Finn didn’t open his eyes, not yet. He’d sleep a little longer.

He listened for Mum to start clunking things around downstairs, making breakfast. Toast and eggs. He’d smell that soon. Coffee!

He rolled over, reaching for Sebastian. But his dog wasn’t there.

Grit, though. Heat. That was. But no blankets, nothing around him at all. And sweetness in his mouth. Like honey? Or like the ganja Tommy brought to parties? Was he passed out on some random couch? He heard water, too. A shower running?

He licked his lips. The grit was sand.

Sand?

Slowly, he opened his eyes.

This wasn’t a party.

He wasn’t at home.

Everything was bright, too white. He still smelled that ganja smell. But it wasn’t a couch he was lying on. And there was no shower running.

He turned his head and saw it: ocean! He was on a beach? It was gorgeous, one that could advertise honeymoons. There were even tiny, bright flowers, all over the sand and blowing in a light breeze. They were dancing, swishing their petals just for him. Like a million colorful hula dancers right before his eyes!

He’d never been to a beach like this, not even in an entire year of sailing. Those flowers, for one thing … That smell …

Slowly, he dug his fingers into the sand and pushed himself up. His head pounded and his throat ached. He needed fresh water.

A small cove. He saw that. Curved like a mouth, with teeth-like rocks at its edge. It had swallowed him.

And there was a horse here, too. A few feet away. Watching him.

Seriously?

He squinted at it. From where he lay, it looked huge and very white. Too white. Shining.

He was dreaming this! Had to be. When he blinked again, the horse blurred out of focus … came back. It made a soft whickering noise like it was laughing at him.

He slumped back down. Shut his eyes and felt his body sway. Again, he heard the flap of sails against the wind. The creak of the mast. His boat.

You’ll never make it through the Pacific. Not with just the two of you.

Dad’s voice. Was he here too?

He had a crazy image of his dad swaying like a hula girl, brightly colored like the flowers in the sand.

Where was Tommy?

Again, he tried to drag himself up. Tried to see. But his head pounded, pushed him down. And the sand was so deep and soft. It welcomed him back. Wrapped him up. He couldn’t … quite …

And he was swaying, swaying, swaying …

… going deeper. Following tiny lights. Diving to where it was quiet. No cracking or smashing.

To where it was cooler.

Green.

There, on the bottom of the ocean, Tommy was making a fire, waiting for Finn to join. Finn just had to swim down deep enough to find him.