Clash Read Free

empty left sleeve of Bethany’s T-shirt.
    It was still strange how in one moment in time — one blink of an eye — her life had changed forever. The fourteen-foot shark that attacked her had quickly severed her left arm, taking a massive bite out of her board before he swam off, leaving her to die. But God had other plans for Bethany.
    Bleeding severely from the traumatic wound, a quarter-mile offshore and forty-five minutes from the nearest hospital, Bethany had been blessed by the quick work and calm heads of the Blanchard family — Alana, Byron, and their dad Holt — who “just happened” to be there at the moment she needed someone to save her life.
    Soon after that came the media firestorm, and Bethany’s close scrape with death was splashed over every television station and newspaper. But it was her remarkable spirit, coupled with a genuine faith in God, that kept her in the media spotlight, not as a tragic story but as a model of determination and courage.
    Within a month of the attack, Bethany overcame her fears and surfed again. Not only did she relearn the art of surfing, but she went on to win contests.
    Bethany’s mom made allowances for her daughter’s handicap: oranges and bananas were peeled and the bread was cut before the girls came to the table. But for Bethany, the loss of an arm provided only a temporary challenge for most things and a change of activity or choices for other ones.
    Tying shoelaces with one hand was difficult and time-consuming. Bethany had already spent most of her life barefoot or wearing inexpensive rubber sandals, but now any shoes or boots she would need to purchase had to be put through the “can-I-do-this-with-one-hand?” test. Slip-ons worked best. Velcro straps performed the job as well.
    Tackling simple tasks such as peeling a giant jabon — a grapefruit-type fruit that grows all over Hawaii — was performed by sitting on the floor, holding the fruit between her bare feet, and tearing into the thick skin with her right hand.
    For surfing, Bethany had made one compensation: a handle attached to the deck of the surfboard gave her a head start to get to her feet. By losing an arm, she’d lost the ability to use the push-up grasp surfers use to hang onto the surfboard when diving deep enough to get under the crushing water of a broken wave.
    The girls had finished their breakfast by the time Bethany’s older brother Tim, the second in the line of three siblings, came stumbling from his room.
    “Bethany,” Tim said groggily, “you didn’t leave any for me!”
    “Snooze, you lose,” Bethany shot back.
    “There’s more on the counter.” Their mother grinned, shaking her head. “Juice is in the fridge.”
    “Oh, and Tim,” Bethany added playfully, “last one up has to do dishes. Bye!”
    And with that, the girls giggled and darted from the table. “We’re ready to go, Mom!”
    “Not until you put away the futon and straighten your room,” Mom said, evoking a grin from Tim.
    Within minutes, the chores were done and Bethany and Malia were in the garage, pulling their surfboards from their resting places against the wall.
    “Whatcha think, Bethany?” Malia said. “The Bay? Pine Trees? Chicken Wings? Rock Quarry?”
    “I’m not sure,” Bethany said, chewing her bottom lip. “I didn’t check the surf report this morning, but I bet my mom did.”
    “I wish my mom and dad surfed,” Malia said.
    Bethany grinned. “Noah says we were all born with saltwater in our veins.”
    Malia laughed. “Sounds like something your brother would say.”
    “North, northeast swell — four to six feet,” Mrs. Hamilton announced as she came around the corner. “My bet is on Kalihiwai, especially with the tide at this hour.”
    Both girls grinned at each other.
    “Let’s go! I love that wave, and it’s one of the best barrels on the island,” Bethany said excitedly. Then she noticed her friend’s hesitation. “You okay with that, Malia?”
    “Sure,” Malia said,