With every storm comes the first stream of wind, running on white-tipped water and climbing to race about the clouds. I summon the gold-ringed stars and the feathered wind to tell the story of a silent storm. For with every step on land a girl places her foot on water, using the stars as a beam to hold her up. With every wave, she sinks deeper, grasping the night, but when she falls in, dawn’s breath gives her strength and draws her back up to the surface.

“Calli, Calli!” I skid to a stop and glimpse over my shoulder toward the laughing voice.

Her eyes glimmer, the bright green ring running into a gradient of brown as they hit the sunlight, and a smile glows on her face. Her freckles are just like mine, spread out about her cheekbones and speckling her nose.

“What?” I laugh as Lauren skips into place by my side, her thick almond curls flouncing along behind her. Her shadow gallops after her across the pavement, following her rustic boots clipping on the sidewalk. The light forms an array of shifting rainbows of color as the sun glints off of the metal pieces, standing out boldly against the weathered tan.

Our school, Grand Haven High, has faded into the background and only the copper roof can be distinguished by the time Lauren catches up, the commotion of cars on the street causing the ground to vibrate.

“Hey, Lauren! My house, ‘kay?” Tessa, Lauren’s Physics lab partner calls, ducking under a row of sugar maples. She waves, walking up to me and Lauren. Her one friend, Josephine, trails behind her, her eyes glued to her phone and her silky strawberry blonde hair falling over her face.

“Calli, you HAVE TO HEAR THIS!” Lauren beams, failing to hear Tessa’s question.

Tess has to repeat herself twice before Lauren even notices her. She mutters to herself, her fixed, tense expression clearly conveying her disappointment and frustration.

Even from a distance, anyone can tell that Tessa’s dark, frizzy hair stands out, complimenting her smooth tan skin tone and her sea-green tank top. It’s also known that her personality is even bolder. She actually just started sailing two summers ago, but she’s gotten increasingly skilled at it since then, placing second for our newly established sailing team, because she’s always willing to push herself and try new techniques - then master them in less than a year.

Personally, I think she’s stuck up.

Unfortunately, Lauren’s oblivious to me and Tessa’s… differences.

“Hey, Callisto Rayne.” Tessa flips her hair and winks at me, shifting a brilliant silver purse on her shoulder. I shy away a little bit, and my eyes drop to the ground.

“It’s Calli,” I say under my breath, gripping the pendant of my necklace tightly between two fingers.

“Mmm, totally,” Josephine nods, distracted by her Instagram. I ignore her and glance up at Tessa, who cocks her head to the side and smirks.

“So, anything interesting going on after school today? If not, you’re welcome to come over to my house to, you know, hang out. Just like old times.” Tessa smiles sweetly at me, and I look away, hoping to direct my attention to something else, anything else, and a small, pink tree flower prancing in the breeze catches my eye.

“Oh, and don’t mess up the debate preparations like last time. You don’t want to humiliate yourself again, do you? Just a bit of advice,” she purrs, tracing the edges of a weeping cherry tree leaf with her finger, the one right beside the pink flower. I can feel myself trembling, but I force myself to stare back at her, fending off the ugly taste in my mouth. “Why the sour face, sweetheart?” She blinks innocently, flicking the leaf behind her, and a petal of the flower is flung off the tree and into the air.

My face heats up and I glance back at Lauren, who’s flipping through a pamphlet on 3D art projects.

“Cut it out, Tessa,” I growl, collecting myself. I swallow, my hands shaking, and I jam them into the pockets of my denim jacket. “It’s not like I get up in the morning and think to myself, ‘Hey, you know what, I’m going to try to please Tess today.’ I’m sorry.”

She only smiles wider, thrilled with her little toy. “I’m sorry, too. It would really help you so much more.” She glows with delight and spins on her heel, shoving me back a few steps, and she grabs Josephine’s arm before sauntering away.

I stumble, bumping into Lauren, and she looks up from her pamphlet.

“Soooo… are you ready?” she asks, brimming with excitement. I rub my head and nod, trying to forget about Tess, but the feeling of how I just let her win pushes all other thoughts to the side. “So. I have bad news and good news. The good news is that now we have more time to get that essay done because our meet was moved back a few days! The coaches from Central High and East Grand Rapids are all sick, which is weird, but you know, it’s all good. And the bad news is that Ms. Pepperton sort of scheduled a test in two days, and I haven’t really prepared all that much, so yeah,” she explains in a flood of words, skipping down the sidewalk.

“Hey, Lauren? Can I ask you something?” I ask tentatively, taking one last quick look back at the flower petal, settled in the dust under the tree’s branches.

“But I’m making real progress on studying! I’ve already memorized things off the study guide!” Lauren hops over a crack in the sidewalk and almost trips, but catches herself at the last second.

“Laaauuuren.” I tap her on the shoulder.

Lauren spins around and starts walking backwards. “Do you want me to show you? I will if you want me to!”

I raise my eyebrow and cross my arms. “Lauren.”

“I knew you’d say yes!”

I sigh and drop my hands, waiting for Lauren to start the finale.

