Read Online The Only Exception by Abigail Moore - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Abigail Moore
Ads: Link
when I get there.
“Stoked,” I reply.
“Good,” he says, nodding. After both my hair and breakfast are finished, Papaw takes my board out and straps it to the roof of the beater. Papaw, Grammy and I load up and move out, reaching the beach ten minutes later. We pile out of the car, unhook the board and follow the other teens carrying their boards onto the sand. At the sign in table, I sign in, get my shirt (pink, number 15), quickly find McKayla and pull her towards a spot on the shore.
Her parents and my grandparents follow us and set down their chairs and bags and other random stuff. We throw down our boards and before I can even get my surf wax out, I hear shouting and five local reporters and their camera men or photographers rush over to us. I stand and smile at them.
“Andrea! Welcome back to Oahu,” one woman greets. I’d hate to have to wear what these people have to wear to cover a surf competition. Heels and a women’s dress suit? Heck no.
“Thank you,” I reply. “I’m excited to be home!”
“What happened to your eye?” someone else inquires.
“During my first day of training, another surfer dropped in on my wave and when he cut in front of me, he kicked me in the face,” I explain.
“What surfer?”
“Sawyer Hensley,” I answer nonchalantly.
“How have you kept up your surfing while away?” another reporter interrogates.
“I’ve been competing at snowboarding in the winter in New York and I skateboard wherever I am,” I answer. “I take tricks from all three sport and adapt them for each terrain. I guess that’s why everyone says I have such an individualized style.”
“How you do hope to place today?”
“Honestly, I just came to do my best and evaluate where I stand. I know I’ve got some stiff competition and I’m excited to see how I size up,” I respond.
“Is it true that since your last competition, you took on world-famous big wave spot, Mavericks?” a man inquires.
“It is true,” I reply. “I’ve now actually surfed it twice, since typically I stay near the spot with my dad in the summer.”
“What made you come back here?” Channel 3’s correspondent asks.
“I missed my true home,” I reply honestly. “Oahu is my favorite place in the world and nothing can ever change that.” With that, I wave them away and kneel down to start waxing my board.
“Look at you miss Celebrity,” Mac laughs.
“It’s nice to know everybody missed me!” I reply. I pause and peel my shirt off to let the sun shine on my skin.
“Mind if we camp here?” an Aussie accent asks behind me.
“Not at all,” I say, rolling my eyes and turning to Sawyer. He’s already got his rash guard on. The royal blue compliments his skin tone and eyes nicely. A girl about thirteen stands behind him with her white number twenty-seven rash guard on and pink board under her arm. “Who’s this?”
“My sister, Julia,” he introduces. “Julia, this is Andrea and McKayla.”
“Hi Julia,” I greet, smiling. She smiles shyly and says a soft “hi” in return, before turning to her mother, asking her something and running off towards a group of other young girls. “So you’re all surfers are you?” I say quizzically.
“Better believe it,” Sawyer replies. “Actually, we’re real surfers. We make our own boards instead of surfing with those pop-outs you junkyard dogs use.” A junkyard dog is a surfer that has bad technique and goes for bad waves. Instead of going off at the jerkface and saying the choice words I’d like to, I smirk and raise my eyebrows.
“Real surfers, huh? Must be pretty nice boards,” I reply cooly. “I suppose you have to be snake too to be ‘real surfer’?”
“I stand by my earlier statements,” he defends. “I miscalculated and got too close to stop.”
“Well, I suppose we’ll see who the junkyard dog is by tomorrow, won’t we?” I say, finishing off the waxing and grabbing the heat sheet from Grammy. “Do you have my rash
“Stoked,” I reply.
“Good,” he says, nodding. After both my hair and breakfast are finished, Papaw takes my board out and straps it to the roof of the beater. Papaw, Grammy and I load up and move out, reaching the beach ten minutes later. We pile out of the car, unhook the board and follow the other teens carrying their boards onto the sand. At the sign in table, I sign in, get my shirt (pink, number 15), quickly find McKayla and pull her towards a spot on the shore.
Her parents and my grandparents follow us and set down their chairs and bags and other random stuff. We throw down our boards and before I can even get my surf wax out, I hear shouting and five local reporters and their camera men or photographers rush over to us. I stand and smile at them.
“Andrea! Welcome back to Oahu,” one woman greets. I’d hate to have to wear what these people have to wear to cover a surf competition. Heels and a women’s dress suit? Heck no.
“Thank you,” I reply. “I’m excited to be home!”
“What happened to your eye?” someone else inquires.
“During my first day of training, another surfer dropped in on my wave and when he cut in front of me, he kicked me in the face,” I explain.
“What surfer?”
“Sawyer Hensley,” I answer nonchalantly.
“How have you kept up your surfing while away?” another reporter interrogates.
“I’ve been competing at snowboarding in the winter in New York and I skateboard wherever I am,” I answer. “I take tricks from all three sport and adapt them for each terrain. I guess that’s why everyone says I have such an individualized style.”
“How you do hope to place today?”
“Honestly, I just came to do my best and evaluate where I stand. I know I’ve got some stiff competition and I’m excited to see how I size up,” I respond.
“Is it true that since your last competition, you took on world-famous big wave spot, Mavericks?” a man inquires.
“It is true,” I reply. “I’ve now actually surfed it twice, since typically I stay near the spot with my dad in the summer.”
“What made you come back here?” Channel 3’s correspondent asks.
“I missed my true home,” I reply honestly. “Oahu is my favorite place in the world and nothing can ever change that.” With that, I wave them away and kneel down to start waxing my board.
“Look at you miss Celebrity,” Mac laughs.
“It’s nice to know everybody missed me!” I reply. I pause and peel my shirt off to let the sun shine on my skin.
“Mind if we camp here?” an Aussie accent asks behind me.
“Not at all,” I say, rolling my eyes and turning to Sawyer. He’s already got his rash guard on. The royal blue compliments his skin tone and eyes nicely. A girl about thirteen stands behind him with her white number twenty-seven rash guard on and pink board under her arm. “Who’s this?”
“My sister, Julia,” he introduces. “Julia, this is Andrea and McKayla.”
“Hi Julia,” I greet, smiling. She smiles shyly and says a soft “hi” in return, before turning to her mother, asking her something and running off towards a group of other young girls. “So you’re all surfers are you?” I say quizzically.
“Better believe it,” Sawyer replies. “Actually, we’re real surfers. We make our own boards instead of surfing with those pop-outs you junkyard dogs use.” A junkyard dog is a surfer that has bad technique and goes for bad waves. Instead of going off at the jerkface and saying the choice words I’d like to, I smirk and raise my eyebrows.
“Real surfers, huh? Must be pretty nice boards,” I reply cooly. “I suppose you have to be snake too to be ‘real surfer’?”
“I stand by my earlier statements,” he defends. “I miscalculated and got too close to stop.”
“Well, I suppose we’ll see who the junkyard dog is by tomorrow, won’t we?” I say, finishing off the waxing and grabbing the heat sheet from Grammy. “Do you have my rash
Similar Books
