The Tour

thirty-three / stop

tw: attempted sexual assault. summary at the bottom if you would prefer to skip there. 

After a semifinal loss at the Sunset Open, the job had brought me back to the mainland. The waves in California were nice, even if they didn't have the size and power of those in Hawaii. The goal for the Santa Cruz Pro was to win; slightly self explanatory, but I was hoping to improve from the last finish. Coach John was also on my back about how the rookie of the year needed to get a win under her belt to prove that it wasn't just beginners luck.

Coach John handed me the wax for my board as I prepared for the elimination round. I wasn't too worried, it was a girl who had qualified for the competition through a qualifying competition that allowed people who weren't on the tour to earn a spot in the event. The other woman barely hung on to her spot on the CT last year, and I had already beaten her in plenty of heats.

I rubbed the wax over the surface of the board until Coach John patted my back, signaling me that it was time to head out. "Go get 'em kid, don't forget to hold yourself inside a barrel for as long as you can. Don't get spit out too early in these conditions."

"Will do, coach," I answered with a nod before jogging out into the waves and throwing myself on the board. It glided forward on its own for a couple of seconds before I was forced to paddle to keep the board's velocity up. The other two surfers were on my tail, scrambling for the prime positions.

A set came in just as we reached the typical lineup location, and I locked onto a wave, getting a few hard turns in before bailing out the back. The score that came in five minutes later was only a three, which was disappointing for the amount of water that I threw around.

The older woman took off on her own wave, only managing one swooping cutback before she attempted an air, missing the rail grab and falling into the water. The other girl caught a wave after her, but it was small and wouldn't get her much in the points department.

Apparently the judges had other things in mind, though, because the announcer came back to give both women sixes. I gave Strider, the in-water announcer, a look as he told the cameras how both women had doubled my score.

Somehow, the same thing continued to happen. I would perform well on a wave, even landing a 360, and somehow winding up with fewer points than whoever surfed the next wave poorly. In general, I tried to refrain from grading other people's surfing in my head, but this was not adding up.

The girl from the qualifying series had just earned a 8.50 for her half a second tube. That was the highest wave score of the day, and I had literally watched Tatiana get a 7 for her five second tube earlier today.

"What is going on with these scores?" I yelled at Strider, who turned back around to update the camera on my lack of enthusiasm. It was definitely not the best move that I had ever made for my good Christian athlete reputation, but I was mad. The other two women glared at me as I paddled back, but I just raised my eyebrows.

I had priority and took the next large wave, smiling as it arced over me. The water tried to push me out of the pocket, but I dragged my arm through the face to stay covered by the water. A moment later the foam ball spit me out, and I raised my arms as the crowd on the beach cheered. That ought to be enough to get me out in front.

The judges clearly were not vibing with me today. One five point wave later had me nodding at the girl who had made it through to the next round. I was too petty about the scores to offer her my usual handshake, and I didn't care if anyone had anything to say about it.

"What the hell was that?" I whispered through clenched teeth.

"Don't say anything, your publicist is already on the phone for you," Coach John rolled his eyes as he took my board, pushing me into the closest empty tent. "Your surfing was fine, it was unlucky. I'll see you at six tomorrow for practice. You're not going home early, even if you're out."