“No, it’s, um, no big deal, I just . . .”

Here’s the thing: I’m supposed to be great in an emergency. It’s the most important quality of a lifeguard. If I see someone in the pool choking, I’m gauging how deep the water is, who’s in my way, the quickest path I can take to get the struggling swimmer to safety. In social emergencies, however, I’m a wreck.

Which is why, when Dominic opens his mouth to speak, I do anything I can to avoid hearing whatever lame excuse he’s going to give me for ripping my heart out and stomping on it.

In this instance, that anything involves me jumping into the pool. Fully clothed. Like a complete fucking moron.

     Ross     

I am ready to go. I feel a buzzing in my body like I’ve never felt before. I’m trying to casually walk down the street, blend in while I check out my new surroundings, but there’s so much energy in me I’m practically running. And then it hits me that I’ve never run before in my life, so I start to pump my legs as fast as I can. It’s exhilarating to feel the air whip my hair back, to have shops go by in a blur, and I want to go faster. The only problem is if I run too fast, these cups of coffee in my hands are going to spill everywhere, and I want to avoid any mishaps that must have happened to previous Journeyfin thanks to the blaring red warning WATCH OUT! COFFEE IS HOT! in the Human Customs document on my computer. One of the first things listed in it was that most people enjoy coffee, a hot beverage that can be sweetened with sugar and cream, which is a dairy product that comes from a cow, the most bizarre-looking animal I’ve ever seen. They’re sort of like manatees, but humans literally squeeze their teats to make milk shoot out! Land is weird.

I round the corner of Montana Avenue, leaving behind the street full of bustling shops, and come across a large cement building. It’s painted a light shade of pink and looms over a huge parking lot packed with cars. That must be how humans got the name for schools in the first place, from the schools of shiny cars parked outside them. A large sign above me says SHORELINE HIGH SCHOOL—HOME OF THE DOLPHINS. There’s some hideous drawing of a dolphin smiling practically up to its blowhole, waving a flipper and with eyes so huge they nearly take up its entire face.