Caught Inside

Chapter Thirty-Eight

"Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble, and He delivered them from their distress. He made the storm be still, and the waves of the sea were hushed. Then they were glad that the waters were quiet, and He brought them to their desired haven." – Psalm 107:28-30

Alana could not remember any of the workings of her mind while she was unconscious. Later, though, as she floated to the surface, revived by her involuntary need for air, she recalled some fragmented thoughts.

After over a minute of being held underwater, her lips finally tasted the sweet luxury of oxygen, and she gulped it down by the mouthful. She was not aware of the crashing waves behind her, the scores of people who watched anxiously from shore, or the competitors in the lineup wondering where Alana had drifted off to. She gasped for air like a fish out of water until her lungs had gotten their fill. Then, opening her eyes and seeing the gray sky above and the churning water all around, she felt the weight of her predicament pressing on her sore eyes and throat.

A wry laugh escaped her lips. How many times had she been caught inside, tossed and tumbled by the waves, only to vow that she would never put herself in that situation again? Yet here she was, feebly treading water, her throat burning from the salt and her head stinging from the result of her underwater concussion.

She reached up with one hand and pressed it lightly against her forehead. The flare of pain caused her to wince and quickly withdraw her palm. However, when she looked down at her splayed fingers, she realized they were only lightly tainted with blood. Apparently her wound wasn't as bad as she'd originally thought.

Good, she thought, her competitive side kicking in. Now I can finish the heat.

Her thoughts now turned towards her lost surfboard. She reached down and felt the Velcro part of her leash still wrapped around her right ankle. Unfortunately, the rest of the leash was nowhere to be found—it looked like Dylan was going to have to buy her another one.

A glance towards shore revealed that her leash was not, in fact, utterly lost. Just a short swim away her shortboard was bobbing on the surface of the water, with the remaining portion of her leash still attached to its tail.

Alana smiled with relief. Thank You, Lord, she thought, ignoring the throbbing of her forehead and beginning to swim towards her board. She reached it a minute later and gratefully climbed on. She only allowed her limbs to rest for a moment, however, because she knew the next set could be on its way at any time.

She launched into a quick paddle. As her adrenaline began pumping once again, she felt the pain in her temple and the soreness in her limbs lessen. But the announcer's voice echoing across the water broke her concentration.

"Surfer in white," he began, his voice crackling through the loudspeaker, "you need 6.50 points. Surfer in yellow, you are in the lead with 15.44 points. Surfer in pink, you need 4.79 points. Surfer in blue, you need 10.83 points."

Alana's jaw dropped open in shock. She felt angry tears threaten to spill down her cheeks. Because of her meager 4.62, she was combo'd. In order to take first place, she, the surfer in blue, needed a 10.83—a score that was impossible to get with only a single wave. She would have to catch not one but two waves, and both scores needed to be above the 8-point range.

With this unsettling news in mind, Alana quickened her pace to the lineup and reached it just as the next set was rolling towards the beach. Another squall of rain brought even more gloom over the water, but to Alana, it only seemed to mirror her miserable thoughts. She had been doing so well in the competition! Now one stupid mistake had cost her a slight injury, a busted leash, and landed her in a combo situation.