The next morning dawned hot and sunny, perfect conditions for surfing. Val, still a bit groggy from the drugs they'd given to her at the hospital yesterday, was half asleep at the moment. She squinted next to her at the alarm clock. 9:30. The contest started at ten. Val leapt out of bed, hastily pulled a shirt over her tankini top, and slipped into her sandals. She grabbed her surfboard and set off for Rocket Beach at a run. By the time Val got there, she was sticky from the heat and completely out of breath. She also had a painful stitch in her side, but there was no time to get rid of it.
"Name?" questioned a man with a clipboard, one of the judges.
"Val Lightning," she panted.
He passed Val a contest number and said, "You have to hustle. Your division is starting."
Val looked at the number. It was 7, her lucky number. Carefully, she pinned the number to the right leg of her light-blue boardshorts. She peeled off her shirt, then took a running start and hit the water. The ocean felt good after running quite a distance in the heat. After paddling out a few yards from shore, Val sat back, glancing over her shoulder at the approaching wave.
"Perfect," she breathed, throwing herself flat against her board, paddling hard.
Once the crest came, Val hopped gracefully to her feet. After gaining her footing, she performed a series of a rapid-fire cutbacks up the face of the wave, finishing with a stylish tail snap off the lip. Val remained standing until there was nothing left to catch a ride on. Breathing hard from excitement, she walked out of the surf, shaking water from her hair. A figure came running across the sand, arms flapping wildly. As the figure came closer, Val recognized the blue plaid shorts.
"Val," said Ray. "I need to talk to you."
He led her behind one of the lifeguard shacks so they could have privacy.
"I just got off the phone with the hospital." Ray said in a calm manner.
"What's the bottom line?" Val asked, unsure of whether she really wanted to know.
"It turns out the mole was completely benign."
For once, words failed Val. They couldn't describe the relief she felt at this news. She darted out from behind the guard's shack. Her eyes zeroed in on Twister, who was filming Otto's ride. Barely realizing what she was doing, Val threw her arms around the skinny red-head and squeezed tightly.
"Let go," Twister whimpered. I still have bruises from the last time you hugged me."