"Oh, hey, Wilfred!" a girl on the other side of the cafe called out. "They're talking about that crazy story up the coast! Turn it up!"

Wilfred obligingly used the remote to turn up the TV volume. Most of the patrons in the Juicenet cafe, including Rikki, Emma, Cleo, and Lewis, turned their attention to the screen.

"Police don't know how the boat appeared in the cane field," the news anchor said.

The screen showed an aerial view of a red and white small watercraft, with two teenage boys standing beside it, in the middle of a cleared circle inside an otherwise unblemished sugarcane field.

"The surrounding cane field is completely undisturbed, which means no vehicle was used to transport this boat into the field," the anchor continued. "It seems to have just appeared out of nowhere. But the most bizarre thing of all is that this boat and its crew were reported lost at sea thirteen years ago, near Lightning Point. Officials are asking anyone with information on where this boat has been all that time, and how it ended up in a cane field with no evidence of having been transported there, to contact them."

"Wow!" Emma said.

"Spooky dooky," Rikki agreed.

"I wonder if that's something we should check out," Cleo said.

Rikki gave her a puzzled look. "Us? Why?"

Cleo shrugged. "Boat. Boats are things which go on water. We know water. This boat was lost at sea. We swim in the sea." Cleo gave her a funny isn't-it-obvious? face.

This merely made Rikki more puzzled than ever. "Thirteen years ago and miles from here, so nothing to investigate. And the boat's on land now, where we're about as useful as three mermaid-shaped bricks."

Emma took a sip of her juice and said, "Rikki's right. Not our circus."

Cleo looked disappointed and put her chin in her hand. "I bet there's a story there."

"Yeah," Lewis said sarcastically. "One gigantic and well-done practical joke. My hat's off to the people who pulled that off. Bravo."

The TV news anchor had moved on to another local story.

"At least six cars and four motorcycles have been stolen in and around the Gold Coast area over the past three weeks," the anchor said. "Police believe the thefts are the work of a large, highly efficient gang. They further believe the gang has a chop shop somewhere between Brisbane and Gold Coast, though they caution the public that this chop shop could be anywhere."

"Urururur," Cleo quickly said with a shudder. "Car thieves! Like Gold Coast is Grand Theft Auto or something!"

"I know," Rikki said. "My dad's trying to find some way to keep Thelma safe."

The other three shared quizzical looks.

"Your dad have a girlfriend?" Emma asked.

"Yeah, and she's metal," Rikki said with a grin. "Literally. And she has two wheels. Thelma's the name he gave his Harley."

Lewis couldn't help but smirk. "Does the name Thelma have a history?"

"Could do," Rikki said. "This is my dad we're talking about. The answer would either be boring or TMI. Either way, I've never asked, never will."

"Ooh!" Lewis said. "If Ms. Chatham ever visited your house and rode your dad's motorcycle it would be..." He made a huge goofy face, spread his hands out, and waited for an answer.

The three girls looked at him, utterly baffled.

"It would be..." Lewis said dramatically. "Thelma and Louise!" He executed a rim shot on the table and spread his arms wide.

All three girls just pierced him with icy glares.

Lewis sighed.

Emma spoke to Cleo while barely looking at her. "He's your boyfriend. Do something."

"I try to make sure he takes his meds," Cleo said with a slight shrug. "That's the best I can do."

"Needs stronger meds," Rikki said.

"Comedic genius is wasted on you guys," Lewis said, shaking his head.

"If we meet any comedic geniuses, we'll be sure to let you know," Rikki said.

The TV news moved on to the weather. Wilfred had muted the TV, but the radar image was clear: the near future was very, very wet. It would probably begin within the hour.

The four friends glanced at the screen and sighed. Rain was a special problem for these particular girls.

"Well that's just wonderful!" Cleo groused. "A three-day weekend completely blown to bits!" It was Thursday afternoon. There was no school the next day due to a whole-day staff conference.

"Could be worse," Lewis said. "You could try explaining to everyone why you couldn't go to school tomorrow because you're allergic to rain."

They all grimly looked at each other. So far, by luck and by lies, they had somehow avoided having to go to school in the rain. (And was that the moon pool protecting them, as they theorized it sometimes did?) So it was again, here: by mysterious coincidence, school was out the very day they needed it to be.

