Sam and I looked at each other. It had been ten a.m. when we’d left to get the groceries, and we were meant to come straight back. . . .

“Hello!” one of Merjeme’s riders yelled as they raced away.

“Hello! Hello! Hello!” Arta and the others echoed.

I shrugged. “Don’t you want to see where they go?”

Sam nodded, and so we followed.

“But it’s too cold to swim,” Sam said as we pedaled past Coppins Lookout.

We were headed away from the popular Sorrento Back Beach and onto the dirt track that ran alongside the coast. Down that way wasn’t as popular with tourists, so there was no easy access for cars—only bike paths and walking trails.

We bumped along the uneven ground, keeping the five haven kids in our sights. They stopped by a long stretch of wooden railing, got off, and leaned their bikes there. Then Merjeme scooped the rest of the sugar from her basket and led the way down a long wooden staircase to the beach below.

“It is too cold, right?” Sam said again as we skidded our bikes to a stop right by theirs.

“They shouldn’t—it’s not patrolled until December,” I said. “But besides—it’ll be low tide now anyway.”

Sam and I hung our helmets on our bikes’ handlebars and raced to the top of the staircase.

“What is that?” Sam sounded just a little amazed.

“That is the Sphinx Rock,” I said.

The Sphinx Rock is exactly like it sounds—a rock formation jutting out low from the coastal cliffs that looks just like Egypt’s Great Sphinx of Giza. It has paws outstretched and a face with a slightly broken nose pointing toward Bass Strait. It’s separated from the shore by those jutting cliffs, and a little out of the way, but it’s a good place to go exploring, which is what Merjeme and her friends did that day.

All along the beach are beautiful limestone arches and stone walkways, formed by old cliffs that have fallen into the ocean. At low tide you can walk all around them and peer into the rock pools to see the shallow worlds the ocean traps there by day.

But when king tides hit, it all gets washed away—the whole place goes back underwater and even the Sphinx Rock is drowned.

“It’s nicer in summer,” I said, just as a gust of wind slapped us in the face. I lifted the hood on my sweatshirt to cover my head. “We’ll all come down here and hang out.”

Sam turned to me and gave a little lopsided smile. “Even me?”

“Course,” I said.

He looked back down to where Merjeme, Arta, and their friends were darting around the rock pools and throwing their heads back to pour sugar down their mouths.

“Do you want to go down?” he said.