wetsuit; only the stupid holiday crowd had to brave the chill in just swimwear and skin . A big wave washed over her legs and Silva caught her breath.But if she didn’t want to hear Bo jeering ‘Told you so’ she had to get right into the sea so she pushed the crocodile in front of her and launched herself at it, gasping as another wave swooshed right over it and soaked her scorched thighs.
The crocodile wasn’t easy to manoeuvre. Ahead of her Silva could see very small children being helped by parents to ride on blow-up lilos and sharks and dolphins and getting giddy with laughter, whereas here she was looking hopeless and inelegant trying to get on top of the crocodile and floundering around. The idea had been to lie on it, paddle out a little way and then ride back on the soft waves that broke on the shore, but it wasn’t that easy. At last, she managed to grab the thing and push herself aboard and wallow for a bit on the water. She felt a sudden moment of panic, not knowing whether the tide was going out or coming in. Suppose she was washed out to sea, really fast? You read about people. There were stories every year where the lifeboat rescuers said how stupid someone had been, letting their child drift miles out on a beach toy. She could easily be out of her depth already and she turned to look back to see if the beach lifeguard had noticed her. The twisting movement dislodged her from the crocodile and she fell off into deep water and turned to swim back to the shore, furious with herself for being so shaken. When her feet hit the gritty seabed she staggered upright and breathed properly at last.Ridiculous, she thought: she was a really good swimmer, always in the school team, with life-saving qualifications too. She’d have been fine; it was just English sea was so wavy . Now she’d lost the crocodile and her mum would be cross because it belonged with the house, not to her. She stood for a while, squinting out at the sparkling sea, wondering where the stupid toy had gone.
‘Hey, don’t forget your little friend.’ A boy’s voice beside her sounded teasing. A surfer stood beside her, his arm round the upright crocodile as if it were a human he could lean on. ‘Oh, it’s you!’ he said. ‘Hello Kitty!’ He looked down at her bottom and grinned.
Oh lordy, the pants boy from the shop. And here she was all red-stripy and shaken and her hair all seawater-mussed-up. Great.
‘Say thank you nicely to me for rescuing your mate here,’ he said.
‘Thank you,’ she muttered, staring at her feet and holding out her hand for the crocodile.
‘Is that it?’ he asked, pulling the croc back against him. ‘Isn’t my heroism worth a snog?’
‘ What? ’ Silva’s quick brain thought two things: first that she should tell him she was actually only, like, thirteen but second that she couldn’t wait to tell Willow. How impressed would she be? At some point this holiday, she’d have to get a photo.
‘Only joking,’ he said, which disappointed her. ‘Here’syour pet. You need a lead for him, like we have for the boards.’
‘Yeah. Like, right.’ Leads? As for dogs? Then she noticed his surfboard lying on the sand just ahead of her, with a curly blue cable like old-fashioned telephone wire. ‘What do you tie it to?’ she asked, and wondered, as he cracked up laughing, what she’d said that was so funny.
Eventually he stopped laughing. ‘Only my ankle,’ he said. ‘But respect for having a great imagination. What’s your name? Or is it really Kitty?’
‘Silva.’
‘Right. Silver. Like gold.’
‘No. Silva as in trees and stuff. Wood. Latin.’ She shrugged, ‘Y’know, like parents .’ They were walking up the beach now and Silva hoped Bo wasn’t watching. She’d never hear the end of it.
‘I’m Jules,’ the boy said.
‘Like diamonds?’
‘Oh, you’re a sharp one, aren’t you? My kind of girl.’ He laughed, reached out and tugged the end of her wet hair, then ran off back to
The crocodile wasn’t easy to manoeuvre. Ahead of her Silva could see very small children being helped by parents to ride on blow-up lilos and sharks and dolphins and getting giddy with laughter, whereas here she was looking hopeless and inelegant trying to get on top of the crocodile and floundering around. The idea had been to lie on it, paddle out a little way and then ride back on the soft waves that broke on the shore, but it wasn’t that easy. At last, she managed to grab the thing and push herself aboard and wallow for a bit on the water. She felt a sudden moment of panic, not knowing whether the tide was going out or coming in. Suppose she was washed out to sea, really fast? You read about people. There were stories every year where the lifeboat rescuers said how stupid someone had been, letting their child drift miles out on a beach toy. She could easily be out of her depth already and she turned to look back to see if the beach lifeguard had noticed her. The twisting movement dislodged her from the crocodile and she fell off into deep water and turned to swim back to the shore, furious with herself for being so shaken. When her feet hit the gritty seabed she staggered upright and breathed properly at last.Ridiculous, she thought: she was a really good swimmer, always in the school team, with life-saving qualifications too. She’d have been fine; it was just English sea was so wavy . Now she’d lost the crocodile and her mum would be cross because it belonged with the house, not to her. She stood for a while, squinting out at the sparkling sea, wondering where the stupid toy had gone.
‘Hey, don’t forget your little friend.’ A boy’s voice beside her sounded teasing. A surfer stood beside her, his arm round the upright crocodile as if it were a human he could lean on. ‘Oh, it’s you!’ he said. ‘Hello Kitty!’ He looked down at her bottom and grinned.
Oh lordy, the pants boy from the shop. And here she was all red-stripy and shaken and her hair all seawater-mussed-up. Great.
‘Say thank you nicely to me for rescuing your mate here,’ he said.
‘Thank you,’ she muttered, staring at her feet and holding out her hand for the crocodile.
‘Is that it?’ he asked, pulling the croc back against him. ‘Isn’t my heroism worth a snog?’
‘ What? ’ Silva’s quick brain thought two things: first that she should tell him she was actually only, like, thirteen but second that she couldn’t wait to tell Willow. How impressed would she be? At some point this holiday, she’d have to get a photo.
‘Only joking,’ he said, which disappointed her. ‘Here’syour pet. You need a lead for him, like we have for the boards.’
‘Yeah. Like, right.’ Leads? As for dogs? Then she noticed his surfboard lying on the sand just ahead of her, with a curly blue cable like old-fashioned telephone wire. ‘What do you tie it to?’ she asked, and wondered, as he cracked up laughing, what she’d said that was so funny.
Eventually he stopped laughing. ‘Only my ankle,’ he said. ‘But respect for having a great imagination. What’s your name? Or is it really Kitty?’
‘Silva.’
‘Right. Silver. Like gold.’
‘No. Silva as in trees and stuff. Wood. Latin.’ She shrugged, ‘Y’know, like parents .’ They were walking up the beach now and Silva hoped Bo wasn’t watching. She’d never hear the end of it.
‘I’m Jules,’ the boy said.
‘Like diamonds?’
‘Oh, you’re a sharp one, aren’t you? My kind of girl.’ He laughed, reached out and tugged the end of her wet hair, then ran off back to
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