The sunlight stung Coral's eyes. She groaned, turning in her bed. Blinking through the blur, she glanced at the clock.
7:30 a.m.
A startled scream tore through the air. Mr. and Mrs. Ocean jumped as it echoed across the store from upstairs. Thundering footsteps followed. Coral raced down the steps, already dressed in a white blouse, navy blue skirt, brown sandals and loose ginger hair.
"Aren't you forgetting something?' Mr. Ocean called after her, a teasing not in his voice. His wife let out a soft chuckle.
Coral skidded to a stop, gasping as she spotted it.
Her surfboard.
She sprinted over and hugged it tightly, relief flooding her expression.
"Thanks you," she beamed, her voice bright with gratitude.
Mr. Ocean smiled. "No problem, Coral."
But then, she paused. Her smile faded slightly, eyes drifting, searching for the right words, her shoulder tensed nervously. Her parents exchanged curious glances.
"Mom, Dad," she began. Her voice steadier than she felt. "I have something to tell you."
Mrs. Ocean stepped out from behind the counter as Mr. Ocean pulled up two stools. They both sat, eyes fixed on her.
"What is it?" Her mother asked gently.
Coral stepped forward, her crystal-blue eyes locked onto theirs, unwavering.
"Yesterday," she said, taking a breath. "I breathed underwater."
Mr. and Mrs. Ocean exchanged a glance, their expression unreadable. Then turned back to Coral.
"B-Breathed underwater?" Mr. Ocean echoed, his brow arched in disbelief.
"Like how I breathed air," she explained quickly, "I took in water but I didn't drown. I breathed like a fish."
Mrs. Ocean leaned back, processing. "So...after you were swept up in that wave....you could breathe underwater."
"Yes!" Coral clapped once, excitement flickered in her voice before uncertainty crept back in. She hesitated. "Is that bad?"
Mr. Ocean looked at his wife, eyes searching for guidance.
"It's...he began.
Mrs. Ocean cut in with a soft laugh, her eyes deceptive. "This is Florida, honey. Strange things happen every day."
Mr. Ocean pointed at his wife, his eyes wide in agreement as a smile snaked across his face. "Your mother took the words right out of my mouth," he said, turning back to Coral. "Have no fear."
Cora let out a relived sigh, her hand flew to her chest. The room filled with warm, familial laughter as her parents laughed.
"Oh, good," she grinned. "I thought I was like...half fish or something."
The parents froze.
Their smiles faltered.
Their hands tensed slightly.
"What?" Mrs. Ocean asked, carefully masking the concern in her voice.
Coral blinked, her gaze bouncing between them. "It's a joke, Mom," she said, her smile returning.
They chuckled, a bit too lightly.
"Coral, you know we're old," Mr. Ocean laughed.
"Older than you know," Mrs. Ocean added with a teasing glint in her eye.
Strolling through the school's swinging doors, Coral dreaded the interaction ahead. She pushed open the classroom door, eyes squeezed shut, bracing for mean words and hurtful teasing.
Instead, when she peeked them open, her gaze landed on the blackboard. In colorful chalk, it read:
"Sorry you lost. (You should've won.)"
She blinked.
This is...it's beautiful.
Then she turned.
Her classmates sat morosely in their seats, brows furrowed, some quietly sniffling.
"Guys," she began, fighting back tears, "You didn't have to."
"We know you worked hard," Mr. Carla said, resting a hand on her shoulder. "And as much as I don't understand surfing, I understand your passion."
He gave a small smile. "You also got the second highest in the quiz."
Her eyes lit up.
"Really? Wait, who got first?"
Yvette Harrison raised her hand, her wrist jingling with bracelets, her hair tightly pulled into a bun. She nodded reservedly at Coral.
Coral sighed. "I should've known."
"Now, go to your seat, Coral," Mr. Carla urged, gently guiding her to her seat. "Today, we'll learn about trigonometry."
The class groaned in unison, some rolling their eyes—except Coral, who clapped excitedly like a seal.
Later, Mrs. Davis, the biology teacher, launched into a lecture about aquatic life, Coral found my mind drifting.
She couldn't stop thinking about her parents.
They hadn't said anything directly—but they acted strange.
Not just surprised.
No.
More like....they knew something.
Something important about her.
Did it had something to do with her underwater breathing?
"Coral!" Ms. Davis snapped, making the ginger jump in her seat. "Please pay attention."
Coral straightened up, grinning sheepishly. "Sorry miss," she mumbled, her cheeks pink.
After school ended, Coral strolled to a stop at the base of the stairs, surfboard tucked under her arm. Children passing her by, their laughter and chatter blending into a distant hum.
Questions spun in her head like a storm.
How could she breath underwater?
Why had her parents acted so strangely?
And how—how can she understand the language they speak when no-one else can?
She looked up at the sky, bright and clear. A stark contrast opposite to the clouds brewing in her thoughts.
Still, she could answer at lease one of those questions.
With new resolve, she turned and began walking—heading straight for Pearl Beach.
The waves lapped gently at her feet as she reached the shore, the wind tugging at her ponytail. Her pink wetsuit clung tightly to her body as she planted her surfboard in the sand.
She paused, spotting a drooling toddler nearby with big brown eyes fixed on her.
"Make sure no one touches it," she said, pointing at her board.
The baby nodded solemnly, eyes still glued to Coral.
She smiled briefly, then turned to the sea.
After a long stretched, she waded into the crystal-clear water. When it was deep enough, she inhaled and dove beneath the surface.
Her arms sliced through the water, legs kicking steadily. Her head and arms occasionally broke through the surface—but she didn't need to breath.
She was breathing already.
She sank completely under the surface, letting the water cradle her. Its warmth seeped into her skin, soothing every muscle. She inhaled and blew out bubbles, enjoying the benefits of naturally underwater breathing.
To her right, movement caught her eye.
Two snorkelers—a man dressed in purple trunks and a woman dressed in a tropical prink bikini—hovered nearby, suspended in the water. The man pointed at Coral, and the woman nodded quickly. They stared at her, eyes wide behind the goggles.
Coral blinked.
Then slowly, she raised her and offered a sheepish wave.
The snorkelers, stunned, glanced at each other before awkwardly waving back.
She turned and swam forward by kicking like a frog, cheeks burning even underwater.
Great. Now they'll definitely think you're weird.
Shelving the interaction in a trunk at the back of her mind, Coral focused on exploring—getting used to this strange, incredible her ability.
She dove deeper, marveling at the vibrant reef beneath her. Schools of colorful fish darted past her fingers, weaving through corals of every hue. She grinned and reached out, gently poking a pufferfish. It puffed up in alarm and awkwardly flopped away, making her laugh silently through the water.
Her eyes caught movement—a translucent sea anemone drifting lazily in the current. Memorized, she drifted closer, watching it tendrils dance like ribbons. Slowly, she extended a finger, her curiosity piqued—
A hand seized her wrist, tight and urgent.
She snapped her gaze upward, confused, and locked eyes with a boy—silver-blonde hair drifted in the water, skin pale like hers, and eyes burning a fierce grey.
"Swim," he said, voice low and serious, his strong grip unrelenting.
"Now."