WATER SPLASH : MERMAID ADVENTURE

QUEEN MARABELLA ISLAND(5)

CHAPTER FIVE

Coach Humphrey dismissed them with a sharp clap of his hands. “Ten minutes. Get ready.”

Monica rolled her shoulders with a groan as they turned toward the changing rooms. “Honestly, I’m tired of the Festival of Still Waters. Every year it’s the same, solemn faces, stories… I don’t even know what we’re supposed to be remembering anymore. My parents act like it’s sacred, but to me, it just feels hollow.”

Annalise gave a short laugh. “Please. You need to see my mom. She treats the Festival like it’s her personal New Year’s Eve. Never cracks a joke about it. Sometimes I wonder if she’s secretly from Sunmere.”

Monica smirked, but her amusement faded when she caught Clara lagging behind. Clara’s gaze lingered on the ground, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Clara?” Monica tilted her head. “What’s up? You’ve gone quiet.”

Clara blinked, as if pulled back from a thought. “Nothing. I just… I’m going to the port.”

Both Monica and Annalise stopped in their tracks.

“The port?” Annalise’s eyebrows shot up. “Since when do you go near the water? You usually avoid it like it’s cursed.”

“I haven’t been there in… years.” Clara tried to sound casual, but her voice caught slightly. “I just want to see it again. It won’t take long.”

The girls exchanged a look, half worry, half disbelief.

“Clara, are you sure?” Annalise asked, lowering her voice. “Can you go alone? Especially today.”

Clara forced a smile, trying to ease their concern. “I’ll be fine. Everyone’s out for the Festival anyway, right? The place will be busy enough. You two should go change before Coach comes looking for you.”

Monica hesitated, then sighed. “Just… don’t vanish on us, okay?”

“I won’t,” Clara promised. “I’ll be back early.”

They reluctantly peeled away toward the changing rooms, casting one last glance over their shoulders as Clara slipped out the arena gates.

The street felt strangely altered, like a familiar song played a half-step too slow. Festival banners fluttered in the breeze, but the usual chatter of vendors was muted, and the cobblestones seemed to echo her footsteps louder than usual.

As she neared the port, the silence deepened. Normally the air buzzed with shouts of dockworkers and the thrum of engines, but now nothing. Only the lap of waves against wood and the hollow creak of boats tethered too tightly.

Clara paused, hugging her arms. “Why does it feel… different today?” she whispered.

The port of Oceania stretched before her, rows of ships and speedboats resting still as if holding their breath. The emptiness unsettled her, but also drew her in.

Despite the prickle of fear in her chest, she stepped closer to the dock. The water shimmered in broken light, tugging at her with a rhythm that felt both soothing and menacing. Her pulse quickened, memories of her friends teasing, urging her to learn to swim, her panicked refusals, her insistence she was fine just watching from the shore.

And yet here she was, alone, leaning toward the water she feared most.

The wind lifted Clara’s long dark hair into her face. She tucked it back, her eyes drifting over the quiet docks.

The murmur of voices pulled Clara’s attention away from the waves. She glanced over her shoulder and spotted two boys walking towards the dock. One was tall and dark-haired, but it was the blond one who caught her eye. Something about his sharp grin, the way he carried himself tugged at her memory.

As they drew closer, she studied him more carefully. The angle of his jaw, the curve of his smile… he looked like someone she knew. Someone she had seen often, though not recently.

He almost looks like Annalise…

Her eyes lingered too long. The blond suddenly tilted his head, noticing her stare. “You’ve been watching us,” he said, not unkindly, but with a teasing edge.

Heat rushed to Clara’s cheeks. She quickly turned back toward the water, wishing she could disappear.

Footsteps approached anyway. When she dared to look again, the blond stood a few paces away, studying her with open curiosity.

“You look familiar,” he said. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

Clara swallowed, forcing herself to meet his eyes. “Maybe. I can’t say for sure.”

The boy tilted his head, as if amused by her uncertainty. “Then let me make it easier,” he said, his grin widening. “Zayan. Zayan Winterson.”

The name hit her like a spark. Her breath caught as the pieces fit together, the smile, the resemblance, the voice that now felt oddly familiar. Before she could stop herself, the words tumbled out:

“You’re… Annalise’s cousin.”

Zayan’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, though the spark in his gaze said he was amused rather than unsettled. “You know Annalise?”

“Yes,” Clara said quickly, her voice catching before she steadied it. “I’m Clara. Clara White. I’m friends with Annalise.”

For a moment, he tilted his head, squinting as if rifling through old memories. Then a flash of recognition lit his features. “Vernisa High. You used to be there, right?”