“Ready? Inertia is the tendency of an object to resist change, and Newton’s First Law is, ‘An object that is at rest will remain at rest, and an object that is moving will continue to move in a straight line with a constant speed, if and only if the net force acting on that object is zero.’ Yay!” Lauren grins at my bewildered expression, but I shake it off and sigh.

“Looks like we’re going to have some major studying to do tonight.” Grimacing, I shift the weight of my backpack on my shoulders. I squint, peering up at the clouds covering the light, blocking the warm spring sun from spreading across the path, but then my voice drops, and I stare at the ground. “I really don’t have the time for it.”

Lauren’s expression falls, and she brushes her arm up against mine. “It’s going to be okay. Trust me.” She smiles weakly, and I shake my head, twirling my flaxen braid around my fingers. Lauren’s wrong.

Nothing is okay.

It’s not okay and it won’t ever be okay, because on top of my quarrels with Tess, my grandfather is sick with lung cancer. I don’t know when or how he got it, but I do know that he’s dying.

He’s dying, and along with his death goes all the nights we’d sit out at the beach, him guiding my palm across the sky, tracing the distance of the stars, looking out for Cygnus, Ursa Minor, and Pegasus, my favorites. Before he was sick, he’d show me how to find my longitude simply by measuring the horizon to the North Star, or how to find land by feeling the waves under my boat. I’ve lived in Grand Haven, Michigan all my life, and some of my fondest memories include just the two of us, sitting out on the water. So there goes listening to the wash of the lake against Vitamin Sea, the name we gave our little catamaran when stargazing on her a few years back. All the stories, too, of our days and all the days before us and in the future; they’ll burn into blackened ashes the second he breathes his last.

“I know the only reason why I’m a decent sailor is because-” I break off, my voice cracking.

I bite my lower lip and walk a little quicker, fingering the simple necklace hanging around my neck, but Lauren keeps pace. “No matter how this turns out, you can talk to me, okay? I’m here.” Lauren stops in front of my driveway, her hand leaving my shoulder. “At least for me, any day I get to spend with you is the greatest day ever. So today’s the new greatest day ever. You’ll find good days again, Calli, I know you will.”

“Okay, right,” I nod as I climb up the steps, pushing the snow-cap blue door open just enough for me to slip through, and I watch as Lauren continues down the street and out of view. I feel like I should have said more, maybe thanked her, but I don’t say anything. Like a stone, my heart drops a little lower into my gut. I gently close the door, trying not to wake Grandpa.

I work my way to the kitchen, and I eat a few Trader Joe’s dark chocolate heart cookies as I pull out a book, Seabiscuit, and start my homework. Hours lapse as I complete my reading assignment, a US History essay on the gold mines, and part of a Physics study guide. Now I stare down at math equations and I rub my eyes, thoughts of Grandpa etching themselves into my mind. Am I wasting time? What if he’s about to die right now?

Base 10 logarithms, Calli. Focus, it’s not that hard.

But it is that hard.

I don’t know what I’m doing, but I should know how to do this. I’m going to let myself down again. I’m not going to pass this next exam.

After about forty minutes of having a pointless staring contest with logarithms, I slip down from my bedroom to eat dinner and then back up to get ready for bed, but I come back down to the main floor one last time to say goodnight to Grandpa.

I drift down the staircase and peek into my grandfather’s bedroom, where he lies unmoving except for his quick, shallow breaths. His hair has thinned out at an alarming rate over the past few months, the thin stalks of grey hair almost gone from his head. His t-shirt is ivory white, contrasting the navy blue quilt he rests on, propped up by three pillows.

“Hey, Grandpa.” I flop onto his bed, sinking into the mattress. I peer out the window. “Ursa Major is clear tonight,” I whisper, and he smiles softly.

“Calli, why so down? We both know my time is coming, but it’s really not that bad.” He touches my hand, his raspy voice like pebbles rubbing on sand with the tide.

“I know, but it’s still hard, and I really don’t want to lose you. I love you so, so much, and I know you know that but it’s still really hard, you know? And what if I never sail again? What if I forget how to read the stars? What if I forget your voice?” I rub my eyes, propping up my elbows on my legs, unable to put into words how much he means to me.

As long as I can remember, his life has intertwined with mine, like two trees, orange and pear, twisted around each other. Together they create something beautiful, impossible, and rare, overflowing with beams of sunlight and lush, deep leaves, small gifts tucked inside the canopy. In the moonlight the fruits turn sapphire blue, a delicate ray of silver breeze sifting through the leaves and touching each tip. And during the day, they turn brilliant blood orange and speckled green and golden in the morning sun, glowing with love and warmth.

There are no words to capture the essence of love. It can’t be examined or measured, because it’s not a characteristic or an object. I can’t describe it because it’s boundless, and it has forged each and every soul, atom, and star, since the beginning of the universe.

When I think of Grandpa, I see his laughing face, the way his grin can coax a smile out of the most heartbroken people. Grandpa is who I think of when I try to describe a spirit, free and filled with affection. Our tree embodies our spirits, intertwined with beautiful color and life.

