Clash

by Rick Bundschuh Bethany Hamilton

  “I’ll take you,” Mrs. Hamilton offered.

  “Thanks, Mom!”

  “And I won’t even make you fix me a smoothie,” her mom added. “At least not today.”

  “Shoot, Bethany,” Malia said. “I need to learn how to make smoothies as good as you. You have this taxi service sewn up tight!”

  “That’s because mine are the best,” Bethany said with a delighted laugh.

  “It’s true!” added her mother.

  “Secret sauce,” Bethany advised. “Mom, did you know that Malia will soon be a professional smoothie maker?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I got a summer job at Hanalei Harry’s Smoothie Shack,” said Malia.

  “Good for you,” Mrs. Hamilton said with a wink. “Watch out, Bethany, you have competition now!”

  Soon the van pulled into the crowded driveway of Sarah’s house. Cars were parked on both sides of the narrow street and even on the lawn in front of the youth director’s house. It was a necessity in rural Hawaii, but thankfully, the tropical conditions made lawns as tough as nails and virtually bulletproof.

  The delicious smell of cooking meat wafted through the air, and the chatter and laughter from dozens of conversations competed with the sound of contemporary Christian music rolling out of the stereo.

  As soon as the girls hopped out of the van, Bethany’s stomach growled. A smoothie lunch was no match for a couple hours of hard surfing, and the aroma was almost too much to take.

  Young people stood in small knots both inside and outside Sarah’s house. The conversations were all pretty similar — summer plans and school reminiscences. Some kids, reflecting on the past year like book reviewers, were trading stories about the personalities of various teachers and which classes were toughest.

  Just outside the back steps of the house stood a small cluster of girls. They were dressed in the kind of clothes made popular in surf magazines. Tanned, with sun-kissed hair, they chatted with casual elegance. They laughed and talked as if they were longtime friends. Many were part of the Hanalei Girls Surf Team.

  Bethany and Malia joined the conversation as everyone made plans for the summer: trips to the mainland, surf explorations on the other side of the island, and countless overnight stays at each other’s homes.

  “Did you hear that Brooke moved up here from the south side?” Monica announced.

  “Really?” Bethany said.

  “Her dad transferred jobs to this side of the island, and with the price of gas, they thought it would be better just to move over,” replied Monica.

  “That’s cool,” said Bethany. “She’s a pretty good surfer.”

  “Yeah, well, I hope she doesn’t think that just because she’s living on this side of the island, she can be part of us!” said Monica defiantly.

  Bethany said nothing. She had mixed feelings about the “us and them” attitude a number of the girls carried. Part of her appreciated the tightly knit hui and the long and deep friendships that came with it. She was glad for the loyalty of these friends and didn’t want to lose it by inviting others to join the group.

  At the same time, she remembered Sarah Hill’s teachings about the danger a group faces when it becomes too exclusive or turns into a snobby clique.

  The conversation trailed away as everyone loaded paper plates with burgers, chili, rice, and salad.

  After the meal, Sarah squeezed all her students into the living room. Sitting on a stool in the corner, she opened her Bible and read to them these words from Matthew 13:44: “The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field.”

  Bethany was surprised to see Sarah look up from her Bible at her. After a long, thoughtful moment, Sarah glanced around at the rest of the group.

  “Wherever you go this summer and whatever you end up doing,” Sarah continued, “God may put people in your life who need to discover the terrific treasure a relationship with God can be. He may also put treasure in your path that you don’t recognize. In fact, sometimes the treasure is kinda crusty and ugly-looking on the surface, but after you wash off the dirt, you find the real value there. God may want to use you as a guide to bring someone else to his treasure field or even as a prospector to discover treasure around you.”

  Bethany nodded and then glanced at her friends. She enjoyed Bible studies, even though she often found it difficult to concentrate for long periods of time.

  I think I have the attention span of a lightning bolt, Bethany thought with a pang of guilt.