But even with a magical power watching over them, they simply couldn't dodge that bullet forever. And they couldn't be "sick" every day it rained. So what then? Mom, Dad, I can't go to school because it's raining. Why? Because I'm made of sugar and I'll melt. Ha ha. No, seriously, I can't go.

"I'd still rather have a proper three-day weekend," Cleo grumbled, as they picked up their drinks and stood.

"Would your dad mind if I came over?" Lewis asked Cleo.

"He probably would," Cleo said. "I don't know why, but he's been kinda cranky lately."

"I don't know why that could be," Lewis said. "I've been practicing my jokes and puns on him." Lewis headed for the door, looking puzzled.

Cleo stood stock still, closed her eyes, and grimaced in frustration.

As Emma passed Cleo, she whispered in her ear, "Your boyfriend."

"My curse!" Cleo whispered back.

The four friends walked along the greenway by the beach. They took their time, enjoying the last few moments of sunshine they'd have for a while.

"We got lucky this weekend," Emma said glumly. "But someday, the rain will corner us."

"Was it really luck, though?" Cleo asked.

"Doesn't matter," Emma said, almost sounding snippy. "No protection can last forever. Rain's too common."

Cleo gave Emma a side eye, just for a moment. What's eating her? Cleo thought.

"Well, we have the ten-second grace period," Rikki said, trying to be the cheerful one for once. "It's saved us often enough."

"If you can gauge ten seconds accurately," Lewis said.

"Actually, I can," Rikki said.

"So can I," Cleo said.

"Me too," Emma said.

Lewis looked at all of them, his eyes wide. "Really?"

"We've turned into mermaids hundreds of times by now!" Rikki said. "Trust me: we know exactly how long ten seconds is."

"I start counting down without even thinking about it," Cleo said.

"Me too!" Rikki said.

"Yep," Emma said, but not nearly as enthusiastically.

"But wait," Rikki said to Cleo. "You count down from ten to one?"

"Yeah," Cleo said.

"Huh," Rikki said. "I count up from one to ten."

"Oooh, we need a tiebreaker," Cleo said. "Emma, which way do you go?"

"I count down," Emma said, sounding completely disinterested.

"Ah, I'm the weird one," Rikki said. "No surprise there. But it is a bizarre side effect, isn't it? I swear, I could be in danger four ways from Sunday. I could be threatened with nuclear missiles, alien invasions, wild tigers, and zombies, but the moment water touched my skin, I'd still start that count in the back of my head!"

"It's so automatic now," Cleo agreed.

"But how accurate are you?" Lewis asked.

"Bang on target every time," Rikki said.

"Lewis, the ten-second countdown is a matter of life or death for us," Cleo said. "Trust me. By now, we all have a perfect ten-second timer in our brains."

"Oh, wow," he said. "You know, we need to test thi-"

"No!" all three girls shouted.

"...or...not," Lewis said. "Yes. Very good."

Cleo and Rikki traded smirks. Cleo tried to trade one with Emma, too, but Emma didn't seem in the smiling mood.

They reached end of the greenway. It was time to part.

Cleo said, "All right guys, see you on the merchat." That's what they called the mermaid group chat.

Emma and Rikki waved goodbye, Cleo and Lewis (all forgiven, really) shared a quick smooch and a smile, and the four friends headed to their separate homes.

 

"Dishes," Cleo's father said wearily, not even looking up. He was completely relaxed on the couch and watching a nature program on TV. Something about eagles, as best she could tell.

She grimaced sheepishly and closed the front door behind her. "On it. Just let me put my stuff away." She had no stuff to put away, but her father wasn't looking at her so he didn't know that. She ran upstairs before that changed.

Once upstairs, she was safe, for she could retrieve her secret weapon.

She confidently trotted downstairs wearing her new 18-inch rubber gloves. She'd had to special order them online, and she kept them in her room because if she left them in the kitchen, she knew Kim would hide them or steal them, just because she could.

With a newfound sense of freedom, Cleo confidently attacked the dishes.

Kim sat at the dining table doing her homework. She eyed the long gloves with bafflement and distaste. "Seriously, Cleo?"

Cleo's only answer was to pointedly ignore her.

"You are so weird," Kim said.

Cleo's plan unraveled in less than a minute. She made the mistake of sticking a spoon under the faucet, wrong side up. Water sprayed everywhere, including onto her face.

She dropped the spoon, slapped the faucet off, and ran. Her inner countdown ticked calmly.