But, like all living things, trees can bend and snap and fall. When he leaves this world, when his spirit is lifted from his body, I will lose a part of my own soul.

“Calli, just because I won’t be here doesn’t mean you should stop living, too.” He pauses, lost in thought. “It’s sort of like climbing a mountain.”

The corner of my mouth twitches up. I can count on Grandpa to tell me a new story about his former job every chance he gets.

“It’s always going to be a battle hiking uphill, and if it’s too steep going down, you might trip and fall. But Calli, if you’re too focused on the trail, you’ll never get to see the view. It was always worth it once I got to see my client’s faces after they saw the terrain they had conquered. And don’t think that doesn’t apply to you, too.” Grandpa touches my head, resting his hand on my cheek. “Show yourself that you believe in who you’re meant to be. Sail. There, on Mariah, you’ll understand.” He cocks his head to the side, my eyes meeting his amber ones, and I offer him a small, half-hearted smile before glancing away.

“Calli,” he calls, and when I shift my gaze back to his face, it’s lit up with sudden joy, his eyes livly. “Now this is truly the absolute worst. Possible. Thing. Ever,” he moans, tapping me playfully on the shoulder. “Guess.”

“Your pillow is flat again.” I roll my eyes, smiling.

“No, not this time, but it’s getting there. This time my foot is falling asleep. It’s really uncomfortable, actually,” he sighs, making a weak attempt to thump his foot against the mattress. He blinks a few times, disappointed, and then we both burst into laughter.

“Alright, we both need to get some sleep. And don’t you forget what I told you. I love you, Callisto, no matter what, and no one can prove your own awesomeness but yourself. Now go off to bed.” He waves his hand, and I give him a final kiss goodnight.

“But I don’t know how-”

“Nope, you do,” he grins. “I’ll be with you all night long and when the sun rises, I’ll still be here. Don’t worry. Goodnight, Calli.”

I murmur, “Sweet dreams,” jumping in for one last hug, and I climb upstairs to say goodnight to my parents, too.

As I tuck myself in, resting my arms on the covers, I close my eyes, settling into the comforter. I turn on my left side, then flip over so I’m facing the ceiling. My braid is digging into my neck, so I pull the hair tie out and spread my hair over the pillow, squeezing my eyes shut. My back is hot, and I fling the top cover off my body, twisting the stiffer, lighter blanket into a tight spiral.

I feel like I'm stuck, my foot trapped in barbed coral, the crashing waves of the ocean pummeling me over and over again. Gone, the waves whisper. My thoughts sigh like the sea, pain and confusion tumbling around and around in an endless current’s course.

I curl up on the mattress and I close my eyes tight, but I’m pelted with thoughts of Grandpa, driving my mind in circles. I attempt to relax, to think about nothing, but my fears prod me awake every time I begin to fade out. Is he asleep yet? they whisper. Was today the last day?

I hover in and out of consciousness, tired from listening to my own thoughts. I try to think of anything else, and I land on Seabiscuit. The people in that book were real fighters, and they never gave up hope. Seabiscuit, small and imperfect, beat out all odds. But so many people lost their lives, so many jockeys, trampled under fate’s sharp hooves. I hug my knees to my chin, keeping my eyes shut. My mind wanders, but always comes back to Grandpa.

A wave of sadness and loneliness crashes over my head, again and again and again, pummeling my mind. Gone gone gone, my thoughts cackle like the ocean, drawing me in with the tide. Something metallic and cold wraps around my arms, and I turn my head, but nothing is there. Of course there's nothing. It's all fake, all fake, I’m not really here. Even so, I can't help but notice that the water is a murky grey with only small hints of dark blue swirling at my feet, seeming awfully real. The waves lap at my toes, sending shivers of fear galloping up my spine.

Fake, you say? the foam hums faintly. So you are a fraud, you and your pathetic attempts to prove how much you’re worth?

“That’s not true, and that’s not what I meant,” I sputter, my nose sinking under the surface. I gasp for breath, kicking up, my wrists still bound by some invisible force, but another looming wave crashes over my head, sending me spinning.

You? the Ocean hisses, growing louder. You’re weak, Callisto. You’re breaking, and you’re lost when your sails bring you too far from the dock.

“No!” I kick my feet to stay above the choppy waves, and I can almost hear my grandfather’s voice whispering in my ear. I turn, reaching out, “Help, plea-”

I'm cut off by another bought of water, the fog and the salt stinging my eyes and blurring my vision. Coughing, I gasp for breath, my heart pounding in my throat, and I fight to keep my mouth above the vicious watery dome.

Sorry, too late, the Ocean cackles in my ear, filling my head, dragging me under the waves. I didn't mean to cut you off, I promise.

I kick, struggling, but I’m jerked down, down, farther and faster until my feet touch the rocky bottom, iron bars ensnaring me below the surface. The last thing I see is a pair of cornflower blue eyes burning into my own.

My eyes fly open, bringing the sharp pink-orange glow of sunrise. I lay in my bed, the waves still pounding against my body, the dimming light flickering in spots along my vision, the voice breathing in my ear. My heart pounds against my ribcage, and I’m deadly silent, listening for any sounds downstairs, but all I can hear is the moan of windy gusts thumping against the house.

