“At least you’re honest.”

Her chest felt tight and a shiver went through her. “Oh, man,” she said. “I feel really bad for you. Even just the thought of losing my mom scares the bejesus out of me. Without my mom, I’d be a total goner. I’d be like that fishing trawler that broke loose last winter and got sucked out by the tide and then smashed against the rocks right down there where the Columbia River flows into the ocean.” She pointed, and they stopped to look down at the exploding waves.

“I thought you couldn’t think of anything to say,” he said.

“Guess I got over it. Anyway. If something happened to my mom, that’s how I’d probably feel.”

He was quiet for several moments, staring out at the view. The colors were amazing, from the summer blue of the sky to the deep indigo waters and the snow-white spray foaming on the cliffs where the waves broke. The crashing surf made a deep-throated roar, echoing through the rocky caverns under the cliff.

“Sorry,” she said. “I hope that didn’t make you feel worse.”

“It didn’t. And what you said about feeling lost and smashed on the rocks—that’s about right,” he said. “No. That’s exactly right.”

She stared at the seething surf exploding against the breakwater at the mouth of the river. “We learned in school that there’ve been thousands of shipwrecks here.”

He turned and looked back at the cliff-top sentinel. “I thought the lighthouse was supposed to keep shipwrecks from happening.”

“That only works if there’s someone at the helm.”

That summer, Caroline and Will fell into an easy friendship. Something inside her recognized that it was special, not like a passing acquaintance with a random kid in a beach volleyball game, but real and alive. It was different from the bond she felt with her school friends, the ones she saw all the time. This was separate, and it felt rare, somehow, maybe because they both knew it would end with the summer.

Sometimes she wasn’t quite sure what to make of this boy. It was so easy to talk to him. The two of them got along in a way that seemed natural and effortless. He was kind of on the quiet side, and she was kind of a chatterbox, so maybe that was the reason they got along so well.

They made the most of each day, finding adventure at every turn. They both loved the smell of the sea, the quality of the salt air. She told him Long Beach had the best digging sand anywhere, not that she had dug in any other sand. There were sandcastle competitions, and people came from all over to build crazy sculptures of mermaids and towers, working all day on creations that would be swept away by the tide.

They went on hikes with his dog and hers—Duffy and Wendell. It was obvious that Duffy was the smarter of the two, obeying commands and easily finding his way through the forests and meadows and sand dunes. Wendell was playful and useless, but so ridiculously cute that everyone loved him.

“Wendell and I have the same birthday,” Caroline said. “Well, we don’t actually know his exact birthday, but they rescued him as a puppy the year I was born, so we assigned him my birthday.”

“He gets around pretty well for an old dog,” Will said.

“Wendell’s not old,” Caroline objected. “I guess maybe he is, but I try not to think about that. I can’t imagine life without Wendell.”

“Then don’t,” Will said. “And then one day he’ll be gone and it’ll be the worst thing ever and you’ll get used to it.”

She wondered if that was how he felt about losing his mom. She didn’t ask, though. It was bad enough that he’d lost her. She shouldn’t make him talk about it.

The beach in summer felt like her reward for getting through the dark, rain-soaked winters—glassy calms, the wild waves rearing up, all of it was part of her heart and soul. They went clamming, bringing their harvest home by the bucketful. They pooled their money to buy toffee apples and wispy cones of cotton candy. With Will, the season felt like a hidden passage to a special world. She imagined only the two of them could find it, slipping through an invisible gate and vanishing forever, like kids in an adventure novel.

Will was a super-strong swimmer, and fearless in the water, whether he was on a boogie board or in a kayak. She tried to keep up with him, but he was always waiting for her to catch up. She showed him the long string of beaches, each with its own special vibe, like the one called Klipsan, with the rollers that seemed to come from across the globe, maybe all the way from Guam, where he had lived with his dad.

She discovered that they both went to Oceanside Congregational Church, squirming impatiently through Sunday services and trying not to make eye contact because it gave them the giggles.

They couldn’t wait to get back outside. Sometimes they’d join in with other kids, locals Caroline knew from school.

Will usually rode his bike down to her house and they’d go from there. They explored all her favorite places, including the marshy woods where sometimes, during the salmon run, the fish would actually swim across the pavement and through the forest during their migration. They discovered new wonders together, like the nest of blue heron they could perfectly observe from the widow’s walk of his grandparents’ house. She showed him how to sew on her grandmother’s old treadle machine, even though he admitted he couldn’t think of anything he needed to sew. In turn, he demonstrated his grandfather’s power tools, and together, they made a purple martin house out of old lumber.

After they’d watched an old Bruce Lee movie, Will revealed that he’d been studying self-defense, because his dad believed every kid needed fight training.

“I’ve never been in a real fight in my life,” she said. “Have you?”

He nodded. “There was a gang of bullies at my school in Guam. I came home with a split lip one day, and that’s when my dad put me in Krav Maga.”

“Never heard of that. How does it work?”

“The best self-defense is not to get into a fight at all. But if you can’t avoid it, then the idea is to end it as fast as you can. You learn to keep your cool,” he said. “Most people in a fight are mad, which only makes them more vulnerable. And don’t fight the way your opponent wants you to—fight the way you know.”

“Sounds like wishful thinking to me. I’m the middle of five kids. If somebody wants to fight, I wouldn’t be able to stop it.”

He walked a few paces away. “Rush me like you’re going to attack.”

“What? That’s dumb.”

“You wanted to know how it works. Don’t worry about hurting me, ’cause I promise, you won’t. And I won’t hurt you because it’s just a demo. Pretend I’m a bad guy and charge me.”

Well, that was next to impossible, but she was challenged by the idea. She ran at him, trying to act like one of the characters in the movie. The moment she got close, Will made a quick move, and Caroline was on her back in the grass, looking up at the sky.

It took her a moment to catch her breath. “Hey!”

He went down on one knee and put his forearm on her neck. “If this was a real fight, I’d press down until you surrendered or passed out.”

She stared up at his face. He smelled of mown grass and sweat, and his eyes were as blue as the sky above, and she was close enough to count the freckles on his nose. Flustered, she said, “I get it. Remind me never to attack you.”

One day they saw Caroline’s dad loading his surfboard and wet suit into the back of the pickup. “Hey, Mr. Shelby,” said Will. “Where are you going?”

“Sunset Beach, just for a couple of hours. Are you a surfer, Will?”

“I wish. Maybe I’ll learn once we move to Coronado,” he said.

“Caroline’s a pretty good surfer,” said Dad.

“Yeah?” Will turned, looking at her in a new way. “I didn’t know that.”

“You didn’t ask,” she said. “I’m not that good. But I can get up.”

“Tell you what. I’ll load up some boards and wet suits for you guys, and we’ll give it a go.”

Will’s eyes lit up like Christmas morning. “Cool,” he said. “Thanks, Mr. Shelby.”

Dad got the boards and suits. Will and Caroline piled into the club cab of the truck. At the last minute, her younger brothers tumbled out of the house, insisting on coming along. Caroline was annoyed, but Dad seemed delighted. “You all have to take turns,” he said. “I can’t take everyone into the surf at once.”

“We’ll take turns,” Jackson said. “We’ll be good, Dad. We will.”

“Promise,” Austin echoed.