But the breeze did not come back.

Not that afternoon.

Not the next morning.

Not when Sophie carried her kite down to the beach and ran until her chest hurt.

The shark rose behind her, climbed for a few glorious seconds, and landed nose-first in a clump of grass.

Wind retrieved it.

“Perhaps it needs fewer teeth.”

“It needs wind.”

He glanced toward the boat shed.

Sophie pretended not to notice.