"But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus." – Philippians 3:13-14

The first thing that happened the following week was an email from Trevor. Attached was his completed and edited video called Huntington Shredders, followed by a shorter, 3-minute version of just Alana's surfing. Alana watched both videos multiple times before emailing the files to her friends. She was stoked.

Just thirty minutes after sending out the emails, Maya called. "Dude!" she screeched. "Those videos are amazing!"

"Hey, we should have everybody come to my house and watch them on TV," Alana suggested, cradling her phone between her ear and her shoulder. "I can hook up my laptop to the screen."

"Do it. I'll start calling the others." Maya rang off, and the girls burst into action.

It was a lazy, hazy Saturday morning, so Alana's siblings were still just getting out of bed when she rushed downstairs with her laptop. Dylan peeked his head out of his bedroom and hissed, "Keep it down, Alana! You're going to wake the whole house up with that stampede of yours."

"Sorry," she whispered, making sure to tiptoe down the last few steps. After hooking up her computer to the television, she headed back upstairs and knocked quietly on her brother's door.

He opened it with a sigh. "What now?"

"I'm sorry, Dyl, but the gang is coming over in about an hour to watch some videos," she explained. "Is that okay?"

"Well, I was hoping to sleep in because it's Saturday, but..."

Alana winced and murmured another apology.

"It's fine. I'm already awake anyway."

She smiled gratefully. "By the way, they're Trevor's videos. He finished editing them last night, and they turned out awesome."

Dylan yawned and retreated further back into his bedroom. "Sounds good. I'll watch them later when the gang gets here."

Later turned out to be roughly eighty minutes, when Koa was the last member of the gang to arrive in the Walkers' apartment. Six teenagers, plus Tammy, were crammed onto the couch and floor in front of the TV as the videos began.

They were mesmerized. Trevor's unique style of filmmaking and editing made the gang's surfing come to life in the most beautiful way. He placed creative angles of Huntington Pier, the gang walking on the sand, and palm trees blowing in the wind intermittently throughout the video. The vibrant colors of the ocean, sand, and surfboards seemed to pop right out of the screen. Even the music Trevor had chosen, a fast-paced surf guitar song, complemented the movie well. The gang was thoroughly impressed with how professional everything looked. Trevor did a good job of showing the highlights of their surfing, with a few wipeouts at the very end after the credits. Two of the wipeouts were near-collisions by Jake and Blaine, one was a mistimed turn by Maya on a set wave, and the grand finale was Alana's slow-motion late takeoff.

When the TV went black, signaling the end of the film, the reflection on the screen showed everyone smiling. They immediately burst into a round of applause.

"That was amazing!" Jake exclaimed.

"So good," Blaine said.

"Let's watch it again!" Koa suggested.

Alana was pleased. "Wait, guys, there's one more."

Cole leaned forward expectantly. "This is your personal video, right?"

She nodded and clicked around on her laptop until the video popped up. Then she settled back in her seat and watched as the image of a breaking wave filled the TV screen. The music slowly picked up speed until it burst into an electronic pop song. Trevor used clips from both the shore and the water to change things up, and also used a mixture of fast- and slow-motion that went along with the beat of the music. When the video was over, everyone was breathless with excitement.

Only one person's clapping was louder than the rest. Alana turned around and saw Dylan standing at the back of the room, leaning casually against the wall.

"Well?" she asked grandly. "Did you like it?"

Dylan allowed a small half-smile to creep up on his face. "Truthfully, if that video doesn't get you a sponsor within the next few months, I'll be extremely surprised."

Everyone cheered.

"And," Dylan continued, "I think it's safe to say that if Trevor sends Huntington Shredders to a few surf shops, all of you will have the chance to be sponsored. That's some fine surfing you have there."

The excitement in the room was immeasurable. Even Tammy was so stoked that she begged Alana to take her to Huntington Beach so she could get filmed too.

Gradually, everyone left the apartment to go their separate ways, but not before Alana dialed Trevor's number and put him on speaker. The gang thanked him heartily over the phone.

"Don't thank me!" he laughed. "Thank you for being such phenomenal surfers and giving me a chance to improve my filmmaking skills." He went on to explain that both videos had been sent to local surf shops, and they had also been put up on Trevor's YouTube channel. His next step was to try and show his videos at the next local film festival in San Clemente. Because of his success with his first movie, he was sure that Huntington Shredders and Alana would be big—if not bigger—hits as well.

While the release of Trevor's videos was by far the highlight of the week, the next major episode was the first surf contest between Ventura High and Carpinteria at a beach called Mussel Shoals, nicknamed "Little Rincon." Jake and Koa were competing in the men's longboarding, while everyone else was competing in their respective shortboarding divisions.