It’s quiet.

It’s never that quiet.

I forget to breathe, trying to fathom that today was the day, that I’ll never get to see his smile, lit up with joy, ever again. The thought echoes into my ear until I can think of nothing but his face, and my mind tumbles into an ashen cloak of metal. I bury my face in my arms.

I try to yell, to cry, but my windpipe is choked, and my mind has snapped into a painful numbing sleep. Shaking my head, I attempt to free myself from the iron cage, searching the sky for moonlight to pierce through the thick black air. I lift my palm and rest it on the bars, the bitter winter touch chilling my insides, freezing my voice. My eyes well with tears, and I slam myself against the barricade over and over until a girl with cornflower blue eyes like my own strikes the cage with a staff, roaring at me to quiet myself. I slump against the wall and she stares at my clipped wings, her golden flaxen hair concealing her face.

Birds will grow back their feathers if their wings are clipped. What does it matter, though, if iron weights still hold them down, surrounding them? Caged birds can’t fly either way.

I look up from my arms, pulling me out of a trance, and I tremble, my feet touching the chilled floor. My vision still blurry from the tears, I stumble out of bed, my dirty blonde hair a knotted mess on my shoulders.

The next few days are numb, detached and pitch-black empty. I can’t feel my face or my legs, and I stay home, laying in bed, unresponsive to sick flashes of frigid heat and searing cold. Lauren comes to visit me once after school, and she talks to me for a little while, but I don’t say much.

“Calli, you’ve been in bed for four days. You need to get up,” she says, heaving a sigh.

“Mghhh,” I moan, flipping over on my stomach.

“We have a race tomorrow, and I know if you come you’ll feel a whole lot better.” Lauren pulls off my blankets, and I curl up and shiver from the cool air.

It turns out that Lauren persuaded my parents to drag me out of bed and sit me in a racing boat, push me out on the water, and throw a lifejacket on me as well. Thank you, Lauren.

Actually, to be honest, the rush of cool air on my face is almost a relief after being inside for days, but I can’t help feeling a mournful cry build in my throat, thinking about never sailing with Grandpa again. The cool water rushes through my toes as I push off from the rocky beach, and I grab the mainsheet and push down the rudder.

Lauren steers her boat toward mine until she can sail up beside me. “Hey.” She nods her head. “I see you’re out on the water again.”

I huff and roll my eyes, attempting to point out that I did not want to leave my bed today and that she did a very bad job at figuring that out. Lauren is supposed to be the mind reader in this friendship, so she should have supported me in my efforts to avoid all contact with lake water for the next few weeks.

“Lauren Westmore, we can’t be friends anymore,” I answer, and then a smile breaks out on my face and we both start giggling. Yeah, right, we’re basically inseparable. As suddenly as the laughter came, it disappears, and my mind circles back to the piece of my heart I’ve lost, filling me with a yawning shadow of mourning. I turn my head away and draw in my mainsheet, pulling past Lauren.

“… we have Grand Haven High School, Central High School, and East Grand Rapids High School this evening, and racers, start sailing closer to the starting line, here’s the warning signal,” the race officer plays a loud beep into a megaphone, indicating 5 minutes before start time. He’s already explained the course, so I start to sail my racing boat, Mariah, back and forth across the starting line, counting the seconds it takes me to sail the length of it. Tess sails close and calls out to me, but I pretend I don’t hear her voice, that I’m too focused.

I prepare myself as the beeps come closer to zero, and take off from the starting line as soon as the officer plays the starting sound rapid-fire. I hurtle forward on a starboard tack, and I lift my head to test where the wind is coming from. Pulling in my mainsheet and heading windward, I pull up close behind a racer from our rival school, Central High. I tack up the course, tailing the boy, but making sure to stay far enough away so he doesn’t steal my wind. Tess is a few boat lengths behind me, fighting to stay ahead of another opponent from East Grand Rapids.

I slip forward a length, gaining on the first racer after jibing around a course marker, letting out the mainsail to catch wind. On the turn, Mariah is dangerously close to the buoy, but I manage not to run into it and ease by with inches to spare, the maroon flag just missing my port side. Behind me, another Central High racer is gradually gaining, waiting for me to falter. Speed up, Callisto. Don’t break. It’s not that hard.

I jerk up the daggerboard and release my boat into a broad reach, preparing my move for the final stretch, and the third place racer senses her window to shoot for my position. She leans forward, giving her boat heel and getting on the inside of me, but I stand up and lean as far as I can go, too, clipping off space between me and first place. At the leeward buoy, first place wavers. I pull Mariah to the outside, sacrificing a tight turn but inching her ahead into first.

The racer who used to be in first calls out to his teammate, encouraging her, “Go get her, Nicole! Go, go!”

Nicole sees me pulling ahead and runs a tight turn around the buoy, gathering half a boat length advantage. She mirrors me, and we simultaneously push our dagger boards down, yank in our main sheets, and tack upwind, gaining speed at a steadily faster clip. My boat flies on top of the waves, rapidly gaining on the finish line, and the rest of the course is pinched away, the other boats too far behind to gain on first or second. It’s me and Nicole now.

