By the time they reached the beach, the palms were rattling.

Children came running with kites under their arms.

“She’s let it out!”

“Why was she keeping it so long?”

“It was her kite. The one with the shark. She wanted to win.”

Sophie climbed from the canoe, dripping.

She pulled her wet dress away from her knees. Everybody was looking at her.

There wasn’t even a shark on her kite anymore.

I heard the forecast, she wanted to say. I knew the breeze was going to stop. It was only a game.

But then she remembered the whoosh against her face.

Her dad’s bottle.

The sail cracking above them.

She wished they were back at the gap between the rocks, with the cork still in her hand and nobody watching.