She hated today. She hated everything about it. As soon as she was out of sight, she slowed down. Through that pile of boulders was a path down to a beach, and that’s where she wanted to be. There she could throw herself down, and cry and scream, and no one would care. Not like anyone cared anyway… She dropped her bike onto its side in the grass and ran through the boulders, down the cliff and onto the hot white sands. She stared at the waves.

Her life sucked.

She was stuck on this island with her parents.

She had no friends.

She missed her grandma.

She had pimples on her nose.

She needed a bra.

She hated everyone.

“Hello.”

Rae jumped and turned to see a woman who was about her mom’s size, medium-tall, black hair and blue eyes, dressed in knee-length khaki shorts, sleeveless shirt and hiking boots. She looked fit: bare arms and legs tanned and well muscled. She held a clipboard and had a pencil behind her ear.

“Wh…who?” Rae stammered. “Who are you?”

“I’m Miranda Phillips, the botanist assigned to Isla Paraíso for the summer.” Miranda gestured widely. “Did you know a botanist is here every summer?”

“Yes, but I didn’t know there was one this summer.” Embarrassed by her tears, Rae wiped at her face.

“Who are you?” Miranda asked.

“I’m Rae Di Luca.” This woman, whoever she was, looked familiar. “My parents own this island.”

“Oh. Oh! Hey.” The botanist stuck out her hand. “Didn’t we meet a couple of years ago at your parents’ wedding?”

Rae immediately felt relieved. “Yes! I knew I remembered you!” She wiped her palm on her shorts and shook hands.

“Nice wedding. I enjoyed it. Your mom’s dress—wow! Italian designer, of course, but still—wow! If only she hadn’t collapsed. That was a tragedy.”

Everything Miranda said assured Rae she had really been there.

Miranda’s bright smile lost a few watts. “I don’t think your mom was happy to see me, though. We used to work together. We were friends. Things went bad… When I went, I was hoping to get things back to normal between us. But she wouldn’t even talk to me.”

Rae immediately felt an empathy with this woman. “She makes me so mad.”

“You, too?” Miranda offered a fist bump.

Rae bumped, and admired the way Miranda moved and talked, without any glitches. She didn’t have a crippled hand. She didn’t freeze up and stop talking, like something was choking her. She wasn’t feeble…

No. Rae’s innate sense of fairness stopped her before she went too far—and that made her mad, too. She wanted to be mean. She felt mean. But she knew her mom wasn’t feeble. She was merely damaged, and fighting back. Rae knew she should cheer about that. But she was tired of being the cheerleader for her mother.