We’re barrelling forward, charging down the finishing stretch, and I’m hiking off Mariah’s port gunwale to control heel, the water’s breath close to my ears. The whitecaps rush by my side, the wind whipping through the waves and skimming my boat across the course in a close haul, like a racehorse opening her stride, leaning forward to break the wire. My heart beats faster, and then my throat is choked, and for a split second my thoughts envelope me, grabbing the tiller and yanking the mainsheet away. If you lose, you’re not good enough. If you lose, you’re not meant to sail, and you’re going to let him down. You’re broken, broken and weak and you’re losing control and you can’t let it out and it hurts.

Nicole is gaining only by inches, but I can feel my boat slowing now, giving her a frighteningly amazing opportunity to pull ahead, her approaching bow a bright warning flag to accelerate.

My sails luff, and Mariah slows. The wind is changing.

I adjust my sail and choke back tears, gaining speed again, but she had caught up with me in those few seconds. It hurts, it hurts but I won’t let you down, I will prove to you who I can be.

Her thick dark hair whips in the gusts, parallel with mine, deep eyes flashing. With just a few feet to go, she pushes her boat as far upwind as she can without slowing, me doing the same.

We end together, flying across the line.

I breathe, turning my boat downwind, and I nod at Nicole who gives me a thumbs up. I force a tight, half-convincing smile and she grins back, reaching up to touch a pink flower woven into her hair. Glancing away, I bear off from the course, and I sail until I’m alone and can turn Mariah up to face the wind.

I sit alone and cry out to the lake, the coming darkness wrapping me in it’s cold blankets, a thick arctic breath. Murmuring to the water, I ask for my Grandpa back. It’s all I want. All I really want.

“Callisto?” Tessa’s voice makes me suck in my breath, and I quickly brush away my tears. Shoot, oh no. “Um, are you okay?”

I don’t answer at first, but after a few moments I respond. “Yes, I’m fine,” I say. “Please go.”

She doesn’t leave. She sits there, staring at me. Go, just go.

“Tess, I need to be alone.” I raise my voice a little louder, thinking maybe she didn’t hear me the first time.

Tess laughs, but I’m confused as to why, so I don’t say anything.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” She stares at me, her eyes a sort of glare. “You need the opposite of isolation. You need help,” she giggles, and I narrow my eyes.

“I don’t think I’m the one who needs help right now,” I shoot back, tensing. A sharp gust of wind sends my sail into turmoil, and it swings back and forth, almost knocking me in the head.

Tessa rolls her eyes and ducks under her mainsail. “Oh come on, Callisto Rayne-”

“Calli-”

“-you know you need desperate help. Who sulks all day behind a textbook? Who shys away from any person who attempts to start a conversation? Who has temper tantrums every other time someone looks at her? Honestly.” Tess drifts nearer to my boat and reaches out for my arm but I don’t pull it away in time.

Her fingers dig deep into my skin, and I wince, trying to break her grip. She draws me closer.

“Maybe you don’t understand that you’re worthless to others, but you’ll figure it out later, when people finally start turning you away. Sometimes we just need a little push in the right direction. You agree, don’t you?”

I don’t answer, choosing to study the dark, glowering water instead, and I bite back tears as her hand tightens on my wrist.

When we were younger, Tessa always found ways to fix me. She called me out on everything, from saying “Hello” the wrong way to contradicting her on how to solve a quadratic equation. I honestly believed she was trying to help, until she snapped and humiliated me in front of the class in eighth grade. Answer me! she had yelled. Why don’t you understand? I’ve done so much for you, and you still can’t do anything right! I had tried to defend myself, but she cut me off, saying that I needed to learn a lesson. That she was fed up with how clueless I was, how worthless a friend I had become. She started naming all my flaws, every single one.

That was also the day I met Lauren. She found me in the empty hallway long after Tess had left, tears slipping down my face, but I never told her what Tess had said to me.

When I became friends with Lauren, Tess was furious. I still don’t understand why.

“Answer me!” she yells, and I flinch, shivers flying up my spine. “And quit it with the smart remarks, too. I don’t appreciate them, and you’re not going to want to find out what I’ll do to you if you continue to steal things that should have belonged to me,” she murmurs, glancing over at her friend who is staring at us both. Tess looks back to me, and jealousy flits across her expression, almost too quick to see, a concealed, fatal crack in a wall of defense. Then, she leans closer so her face is eye-level with mine, grabbing my jaw to force me to look at her. Her eyes are frosted over like a frozen wind, and they burn into mine. I have an overwhelming urge to either let her win or to flip her over the side of her boat.

“You’re broken, Callisto Rayne, because you’re weak. You haven’t hit rock bottom yet, but let me help you with that,” she snarls, wrenching me into the water with a jerk of her arm.

She snorts as I cough up salty water, lurching her boat out of irons and in the opposite direction of Josephine, who doubles over laughing at me.