Clara nodded. “That’s right.”

Zayan gave a low chuckle, his eyes sweeping over her as if comparing past to present. “You’ve changed. A lot. I almost wouldn’t have recognized you.” His grin softened into something unexpectedly warm. “You turned out beautiful.”

Clara blinked, caught off guard. She dropped her gaze, her cheeks warm again. “Thank you.”

Zayan’s gaze lingered on her, sharp with curiosity. “So, what are you doing out here?”

Clara shifted, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Nothing much. Just needed to clear my head. I expected it to be busy, but it’s so quiet today… I kind of like it better this way.

Zayan tilted his head, studying her. “Strange place to clear your head. Most people avoid the port today.”

Clara frowned. “Why?”

He leaned back against a piling, casual but with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “March sixteenth. Nobody works the docks on this date. Always been that way.”

She raised a brow. “Some kind of holiday?”

“Depends on who you ask.” He smirked. “The old men will tell you it’s cursed that the spirit of the ocean forbids work today. Stories about ships sinking, men disappearing. You know… ghost tales to keep the kids quiet at night.” His laugh was light, dismissive. “I don’t buy it. If they wanted to be honest, they’d just call it a memorial day or some patriotic nonsense. But people love their legends.” he tilted his head, as though weighing whether to tease her with it, “the Festival of Still Waters just happens to fall on the same day. Coincidence, right?”

Clara blinked. She hadn’t even thought about the overlap.

Zayan shrugged. “Either way, I’m not one for superstitions.” His eyes narrowed slightly, playful suspicion glinting in them. “You’re not at the festival?”

Clara shook her head. “No. I didn’t feel like going this year.”

He raised a brow. “So instead you came here alone?”

Her voice softened, almost defensive. “I just wanted space. That’s all.”

Zayan’s friend stepped up beside them. His eyes flicked from Clara to Zayan, wary, like he was sizing up the situation.

“Hey,” he said simply.

“Hi,” Clara replied, her tone cautious.

“This is Jace,” Zayan said with a grin that felt too easy, too smooth. “My very good friend.”

“Clara,” she introduced herself, offering a polite smile.

“Nice to meet you,” Jace said, his voice steady, but his glance lingered a little too long on Zayan, as if waiting for some signal.

Zayan leaned toward him, murmuring something too low for Clara to catch. Jace’s jaw tightened, and he gave a curt nod before walking off, leaving an unsettled weight in the air. Clara frowned, her unease prickling, whatever that whisper had been, she was sure it had something to do with her.

Trying to shake it off, she asked, “So… you came to the port to work?”

Zayan smirked, shaking his head. “Not work. I came to check on my speedboat. She’s been sitting here too long. Can’t stand the idea of rust eating her alive.” He gestured lazily toward a sleek vessel tied to the dock. “I’ve taken her out past the reefs before. The water out there, it’s wild, unpredictable, like it has a mind of its own. Dangerous for some, but I live for that thrill.”

He shot her a sidelong glance. “Ever tried anything like that? Diving? Sailing?”

Clara stiffened, shaking her head quickly. “No. I… I can’t. I’m aquaphobic.” The word left her mouth sharper than she intended, and she looked away, hugging her arms around herself.

Zayan tilted his head, studying her reaction with something between curiosity and amusement.

Zayan leaned against the railing, his eyes flicking over her with casual curiosity. “So, are you at university yet?”

“Yes. University of Antares,” Clara said.

His brows lifted, a grin tugging at his mouth. “No kidding. Same here…first year.” He said it like a small secret they now shared, his tone warm enough to disarm her.

Clara blinked, caught off guard. For someone Annalise always described as reckless, he didn’t seem so bad. Charming, even. Maybe he had been misjudged… or maybe he was just good at hiding.

Her thoughts tangled as he bent down, grabbing a battered toolbox from the dock. He flashed her a grin that looked half-playful, half-mischievous.

“So, Clara, do you still come here often?” he asked, hefting the box onto the edge of a sleek speedboat.

“Not as much as I did when I was little,” she admitted, eyeing the toolbox with suspicion. “Why?”

He tilted his head, studying her in a way that made her feel both seen and cornered. “Funny,” he murmured, shutting the lid of the toolbox with a soft click. “You don’t look like someone who’d stay away.”

The words landed strangely, almost like a dare.

Clara forced a smile, though her pulse beat faster. Something told her he wasn’t just talking about the port.

“I need your help,” Zayan said, his eyes glinting with something Clara couldn’t quite read.

She folded her arms, wary. “With what?”

He tapped the side of the speedboat, leaning lazily against it. “Nothing complicated. Just sit there for a moment while I check the balance. Makes it easier with someone inside, saves me from guessing.” His grin widened, almost reassuring, but a little too practiced.

