Page 9 of The Surfer

Gary pauses for a moment. His veneer of a professional take-no-bullshit interrogator disappears, and a certain look comes over his face. I recognize that expression immediately.

It’s a look of fear.

Wow.

What’s going on to cause such a sudden change? What’s in their name to make Gary freak out like this?

He stamps my passport quickly and hands it back to me without a word.

I’m being let into the country without another word.

“Thanks,” I say, surprised at this sudden turn of events.

“Go on through,” Gary replies, quickly waving me through the border control barriers. He’s staring at his computer screen, refusing to even look me in the eye. Or maybe he’s too scared to. “Welcome to Australia.”

I don’t believe my luck. All I have to do is mention Sandy’s name and this government official just waves me through border control into his country despite his suspicions? What have I gotten myself into here?

But I don’t question him, despite my jetlagged ramblings, I’m smart enough not to. I simply pick up my travel bag and stroll right on through the border gate, heading straight towards the Arrival Lounge. Straight through to Sandy.

I mean, I know her family is rich and famous and can open the right doors with the right people, but I didn’t know that just the mere mention of Sandy’s last name would actually physically open the doors at border control. It makes me pause and think.

Think about how my best friend’s family is probably tied up in some pretty heavy illegal shit.

Ripley, what have you gotten yourself into?

And now I’m going to be staying with her and her brother for a very, very long time.

I step into the Arrivals Lounge holding my breath. Well, at least I made it through the border.

Here goes.

Australia.