Page 11 of The Surfer

It’d be a big thing for me.

Photo taken, Sandy winks and leans over to pick up my bag, leaving me to hold the giant stuffed Kangaroo. “I can’t stand it in here anymore,” she says. “Let’s get to the car. I’m sure you’re aching for a shower.”

I shrug, resisting the temptation to smell my armpits. “Oh, more than you’d believe, Sandy. More than you’d believe.”

* * *

Sandy’s car is super, super nice.

Look, I’m not a car girl, I can barely even drive or tell you the difference between a Ferrari or a Lamborghini, but even I can tell that this is one nice ride. It’s some kind of sports car. Tinted windows, shiny exterior, dark leather seats. The whole lot.

Super, super nice.

“Fancy,” I remark upon seeing it stationed on the top level of the airport parking lot.

Sandy rolls her eyes at my comment, embarrassed. “Yeah, it’s nicer than a normal car on a teacher’s salary, but that’s only because dad really, really wanted to give it to me as a gift for my birthday.”

I nod. “Right.”

Don’t forget how crazy rich their family is. Or how the mere mention of their name can open up the border.

“I’m against taking money from dad, but he insisted. He told me that no child of his is driving around in a shit car. They are his exact words, and you can’t change his mind once he’s made a decision.”

To be honest, I’m kinda glad Sandy’s the first one to mention money. With her family being one of the richest families in Australia, probably the richest in her state, I’ve always felt super weird ever mentioning money in our conversations, even in passing. We’ve never really spoken about her family’s wealth at all, and I never want to raise it. Sandy’s my best friend and what money she has or doesn’t have is really none of my concern. I’m sure she, and her dad, have enough people forcing themselves into their lives just for a quick buck as it is without me making it an issue wedging between us as friends. That isn't me. That’s not what I’m doing by being Sandy’s friend. That isn’t who I’m.

And what I admire about Sandy is that she isn't like that at all either. She doesn’t live off her dad’s empire, instead, she made her own way in the world. She works as a teacher at the local private school, paying for her own way in life. She’s paid for everything she owned, except for this car. She’s independent, even despite her dad’s efforts to lavish her with an inheritance.

And that’s another reason why she’s my best friend.

She unlocks the car, pushing my bag onto the back seat. We somehow manage to shove in the giant Kangaroo and then we jump into the front. Sandy turns on the ignition and we zoom out of there, out of the airport parking lot, and onto the highway.

Australia.

I stare out the window as we speed down the highway in Sandy’s fast sports car. I’ve never been to another country before. I just look out the car window in awe at the foreign countryside shooting past.

I’ve seen films about Australia and have always thought it beautiful, but actually seeing it with my own eyes is breathtaking.

New Water, Sandy’s hometown, is, as its name suggests, situated right next to the ocean. It’s just what you imagine of a postcard-ready snapshot of an Australian beach town. Lots of white houses nestled between gum trees. Long sandy beaches barely touched. Rolling hills into the horizon. Picture perfect.

Better take a photo and send it to Mom. She’ll love this.

With my face pressing hard against the window, I take it all in. It doesn’t matter how stressed and tired and dirty I am from the endless flights; the countryside is just so damn beautiful.

I can’t believe I’m really here.

This is a long way from the small cramped apartment I share with my Mom in Queens. This is a long way from the skyscrapers and tightly packed urban landscape back home.

As I stare out the car window, I feel Sandy’s hand on my knee. I turn back around to see her smiling at me, her other hand on the steering wheel. “I’m so glad you’ve come,” she says. “I’m so glad you’ve decided to do this with my brother.”

Ah. So, we’re already talking about Cove then?

Here we go.

“I’m pretty taken aback when you first asked me about it,” I reply.

“I know. It’s a big ask, especially with Cove. But I’m glad you’ve come,” Sandy says. “Are you sure you’re okay doing this? You still don’t have to if you don’t want.”

I look at her stunning blue eyes. She looks just like a typical Aussie surfer girl you’d see on one of their famous drama soaps. Beautiful, blonde, and tanned. She could be related to a Hemsworth. “You’re crazy? I’m here. I’m happy to do this,” I reply.