It was a partly cloudy, gray morning when both schools arrived at 6:30 a.m. By the time the first few heats were underway, the sun managed to break through and the waves increased in both speed and height. Just before lunch, when the girls' shortboard semifinals was about to begin, Alana and Maya found themselves picking their way around the rocks on the shore. They were about to compete in the same heat together, along with two other girls. If Alana and Maya won their heat, then they were on their way to the finals.

As they paddled to the empty lineup, Alana glanced over her shoulder and saw the Ventura High surf team cheering her on from the beach. As usual, the contest had drawn a few locals as well as some parents and families. Though Dylan and Tammy had been unable to come, Alana wasn't disappointed. Surf competitions weren't a big deal to her anyway. Still, being so close to the finals gave her a competitive drive to do well in this heat. She had to win.

Suddenly the horn sounded, signaling the start. The girls paddled into position and waited for the first set to roll through. A few minutes later, it did, and there was a mad scramble for the peak. One of the girls from Carpinteria snagged the inside, leaving the other three to go for the remaining waves.

Maya and Alana, who were paddling close together, spotted the next wave coming in their direction. "You or me?" Maya asked.

"Go for it," Alana said. "I'll take the next one."

Maya sat up and spun her board around. She stroked into the swell, leaving Alana by herself. Unfortunately, the next wave was too small to be of any value. Alana groaned and resigned herself to waiting for the next set.

Not thirty seconds later, a bump appeared on the horizon. Alana and the second girl from Carpinteria were the only ones in position. When the wave stacked up in a blue-green peak, Alana found herself on the inside. This was her wave to control.

She dropped in at an angle. Her shortboard raced across the surface of the water, creating a small wake of whitewater. When Alana turned, she trailed the fingers of her right hand across the wave, helping her balance and gain a full rotation. The first turn she pulled was a smooth off-the-lip, where she raced up and snapped her board 180 degrees. The crowd hooted with approval.

As the wave continued to break along the length of the beach, Alana did a combination of smooth, arcing turns and fast snaps. Her final maneuver was a long floater over a crumbly section of whitewater. She had ridden so far into shore that the water was dangerously low, revealing the many rocks hidden just beneath the surface. She quickly pulled out and began paddling back to the lineup.

A few minutes later, the scores were announced. All the girls had caught one wave each, except for Maya, who happened to snag a little insider at the end of the last set. This put Maya in the lead and Alana in second place.

With twenty minutes to go, the ocean suddenly fell flat. There were no waves in sight. The girls paddled back and forth, looking for anything that they could ride, but the ocean wasn't cooperating. Finally, with just ten minutes to go until the end of the heat, a set arrived. It was small, but it was something, allowing everyone to catch a wave and improve her score.

Alana was especially confident because her first ride had been extremely long. She hadn't fallen or stumbled, and she had performed lots of different turns to showcase her variety. Her second wave, surprisingly, was even better. Though it closed out a little earlier, she happened to sneak into a small tube and get covered behind the lip for a few seconds before racing out onto the shoulder. After performing a few hard turns that sent spray flying high into the air, she let the wave carry her into shore. Smiling with relief, Alana had a feeling the final was within reach.

The Ventura High surf team swarmed around her and Maya as soon as the girls emerged from the water. There were high-fives and pats on the back all around, as well as the announcer's voice booming above the crazy din of the crowd.

"The final scores are in," he said. "With a two-wave total of 15.74, Alana Walker comes in first place!"

Everyone cheered. Alana grinned and hugged her surfboard closer to her chest. "Thank you, Lord," she murmured under her breath.

"With a heat score of 13.80," the announcer continued, "second place goes to Maya Mallory."

The girls squealed with delight. Maya and Alana dropped their boards and embraced, jumping up and down excitedly. "We're going to the final!" Maya exclaimed. "And we're going together!"

The gang quickly got in on the action for a large group hug, and Alana felt herself engulfed by the Anderson twins. They tried to lift her up and onto their shoulders, but she quickly hopped down, embarrassed by all the attention.

The next heat was the guys' shortboard semifinal, so Blaine quickly hurried off to grab his jersey and get in the water. Meanwhile, the gang retreated into the shade underneath the pier to watch. Alana guzzled some water and rinsed off her hair before settling back into a beach chair.

"You ready for the final?" Cole asked, taking a seat next to her.

"Yeah, of course. I'm even more excited that Maya's going with me," she said.

When the air horn sounded, they leaned forward and turned their attention to the water. Blaine was in a red jersey, the only surfer representing Ventura High. The other three guys were all from Carpinteria.

"Man, I wish you were in that semifinal with your brother," Alana said.

Cole grimaced. "You have no idea."

"You could totally win this," Alana added. "You and Blaine would've been neck and neck."

Cole scooped some sand into his palms and watched it fall between his fingers. "Maybe," he said. "But now that I'm out of the contest, Blaine better win it for me."

And win it, he did. Though all four surfers in the final were talented, it was Blaine who showed the most skill. He ended up posting a score of 18.02, the highest heat total of the day, and only a few points away from a perfect 20. As soon as the final horn sounded, the Ventura High surf team dashed into the water, whooping and hollering. Blaine was on his way to the final.

