Caught Inside

Chapter Thirty-Seven

"Your Word is a lamp for my feet and a light for my path...I am severely afflicted; give me life, O Lord, according to Your Word!" – Psalm 119:105, 107

The big swell that hit C Street over the weekend did not arrive alone. It brought a squall of stormy weather along with it, which caused the previously sunny skies to be enveloped with racing storm clouds and dark horizons. For Alana, it fit her mood perfectly.

It was the morning of the surf competition, but despite all of her training, she felt anything but ready. Her body, though fit and strong, was already slumped over in defeat. She burrowed deeper into her sweatshirt and watched the windshield wipers in front of her glide back and forth.

The rain continued to pour down. Alana had surfed in a rainstorm before and found it rather fun, but today it only served to put a damper on the competition.

When Dylan pulled up to the parking lot, Alana saw all the parents and competitors huddling under umbrellas and Easy-Ups on the boardwalk. No one, it seemed, wanted to venture onto the wet, sticky sand.

Dylan turned the key halfway in the ignition and unlocked the doors. Alana wished she could stay home and curl up in front of the TV, but her older brother gently reminded her, "The team is waiting for you."

She sighed and pushed open the door. Immediately, raindrops pelted every square inch of her sweatshirt, but she left her hood down and allowed her hair to get soaked anyway. She was already warm enough as it was—she was wearing her wetsuit underneath her sweatshirt to avoid she changing in the parking lot.

After throwing her clothes on the backseat and grabbing her board, she bid Dylan goodbye and ambled in the direction of the Ventura High surf team.

"Alana!" Maya cried, waving and jumping up and down. "You're late!"

Alana groaned and put on her best fake smile. She really wasn't in the mood for talking, or competing, or even surfing in general. It was a foreign feeling, and her stomach churned anxiously.

After greeting the gang, Coach Kerr, and a few of her other teammates, she found a quite spot on the sand where she could warm up in peace. She knew Coach Alvarez was coming in another thirty minutes or so, just in time to watch her first heat. As she rolled out her muscles in the damp sand, she felt her quads and hamstrings ache from yesterday's training.

When she was done stretching, the first heat of the day was already underway, and Maya was out in the water along with three other girls. Alana stood up, the bottom half of her wetsuit now soaked and covered in wet sand, and watched expectantly. She sincerely hoped her friend would do well.

In the end, Maya claimed second place, which guaranteed her a spot in the next round. But now it was Alana's turn to put on the jersey.

She reluctantly made her way to the water's edge, clutching her shortboard under one arm while rain pattered all around her. As she stood waiting for the air horn to blow, she became acutely aware of the loneliness she suddenly felt. Before every heat of every competition Cole had always been the one to give her a pep-talk on the beach. But he was grounded now. He wouldn't show his face on the surf team for a long time.

With her emotions in a whirl, the horn suddenly went off, and Alana realized she needed to get her mind in the zone. She jerked forward into a sprint, but she was already a step behind the other girls, reaching the water in last place.

The rain seemed almost nonexistent as she crashed through the waves and started paddling. The only evidence that it was raining could be seen in the thousands of the droplets that struck the surface of the water all around Alana.