WATER SPLASH : MERMAID ADVENTURE

FIRST TIDES(2)

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

On the surface, the morning moved along as if nothing unusual had happened, but for Clara, the shadows of the night still clung close.

From outside, her father’s voice rang into the house.

“Girls, let’s go! We’re running late!”

Her sisters scrambled for their bags, laughing as though the world held no weight, but Clara stood quietly by the door, her handbag already slung over her shoulder. She looked beautiful, her mother thought instantly, but also different. There was a distance in her eyes, like she hadn’t fully stepped out of her dream.

Mrs. White moved closer. “Clara,” she said softly, her voice low enough that the others wouldn’t hear. “Be positive, okay? New things can be scary, but they can also surprise you in good ways.”

Clara didn’t answer at once. She nodded slowly, but when her mother pulled her into a hug, she held on longer than usual. And though neither spoke of the nightmare that had woken the house, both were thinking about it, the memory of her scream, the way her nightgown had clung to her damp skin.

Her mother’s hand lingered at her back, her eyes quietly studying her as though searching for cracks beneath the surface. Clara could feel it but said nothing.

“Clara!” Mr. White called again, sharper this time.

Her sisters were already piled into the car, still giggling over who got the better seat. Clara stepped out, sunlight warming her face. At the doorway, her mother stood watching, her worry tucked behind a small smile.

For a brief second, Clara looked back. Their eyes met, and no words were needed.

Then she turned away and climbed into the car. The day had begun, but inside her, the shadows of the night still lingered.

The White family car disappeared down the street, sunlight spilling brighter across the neighborhood.

While Clara’s morning carried a quiet weight, elsewhere the air was alive with chatter.

Mrs. Wesley’s car hummed along the road, filled with laughter. Miranda and Beyoncé sat comfortably in the back, buzzing with excitement about the campus, wondering how orientation would unfold and what their departments might look like. Their voices carried a mix of curiosity and nerves.

Mrs. Wesley joined in, smiling warmly as she drove.

“During my own orientation, we had to do this name introduction where everyone added a rhyme. I completely forgot mine and stood there smiling like a lost puppy,” she said, chuckling.

The girls burst into laughter.

“Did you really?” Miranda asked, holding back a giggle.

“I did. And someone actually clapped like I did something special.”

They laughed again, Beyoncé even pulling out her phone to record a video of their shoes and bags.

From the backseat, Dylan sat with his arms folded, eyes fixed on the road. His stillness was a sharp contrast to their cheer, his posture giving away how unimpressed he was with all the noise.

Soon, the car pulled up in front of Vernisa High School.

“Alright, big guy,” Mrs. Wesley said kindly, turning to Dylan. “Have a good day, okay? I love you.”

Dylan stepped out but froze for a second, spotting a group of students near the gate. He glanced at them, then looked away quickly, frowning without a word.

“A simple ‘I love you too’ won’t hurt,” Mrs. Wesley teased.

Beyoncé leaned out the window. “Love you, Dylan!” she called.

“Beyoncé!” Dylan muttered, clearly embarrassed as he disappeared inside.

Miranda giggled. “You really embarrassed him.”

Mrs. Wesley just smiled. “He’ll survive. One day he’ll miss all this noise.”

Just then, Miranda’s phone vibrated. She picked it up.

The message from her mom read:

Sweetheart,

I know things have been hard between us lately, and I’m sorry for any pain you’re feeling.

I just want you to know that I’m so proud of you as you start university this week.

This is such an important step, and I believe in you completely.

No matter what, I’m here for you whenever you’re ready to talk or need anything.

Take care of yourself, enjoy your orientation, and remember you are deeply loved.

Love always,

Mom

Miranda’s expression shifted. For a moment, she just stared at the words. Then slowly, she typed back:

Thank you, ma’am.

She dropped the phone on her lap without another word.

Mrs. Wesley caught the change in her face through the mirror but didn’t press. Instead, she continued chatting, easing the mood with another funny orientation story.

“I remember during my orientation I went into the wrong building for over two hours. I even sat through a biotechnology class thinking it was fashion and textile technology.”

“You didn’t ask questions?” Beyoncé asked, laughing.

“There was a tall guy blocking the signboard. By the time I realized, I was already trying to answer a question.”

They all laughed again, the tension easing.

By the time the gates of the University of Antares came into view, the tension had softened again. Mrs. Wesley parked and turned toward the girls.

“You’ll both be fine. Just remember why you’re here. Beyoncé, call me when you’re done.”

“I will, Mom,” Beyoncé said, hugging her.

“Thank you, Mrs. Wesley,” Miranda added quietly.

Mrs. Wesley smiled and watched them step out.

And just ahead, as though waiting in another world entirely, stood Clara. Silent. Still. Her face carried the weight of something unspoken, though she stood with grace.

Clara’s lips twitched into a fragile smile as Beyoncé and Miranda hurried over. Her eyes flicked toward them, then dropped quickly to the pavement, tracing cracks in the concrete instead of meeting theirs. The sun spilled golden across the university grounds, casting warm glows on the wide, open orientation square, but none of it seemed to reach her face.

“You look like you didn’t sleep at all,” Beyoncé teased, nudging her playfully.

Clara gave a small laugh, but it broke halfway, thin and unconvincing. “I’m fine,” she whispered, her voice almost lost in the noise around them. Her fingers fidgeted with the strap of her bag, betraying her words.