Clara frowned. “I don’t know…” She glanced at the boat, then back at him. “I’m not good with this kind of thing.”

“Come on,” he coaxed, lowering his voice as though sharing a secret. “All you have to do is sit. No ropes, no steering, nothing scary. Just pretend you’re a weight on the scale.” He chuckled. “And trust me, you’re lighter than the crates I usually throw in there.”

She bit her lip, still uncertain. But he was already gesturing like it was decided. Against her better judgment, Clara stepped into the boat. The wood shifted under her feet, making her wobble. She let out a small gasp, clutching the edge as she eased onto the seat.

Zayan smirked at her nerves. “See? You’re perfect for the job.”

Her expression betrayed her, tight jaw, eyes flicking uneasily from him to the water. She folded her hands in her lap, trying to mask the tension in her shoulders.

Zayan busied himself with the toolbox, humming tunelessly, while Clara’s gaze darted to the waterline. She couldn’t shake the feeling of being trapped, tethered not by ropes but by his confidence.

Then subtly, almost casually, he crouched near the cleat. His fingers moved with practiced ease, loosening the line one knot at a time. Clara’s stomach clenched. She didn’t understand what he was doing at first, only that the air seemed to shift around him, dangerous in its calm.

The rope slid free with a whisper. The boat rocked.

Clara’s eyes widened as she felt the sudden give beneath her. “Wait…what are you…” Her voice cracked, panic rising in her throat. She lurched forward, half-standing, but the boat wobbled violently and forced her to grab the seat again.

Zayan straightened, hands in his pockets now, watching her with a smirk that chilled her.

“What are you doing?!” Clara’s voice broke louder this time, torn between fear and fury. Her chest heaved, eyes darting desperately to the dock that was already slipping away.

“Relax.” Zayan’s tone was smooth, almost mocking. “Just enjoy the view.”

The current tugged the boat farther from shore, the water lapping louder, more sinister. Clara’s pulse pounded in her ears. She opened her mouth again, half scream, half plea, but the words tangled. The water stretched endlessly around her, swallowing her breath.

Her fists clenched against the seat. “This isn’t a game, Zayan!” she finally choked out, her voice ragged.

But his smirk only deepened, as if her terror were the very reaction he’d been waiting for.

Clara’s hands clenched the seat as the boat drifted farther. Her voice came out sharp, trembling with rage.

“You can never change, Zayan!”

He only grinned wider, tilting his head as if her anger amused him. “That’s what makes me fun.” He wiggled his fingers in a mocking wave, pulling faces like a child who knew he couldn’t be caught.

“Hey!” Clara’s voice cracked, raw with disbelief. “Are you seriously leaving me here?!”

Zayan backed away from the dock, laughter bubbling in his throat. “Just enjoy your time with nature, Clara. I might be back to save you or maybe I’ll let my cousin do it.” He threw her one last mischievous glance, then turned, his laugh echoing as he disappeared from sight.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Clara’s throat burned as she shouted after him, but only the gulls wheeled above, mocking her with their cries. She slumped against the seat, her nails digging into the worn wood. A hot tear pricked her eyeshalf fury, half despair.

Hopeless. Trapped. Alone.

The gentle push and pull of the waves rocked the boat like a cruel lullaby. Clara pressed her fists into her knees. “Why does today keep getting worse?” The question escaped in a whisper that dissolved into the Ocean air.

She scanned the endless stretch of water. Oceania glittered under the pale sky, its waves catching the light in silver ribbons. The vastness was terrifying, yet… strangely breathtaking. For a fleeting moment, her breath softened, chest rising and falling to the ocean’s rhythm. “It’s beautiful,” she admitted under her breath, as though confessing to an enemy.

But beauty didn’t keep her safe. The silence deepened, pressing against her ears. Every creak of the boat, every splash of water sounded louder, sharper, until the quiet itself felt alive.

Her stomach twisted. She pulled out her phone, hands trembling, and dialed Monica. No answer. Annalise. No answer. She tried again, fingers slick with sweat. Nothing.

Her pulse spiked. She swallowed hard, glancing over her shoulder, half-expecting shadows to rise from the water.

“They’re just busy…” she muttered, though the words felt hollow.

The minutes stretched. The stillness wrapped around her like a cold hand. Clara hugged her knees to her chest, resting her head against them, her breath shaky. “Am I really going to spend half the day out here?”

The boat creaked. A ripple cut through the silence.

And then…

“No, you won’t.”

The voice was close, smooth, and startlingly certain.

Clara’s head snapped up.