Clash

by Rick Bundschuh Bethany Hamilton

  Jenna tried everything she could think of to fit the board into the car. She laid the passenger seat flat, but the board would not squeeze into the space. She rolled the back windows down and tried to shove the board through the car sideways, but then she realized that the first passing car would no doubt snap off the nose of the surfboard. She opened the trunk but found that its tiny space would not come close to accommodating an eight-foot surfboard.

  When she had just about given up, Jenna spotted a latch on top of the back seat. She pulled it, and half of the back seat flopped forward. Victory!

  Through a combination of laying down the front and back seats, Jenna was able to get most of her board into the car, with only a foot of it sticking past the rear bumper. She carefully wrapped the back end of the surfboard in a towel and then used a bungee cord to hold down the trunk lid.

  Her mom came out of the house and took one look at the packing job Jenna had performed and commented, “Good thing there are only two of us!”

  Jenna couldn’t agree more. She smiled and slid into the backseat behind her mother. She was glad that her mother’s boyfriend was not around today.

  The car started up, and slack key Hawaiian music flooded out over the radio.

  Normally Jenna would have asked her mom to change the station to something with more of a rock ’n’ roll sound, but today this was just fine. It sounded like the kind of music to go to the beach with — a soundtrack for a surfer girl.

  When Jenna arrived at Pine Trees, she found the scene completely different than the day before.

  Yesterday the place bustled with people and surfboards. Today the parking lot was almost empty and only a few clusters of people dotted the beach. The water was almost vacant of surfers.

  She pulled her surfboard out of the car, actually said thank you to her mother, and slowly walked down the sandy trail to the beach.

  Jenna was disappointed to see that none of the Hanalei girls were around. She laid the surfboard in the sand with the deck up and spread out her beach towel. Then she vigorously covered her pale body with sunblock. She didn’t notice that the warm tropical sun had quickly melted the wax on her surfboard, turning the deck liquid with its slippery wax.

  Jenna stared at the ocean and wondered how she should start. She secretly had hoped that someone — Malia, Bethany, or one of the other girls — would give her some pointers about surfing. But no one was there.

  She would have to do it herself.

  Jenna stood up and fumbled with the leash. She fastened it on her left ankle, which turned out to be the wrong leg, because she tried to stand on the surfboard and felt very awkward — like the leash might trip her. So she switched the leash to her right ankle.

  Jenna picked up her surfboard, and the runny wax smeared along her arm. “Gross!” she said out loud.

  Trudging toward the crashing waves, Jenna tried to remember what she had seen the day before so that she could imitate it.

  She made a painful mistake. Rather than point the nose of her board toward the ocean, she put the board in the water sideways and tried to push it out to sea in that manner.

  The first small wave to come rolling in picked up the surfboard and smacked it hard into Jenna’s shins.

  “Oww!” she cried, rubbing her legs.

  When she recaptured her surfboard, Jenna pushed it a little way into the surf and then flopped on top of it. But the greasy sunblock that coated her body acted like butter on top of the now unwaxed board, and she slid off the side almost immediately. Over and over again she tried to find her balance in merely lying down on the board, but a bit of rolling whitewater kept sending her tumbling into the surf.

  Jenna realized that this surfing sport was a lot harder than it looked and that she was going to need help.

  Bethany and the girls trickled down the beach as they lugged their boards and gear, checking out the waves with the ease that comes from years of practice.

  “The swells look a lot bigger today,” Jasmine said. Bethany grinned at her, feeling the excitement of the challenge building inside.

  “Yeah! No time to lose!” she declared as she quickly pulled the chunk of white surf wax from a pocket in her towel and scraped it across the surface of her board. A thick fresh coat of wax roughed up the wax that already covered the deck.

  “There limps Malia!” Monica announced, looking up from working on her own board.

  Sure enough, Malia was slowly hobbling down the trail, with a small knapsack on her back and a folding beach chair under her arm. She wore shorts and a T-shirt over her bathing suit.