But now Alana's nerves were getting to her. It was time for the girls' shortboard final, and the pressure was on for either her or Maya to win the contest.

Cole, sensing her apprehension, reached out a hand and helped Alana to her feet. "You're gonna do great," he said, his warm breath tickling her ear.

She nodded, ignoring the goosebumps that had popped up on her ear and neck. Turning in the direction of the announcer's booth, she said, "You better cheer me on."

"I always do." He winked, and she was off.

The girls pulled on their jerseys—white for Maya and pink for Alana—and hit the water with their other two competitors. It was Ventura versus Carpinteria, two against two. The girls raced to the lineup and were jockeying for position even before the horn blew. Once the heat was underway, the atmosphere changed from anxious to extremely tense. Alana tried to keep herself on the inside, where she could catch a wave and claim it as her own, but the Carpinteria girls kept paddling circles around her.

Finally, the first set that came through cleared the lineup in Alana and Maya's favor. The Carpinteria surfers took the first two waves, leaving Alana and Maya by themselves. This time, Maya let her friend go for the next wave that rolled through. Alana gratefully paddled into the peak and dropped in.

The wave wasn't very big, but it had speed. Alana kept herself in the pocket, the power source right in front of the whitewater, by doing cutback after cutback. She finished the ride with a quick snap on the inside, but that was all. Her score ended up being a meager 4.83.

Meanwhile, Maya was sitting in third place, and the surfers from Carpinteria were in first and second. Alana told herself to stay calm as she paddled out to the lineup. It was still the first ten minutes of the heat; she had plenty of time to move from last to first.

Sure enough, the next two sets provided bigger and faster waves, just what the girls needed. Everyone doubled, if not tripled, their heat score. But Alana was still in last place, just a few tenths of a point behind Maya. It was frustrating, but she knew she needed to remain focused. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the gang standing on the beach. Cole had his arms crossed over his chest, studying the ocean carefully. He pointed.

Alana swiveled around to face the horizon, but there were no waves. She glanced back at Cole. He was still gesturing at something. Above him, the large red digits of the clock read 4:21. Only a few minutes left.

Slowly and casually, Alana lay down on her board and stroked towards the horizon. The other girls paid no attention to her. She waited until she was a good distance in front of them before sitting up. Still no waves in sight.

Alana sighed. This is why she didn't like competitions—too much pressure, too many angry and jealous looks, and never enough waves. It seemed like the ocean always went dead just minutes before the end of a heat.

Just as she was resigning herself to last place, Alana spotted a bump on the horizon. She sat up straighter and thought she saw another bump behind the first one. Sure enough, a set was coming.

It was exactly what Alana needed. She paddled frantically towards the oncoming waves, which looked to be much bigger than any of the previous ones. She barely made it out far enough to paddle into the first swell, which was already starting to break.

With a spray of saltwater, she dropped down to the bottom of the wave and angled towards the shoulder. She zigzagged between the other girls, who had been too far behind to try and catch anything. They were forced to duck dive under the entire set while Alana surfed the wave of the day.

And she surfed it well. Her opening maneuver was a clean off-the-lip, followed by three huge turns that sent spray flying over the shoulder. Though the wave closed out early because of its size, she finished it off with a small air, the first attempted air of the entire girls' contest.

And she landed it.

The crowd burst into applause, and Alana threw up her hands, excited beyond measure. The judges were sure to reward her for surfing the biggest wave of the heat and not wiping out. But was it enough to send her into first place?

A few minutes later, the clock ran down to 0:00 and the air horn sounded. The girls each rode a wave into shore, not really sure who was going to claim first place. The judges had yet to announce Alana's score.

Finally, after much deliberation, the end results were determined. The announcer cleared his throat and spoke into the mike: "For the ladies' shortboard division, with a combined heat score of 12.37 points, fourth place goes to Melissa Hardman!"

The crowd cheered. The surfer from Carpinteria stepped onstage to receive her medal and smiled appreciatively.

"With 13.91 points, third place goes to Maya Mallory!"

Alana clapped and shouted her friends' name. Though she was disappointed Maya hadn't placed first or second, that left the top two spots open for Alana to claim. She breathed a quick prayer and dug her toes into the sand, waiting.

"Second place goes to Gabrielle Hernandez, with a score of 14.02!"

Alana covered her face with her hands. She'd done it.

"And that means first place, with an amazing last wave and a total of 14.44 points, is awarded to Alana Walker of the Ventura High School Surf Team."

Shouting and cheering erupted from the crowd, quickly overwhelming the announcer's voice. Alana felt herself lifted onto the shoulders of the Anderson twins, but this time she smiled and laughed instead of jumping off. When she was placed up onstage, she accepted her first place trophy with a winning smile. She had proved she was the best once again.