand with your legs about a shoulder-width apart and raise your arms.”
“Like this?”
“A little wider.” Finn moves his legs further apart. “You might want to hoist your jeans up, so you can move more easily.”
“So I don’t get my knackers caught, you mean.” He pulls his trousers up and tightens his belt a notch. “This is not a good look for me.” He grins.
“Arms up.”
He lifts them but they’re still bent at the elbow. I walk towards him and pull his arms straight. His doe eyes sparkle in the evening light. I catch myself dwelling on them a little too long, caught in the power of those hypnotic pools. For a second it seems like he might lean in and kiss me. And oh, the thought is too much. I move to his side. Probably my imagination.
“Step out with your right leg. Rock from one foot to the other for a moment to get a feel for it. Imagine you’re a giant
X
.”
“OK.” Finn rocks backwards and forwards on the spot, like someone keeps pressing Play, Pause, Rewind, Play, on him.
“When you’re ready, build up some momentum. Then put your right hand down, followed by your left hand and kick up to the sky. Think of the
X
shape you’re making. Rotate your whole body.”
“Oh, just rotate your whole body. It’s that simple.”
“You should be good at this; you must do flippy things on your board all the time.”
I demonstrate the cartwheel again.
“I’ve got it, I think.” Finn hesitates. “OK, here I go.”
He throws his legs up, but it’s more of a hop than a rotation. I have to laugh.
“Good try. But you” – instinctively I pat him on the back – “might need some practice.”
“Diplomatic of you to say, but perhaps I’m not the tumbling type. Unless it’s off my board. Thanks for the lesson. Could we have another one, tomorrow at four?”
“Yeah, all right. Maybe I can help you, Mr Masterson, to
master
the humble forward roll.”
CHAPTER 11
Next day, I’m marooned on Swoon Island. In Tutorial, I stare at Finn’s back like he might grow wings and fly off like an angel. At break, I’m
“You into sports?” I enquire, feigning innocence after my Facebook stalking.
“Mountainboarding’s my passion.”
“That explains the injuries.” I point to his lacerated elbows.
“I fractured my hand last year. It absolutely
caned
for weeks. Could stand the pain but not being able to ride really got to me. Set my training back and I messed up the comps. This is my year though. I’m ready.”
“When’s the comp?”
July. Read it on Facebook.
“The UK Board Battle’s in July, but got a warm-up comp at the weekend. Come watch me win, tiger!”
“I might,” I say casually.
I’m so there
.
I get up and do another spring. And another.
“Slow down, you’ll tumble right out of the park!”
I muster an upside-down frown. “I like to tumble.”
“You’re quite the
woman
. Bendy. I like that.”
“I just do it now and then. Helps me relax.”
“You stressed then?”
“A little. New school. Coursework. Future depending on results. Pushy mother who wants me to be a scientist or a doctor or lawyer or practically anything other than what I might want to be.”
“You shouldn’t get hung up over that stuff. Havelock and school. It’s just another stick in the spokes. You gotta ride that bike of life, tiger. Grab the handlebars and pedal. Forget about them.”
“You come out with some bollocks. Really. You do.” I sit on one of the swings, out of breath. But maybe Finn’s right. I should do what I want.
“You love it, tiger.” I steal a glance at him, his eyes wide with excitement. “Hey, can you teach me how to do that flippy thing?”
I take a run and cartwheel. “This?”
“Yeah.”
“If you want.”
Finn gets up and bins his chips. He starts stretching, pulling one arm, then the other, across his chest. He touches his toes.
“Stand with your legs about a shoulder-width apart and raise your arms.”
“Like this?”
“A little wider.” Finn moves his legs further apart. “You might want to hoist your jeans up, so you can move more easily.”
“So I don’t get my knackers caught, you mean.” He pulls his trousers up and tightens his belt a notch. “This is not a good look for me.” He grins.
“Arms up.”
He lifts them but they’re still bent at the elbow. I walk towards him and pull his arms straight. His doe eyes sparkle in the evening light. I catch myself dwelling on them a little too long, caught in the power of those hypnotic pools. For a second it seems like he might lean in and kiss me. And oh, the thought is too much. I move to his side. Probably my imagination.
“Step out with your right leg. Rock from one foot to the other for a moment to get a feel for it. Imagine you’re a giant
X
.”
“OK.” Finn rocks backwards and forwards on the spot, like someone keeps pressing Play, Pause, Rewind, Play, on him.
“When you’re ready, build up some momentum. Then put your right hand down, followed by your left hand and kick up to the sky. Think of the
X
shape you’re making. Rotate your whole body.”
“Oh, just rotate your whole body. It’s that simple.”
“You should be good at this; you must do flippy things on your board all the time.”
I demonstrate the cartwheel again.
“I’ve got it, I think.” Finn hesitates. “OK, here I go.”
He throws his legs up, but it’s more of a hop than a rotation. I have to laugh.
“Good try. But you” – instinctively I pat him on the back – “might need some practice.”
“Diplomatic of you to say, but perhaps I’m not the tumbling type. Unless it’s off my board. Thanks for the lesson. Could we have another one, tomorrow at four?”
“Yeah, all right. Maybe I can help you, Mr Masterson, to
master
the humble forward roll.”
CHAPTER 11
Next day, I’m marooned on Swoon Island. In Tutorial, I stare at Finn’s back like he might grow wings and fly off like an angel. At break, I’m
Similar Books