  “Malia, the surf has picked up,” said Bethany excitedly.

  “Yeah, I can see!” said Malia. “Looks like I’m watching today though.”

  “Yeah, too bad,” Bethany said, encouraged to see her friend’s smile. “I’m going to ride that far sand bar. It’s cranking out perfect lefts!”

  Bethany looked up to see a wet, pathetic figure stumble from the water. She was clearly exhausted and dragging behind her an old yellowed eight-foot surfboard.

  It was Jenna.

  Bethany quickly bent back over her board again and began to work on it so she wouldn’t have to deal with the new girl. The other girls seemed to take her cue and continued to work on their boards in silence.

  “Hi, Bethany!” Jenna said weakly.

  “Uh, um, hi!” Bethany said with a sideways glance to Malia, who was now frowning. She looked away from Malia and tried to brush away the small pang of guilt that nudged at her heart.

  Suddenly, the crack of a wave grabbed Bethany’s and the other girls’ attention. A huge set had just bombed into the bay.

  “Whoa!” Bethany exclaimed.

  “Um, Bethany,” Jenna said, interrupting Bethany’s thoughts of surfing, “I just got this surfboard and was . . . well, I’m kinda having a hard time figuring out how to do this, and I was wondering if you . . . especially since Malia is hurt . . . could give me a little help?”

  Now it’s true that the excitement of the magnificent waves rolling in had captured Bethany’s attention. And it was also true that the presence of the restless girls in the pack behind her saying, “Come on, let’s go!” put some pressure on. And it was true that this wet, pale girl was not part of her friendship circle or even on the radar screen of being a potential candidate to join the Hanalei Girls Surf Team. But what was most true was that Bethany didn’t really want to get to know this new girl. She had already had a glimpse into what the girl was like and had decided she didn’t care at all for what she saw.

  So she gave Jenna a polite brush-off.

  “Well, maybe later,” Bethany said. “I’m gonna surf right now!” Then she added, trying to be helpful, “You’ll probably find it a lot easier if you go up the beach and try to figure it out where the surf’s not so big!”

  Bethany saw the hopeful look on Jenna’s face disappear as she quickly mumbled, “Okay, I understand,” and turned away. She saw it — but pretended she didn’t. Instead, Bethany slipped the piece of wax back into the pocket of her towel. When she looked up, Malia locked eyes with her, a disapproving frown deepening on her face.

  “Grrrrr,” growled Malia softly to Bethany. Nobody but Bethany heard with the crashing sound of waves in the background.

  “Come on, Malia! Everyone has gotta learn on their own,” Bethany said, knowing full well what Malia was saying to her. “I’m going surfing!” It sounded childish even to her own ears. She took off in a run to catch up with the other girls and paddled out into the lineup.

  Bethany reveled in the sun-sparkled water, listening to the laughter of her friends. The waves were as awesome as she had imagined. It was one of those sweet days you wanted to remember forever. She was surfing well and strong, shredding wave after wave with skill and grace, out-surfing everyone else. But she wasn’t having any fun.

  She couldn’t get Malia’s growl out of her mind.

  All at once Bethany felt the rush of feelings that she had tried to ignore over the last
week flood over her heart. She felt guilty, selfish, and foolish. She knew she hadn’t shown any mercy or understanding toward Jenna. She also knew that she had chosen to ignore the fact that her stable family life was a blessing that others might never get to taste.

  Someone had asked for her help, and she had chosen to satisfy her own selfish desires instead. And now she was riding the best waves she had surfed in months, but she couldn’t enjoy them.

  Okay, God, Bethany prayed, cringing on the inside. I’m sorry, I blew it.

  “I’m going back in!” Bethany suddenly announced as Monica paddled past her.

  “What?” Monica glanced over, startled.

  “I’ll be back. I’ve got something to do,” Bethany said with grim determination.

  “Well, I hope you don’t mind if I take your waves while you’re gone,” Monica called after her. But Bethany wasn’t listening. She quickly caught the next wave and rode it all the way to the beach.

