Caught Inside

Chapter Seventeen

By now, everyone in the gang had turned to look at Alana. She smiled knowingly. "Having secret meetings without me?" she called.

Cole gave her a sheepish look and jogged over. "Sorry," he said a little breathlessly. "We were planning some top-secret stuff."

"And you didn't think to include me in your plans?" She rolled off her left leg and sat Indian-style in the sand. The bottom of her wetsuit was now completely covered in damp sand grains, but she didn't mind. She would be getting in the water soon anyway.

Cole gave her an apologetic look. "I'm not supposed to tell you this, but...we were talking about you. We couldn't exactly include you in our conversation."

"I see." Alana raised an eyebrow. "I hope you only said good things about me."

"Only the best," Cole promised.

Alana chuckled and allowed him to help her to her feet. She figured they had been planning for her birthday, since that was the only major event coming up soon. If that wasn't the case, then they were probably discussing her sponsorship. Some Roxy scouts were on the beach waiting to see her results in today's competition.

The thought of her surfing being scrutinized by professionals made Alana even more nervous. She shoved her hands into the pocket of her sweatshirt and followed Cole towards the gang.

"You ready for Round 1?" Maya asked, placing a hand on Alana's back.

"As ready as I'll ever be, I guess," she said noncommittally.

"You're going to do great," Cole reassured her. "You always do."

"Everyone on this beach knows that you're guaranteed a spot in the semifinals," Blaine said, gesturing to the throngs of people around them. "You've never placed worse than sixth in a competition before."

"Way to make me feel the pressure," Alana said, eliciting a round of laughter from her friends.

"No, but seriously, you'll be fine." Maya gave her a tight hug. "Just surf like you always do. Don't think about whether or not you'll place first, or whether or not there are scouts on the beach watching you. Just get out there and kill it."

Alana bit back a smile and nodded. "I'll try," she promised.

After the announcer quieted the beach with instructions for the first heat of the morning, Alana jogged over to the judges' booth and received her temporary jersey. She tugged it on and headed to the shoreline along with the other girls in her heat.

With her shortboard squeezed between her legs, she bent down and rolled up part of her wetsuit on her right ankle. After fastening her leash, she folded the wetsuit back down over the Velcro to secure it, and pulled her shortboard up and underneath her arm.

Alana heard the hoots and hollers of various people behind her. She picked out her own name a few times, along with the name of another girl from the Ventura High Surf Team named Amber. But as soon as the announcer's voice came on the speakers, Alana closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She tuned out the voices and let her mind focus on the sound of crashing waves, the way the sea-breeze whipped stray hairs around her bun, and the feeling of damp sand underneath her feet. Her toes wiggled their way deeper between the grains. Then the air horn sounded.

The girls sprinted into the water. By the time Alana opened her eyes and leaped forward, her long legs had already secured her a spot in the front of the pack. She glided onto her shortboard and began paddling. Long strokes. Even paddles. Drive and glide.

A huge crash and spray of whitewater jerked everyone's attention to the horizon. Alana felt her heart beat a little faster as she observed the big set looming outside. She had surfed larger waves than these, but only for fun. Having to surf overhead waves in a competition was a different matter. She still needed to be cautious and calculating, but without the risky moves she would usually attempt while freesurfing. This was a whole new ballgame.

While her mind began formulating different strategies, Alana let her body run on autopilot. She duckdived under a few small waves, navigating her way through the churning whitewash. Fortunately, the girls didn't have to duckdive under any of the larger set waves, as the ocean went calm minutes before they reached the critical area of the impact zone. It was a clean paddle to the lineup, where they sat upright on their boards and waited for the next waves to show. Alana bobbed up and down with one leg bent over the center of her board, relaxed and at ease—or so she appeared.

In reality, her heart was pounding. Now that she was actually in the water, her adrenaline had skyrocketed. She could only imagine what would happen when she finally caught a wave.

To the left and right, the girls could see other waves breaking along the stretch of the beach, along with some surfers attempting to catch and ride them. But inside the competition area, which was marked with buoys, the beginning of a set was just arriving. Alana glanced over at her opponents and saw a hint of fear in their eyes. Good. They're just as scared as me.

The first wave that rolled towards them was small—by that day's standards—but one of the girls paddled into it anyway. The other three competitors watched over their shoulders as she was suddenly pitched off her board when the wave jacked up at the sandbar.

Alana swallowed. She wouldn't make the same mistake. These waves were fast and hollow, which meant smart positioning and fast maneuvering were needed.

Unsurprisingly, the other girls let the remaining waves in the set go by. They paddled quickly over the other four swells. Each one was slightly bigger and steeper than the last, and when Alana saw the fourth loom up in front of her, she could already feel the powerful offshore spray from the folding lip.

Before a single thought of hesitation could cross her mind, she swiveled her board around and stroked into the wave. She was suddenly picked up and jolted forward, and below her, the blue-gray water receded rapidly into the rising crest of the wave. Alana didn't let her eyes linger on the ten-foot drop, however, as she focused her gaze on a patch of water slightly to the right. That was where she needed to go if she wanted to make it past the whitewater that was soon to follow.

With her hands gripping the rails, she stood up, just as she had done fluently and fluidly a million times before. Then she dropped into the wave.