Kim watched her go in utter bafflement. "You haven't finished!"

"I heard my phone!" Cleo said.

"Tell them you'll call back!" her father said.

Cleo made it to her room and locked the door just in time to hide the tail, but not in time to fall onto the bed.

She was really, really tired of hitting the floor.

She knew her family expected her back within half a minute, or she'd be in trouble. But Rikki wasn't there to dry her.

Wait a minute! she thought. Rikki's not the only one who controls water! I do, too!

She instructed every bead of water on her face and neck to slide off her skin and congeal into a floating ball. The water complied.

And that was it. Just like that, the water was off her skin. She was dry.

Why did I never think of that before?! she screamed at herself as her legs returned.

She reduced the ball of water to nothing. (She could control the volume of water. She and the others still didn't know where it came from or where it went. She had a vague suspicion the answer would disturb her.)

She happily trotted downstairs. Spoons bad, she thought. Wash spoons carefully. Also bowls. Bowls bad. Don't splash.

"Who was it?" her father asked, still absorbed in the TV.

"Robocaller," Cleo said on her way by. "A Nigerian prince is giving us a million dollars. I told them how to access your bank account. We'll be rich by tomorrow morning. I want a Lamborghini."

Sounding almost bored, her father said, "You don't know how to access my bank account."

"That's what you think," Cleo said. She started on the dishes again.

Her father thought a moment, then said, "You know, I never know if you're joking."

"Of course I'm joking," Cleo said over the sound of the water. "Only Kim knows how to access your account."

"I do not!" Kim retorted. She was too young to know when she was being baited.

"Now I know you're joking," their father said. "Kim would have cleaned out the account and been halfway to Fiji on a cruise by now."

Kim just smiled. "True."

"Why are you home this early, anyway, Dad?" Cleo asked.

"Storm coming in," her father said.

"You fish in the rain all the time," Cleo said. "You said it helps catch more fish."

"I didn't say rain's coming in, I said a storm's coming in. Vicious one. I told the boys to pack it in and get home. Which reminds me, Cleo, check the flashlights, batteries, and candles."

"On it," she said, grateful to be given a dry chore for once.

Cleo was more careful with the dishes. Five minutes later, they were finished. She smiled in satisfaction and triumph. She even took a moment to sneer at Kim, just because.

Kim sneered back. "You are such a loser."

Kim looked back at her textbook, so Cleo took that moment to use her power to move all the water on her gloves into the sink, drying them instantly. I like this new use of my power! she thought.

Cleo took her life-saving gloves upstairs and hid them behind her dresser. Kim always targeted anything Cleo considered important, so she knew Kim would come hunting the gloves.

Cleo made sure the house's flashlights all worked and were in their assigned stations. Then she gathered batteries, candles, and matches into a neat pile on the kitchen counter. Thunder rumbled in the distance. The first heavy raindrops hit the windows.

"Cleo, get the mail," her father said.

"Why can't Kim get it?"

"I'm studying!" Kim protested. "You should try it sometime." Kim gave her a mean smile, triumphant in her verbal zing. Cleo sent her a withering look in response, mostly because she didn't have any real answer; Kim's dart had been viciously on target.

Cleo sighed and went to the front door. She opened it and looked out, just in time to see the rain become steady. She stared at it disconsolately.

"Does the view improve with time?" her father asked. "Would you like some popcorn while you watch your rain movie? The longer you wait, the wetter you'll get."

Cleo scowled and stepped out the door. She paused on the porch long enough to verify no neighbor was watching, then walked quickly to the curbside mailbox. Through the rain.

Anyone watching closely would have seen a strange sight: rain falling away from Cleo without touching her, as if she held an invisible umbrella.

Cleo ordered the water on the mailbox handle to get lost, and opened the mailbox. The mail had been dry when it was delivered, so that was good. Cleo should have brought a glove in case she'd had to pick up damp mail, but she didn't think of it. She was okay this time. Lucky.

She'd been a mermaid five months, and she was still discovering all the new rules she needed to adhere to, to keep her secret.

She glanced at the single piece of mail. She'd risked her freedom and safety for a tire ad. Yay.

She came back inside, put the mail on her father's desk, and hurried up the stairs. She wanted to ask her father if he needed her to do anything else, but she didn't want him to see that she was bone dry, so she didn't have a choice.