  Unfastening the leash from her ankle, she trotted back to where Malia slumped in her beach chair.

  “Where’d that kid go?” Bethany asked Malia, feeling a strange urgency come over her.

  “You mean Jenna?” Malia said, shielding her eyes against the sun.

  “Yeah,” said Bethany. “I told her to go up the beach. The waves are smaller and easier to learn on next to the pier.” Bethany squinted in that direction. “But I can’t see her.”

  “I see somebody about to go into the water down the beach,” Malia said, suddenly trying to stand. “And that’s the worst place to go if you’re a beginner.”

  Bethany turned and stared intently in the direction Malia had pointed.

  “That’s her!” Bethany exclaimed, and then she took off running as fast as her long legs could fl y.

  nine

  Jenna had sat on the sand for a long time, trying to catch her breath from her recent attempt. Then a steely determination came over her. She would show those girls. She would learn to surf without any of their help. She would earn their respect and friendship by becoming as good a surfer as they were. Maybe better.

  With determination, she had picked up her surfboard and started walking along the surf line. Bethany’s tip for her was to head toward the gentle, small waves that were the learning ground for all the local kids.

  Instead, she unknowingly headed toward a part of the beach with a whole different personality.

  As Jenna came to the arch in the bay, she stopped and looked at the ocean. This looked like the perfect spot to paddle out. Waves broke on both sides, but here, right in front of her, was a fifty-foot patch of what looked to be calm water. She slipped the leash onto her ankle and waded into the surf.

  The bottom was a mix of sand and reef. This bothered Jenna, but she reasoned that once she paddled out she could paddle back up the beach toward the sandy part of the break.

  Lying down on her surfboard, she found that without any waves crashing into her she could balance herself with ease. Encouraged, she stroked out toward the horizon and found she was moving quickly.

  This is easy, she thought.

  But paddling used muscles she had never used before, and she was tiring quickly. Jenna pulled her arms out of the water and rested them on the edge of her board. To her astonishment, Jenna realized she was still moving. Without paddling she was being carried out toward the darker blue water.

  She had paddled out in a rip.

  Bethany, running down the beach, saw the redheaded girl lay her surfboard down in the deceptive calm of the riptide. She saw how quickly the girl and board were swept into deep water and felt her heart skip a beat.

  By the time she got to the spot where Jenna had paddled out, Bethany was panting as she frantically scanned the waves for Jenna. Please help me find her, God!

  Jenna felt a small trickle of fear wash over her as she realized she was being taken out much farther than she felt comfortable with. She tried to paddle her board back toward shore, but the current relentlessly carried her out to sea. Her weakening arms were almost useless now, and panic set in.

  Suddenly, a huge wave seemed to loom out of nowhere. It crashed in front of the wide-eyed young girl. The explosion of whitewater that followed hurled Jenna off her surfboard and into a swirling, washing machine of foam and waves that twisted and turned her upside down, spinning her round and round as if she were a rag doll. Her arms and feet fl ailed, to no avail. The ocean was in control.

  The wave loosened its grip, and she popped to the surface. In her desperation for air, she gasped and sucked down a gulp of saltwater as well. Coughing and sputtering, she looked around for help, but at the same terrible moment, Jenna realized something was pulling down on her leg, keeping her head from completely breaking free of the surface of the water.

  She could see her surfboard lying fl at on the face of the sea, ten feet away, but something was holding her. She couldn’t move.

  Under the water, Jenna’s leash had wrapped around a coral reef head and, unknown to her, it was keeping her trapped in one location.

  Jenna dog-paddled ferociously. Then in horror, she saw another wave loom up over her.

  A wave of pure fear washed over Jenna. In a burst of energy she grappled with all her might against the force holding her down, and just as the wave cracked above her, she felt herself go free. Then came the tumbling and tossing darkness of the broken wave.

  She had snapped the old leash and was free. But she was free without her lifeline. Her surfboard had washed away.