  Sarah was one of the few people who held Bethany’s attention when she taught from the Bible. Thankfully, it was a very short talk tonight, Bethany thought. Sarah soon closed in prayer, and the race was on for strawberry pie.

  Malia was a dessert nut. About the only dessert Bethany really enjoyed was Sarah’s homemade strawberry pie, probably because it was thick with fruit. So it was a bit of a disappointment when she finally made her way to the dessert table to find the pie tin empty.

  Other kids were greedily gobbling up the other kinds of dessert, but none of them held any interest for Bethany. She gave a little sigh and went to return her unused plate and utensils.

  It was then that she saw Malia trying to hide herself in the corner. On her dessert plate were not one, but two large pieces of Sarah’s famous strawberry pie.

  Bethany strolled over to her friend. “Guess what? The pie was all gone before I even got to it!”

  Malia said nothing. One piece of her pie was almost finished, the other untouched. The two girls locked eyes for a moment. It was really not a big thing — it was only a piece of pie. Malia was normally a gracious and generous girl, but as anyone could see, strawberry pie was her weakness. Bethany knew she didn’t need a piece of pie. In fact, none of the kids needed a piece of pie. But here was her good friend having a moment of greedy, self-centered delight.

  “Grrrrrrr.” The sound came out of Bethany softly at first. “Grrrrrrr-raaaR!” she roared. The sound of a lion, a very unhappy lion.

  Malia slowly smiled at Bethany. “Okay, okay. You’re right!” she said in a way that seemed almost like a confession. She slipped the piece of pie onto Bethany’s clean plate with a sigh. “I knew I was being a pig. Thank you for growling at me, though.”

  “That’s what friends are for,” Bethany said. “True friends!”

  They grinned at each other and then joined in with the swirl of students who were still talking excitedly about the summer ahead of them.

  Just two miles away, Jenna dug through her old suitcase of clothes, trying her best not to cry. The morning had started off pretty well — at least there weren’t any new mosquito bites to deal with. But as the day wore on, she felt more and more depressed . . . and alone. Her mom had evidently decided it was more important to spend Sunday with her new boyfriend.

  What was I thinking? That some miracle would happen and those girls would just come find me and invite me to go with them somewhere?

  Jenna shoved the clothes into the dresser drawers, not really caring where or how they landed. She stopped only long enough to swipe angrily at the tears streaming down her face.

  Who cares, anyway!? She felt the shout rise up in her.

  Then something strange happened. She remembered something her dad said to her years ago . . . before he died. She could hear his voice now like a thought inside her head.

  Even though I won’t always be here to take care of you, remember, God has plans for you — a future for you . . . full of hope.

  four

  The first morning of summer vacation drowned out any hope for a day in the sun. The massive storm system that came rolling in from the south drenched the island with heavy sheets of rain and caused a collective sigh to echo across the island from kids who had anxiously awaited their first day of freedom.

  Bethany heard the raindrops pelt hard against her bedroom window. This was the kind of day for staying in b
ed, not for going to the beach. In spite of that thought, she threw her covers back and slipped out of bed.

  Pro surfers had to train in both good weather and bad. It was a good idea, really. A lot of contests were held in less than ideal weather conditions. And with a local contest scheduled for this weekend, she had to keep in top form.

  But it was raining miserably.

  She almost fell back in bed and pulled the sheets back over her head. It was tempting, but she willed herself to get up.

  Her mother’s knock at her door came a few short minutes later, and within half an hour, Bethany and her mom were splashing through puddles on their drive to the beach.

  Pulling up to the surf spot called Pine Trees, Bethany saw that the stiff offshore wind was creating extremely choppy conditions. Gusts snapped off the top of forming waves, billowing spray high into the air after each peak.

  Bethany frowned.

  “Ugh!” her mother said, echoing her thoughts. “Think I’ll stay in the van with a good book. Don’t forget, I have to be at my dentist appointment in an hour, kiddo.”