I fling myself onto the stern of Mariah before she drifts too far, and I drip with lake water and sit, shivering, away from the racers. I focus on the rippling water, wiping my soaking hair away from my eyes, but I yelp and turn away when I see the girl with the staff staring back. My hand flies to the little engraved “c” on my pendant, and a sinking feeling of emptiness touches my heart. I don’t speak, longing even more for some way to prove that I can be the person I want to be. You let him down again. You’re weak. Tess is right. You let yourself down, you’re not worth anything people think of you, and you didn’t push through it. You didn’t show yourself who you could be. You didn’t prove it.

But I will. No matter what, I won’t let you down this time.

I look up just as Lauren finishes, and she catches my eye before I glance back down again, reaching out to tighten the boomvang. She stares at me, her almond curls billowing in her ponytail.

“And… CENTRAL HIGH SCHOOL IS THE WINNER!” the race officer announces to the racers, and a cheer erupts from our rival school.

I sail back and forth, tacking and jibing, tacking and jibing, and when one of the race managers comes to see if I’m alright, I say I’m fine and I’m just practicing. The sky is turning darker by the time the others have landed their boats on the shore, but I can stay longer because my parents weren’t able to come to this race, so I’m just going to walk home. My house isn’t far.

A building pressure is growing in my chest, and I want to yell and cry and kick my stupid boat but I don’t. I don’t because Josephine's dancing laughter echoes in my ears, like flames cracking wood on a cold night, and Tess’s stinging words fill my head, like drumming rain pounding on the rooftop. I don’t because I’m afraid of failing to show the world that I can live up to what my grandfather believed I could do. Who he believed I could be. I don’t because I’m weak.

I turn my boat around, sailing her out into the lake farther, farther, and I keep going, gaining speed. Stupid Callisto, always letting everyone down. The wind is getting stronger, blowing the stars out of view, sending the clouds flying, and my hands are raw from gripping the mainsheet so tight. I don’t focus on my direction, not the beach, not the gusts. If I don’t focus on the world, maybe I can escape it. If I don’t focus on the shore, maybe I can finally sail away from the docks.

I grit my teeth and plant my feet firmly in the cockpit, pushing faster, faster, outracing the clouds, the mist, the beach vaporizing into the haze. I’m winning, I’m winning and I will win this time. I won’t stop until I prove it.

The waves turn choppy, but I don’t let the white caps stop me, not now. If I’m a sailor, I can sail in the choppy waters. If I’m a sailor, I should know how to sail in any conditions.

“If I’m a sailor, I SHOULD BE STRONG,” I bark to the wind, tears welling up in my eyes. My braid had unraveled during the race, my hair now obscuring my vision. A deep, growing anger builds in my gut, and I holler at the wind to leave me be, to let me try, one last time, to prove my worth.

“Calli!” A far-off voice calls to me, but I don’t turn around, not now. “Calli, stop!”

At the sound of the girl’s shouts, I push Mariah faster, running her close to the wind. I duck my head and lean back with my feet pressed against the hiking straps, leveling my boat and trying to keep her upright.

“Feather upwind! Slow down, you’re going to capsize!”

I block out the voice, and I continue to sail out, gaining more and more speed, the water spilling into my boat.

“Leave me alone, you don’t get this, okay? I’m not strong enough, let me do this, alone,” I howl back, my voice thin and filled with desperation, like a flute playing the highest octave.

Sinister, piercing thoughts circle around me, death and isolation running a dirt path thin around my skull. Tears burn the skin surrounding my eyes - no, it’s rain. Tears don’t hurt. I’m not crying, I’m not. I’m NOT. Sailors don’t cry.

The raindrops are continuous, battering, with the force of a pounding thunderstorm. I open my mouth to scream, but only air escapes, and I struggle to choke back the tears that are blurring my vision. I’m so sorry, Grandpa. I tried.

My eyes are burning, stinging against the gusts, and the wind rushes around me, pushing me forward, faster, harder, stronger, away, away from everything. I’m breathing hard, pain scrawled across my forehead, the jagged letters digging deeper into my mind. I grip the sheet, tight, as the wind and waves pound against the sail and the hull, my mind spinning faster with every drum and whistle. My thoughts slip away from me, drowning out the rest of the world, and they force me to let all the fears I’ve kept hidden away come crashing down.

Everything is falling, falling and I’m left on a frail pillar of ice, the moon blurry, the stars dim, dancing spots just out of reach. The empty, heavy air breathes, encasing me in darkness, ripping past the gorge, clawing its way up the thin stalk of creaking glass, moaning. I’m gripping the edge, I’m about to slip, about to let go, and when I do, licking flames dance in my eyes just before I reach them.

“CALLISTO RAYNE WAYE. STOP THIS INSTANT.”

A shock runs through my body as I register the voice. I tighten the mainsheet a little too much, surprised and confused, and in that moment I flip over the port side of my boat.

“Ah!” I yelp, as Mariah hurls me over her side and into the lake, and I struggle to push myself back up. Salty water rushes into my mouth, and I cough, spitting it back into the lake. The water is still icy cold from this winter, and my legs begin to numb as I float on top of the waves, thoughts still drumming against my skull. When I look up through a waterfall of salty drops pooling around me, twilight is fading fast, giving way to night. The stars are blotted out by heavy mist, and the open waves lick at the hull of my turned boat.

