WATER SPLASH : MERMAID ADVENTURE

CHAPTER ONE March 15, 2014 The sun cast golden hues over Harts Park in Stormcove City, a coastal gem in the Sunmere State, Velmara. Just yesterday, Velmara celebrated its 182nd Independence Day with fireworks and parades. Here in Stormcove, families had flocked to Harts Park spreading blankets on the grass, waving little flags, and watching the sky explode with color. Now, the music was gone, the stages dismantled. Only a few stray ribbons clung to the benches, and the faint smell of smoke lingered in the air. For Clara and her two best friends, today carried a celebration of its own. They’d all been accepted into the University of Antares. The most prestigious school in Stormcove. A dream they had wished for years. “Best news of the year!” Monica squealed, tossing her curls dramatically. Annalise smirked. “Told you we had a shot.” Clara laughed, though her heart thudded in her chest. Her acceptance letter had come earlier than she expected, almost too soon. But here she was. Here they were. Monica spun in a circle, arms out. “And not just accepted. Team Antares, baby!” Clara grinned. She’d known this was coming. Annalise crossed her arms, feigning nonchalance. “It’s no big deal.” “No big deal? You’re literally the first first-year ever invited to compete, let alone join the team,” Clara shot back. “Regional champions, nationals… Antares couldn’t ignore you if they tried.” Monica puffed up proudly. “Exactly.” The three collapsed into laughter, the kind that made Clara’s chest ache with joy. But as the moment settled, so did the quiet thought that tuition was still heavy on her family, and failure wasn’t an option. Monica leaned back with a dreamy smile. “University is going to be amazing. New faces, new experiences… maybe even romance.” Annalise scoffed. “Romance? Is that all you think about?” “Don’t act like you’re not interested,” Monica teased. “I’m not,” Annalise shot back. “Unlike you, I have priorities.” Clara smirked. “How many are we at now? Sixty-seven?” “Sixty-eight temporary crushes,” Annalise corrected dryly. Monica crossed her arms, glaring at both of them. “You two never take me seriously.” Annalise raised a brow. “Should we?” Monica gave a wry laugh, tossing her hair. “Yeah, yeah… I know. Sixty-eight crushes, none lasting more than a month. Trust me, I’ve heard it before.” Clara smirked. “At least you admit it.” Monica forced a laugh, twirling a strand of her hair. “I just hope my parents will let me date.” That earned her a sharp glance from Annalise. “You’re fifteen. A boyfriend should be the last thing on your mind.” Clara tried not to laugh, already sensing where this was headed. The words landed harder than Annalise intended. Monica’s smile faltered, and for a moment, she didn’t speak. “Wow,” she muttered finally, her voice edged. “So that’s what you really think of me? That I’m just some silly girl who can’t keep her head straight?” Annalise blinked, caught off guard. “That’s not what I said.” She wanted to say you don’t understand, but bit it back. Because how could she explain? How could she make them see that Maxwell wasn’t just another name on her long list of crushes? That he’d been different from the start, remembering their first awkward run-in months ago, when Maxwell nearly ran her over with his bicycle. He didn’t laugh or make it her fault. He just smiled, apologetic, and helped her up. Most boys would’ve laughed. But not Maxwell. She thought she’d never see him again… until fate handed her a second chance when she ran into him again at Lightwood Café. He’d recognized her, smiled that same warm smile, and asked for her number. Since then, they’d been talking, meeting sometimes, texting almost every day. And five whole months later, and her feelings hadn’t gone anywhere. If anything, they’d only grown stronger. And yet, every time she brought him up, her friends just laughed. Like she was still the Monica who collected crushes like candy wrappers. Annalise’s comment only dug deeper. It wasn’t just about age, it was about not being taken seriously. “You always make it sound like I don’t know what I’m doing,” Monica snapped. Annalise’s jaw tightened. “That’s not it. I just don’t think you should be worrying about boys right now. At our age, it’s asking for trouble.” Her voice was firm, almost protective. She didn’t see Monica as immature, not at all. But she’d seen enough reckless boys to know where things could lead, and the thought of her best friend getting hurt made her bristle like a guard dog. Clara finally placed a hand on Monica’s arm, her voice soft. “She’s not trying to put you down. She just worries. That’s how Annalise is.” Monica looked between them, her anger cooling into frustration. Annalise’s face was unreadable, but Clara’s gentle gaze said it all: they cared, even if they didn’t always show it right.