Luckily for her, Don Sertori had no more chores for his eldest daughter, so he watched her race up the stairs, puzzled not for the first time in the last five months.

He wasn't the only one. Kim paused her studying and got up. She walked to the sofa and plopped herself next to her father. "Dad," she said softly. "What is Cleo's problem with water?"

Her father couldn't take his eyes off the stairs. "I don't know, Muffin," he said, also speaking softly. "But I wish I knew."

Kim glanced at the living room window, with its myriad rain droplets running down the glass in soft zigzags. Outside, the wind began blowing the treetops around, and the sky darkened considerably.

 

As soon as Emma entered her house, she went to the kitchen for a protein bar. Her mom was preparing dinner.

"Abigail finally came in under four minutes in the 400," her mother said. "You should send her a text congratulating her. She's been working non-stop for three years to reach that goal!"

Emma gave a baffled half nod, which did not go unnoticed by her mother, though she didn't say anything.

Emma started to leave, but stopped. Something was obviously bothering her. She spoke carefully. "Mom...why do you keep up with the swim team?"

Her mother shrugged. She suddenly looked embarrassed and couldn't make eye contact. "Well...you know...I guess I do it just in case."

Emma felt deeply uncomfortable, yet still felt compelled to follow this train of words. "Just in case what?"

"Well...you know..." Emma's mother finally looked at her daughter with a smile. "In case you ever change your mind and rejoin the team."

Emma slowly nodded, a thousand emotions crashing around inside.

"I mean..." her mother continued. "Don't you miss it?"

The desperate hope in her voice made Emma's heart break a little more. And Emma felt those mini-heartbreaks build, cracks widening, day by day by day.

She sighed. "Yes and no." She looked her mother in the eye. "But I'm not rejoining the team."

They stood in awkward silence. Distant thunder rumbled.

"Storm," Emma whispered, slipping the protein bar into her pocket. "I'll bring the plants in."

Emma strode to the back door and stepped onto the terrace. Of course, this brought her face to face with the family's small pool.

She glanced inside the house. Her mother was no longer in sight. Did that mean something? Were her parents right now in the middle of a Deep Talk about their daughter? Or was her mother's absence for a completely innocent reason? Elliot wasn't to be seen, either. He was probably in his room doing homework.

The storm was maybe fifteen minutes away.

Her mind strangely numb, Emma brought in the expensive, exotic potted plants which – according to her mother – might be damaged in a storm. Emma didn't think a storm would hurt them, but her mother always insisted, and that was enough.

Emma moved the last of the plants inside and shut the door with herself on the outside, standing on the terrace.

She stared at the pool, at the water's lovely ripples.

She'd loved water since before she could remember. She loved the way it looked, the way it felt, the way it reflected light in crazy pretty ways, the way she could glide through it, the way it could work with her and against her at the same time. She could swear no two swim strokes had ever been the same; water constantly surprised her.

The sudden desire to dive in and sprint a freestyle lap was like a knife blade in her chest. Her body screamed. She wanted to swim, swim like a normal person, so badly. To stand on the blocks, to feel the adrenaline, to know she could make the water her friend long enough to beat the girls on either side of her. To experience that rush of touching the wall, looking up at her time, and discovering she'd done something amazing and fulfilling. It was euphoria!

She glanced inside again. No one was about; no one was watching her.

She strolled to the far end of the pool, where she would be a bit more out of view from anyone inside, and sat on the ground. Without thinking, she reached out to trace a finger across the water, but stopped herself just in time.

She stayed there, frozen. Her finger remained poised two inches above the water...and dared go no further.

She watched the dwindling daylight dance off the tiny waves, back and forth, left and right, in a perfect pattern. She wanted to touch the water so much! Touch it like a normal person. The silent screaming inside built, and built, and built, until finally it shattered.

Her face dissolved into tears as five months' frustration suddenly refused to be bottled any more. She lay down, out of sight beneath the windows, and buried her face in her other arm to stifle the sound as the sobs came rushing forth. Her hand, hovering over the water, became a fist. It shook with anguish and torment, inches from the water she had loved her whole life, and still loved.

But now it didn't love her. It had betrayed her. Now it turned her into a thing she had to hide every time she touched it! A thing she had to hide from her own family!

They'd changed an entire vacation tradition, just for her. Without even asking why. And in return, she couldn't even give them honesty, the barest minimum of decency.