  Bethany nodded and slipped out of the car. As she lifted up the rear van door, she wondered why on earth she hadn’t just stayed in bed. She probably could’ve just skipped today. But some inner strength pushed her to keep going in spite of herself.

  “Never know where God will lead you — or what you might learn, Bethany,” her dad liked to say. She smiled as she dug around for her wet suit top.

  “This’ll help,” she said under her breath, feeling a little better about the day as she quickly slipped the top over her head.

  Bethany slid her surfboard from the rack, bent her head away from the driving rain, and trotted toward the surf. In a few seconds I’ll be wet anyway, so this rain doesn’t matter.

  There was only one other surfer in the water as she plunged into the warm, stormy sea. He’s violating the rule about surfing alone, Bethany thought. She hoped more surfers showed up despite the rain.

  Bethany’s first wave was surprisingly fun, considering the conditions. The hard offshore winds were acting as an unseen hand, pushing back against the tumbling wave just long enough so that Bethany could squeeze into the tube and shoot out again. With every turn she hurled huge arcs of spray into the air, which were carried away by the trade winds.

  Finally, another car pulled into the parking lot, windshield wipers banging away furiously. She felt several pairs of eyes on her as she performed the graceful water ballet.

  Bethany was relieved to see two middle-age men paddle into the lineup on long boards — even if it meant sharing the best waves. Thank you, God! It was uncomfortable surfing with just one other person, especially when she didn’t know the skill of the other guy catching the waves.

  In a mad dash to escape the heavy sheets of rain, Malia ducked under the awning of the smoothie stand to report for the first day of her summer job.

  “At least this weather will give you time to learn your job without customers getting all impatient with you, like they did me,” her boss said with a grin. Malia wiped the rain off her face with a paper towel.

  Malia’s boss explained that her job would be to slice up fresh fruit, clean the blenders, and make smoothies for customers. But because the smoothie stand offered little shelter from the rain, it was virtually empty most of the morning —except for a few locals who drove up in their cars and ordered smoothies for the road.

  By lunchtime, her boss felt confident enough to let Malia run the stand alone. No sooner had her boss left than Bethany showed up.

  Malia had her back turned, so Bethany shouted out, “I’d like 145 banana mango smoothies, delivered!”

  Malia spun around with a grin. “I knew it was you!”

  Bethany, who had been surfing all morning in spite of the rain, shivered as she sat on one of four stools tucked under the eaves of the stand. She’d asked her mom to drop her off with her bike just in case it cleared up. Bethany was starting to wonder just how smart that was.

  “How’s the first day on the job?” she asked.

  “Kinda easy. My boss already left me alone to run the shop. Want a smoothie? I’m almost as good as you now!”

  “No, actually I want something hot,” Bethany said, trying to control her shivering. “But once I warm up, I’ll take a chance.”

  “No chances — it’s a sure thing!” said Malia.

  “What? Are you working on commission?”

  “No, but I want to see if the smoothie master approves of my work.”

  “All I’ve got is wet money; will you take it?” Bethany asked, holding out a limp five dollar bill to Malia.

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “No!” Bethany laughed, snatching the five out of Malia’s reach. “I’m going across the street to get some siamen to go, first. We’ll do the deal when I get back.”

  Grinning, Bethany ran through the rain to the restaurant on the other side of the street. Safely inside, she leaned against the door and watched the rivulets of water pour off of the roof and into the street.

  What a lousy first day of summer!

  Suddenly, an older model sedan — tan with a cracked taillight — came to an abrupt stop in the street. Even though the windows were rolled up and fogged, a sign that the air-conditioning was not working, Bethany could hear a familiar voice. The voice was shouting . . . again.

  Only this time the girl got out of the car, and with a few tense words to her mother, she slammed the door, pulled the hood of a light sweatshirt over her head, and stomped off.

  Bethany rolled her eyes. No excuse for acting like that, she thought, feeling a little righteous indignation. She had forgotten Sarah’s words from the night of the barbecue.

