Chapter 1
I’ve always been afraid of the water.
When I was four, I almost drowned in the sea. Ever since then, I can’t even take a bath. I’m not sure if it’s the repressed memories of almost drowning or the horrible, emotional way Mom tells it that scares me more. No matter how hard I try, I can’t remember. Mom says I’ve blocked it from my memory. Apparently, a rogue wave washed me over the side of a boat and I had to be revived. I get no flashes or strange panic attacks when I think of being submersed in water. I only know something bad will happen if I get in it.
Mom encourages my fear though I can never figure out why. Hopefully, one day, I can outgrow it.
Because I have a secret.
I am in love with the ocean. The fresh crisp smell of salty water, the mysterious creatures living beneath the surface, the many different colors it can change, even the sheer power; everything about the sea is like a siren song tempting me to its shore.
Only one problem. Even as it lures me, it frightens me. Because the pull is getting stronger.
If I told Mom, I’m sure she’d get that worried look in her eyes hinting at the things she’s keeping from me. Sure, adults are allowed to have their secrets, but I know hers involve me. It’s in the way she monitors my every movement, constantly checking up on me and making sure I’m where I’m supposed to be. Being a single parent is hard and I know she loves me. Only, it always feels like a huge secret is hovering overhead.
Maybe it’s the fact I’ll be sixteen in a week.
Every little girl dreams of turning sixteen. It’s the magical number where you’re officially no longer a kid. Life is truly on the verge of beginning.
The bell ending sixth period snaps me out of my thoughts. I glance around dazed. I missed most of Mr. Romaine’s history lecture. I love his lessons because he always puts a humorous spin on things, like how hot Helen of Troy was or why Hitler’s mustache was so small. He makes class fun.
I close my books and wade into the wave of people out in the halls. Finally, the day is over and it’s off to volleyball practice.
At my locker, my best friend Charlotte bumps into me with her hip. “Aurora, my dear, ready for practice? Not that we need it for our game this week.” Her waves of sunny blond hair spill around her shoulders, accenting her pert nose and inquisitive blue eyes.
“Yeah, it’s just Mission High and they’re weak. Besides, my birthday’s Friday. Nothing will go wrong,” I joke. “I totally spaced out today in History. Mr. Romaine lectured about the Spanish Missionaries and I was daydreaming about the ocean again.”
Charlotte’s the only one who knows about my odd fascination with the thing that terrifies me. She foresees it as a sure sign I’ll get over it one day. In fact, she constantly tries to get me in situations where I’m around water. She’s become my personal cheerleader for overcoming my irrational phobia.
“You’re such a freak,” she teases. “I’m going to help you face your fears on Saturday night. Bonfire birthday celebration, remember? I cleared it with the team and we already have it all planned.”
“You scare me when you say things like that. You know once I mention the word ‘beach’ mom will say no.”
She scrunches up her nose and leans in to whisper. “Just tell her we’re doing something else. It’s an important night.”
“Yeah, important night, I hope your definition of ‘facing my fears’ isn’t to throw me in and watch me sink.”
“Well, then you’d at least have a legit reason to be afraid. Or, it could be amazing. Until you at least try, who knows what you might be missing out on.”
“Yes, oh wise one.” Charlotte is an old soul, she always has been. Ever since we were kids she felt more grownup than other kids, or even adults. Her parents died when she was young, leaving her with her Grandmother Netty as a guardian, so I think she picked up a lot of the woman’s ancient insight.
We have a great practice. Physical activity always feels wonderful, maybe because I’m 5’9” already. My long awkward limbs only come close to resembling graceful when I’m playing a sport. I suppose my natural athletic ability comes from Mom. Once upon a time she’d been a pro surfer.
Having a daughter who can’t step foot in the water must be horrible for her, being unable to share something that once gave her so much pleasure. But she’s never tried to help me get over it or anything. I even asked her once if seeing a therapist might be a good idea. She hardly let me finish asking the question before she said ‘no way’.
At five o’clock on the dot, Mom pulls up in front of the gym. I still haven’t told her about the bonfire Saturday. I’m tempted to use Charlotte’s suggestion and lie, but I hate doing that. I love my mom with all my heart, regardless of her odd behavior from time to time.
I run through the rain and duck into the car.
Mom’s so beautiful. She doesn’t appear to be a day over thirty and I often catch the boys at school checking her out. Unfortunately, we look nothing alike. Her hair is almost white blond and falls down her back in a cascade I’m absolutely jealous of. Even her green eyes pop and compliment her peaches and cream complexion.
I, on the other hand, have black hair which curls uncontrollably and is impossible to comb. Most times I wear it up in a pony tail. It’s not that I’m not pretty, I just always feel like the single unsharpened crayon in the box compared to her. My ice blue eyes and tan skin must also come from my father.
Another one of the mysteries Mom protects fiercely.
“How was your day, sweetie?”
“Great. We’re going to do awesome against Mission this week.”
“I’m glad, I can’t wait. Anything else interesting?” It’s a question she’s been asking a lot lately in a way that makes me think she’s expecting something strange to happen. Of course, every time I ask her about it, she avoids the question or changes the subject. Now, I let it slide.
“No, no scary alien autopsies in Biology.”
She smirks and asks, “Have you thought more about the trip tomorrow? I still think you might want to see if you can get out of it.”
My fourth period Biology class is leaving in the morning for a full day at the huge aquarium down near the ocean. Mom thinks it’ll be uncomfortable considering my fear and has tried talking me out of it. I’ve held my ground, though. I’m excited about going. Getting out of school for a day appeals to me although not as much as the opportunity to experience some interesting things.
“I’m still going, Mom. I promise I’ll keep away from the edge and I’m not planning on going into the underwater exhibits.” Yeah right, of course I’m going to visit the exhibits.
“I know I’m a pain. I just worry about you.”
“Yeah, well, I kinda have to. It’s either go to the aquarium or write some long involved essay.” I flick through the radio channels, trying to find something other than the depressing news about the weather. “Oh, the girls on the team want to take me out Saturday for birthday pizza and a movie. Is that cool? I figure we’ll do our stuff Friday, on the actual day.”
Again the worry pinches her beautiful face. “I’ll think about it.” Before I protest she continues almost too quiet to hear, “I want to keep you safe this week.”
“You’re being all weird and secretive again. What’s so different about this week than any of the others? I’m turning sixteen. It’s not that big of a deal.”
“Maybe I’m getting old and nostalgic. My little baby is growing up and I get sad. I’m probably being a crazy mom.”
“You said it, not me.”
I expect her to laugh, but she doesn’t. She’s always been a little off when it came to my safety. Mom is a basket case every time I’m out of her sight and it’s starting to really feel unnatural. I wish I understood what is bugging her so much.
From the look on her face, she’s a million miles away.