“Lauren? You - you came out here?” I blink, astonished.

Lauren pulls her boat up to me, waiting for me to right mine and climb back on. The wind blows Lauren closer, and she halts when I heave myself onto the stern, balancing myself to prevent another capsize. I’m dripping wet, and my hair droops in front of my eyes, so I blindly try to grasp the tiller extension and push the bow back so Mariah is facing directly into the wind.

“Yes, I did. I had to. The way you looked at me after you finished racing… that was a dangerous look, Calli.”

I stare at the boom of my boat, swinging back and forth in the gusts. My hands are white, clenched and shaking. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” I whisper, salty drops rolling down my cheeks. My shoulders shake, stained glass tears warm against my skin, and goosebumps run down my arms, the frigid water sinking into my bones. Rubbing my eyes as my head throbs, I listen to the waves, washing against the hull in time with my cries.

I shiver, trembling and whimpering like a wounded wolf, separated from her pack and trapped alone in a stone cave.

I don’t look up until my arm is soaked with tears, and my heart thumps, heavy, inside my chest. I love you, Grandpa, I love you so so much and I will-

“-never forget you,” I choke out the last words, breaking into more heavy sobs. My heart has been stabbed a thousand times through, but I’m still breathing, still living, pulling the knives out one by one. I thump my palm on Mariah’s side, running my fingers over the scratches.

A hand rests gingerly on my shoulder. I look to Lauren, and she’s sitting on her starboard gunwale, reaching out to give me a hug. I lean over to her, and she wraps me in her arms for a quick moment before we have to lean back to prevent another capsize.

“Alright, now tell me what’s going on,” Lauren demands, her hair swirling about her face. She waits, placing her left hand on her hip, but I shake my head, intently watching the warm wind blow drops of water off my arms. “I really want to help… but I can’t if you won’t let me,” she says gently.

I take a deep, shaking breath, and she watches my trembling frame quake for a few more seconds before I can muster up the courage to speak. “My grandpa died a few nights ago and we were so close, but… but I guess you already knew that.” I pause, gathering myself. “We used to do so much together, and we laughed and stargazed and named all the constellations in the night sky. I have amazing memories of him, and now, now I’ll never see him ever again. I’m stupid and weak and I’m not meant to sail without him forever because it was never really me. It was always us, but now that he’s gone it’s just me and I’m alone and I don’t deserve anyone. Tess hates me. I’m a laughing stock because just look at me, and I CAN’T DO THIS, LAUREN, I tried to sail again and prove myself wrong but I’m NO ONE AND IT’S TOO MUCH.”

I burst into tears and I grip my necklace, hard, pulling the leathered string forward and clasping the little “c” in my palm. I gasp for breath, gagging, the sobs choking my windpipe.

Lauren doesn’t snap at me, she doesn’t tell me to calm down. She breathes out slowly, gently.

“I know it’s hard and I don’t expect you to get over this so soon. But you are amazing, and you, Calli, have a beautiful heart of love and strength, and you are so much stronger than you think you are.” She pauses, drawing her gaze away from my face, and instead she peers past my sail and into the night. “Do you trust me?”

I nod, tears starting to well up again, and my insides flip over as I hug my knees. “Lauren… Yes, of course I do. I… Thank you for this,” I sniffle, and my hair falls over my face as the wind rises and falls.

We’re silent for a long moment, but then Lauren speaks again, in a low whisper. “You’re meant to be out on the sea, Calli. It’s where you belong. I mean, look who you ran to looking for comfort. The water. Even if you don’t think so, I think you know yourself a whole lot more than you think you do.” She cocks her head to the side, waiting for my answer.

I shake my head, desperately wanting her to understand who people think I am, who I need to be. “I don’t know myself at all anymore, and that’s why I came out here to-” I suck in a breath, holding back tears, “prove that I’m something, something different than what people think, someone who can be her own self. I’m none of those things, though, and I’m useless and foolish and I don’t know how to say this but I’m really, really scared.” I duck my head, and Lauren’s eyes soften, holding me in her gaze.

“You never had to prove it to me,” she murmurs, and I feel the corners of my mouth pulling back into a smile. The breeze ruffles the sails, and I breathe out slowly, letting the pendant fall against my chest.

“Me either,” I whisper, and I find that her eyes are glistening, too.

We don’t say anything for a few moments, listening to the water swell and then drop, drumming softly in harmonies and counterparts of a single song.

“I want you to do something,” Lauren says, dipping her toes into the lake, “I want you to point at yourself.”

I stare at her and furrow my eyebrows. She sighs and points at herself as a demonstration, a signal for me to follow through with her request.

“Just do it.”

I raise my finger and point it at my chest, the mainsheet falling onto my lap. Lauren grins.

“Look where you’re pointing,” she says.

I look down, and then I realize what she wants me to see. My finger hovers inches away from the center of my heart, quivering the slightest bit.

I feel my shoulders relax, and the sensation of a tender, warming breath settles over my body, cloaking my skin in an invisible quilt.