She lay there for several minutes, muffling the sounds of her heart-wrenching sobs as best she could, desperately hoping no one found her like this.

She couldn't even touch the water in her own pool! She was trapped. Trapped inside an invisible, impenetrable barrier her family knew nothing about. A barrier no words could describe.

Abigail hit sub-four-minutes in the 400. The thought echoed through Emma's head, tormenting her, taunting her. Why had her mother told her that? Why couldn't her mother see that she stabbed Emma in the heart every time she mentioned the swim team?! How much did she have to bleed to be seen?!

Emma thought about her own swimming career, about where she would be right now, how hard she'd been working, how close she'd been to achieving her own goals. Goals she'd had to give up because of her situation!

It was too much. She pulled her hand back and clutched it to herself. She lay there, crying out her agony, her torture. She wept as the sky darkened.

A loud rumble of thunder and a flash of light told her she was out of time, even if she wasn't out of tears. Wiping them away, she managed to pull herself together. Still sniffling and breathing in short gasps, she stood and went inside. She shut the door as the first raindrops hit the terrace behind her.

Her mother was back in the kitchen, rolling out a pizza dough.

Emma put on a normal face just long enough to get past her, up the stairs, and to her room.

She needed support. She needed her friends. She didn't know what else to do, so she texted her fellow mermaids. I hate this! I hate keeping this secret from my family! I hate not being able to touch water!! I HATE IT!!!!

She got a couple of crying sad emojis in return. She knew that was just about all they could say, for all three of them had run out of words long ago.

Down in the kitchen, Neil walked in and hugged his wife from behind. She closed her eyes and sighed.

"Neil," she said softly. "What is Emma's problem with water?"

"I don't know," he said, also speaking softly. "But I wish I knew."

 

Rikki set her phone down and resumed staring out the living room window. She was sitting on the arm of the recliner, leaning sideways against its back, resting her head on a pillow. She had turned off the overhead light, leaving only a table lamp to push back the gloom.

In the dim light, she saw a ghost of her expressionless, almost sad face in the glass, superimposed over the raging turmoil outside. A multipronged lightning strike flashed to the ground several miles away, slicing a river delta down through her face, from temple to chin.

A perfect reflection of how she felt inside.

Emma's text had been full of anguish, yet Rikki had been able to send nothing in reply except a sad, crying face. At this point, words sounded trite; they'd already spoken them all.

Plus, in her deepest heart...Rikki felt Cleo and Emma should get over themselves. Emma in particular. As far as Rikki was concerned, being a mermaid was the greatest gift in the universe, and too often, Cleo and Emma both still whinged about it. Especially Emma. Rikki let it roll off her back, and tried to respect their lives, their experiences, and their feelings. But eventually, one reached a point where enough was enough. Get over it or do something about it.

Over the five months since they became mermaids, Rikki's resentment at the others' occasional whinging had been slowly building. She really had nothing more than a sad face emoji for Emma right now, because if she responded in words, she might say something she'd regret.

And that was the rub. It wasn't like any of them could sever her friendship with one of the others, or walk away. She, Emma, and Cleo were in this together, all the way to the end, whenever and wherever that would be. Bound by the biggest secret in the world.

And 95% of the time, they all got along, which was reeeeeeally lucky (notwithstanding any friendship matchmaking from the moon pool, if it truly chose them, which looked increasingly likely). If any of them despised each other, or just flat didn't mix in any way, their entire situation would be a gigantic cluster.

Also, Rikki often ran into reminders that Emma and Cleo had been friends with each other since they were toddlers, but friends with her for only a few months. These reminders weren't intentional, and the other girls were almost certainly blind to them. Nor did they make Rikki feel like an outsider, necessarily; she was okay with the situation. But the reminders still poked at Rikki constantly, like a gnat which wouldn't leave her alone.

And frankly, all three girls knew perfectly well that, without their mermaid bond, Rikki's friendship with Emma and Cleo would never have happened. To them, Rikki would have been just another face in the hall. They had no common interests, patterns, or social standing; there was no other overlap in their lives. In a very small, very subtle way, it was Emma and Cleo, and then Rikki. In fact, all of Rikki's current friends were simply Emma and Cleo's friends since childhood; as the new girl in town, she had simply been inserted into their long-standing group dynamic. But it was one of those situations which was so trivial that verbalizing it, or trying to discuss it, would actually make it worse.

