The Education of Sebastian by Jane Harvey-Berrick Read Free Book Online Page A

for your article.”
    “That would be great: it all looks kind of the same to me.”
    He laughed lightly. “Not really. See, Mitch is using a long board with a rounded nose. He can work the smaller waves with that, and do some hippy shit like hang ten. Ches is riding a short board, so he can slash across the wave, catch some air and do the more radical stuff.”
    I had no idea what he’d just said to me: it was like learning a foreign language, but for some reason his words made me smile.
    “What sort of board do you have – have you borrowed?”
    “This is a short board, a thruster; same as Ches and Fido. See how fast they’re going there? You can’t do that on a long board.”
    I began to see what Sebastian meant about the surfing styles as he patiently pointed out the differences, then named and described the different maneuvers. I made copious notes and was pretty sure I could turn this into a workable article.
    “How many guys on the Base surf?”
    “Quite a lot: once you’ve got your board, the ocean is free. You can be an individual out here – you know, different from military stuff.”
    I got what he meant immediately: there were no rules out here, no regulations, no one barking orders at you.
    “Well, there are some rules,” Sebastian said, seriously. “Firstly, you don’t drop in and steal someone’s wave. That’s bad etiquette. The guy who takes off first: that’s his wave.”
    “And the second?”
    “You go help anyone in trouble.”
    Obvious, when you think about it.
    “Sebastian, don’t let me keep you from your friends; I’m quite happy to sit here and watch.”
    He shook his head and looked at me intently.
    “I can surf anytime; I’d rather be here with you.”
    I stared down at my notepad, unsure what to say, but absolutely certain that if I looked up I’d be caught in the net of his blue-green gaze. But I also needed to be clear.
    “I wish you wouldn’t say things like that, Sebastian. I’m a married woman. It makes me… uncomfortable.”
    I still hadn’t been able to look up. I dug my toes further into the sand, as if burying one small part of my body could hide me from him.
    “I really like you, Caroline,” he said softly.
    I felt his hand touch my arm; he was trembling.
    I had to look up. His face held such an expression of longing, mixed with anxiety. I slid my sunglasses from my hair to cover my face and stood up, abruptly.
    Walking along the beach and breathing deeply helped restore some of my stolen equilibrium.
    Why the hell did he have such an effect on me?
    But I knew why: I was attracted to him. He was beautiful and sweet and kind – and he liked me. I had no idea why. I mean, I was nothing special – just an insipid, boring woman who lived down the road from him. What on earth was there to interest someone like him?
    Why had he touched me like that? He said he liked me – what did that mean? What did he want?
    I was irritated with myself as I stalked up the beach. It was beyond ridiculous. I was beyond ridiculous.
    For fuck’s sake. He’s just a kid. Write your damned article and you won’t see him again.
    The thoughts were a warning siren blaring through my skull.
    I was relieved when Mitch paddled towards the shore. I made certain I asked him endless questions, about surfing being so resolutely non-military and a way for Base personnel to relax. I wasn’t giving anyone else a chance to talk to me: certainly not Sebastian.
    “Well, the thing is, Caroline, there’s just no point to surfing,” said Mitch thoughtfully. “It isn’t like skiing; you can’t use it for anything. You might get military skiers like they have in those Nordic countries, but the military doesn’t have any use for surfing. Plus there’s a certain kind of rebelliousness to surfers. Call it individualism or what you will, but some people sure don’t like it.”
    “Donald Hunter?” I said quietly.
    Mitch’s eyes narrowed and he looked around quickly to make sure Sebastian