“See? You didn’t point at your head. You didn’t point at your feet.” Lauren smiles. “You pointed at your heart. Your soul. We all know, even if it’s subconsciously, that our soul is what makes us who we are. Including you, Calli.”

I gaze at my pointer finger and it stops shaking, and I slowly curl it back into my palm.

“But look where we are. There isn’t any land and the fog is heavy, and I can’t see the stars.” I gesture to the haze-guarded night, my voice cracking slightly.

“Then we wait,” Lauren announces, and she plops down in her boat, lying back to gaze at the cloudy sky. “There’s always going to be an opening somewhere,” she murmurs.

We sit in our boats for a long while, and Lauren even falls asleep once, so I make sure to keep her boat close to mine. I hope I can find my way home. I won’t let Lauren down. I won’t let myself down. I pause, taking a deep breath. I’ll be the sailor you always knew I could be.

I wipe my eyes and I peer up at the sky, the seconds dragging out into long hours. I never take my eyes off of the mist, scanning the small openings in the clouds for Ursa Major. I trace my finger down from there, finding the North Star, then counting up from the horizon to the small, shining dot.

Wait. The North Star.

“Look I found it!” I jump up, banging my head on the boom, but still exhilarated. “Ow. Lauren, follow me!”

“Whahmmh?” She moans, yawning and blinking her eyes a few times.

I pull up my daggerboard halfway and arrange my mainsheet.

“Whatimehset?” Lauren grumbles. “Go back to bed.”

I raise my eyebrow. “We’re in the middle of Lake Michigan, Lauren. We’ve been out here for hours.”

Her eyes spring open and she jumps up, almost tipping into the lake, and she stares out at the vast waters. “Oooh, right,” she nods, fixing her hair and grabbing the tiller. She winks at me and I smile, and we start picking up speed in the moonlight.

“You know, if you ever do this to me again, we can’t be friends anymore,” she laughs, and I roll my eyes and giggle along with her.

Off my port side, I hear the oscillating screeches of a few ring-billed gulls making their way out to sea, and I turn to Lauren. “Hear them? That means they’re coming from land,” I explain. The cool, early morning water rushes past my toes, creating an exhilarating thrill of excitement. I still can’t see land, but if there was land in sight, then the dark water and sky were concealing it in a cloudy veil.

A slight tug at my bow shifts Mariah over a few lengths, dragging me away from my course. The waves rush faster by my side, and I grip the tiller, straining against the current, and Lauren calls to see if I’m alright.

“I’m fine.” I grit my teeth, pulling in the mainsheet and struggling to turn the boat back around. A fleeting thought dances across my mind. You’re breaking.

I sink a little deeper into that thought, almost letting go of the mainsheet, but in the last second, I realize I have a choice. A chance.

I grab it.

I push the thought away, straining, and I push harder until I escape the draw of the current. “I’m okay,” I say, panting, looking up past the sail.

The waters must have pushed us out far overnight, because dawn’s pink colors are just beginning to pull out from the horizon, with still no trace of land. Catching a last glimpse of the North Star, I adjust Mariah so her bow is facing the direction I want to head in.

I sit in the middle of the boat and feel the waves moving in lurches and crashes, spraying my face with cool drops. I study the water, the growing sunlight illuminating a sign, but I don’t have to check the pattern of the waves more than once to understand what I’ve discovered. A ripple shadow.

Home.

“We’re close, look, see the waves? They’re acting differently, and that means that this water is directly behind a piece of land,” I grin, squinting my eyes, and a dark, solid form emerges from the waters in the distance, the fog now thinned to wisps of soft white. “What?” I giggle, peeking back at Lauren’s elated expression.

“I told ya you’re a sea girl,” she beams, then returns to humming to herself. A burst of warm energy fills my body, the thick sent of salty water hanging above the lake. Grand Haven, I breathe a sigh of relief, watching warm colors of sunrise spread across the waves.

I’ll be with you all night long and when the sun rises, I’ll still be here.

I smile gently and a sigh of heavy longing settles over my soul. Listening to the thin whistle of the breeze on my sail, I envision his voice echoing across the spray. I look down at the waves, my deep, vivid blue eyes tearing up a bit, but seeing golden flecks of sunlight spilled throughout the waters, replacing the moonbeams that had breathed across the smooth dark surf before. The sun, rising over the lake, forges a ruffled path across the silky water, and the moon is still visible, an opaque white against a blueing sky.

“Thanks for showing me my worth,” I whisper softly, confidently, standing up straighter in Mariah’s hull, listening to Lauren’s voice and to the hum of the waves. “I think I’ve finally proved it to myself.”

The stars and the wind, a touch of warmth, of home, of layers of time and rings of energy - I credit them that they come, together, to tell the story of a storm. A storm of longing and questions and undying devotion, because storms are the sum of their parts. For with every step on land a girl places her foot on water, using the sky as a beam to hold her up and guide her path, the wind giving her strength, leading her home.

And with every white-tipped wave, she flies faster, the wind at her back, grasping the dark light. And when she slips into the swells, the water seeming blackened at night, love gives her strength to push herself back up to the truth.