“You know that’s the deal, right?” Mom asked, and Annabelle sighed.

“I already told you I’d do the work.”

Mom took a bite of salad and dabbed the corner of her mouth with her red cloth napkin, which matched the red gingham place mats she’d set out and the red jar for the citronella candle that burned in the middle of the table, keeping mosquitoes away.

“Then I think this will be a really good thing for you, Belle.”

“It’ll be good for the rest of the team, too,” Mitch said, reaching over to ruffle Annabelle’s hair. “I’ve watched them, Kim. None of them can swim the fly as fast as our powerhouse here.”

Mom squeezed Annabelle’s hand. “You’ve always been our little fish. Ever since those first lessons your dad took you to, back at the Y in New Jersey when you were so tiny. And I know you’ve worked hard, too. It’s wonderful, honey.”

At the edge of the deck, a firefly lit up—the very first one Annabelle had seen this season. For a moment, Annabelle felt herself light up inside, too. Mom was proud of her for swimming, even if she couldn’t rattle off her best time for the 100-meter fly like Mitch could.

But then Mom’s eyes got all twinkly as if she were about to say something really great, except what she said was “So in other news, I talked to Mrs. Sloane today! I set up an appointment for us to meet on July 10.”

A minute.

That’s how long they spent talking about the best thing to happen to Annabelle for as long as she could remember. Maybe not even.

“Why?” Annabelle asked.

Mrs. Sloane was the head of the middle school at Gray Island Academy. When Annabelle had first interviewed there, she’d closed her office door and told Annabelle how hard she’d have to work. “To stay afloat.” That’s how she’d put it, and Annabelle had pictured the little kids at the pool, paddling their arms and legs as they learned to tread water.

“It’s just . . . You did your part, Belle, that whole last quarter,” Mom said. “You worked as hard as anybody could.”

“And I still did badly,” Annabelle finished.

Mom winced, but she didn’t correct her.

Next door, the two little Bennett girls, Julia and Kelsey, burst outside. Julia was blowing bubbles and Kelsey carried a blue plastic bucket that rattled as she ran after her big sister. Mrs. Bennett followed them out and closed the screen door.

“Hi there!” she called. “Nice night, isn’t it?” “Beautiful,” Mom agreed.

Annabelle waved at the girls, and Kelsey ran over. She stared down into her bucket, picked out a ridged white shell, and handed it to Annabelle. “Here.”

“Thanks, Kelsey,” Annabelle said, but Kelsey was off, running back down the deck steps and into her yard, where her sister had stopped blowing bubbles and started spinning in circles.

Annabelle turned the shell over in her hand and put it down next to her plate. Faint pink lines striped the inside, and it was almost whole except for a chip at the top.