What would you do if you had the power of the Nautilus at your command? I hope Daughter of the Deep will inspire you to think about your own adventures, the way Jules Verne inspired me. Make ready to dive. We’re going deep!

HARDING-PENCROFT ACADEMY

HOUSE DOLPHIN

communications, exploration, cryptography, counterintelligence

HOUSE SHARK

command, combat, weapons systems, logistics

HOUSE CEPHALOPOD

engineering, applied mechanics, innovation, defensive systems

HOUSE ORCA

medicine, psychology, education, marine biology, communal memory

THE FRESHMAN CLASS OF HARDING-PENCROFT

HOUSE DOLPHIN

Ana Dakkar, prefect

Lee-Ann Best

Virgil Esparza

Halimah Nasser

Jack Wu

HOUSE SHARK

Gemini Twain, prefect

Dru Cardenas

Cooper Dunne

Kiya Jensen

Eloise McManus

HOUSE CEPHALOPOD

Tia Romero, prefect

Robbie Barr

Nelinha da Silva

Meadow Newman

Kay Ramsay

HOUSE ORCA

Franklin Couch, prefect

Ester Harding

Linzi Huang

Rhys Morrow

Brigid Salter

Here’s the thing about life-shattering days.

They start just like any other. You don’t realize your world is about to explode into a million smoking pieces of awfulness until it’s too late.

The last Friday of my freshman year, I wake in my dorm room at five a.m. as usual. I get up quietly so as not to disturb my roommates, change into my bikini, and head for the ocean.

I love the campus in the early morning. The white concrete facades of the buildings are turning pink and turquoise in the sunrise. The quad’s grassy lawn is empty except for seagulls and squirrels waging their eternal war for the snack crumbs we students have left behind. The air smells of sea salt, eucalyptus, and fresh cinnamon rolls baking in the cafeteria. The cool Southern California breeze raises goose bumps on my arms and legs. It’s times like this I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to go to school at Harding-Pencroft Academy.

Assuming I survive this weekend’s trials, of course. I might wash out in disgrace, or die tangled in a net at the bottom of some underwater obstacle course…. But hey, it’s still better than ending the term doing five jillion multiple-choice problems on some state standardized test.

I follow the gravel footpath that leads to the ocean.

A hundred yards past the naval-warfare building, the cliffs drop into the Pacific. Far below, white surf ribs the steel-blue sea. Waves rumble and reverberate around the curve of the bay like the snores of a giant.

My brother, Dev, is waiting for me at the edge of the cliff. “You’re late, Ana Banana.”

He knows I hate it when he calls me that.

“I will push you off,” I warn.

“Well, you could try.” When Dev grins, he does this lopsided squint, like he can’t equalize the pressure in one ear. The other girls tell me it’s adorable. I’m not convinced. His dark hair is spiky in front, like a sea urchin. He claims it’s his “style.” I think it’s just because he sleeps with a pillow over his face.