  On the beach Bethany had finally spotted Jenna and quickly debated her options. The safest thing to do would be to sprint back to the lifeguard station and let the professionals handle this. But in Hawaii, with so many beaches, lifeguard stations are few and far between, placed in spots where large numbers of people gather.

  Here in this corner of the bay, the nearest lifeguard was half a mile away. By the time they could respond, it would be too late.

  Bethany’s first impulse was to swim out to the girl, but she knew the danger of trying to rescue a panicking person. With only one arm to use, it could mean drowning for both of them.

  But when the second wave hit Jenna and snapped her leash, a plan dropped into Bethany’s head. Jenna’s surfboard had been picked up by the onrushing wave and was sweeping toward the shore. Bethany was sure she could reach it and use it in the rescue.

  She plunged into the surf, artfully dodging rocks and reef until she came to water deep enough to swim. With a powerful kick, honed to perfection in swim team, and stroking hard with one arm, Bethany cut through the water toward the bobbing surfboard.

  Another wave was racing against Bethany for possession of the board. If the wave beat her to the goal, it could drag the surfboard farther away and out of reach or take it on to the rocks.

  Bethany saw that the race would be close, and she pushed harder. Reaching the board at the same instant as Bethany, the wave grabbed the eight-foot chunk of foam and wrenched it from her grasp.

  As it sailed by, Bethany felt the remnants of the leash slide past her hand. She closed her fist and snagged it. Quickly pulling the surfboard toward her, Bethany scrambled onto it with ease.

  Now powerfully stroking with one strong arm, she plowed into the frothing white water, gripping hard to the edge of the surfboard to keep it from being wrenched from her hands as she paddled toward the bobbing red head in the distance.

  Jenna had gone into full panic mode, coughing up water. She was disoriented by having been spun around by the powerful wave surge. She was tired and weak, her dog paddling only barely keeping her buoying above water. Fear gave way to a desperate automatic struggle to survive — a struggle that the next set wave rising on the horizon could end.

  The horrible knowledge that she could die swept through her mind. She had almost given into the inevitability of it when she remembered her father’s words to her, “God has plans for you — a future for you . . . full of hope.”

  Jenna saw the whitewater explode thirty feet in fron
t of her. She knew that when it rolled over her, she would not have the strength to fight anymore.

  Suddenly, the yellowing nose of her old surfboard floated into view. At the same time she felt a strong arm pull her onto the deck.

  “Hold on tight!” demanded Bethany.

  The wave was almost on top of the two girls.

  Bethany covered Jenna with much of her body as she shifted the weight of both of their bodies to maneuver the board in the direction of the shore.

  The whitewater hit them with a jolt. Bethany held on to Jenna with her arm and clasped the back rails of the surfboard between her knees to keep the pair from washing off.

  With the first shock of the powerful water, the surfboard launched out in front of the rolling wave, and Jenna felt herself being propelled shoreward at an incredible speed.

  She heard Bethany’s soothing voice from behind saying, “We’re fine, we’re fine, we’re almost there.”

  Within moments, sand appeared under the board, and Bethany slid off the back into waist-deep water and pushed Jenna along.

  A small wave came rushing from behind and picked up the surfboard in its path. Bethany turned loose, and Jenna felt herself racing toward the beach.

  “Stand up!” Bethany shouted.

  As tired and weak as she was, the encouraging voice shot something extra into her, and Jenna pushed herself up on the board, standing in a wide stinkbug-looking stance.

  She rode all the way to the beach with the voice of Bethany cheering behind her.

  As they walked along the beach, Bethany carried the exhausted girl’s surfboard.

  “Thank you,” Jenna said quietly. “I was just about to give up.”

  “Well, you can’t do that,” Bethany said kindly. “And you can’t give up on surfing, either.”

  Bethany stopped walking for a moment and looked Jenna straight in the eye. “Jenna, I’m really sorry about being so cold and selfish when you first asked for help learning to surf. God is still working on me. In fact, he was working on me big time after you walked away, which is how I ended up being where you were a few minutes ago.”