Powerful, mighty, the curve of it more beautiful than his dream woman's thigh, Kevin shot forward, his arms paddling furiously. He followed his target, the sweet spot of the wave. It was his if he could catch it. Shooting forward, Kevin fell into that rhythm of victory, a practiced rhythm that lacked all but an audience. This was a wave of legend, a rogue wave. Only the best could hope to ride it. He caught the rogue and, to his surprise most of all, was riding it, staying on his feet. The height of the wave was incredible. He was in the curl, gaining on it, shooting forward. Cowell's appeared to be zooming towards him. He was king of the moment, and here was his coronation. Now at last everyone would have to recognize that he had graduated, and was one of the worthies able to surf Steamers. But a usurper appeared. Kevin's peripheral vision saw him cutting forward to his right. It was the same dick-head who had given him shit before, the same nemesis who had kept him locked in at Cowell's since he was 12. Bronz, with his unmistakable blonde dreads and shark-coloured wetsuit, cut forward. He flashed Kevin a mocking grin as Kevin pulled back and lost his footing. Kevin folded back underneath the curl as the weight of water pushed him under.

Kevin sucked in cold water and belched it out, along with half his air. He was pushed down into the dark water, way down, as if the wave, judging him unworthy for his hesitation, sought to drown him for the impudence of trying to ride it. The weight of the water pushed down on Kevin's chest and he had to cough up more air. Kevin had half a moment of panic, thinking he just might drown as the wave kept pushing him. But time in an adrenaline fed universe has a different feel. Seconds are ages and pass surreally. Kevin's intellect reminded him that he had not been under all that long, and that no matter how deep, he was going to be alright, that he was not going to drown. He would rise again, not a king, but a common little punk that had dared Steamers before his time. And his exile back to Cowell's would be even longer because of it.

The length of time that the power of the wave and its crushing weight took to let Kevin go seemed forever. The weight of water eased just as Kevin felt the press of hard sand on his foot. His arm came to rest on a sharp rock, scrapping it badly. Dancing lights that seemed to far away blurred through his salt stung vision, telling him that he was deeper than he had thought. He killed the panic, having no use for it, and with a push and a kick, started his glide back up to the surface.

His tethered foot failed to move. Rather it jerked him back, just as his lungs, promised air, had eased on him a bit. Kevin looked down. A couple of blurry dark shapes, rocks, clasped his board beneath him. He swam down without thinking, yanking on his board, trying to pull it free. But it had cracked in half, and the part of it tethered to his foot, had caught its fin solid in rocks, twisting the tether tight around his ankle. Trying to suck the last bit of oxygen from what little air he had managed to keep down, Kevin had to give it up nonetheless, as his chest heaved while he to struggled to get free. That's where the intellectual part of him failed. It calmly gave him the score, and told him he was going to die. He rejected that and fought on, even his he started to breathe in water, his lungs trying to reject it, only drawing in even more water.

"Fuck Man! That asshole is taking his time coming up." Bronz seemed more annoyed than worried.

A group of surfers had paddled over and they were the ones Bronz had been talking to. A couple of them untethered and dove down. Bronz didn't offer to join them but he watched them intently.

"I see him down there," one of the divers volunteered after coming back up. "He's too deep. Someone'd better paddle out and call Shore Rescue."

The assembled surfers looked at Bronz, but he returned a look of disgust, throwing their accusing looks back at them and paddled away to catch the next wave.

A petit young woman with long sun-bleached hair appeared out of nowhere and disappeared as fast as she'd appeared, slipping under the water even as another huge wave came tearing down on the group of assembled surfers. None of the other surfers saw her swim down, busy as they were dealing with the wave. Angela plummeted through the cold water as if it were air. The strong sunlight filtering down, cast a strange broad shadow as she neared the sandy floor. She found Kevin and untethering him from his broken board, pulled him to her. She gave the sand the barest of kicks but it was enough to rocket her to the surface.

"Angel, is he alive?"

The woman ignored the question and pressed her lips to Kevin's, which were turning blue. Kevin didn't cough up water, he didn't choke or gasp, he simply resumed breathing. Looking up at his rescuer, all he could see was her silhouette framed the sun, giving her the appearance of a halo.

Angela whispered. "Don't worry, Kevin. You're going to be alright. Just sleep. You can breathe now.", and the boy slept.

Draping him onto her board, Angela paddled parallel to the waves, making her way back to the landing at the cliffs.

Bronz, the surfer who had cut the boy off, and who had been the cause of the accident appeared off of the woman's right.

"Hey cunt! You have a bad habit of sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."

"Really? You have a bad habit of sticking your board where it doesn't belong, Bronz. I seem to remember I taught you that lesson once."

The woman gave Bronz a sharp look that made him back off. But when her back was turned, he shot forward once more and tried to cut her off.

"I was drunk. Otherwise, you'd never have gotten away with what you did. You just be glad my bros weren't around. They'd a messed you up, bitch"

"Get out of my way, Bronz. I need to take this boy in. He needs to see a doctor."

"Fuck you! Who told you to interfere? I was just teaching that punk a lesson. He knew he didn't belong at Steamers. Hell, he's so lame, I'm surprised they let him in at Cowell's. It is not my fault he got fucked up. He got what he deserved! "

Bronz thrust a finger into the woman's face. It was a bad idea. The woman gave a half-smile as she snapped Bronz's finger, breaking it cleanly. Bronz sucked in air, ready to howl, but he ended up sucking water instead as the woman shot forward, riding over Bronz and his board, pushing them both underwater. Not even glancing back as Bronz finally found the air to howl a bit through coughing jags, he paddled up to the concrete landing at West Cliff. A number of young surfers, who seemed to know the boy, met her, and helped her carry him up, though she needed no help to carry him. He was tall but skinny, as was typical of many young teenagers.

"Is he going to be OK? one of them asked "

The woman replied with assurance that calmed them all at once and removed any fear they had. The paramedics had been called, but no one could remember by whom.

When the paramedics had taken the boy away, one of the young surfers asked her, "You're Angel, aren't you?"

He squinted, trying to see her, framed as she was against the Sun. Her wet hair seemed to glisten and sparkle, and what seemed a tiny circular rainbow could be seen wavering in the hair above her head.

But she only smiled and pointed toward the ambulance. "Go be with Kevin. He should have friends with him when he wakes up."

The boy looked at the ambulance screaming off into the distance. When he looked back, the woman was gone.

story by Solanio