"So how was school?" Dad asked as I slid into the passenger seat of our car.

"Not that bad, actually," I admitted.

"Make any new friends?"

"A couple." I turned my attention to the congested parking lot as Dad pulled out onto the street. Students were heading in all directions, and I wondered if the 300 or so teenagers who attended Shady Cove High all knew each other. The nearest town was thirty miles away, so it wasn't like there were any students who attended the school from out of town.

And then there was me—the new kid who happened to get on Madeleine Hansen's bad side the first day at school. I winced, remembering how she had glared at me with a look that could lift road kill. And all because she was worried that I was faster than her?

I turned my attention forward and realized we were already on the highway heading back home.

"And how were your classes?" Dad asked.



"No big deal, except my teachers loaded me down with tons of homework. What do they expect me to do—magically complete two months' worth of homework to get caught up with the class?"

"Exaggerating much?" he chuckled.

"Maybe. But still, I have a crazy amount of homework, more than I usually got at Newland."

"Well, you better get started on it as soon as we get home," Dad said. "There's no use procrastinating."

"Yeah...I guess you're right." I sighed and propped my elbow up on the armrest. The landscape that flew by the window made my heart beat a little faster—tall pine trees and large bushes gave way to rocky cliffs, and beyond that, the ocean. I grew even more agitated as we neared our house. Something was pulling me to the cliffs, and I felt the desperate urge to jump out of the car and take off at full speed to the ocean. So as soon as Dad parked the car, I grabbed my backpack and made a beeline for the goat-trail leading to the private beach.

"Hey!" Dad called. "Where are you off to so quickly?"

"I'm just going for a quick hike. There's a nice spot up ahead to do some schoolwork," I called back. The lie rolled off my tongue smoothly and effortlessly, like a knife through water.

"All right. Just don't be gone too long," Dad agreed. I waited until he disappeared inside the house before taking off down the rugged dirt trail, skirting rocks and bushes and scraggly weeds in my haste. I was huffing and puffing by the time I reached the edge of the Redrock Cliffs and gazed down at the churning ocean far below. Just the sight of the sparkling blue-green water ignited my heart and made my whole body pulse with renewed energy.

I flew down the last portion of the trail, skipped the final three steps, and jumped onto the sand. I quickly slipped my backpack off my shoulders before pausing to catch my breath. Sweeping my gaze over the private beach, I realized it was even more beautiful than I had remembered. The golden sand dunes shimmered in the sunlight and complemented the deep blues and greens of the ocean. The waves were no longer huge and crashing, but smaller and gentler, making swimming seem more feasible than the last time I had been here.

I tore off my jacket, shoes, and socks before shimmying out of my jeans and T-shirt. I was still wearing my damp bathing suit from earlier. My whole body buzzed with excitement as I strode towards the inviting water. I slowed upon reaching the shoreline, savoring the feeling of squishing my toes in the wet sand. My extremities were tingling in anticipation of what was to come.

I took a deep breath and dove in. The first sensation that overwhelmed me was that of piercing coldness, chilling all my bones and making my teeth chatter underwater. Ignoring the goosebumps sprouting on every inch of my body, I opened my eyes and was delighted to find that I could see, even if it was a little blurry. Particles of sand and bits of seaweed drifted past me. Rays of light streamed towards the ocean floor, illuminating the hazy underwater world. Then I felt myself being dragged backwards and realized a wave was surging overhead.

I scissor-kicked my way to the surface and broke through, gasping for air. I hadn't realized how long I had been underwater, but it seemed way too short. Just as another wave was about to crash on top of me, I sucked in a deep breath and dove back under.

Swimming in the ocean was nothing like swimming in a pool. It was like I was a part of something so alive, something that surged and swirled around me. I swam deeper and trailed my hand across the sandy seafloor, smiling as bits of sand floated upwards in a hazy cloud.

But all too soon, I ran out of breath again and was forced to swim back up for air. This time I glanced back at shore and realized that a current had pulled me farther down the beach, almost completely out of the small cove. If I didn't swim back soon, I would be dragged along the cliffs and lose my chance to reach dry land. I didn't know where the next beach was—it could be miles down the coast.

So instead of diving under and swimming along the seafloor, I swam freestyle along the surface of the water. I fought my way through the wind chop until I reached the spot where I had originally entered the water. I continued this cycle of drifting and swimming until my throat was parched from salt water. Then I reluctantly headed in to shore and changed back into my dry clothes.

I was in a daze as I made the long uphill trek to the house. My mind was consumed with images of diving underwater, watching the waves break over my head and the sand swirl beneath my feet. Though I desperately needed a drink, I would rather spend more time swimming in the sea. But Dad would be wondering where I was, and for some reason I felt uncomfortable telling him that I had been swimming in the ocean. There was a sort of forbidden thrill that came with the sea, as if I shouldn't be there but longed for it anyway.

Just before entering the house, I squeezed out my long black hair and wrapped it up in a tight bun. Hopefully Dad wouldn't notice it was wet.

"Rayne? Is that you?" he called as soon as he heard me walk in.

"Yeah." I followed his voice to the dining room, where I saw him sitting at the table flipping through some old photo albums. My eyebrows immediately shot up in surprise. I had never seen those before...where had he gotten them?

"What's that?" I asked, coming up behind him and peering at the pictures over his shoulder.

"Oh, just some old photos from back in the day. Nothing special." Dad quickly closed the album and slid it across the table. But my fingers had been resting on the corner of one of the pages, preventing the album from closing completely.

"Rayne," Dad warned.

But I had already pulled the album towards me and flipped it open. As soon my eyes alighted on the pictures inside, I froze. The very first photo showed a younger version of Dad with his arm wrapped around a beautiful woman with long black hair—hair just like mine. Her dazzling smile was the epicenter of the picture.