Miranda giggled at first but stopped when she caught Clara’s expression. “Are you sure?” she asked softly, her smile fading into a worried crease.

Clara forced another nod, this time more quickly, as though hoping it would end the question.

All around them, the square buzzed with energy. First-year students clustered in groups, exchanging names, comparing departments, snapping photos, and asking for directions. Music hummed faintly from a pair of loudspeakers, while navy-and-gold banners rippled overhead in the morning breeze, bright and alive against Clara’s quiet heaviness.

As they moved toward the University Auditorium, Clara’s steps lagged slightly. Each echo of laughter around her seemed distant, drowned beneath the memory of another sound—the mermaid’s voice, low and persuasive, still curling at the edges of her thoughts.

The cool shade of the glass-paneled auditorium swept over her as they entered the tiered seating area. Elina, Annalise, and Monica joined them soon after. Clara’s eyes lit up at first, relief stirring at the sight of all her friends together again.

But the feeling slipped almost instantly. Annalise smiled politely but said little, her jaw tight as though she were somewhere far away. Monica’s eyes stayed fixed on the ground, her replies clipped and distracted. Even Elina, though cheerful, seemed preoccupied, her gaze drifting now and then as if pulled elsewhere.

Clara’s chest tightened. They were all here, side by side, yet something unspoken hung between them—an invisible thread of unease binding them together.

She sat between Miranda and Elina, distant, her gaze fixed on the wide stage ahead. Yet her thoughts remained elsewhere—half in the cave, half in this hall caught between the bright new beginning and the haunting reminder that some things had followed her here.

A sharp tapping of the microphone silenced the murmurs.

A woman in her late fifties stepped forward, her presence commanding yet calm. She adjusted the mic but, when she spoke, her voice carried so naturally it seemed she didn’t even need it.

“Good morning, students,” she began with a gentle smile. “I am Professor Celestine Harwood, your Vice Chancellor.”

That name landed with a ripple across the auditorium. A hush fell as the weight of her role settled over the room.

“Welcome to the University of Antares,” she continued. “Founded June 26th, 1834, two years after our beloved Velmara gained independence, this institution was carved out by scholars from Eldorian and Sunmeric roots, names you’ll find in jokes today, but once symbols of wisdom, diplomacy, and what some called… magic.”

A soft ripple of laughter passed through the crowd.

“This week begins your journey,” she said. “And every journey begins with structure. Today, we’ll orient you. Tomorrow, your faculties will. Wednesday, your department will. And by Saturday, you will stand tall in your matriculation gowns, officially inducted into this legacy.”

Applause thundered through the hall.

Clara barely clapped at all. Her hands hovered in her lap, her mind still haunted. Elina noticed but didn’t say a word.

Professor Harwood wrapped up with a warm smile.

“Now, I’d like to introduce a few key members of management who will guide you through your journey here.”

The front row of officials rose briefly in acknowledgment. Some gave polite nods, others offered warm smiles, and the students responded with applause that rippled unevenly through the hall.

“Of course,” she continued, “your academic path will be shaped most closely by your faculty. Let me now introduce the Deans who lead them.”

The Deans rose in turn. A few waved lightly, others simply inclined their heads. The applause grew stronger this time, more confident, as the students began to recognize the faces that would shape their next few years.

Professor Harwood returned to the microphone.

“And now, I’d like to call on Professor Liris Vatroslav, Dean of the Faculty of Sports, to share a few words.”

Clara noticed Annalise stiffen, her arms folded tight, gaze locked straight ahead as though bracing herself. Monica looked down at her feet, teeth sinking into her lip. The mention of sports had stirred something between them, something Clara couldn’t quite name, but she felt it.

Professor Vatroslav stepped forward, his tall frame and commanding presence immediately quieting the room, and his eagle-like eyes swept over the hall as though measuring every student.

“As you begin this new chapter,” he began, “I urge you to remember, you’re not just students. You’re the pulse of this institution. The choices you make here matter. And yes,” a faint smile curved his lips. “We do have high expectations.”

He paused, then added, “A final note: this year, Antares will defend her title at the Tri-University Swimming Competition against Ridgewater and Oceanview on March 31st.”

A ripple of murmurs spread through the hall at his words. Students exchanged glances, some intrigued, others skeptical.

“Did you hear?” someone whispered from a row behind. “They’re letting two first-years compete in the swim team this year.”

Another voice joined in, low but sharp with curiosity. “Must be really good swimmers for Antares to bend its own rules.”

A scoff followed. “Or maybe they’re just desperate. Imagine throwing children into the water and calling it a competition. I just hope we don’t regret it. This isn’t high school.”

That stung. Beyoncé’s head whipped around, her eyes narrowing. Her lips parted, a retort ready to leap out, but Miranda quickly placed a hand on her arm. “Let it go,” she whispered, shaking her head gently.

Clara sat very still, her gaze flicking toward Annalise and Monica. Annalise’s posture was rigid, her arms crossed tightly, her jaw clenched like steel. Monica’s fingers tapped nervously against her thigh, her eyes never leaving the floor.

The applause for Professor Vatroslav faded as he stepped back. Professor Harwood resumed, moving on to general campus guidance, how to access the online portal, areas off-limits, and where to seek help. But for Clara, the whispers still echoed louder than any of the official words.