The wind picked up. Rain started to lash against the window in earnest, coming down more horizontally than vertically. Swirls and waves of rain blew down the street.

"Hey, Kiddo," her father said, handing her an iced coffee. She smiled, quickly pulled several tissues from the box on the table, and used the tissues to take the glass. Only the tiniest moment of puzzlement crossed her father's face.

Rikki had been doing little things like that for months, now. It was all about water. Even a tiny bit, such as condensation on a glass, bothered her. He didn't know what to make of it.

At the moment, he was more interested in her unusually quiet mood. "What are you looking all philosophical about?" He eased himself onto the sofa and settled back.

Rikki glanced out the window, saw a lightning strike a few miles away. I'm thinking I could smite all the evil people in this world with lightning and fire, because I'm a sixteen-year-old girl who's been given more raw power than anyone I've ever heard of, and no one could stop me or tell me I'm wrong, and that's the scariest thing in the universe because that would make me the monster, and I need help so, so, so much Daddy, I wish I could tell you everything!

She gave a tiny shrug. "Just watching the rain."

"Never pegged you for the introspective type."

"Well, life changes."

He gave her a small smile. "You used to play in the rain. Thought it was the greatest thing ever. You'd shriek, laugh, and splash around!"

"I used to color in coloring books." She gave him a sweet smile.

He sighed. "I know. My little girl's almost at her Learner License."

"Still won't allow me to ride Thelma."

"Not for a couple years."

"So frustrating. You taught me to drive Thelma when I was thirteen. I could take her on the road right now!"

"Right now?!"

Rikki glanced at the fury outside. "Well, not right this second. You know what I mean."

"I know. You'd have no problem with Thelma. But the law's the law. We'd both get in trouble."

"I don't see her. You find a safe spot for her?"

"Sort of." He grimaced. "I wheeled her into the shadows between the houses."

"No chain?"

"Nothing to chain her to, except the tree in front or the tree in the back, and in each case, she'd be visible. I had to choose between chaining and hiding. I chose hiding, because these thieves would just laugh at a chain. They're real pros. Two of the stolen cars had steering wheel bar locks! Didn't even slow 'em down."

"Scary."

"Yeah."

They sat in silence for a moment, there in that dim living room, the muffled sounds of the storm swirling around them, somehow strangely comforting. Rikki was absorbed by the rain. Cascading waves of streetlight washed over her face, streaked with raindrops running down the glass. She looked like she was crying shadow tears.

Suddenly, she wanted to remember this moment forever. She didn't know why.

"Rikki...does water somehow bother you nowadays?"

Rikki looked at her father in mild surprise. "Why?"

He gave a tiny shrug. "Just...seems like you avoid touching water, even a little bit."

"Oh," she said, trying hard to seem casual, knowing she failed. "I dunno. The feel of water on my skin just bugs me a little, under certain conditions. It's hard to explain. It's no big deal, though."

"Oh." He nodded. He could tell there was more to it than that, but his Dad Instincts kicked in and told him now wasn't the time.

"Well, I gotta get to bed," he said, and stood. "Boss called a meeting at six. Don't know why."

She gave a soft snort of amusement. "You do something bad?"

"Oh, no, it's not just me. It's a company meeting, for all the employees. Even the ones who are off tomorrow have to come in, and boy, are they unhappy."

"How's the job working out?" He had started at a towing company two weeks earlier. He ran the service desk, handling people who were there to get their cars back.

"Not bad. But I deal with a looooot of cranky, pissed off chowderheads. I was just in the bar for fifteen minutes, I didn't know it was a tow zone. I didn't know I was parked in a handicap spot. I didn't see any sign!" He shook his head. "You know what? I lied. It's a crap job, because it's non-stop filth and outrage. But it pays really well, and I guess that's why. No one would put up with that garbage otherwise."

"Are you able to leave it all there when you leave at the end of the day?"

He grinned, leaned down, and kissed his favorite daughter, the love of his life, on her forehead. "Pumpkin, you absolutely know it!" He ruffled the top of her head, and she grinned. "Don't stay up too late."

"I won't. Good night, Daddy."

She watched her father head to his room, then turned back to the window.

The storm still raged.

As he crawled into bed, Terry Chadwick asked himself, What is Rikki's problem with water? Man...I wish I knew.