Tiny tears sprang into my eyes. I touched her face with the tip of my finger. "Dad...why haven't you shown me this before?"

"I found the album while I was finishing unpacking," he replied slowly. "I had forgotten about all these photos."

I swallowed. I had seen a few pictures of my mother before, but nothing like this—not an entire album filled with memories of her. Sadness pricked at my heart.

Dad's voice was thick when he said, "It's hard to remember. Sometimes I don't want to think about her. But other times..."

I backed away. "Is that the reason we moved here? So you could relive those memories?"

"Not exactly—"

But I knew that was the main reason. Living in a less expensive home was merely a plus. The real reason Dad had narrowed down his search to Shady Cove was because he wanted her back.

I chewed on my bottom lip. "Dad, she's not coming back," I said quietly, my voice cracking. Two tears streaked down my cheeks.

He leaned back in his chair, and I saw a strange light in his eyes. "Why are you so sad, Rayne?" he asked wearily. "Why does this make you so bitter? These are normal feelings to have when a loved one passes away, I know, but you need to learn to confront them after a time. You can't keep dwelling on them. Memories are meant for treasuring those happy moments and learning from the bad ones. They aren't meant to be pushed away and forgotten."

But I don't have any memories of her, I wanted to say. Only fragments.

I held my father's gaze for a long, tension-filled minute, admiring the strange thoughtful peace on his face, before turning around and heading upstairs. I felt like I had been cheated. Not only did I grow up without a mother, but now I had been whisked into an entirely new life because of Dad's crazy whim. If he thought returning to my birthplace would spark memories, then he was right. But, like I had already discovered, those memories were more painful than pleasant.

_ _ _ _ _

All night long I drifted in and out of sleep. My dreams were more like nightmares, causing me to toss and turn in bed. I finally woke up at the sound of the front door closing, causing the entire house to shudder with the reverberations.

My skin prickled with goosebumps as I sat up in bed. I listened, my eyes gradually adjusting to the darkness, as Dad noisily made his way through one of the rooms below me. I heard a strange thud, and then the unmistakable hiss of the gas fireplace. Before long, a faint crackling sound could be heard, and I pictured him sitting in a chair gazing at the dancing flames.

I quietly slid out of bed and pulled on my robe. As I padded down the stairs, a sliver of moonlight from a nearby window suddenly illuminated part of my hair, causing those familiar streaks of deep blue.

I found Dad in the living room. He glanced up but remained motionless as I stood in the shadows. "Hey," I said softly.

"You should be in bed."

"I know." I bit my lip and stepped forward, my hair immediately glowing in the pale moonlight. Dad's eyes widened as he took in the network of beautiful blue streaks interwoven in my hair.

"It's been a while since I've seen that," he said softly. I gave him a wry smile and took a seat next to him, part of my hair falling over my eyes. I quickly pushed it away and glanced down. Dad was fingering something shiny in his hands, and upon closer inspection I realized it was his wedding ring.

The room suddenly felt a bit colder, despite the blazing fire only a few yards in front of us. Dad silently slipped the ring back onto his finger. He squeezed my hand reassuringly.

I drew in a sharp breath. "You know, I've been doing some thinking..."

"Yeah? About what?"

"This." I ran my fingers through my long black tresses. "I've always taken it for granted. A unique gift. But what if there's something wrong with my hair?"

"There's nothing wrong with it. Your hair is beautiful."

"But how did it get this way? Why was I born with glowing hair, and no one else was? I mean, your hair doesn't glow like mine." I pointed to his natural brown curls.

Dad was thoughtful. "Sometimes it's better to take things as they are," he said finally. "Sometimes we just have to accept what we have, and not ask questions."

"Dad," I pressed, "I don't want a textbook answer. I want real answers." I gazed into his eyes, searching. I had a feeling he knew. He had to know. So why wasn't he telling me?

Dad glanced away, simultaneously removing his hand from mine. He got up and started to pace the room. I stood up as well, turning my face towards the window and letting the moonlight hit me full on the face.

Dad immediately stopped pacing. "Rayne?" he asked urgently. "What—" He bent down and grasped my face with both hands. "Your eyes," he gasped.

I could feel the heat simmering just beneath my eyeballs. "I know," I said simply.

"I don't believe it." Dad ran a hand through his mussed hair and took a seat again. "Oh, Rayne...this is more complicated than you think."

"Why?"

He lapsed into silence.

I tapped my fingers impatiently on my thigh. "Dad, please. Why do I glow in the moonlight?"

"I don't know," he said, running a hand down his jaw.

"Just tell me," I pleaded. "I've lived with this secret my whole life. Don't I deserve to know?"

"Yes," he admitted, "but I'm just not sure you're ready to hear it."

"Try me."

"Rayne..."

I begged him until he finally assented. "All right," he sighed after a moment of deliberation, "it's because of your mother."

"I kind of figured that," I said slowly.

"Well, now you know."

"But that's not all there is, right? That can't—"

"Rayne." Dad's tone was stern and commanding. "Enough with the questions. Like I said before, you're not ready to hear this. Just be satisfied with what I told you, okay?"

"But—"

"But nothing. Now go back to bed and get a good night's sleep. You have school tomorrow."

I opened my mouth, ready to fire another volley of questions, but thought better of it and clamped my jaw shut. "Fine," I muttered. I retreated back into the shadows, my hair and eyes fading from their luminescent glow.

"Good night, Rayne," Dad said softly as I began to climb the stairs. I murmured a reply as I headed back up to my room. I flung off my robe and climbed into bed, pulling the covers tightly over my shivering body. But sleep was evasive, as my thoughts were fixed on one thing and one thing only: what were Dad's secrets, and why was he keeping them from me?

Itwas a mystery that I was determined to solve.