  The screen door of the kitchen slapped shut, and a slender Hawaiian guy handed Bethany a large foam bowl, steaming with noodles, and a pair of chopsticks.

  “Thank you,” Bethany said as she traded soggy money for the soup. She was just about to head out the door with her food when Monica walked in.

  “Hey, Monica,” Bethany smiled. “I was just about to head over to Hanalei Harry’s so Malia could whip me up a smoothie.”

  “Hey back. I was going to order something to go. Why don’t we just eat it here and head across the street for a smoothie with Malia after?”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  After wandering around Hanalei town for a while, Jenna started looking for a place to grab something to drink. It was then that she noticed Hanalei Harry’s Smoothie Shack. She quickly eyed the menu and glanced up to find Malia grinning back at her.

  “Didn’t I meet you the other day at the beach? You were with that Bethany girl,” Jenna said shyly, feeling her spirits rise a little. The fight with her mom had been bad — so bad that she’d wondered briefly about trying to find a way back to Arizona.

  “Yeah!” Malia nodded. “You were the one with the mosquito war story. Did you get a chance to pick up some fans?”

  “Yep,” Jenna said, taking a seat on one of the stools. She held up her arms to display only a few faded welts. “Works like a charm.”

  “Sweet,” said Malia.

  “I’ve gotta live here — but I don’t have to be on the menu, right?”

  Malia laughed. “Where’re you from?”

  “Arizona,” Jenna said, warming to the girl’s laughter. “But not the desert part. I came from the mountains. I always have to explain that ’cause most people don’t realize there are mountains in Arizona.”

  “I always think of it as a desert,” Malia admitted. “So you like it there better, and your mom made you move or something?”

  “My mom . . .” Jenna’s words trailed off. “It’s nice here, nicer than I thought, but I had to leave all my friends, my horse, my house, everything.”

  Malia sensed there was a story this customer wanted to share.

  “Let me get this smoothie for you, and you can hang out and tell me all about you,” Malia offered kindly.

  “Thanks,” Jenna said, s
uddenly feeling like she wanted to open up and share. There was something different about Malia — something good that made it okay to talk.

  For the next half hour Jenna told Malia her tale of frustration about leaving everything comfortable and familiar for the unwelcome trip to Hawaii — all so her mom could continue a relationship with a man she had met.

  Her anger at the whole situation simmered just below the surface, but during her conversation, she managed not to say terrible things about her mom to Malia.

  “I really miss my horse . . . and my friends,” Jenna said.

  “You’ll make new friends,” Malia assured her. “It’s tougher during the summer to connect, but hang around the beach, and it won’t be long. Hey, you met us the first day, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” Jenna said, feeling better.

  While Jenna talked, the rain-filled clouds drifted away and the sun peeked out of blue holes in the sky. Soon there was enough sun to dry up puddles and make the idea of lounging on the beach attractive again.

  “Well, I’ve taken enough of your time,” said Jenna. “I think I’ll go hang out on the beach.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” said Malia. “See you around.” She picked up the empty smoothie glass. “Hey, Jenna! You ought to come to the surf contest this Saturday at Pine Trees. It’s really fun.”

  Jenna had no idea where Pine Trees Beach was located, so Malia pointed out directions from the Smoothie Shack.

  “Maybe Bethany and I can give you some surfing lessons,” Malia offered.

  “That would be great!” Jenna said.

  Later, as Jenna walked down to the beach, it seemed that the whole day had taken on a new glow. Malia would have been surprised to know just how much her few words of kindness had meant to this new girl.

  For Jenna, the fact that there was one person on this whole mosquito-infested island who was willing to talk to her, to ask questions about her life, her likes, her experiences, was exhilarating.

  After having such a bad fi ght with her mother and suddenly hearing her dad’s voice, she’d wondered if she was going crazy. But now she knew she wasn’t.