"You never know what's in the water. You wouldn't want something pulling you under."
Charlotte's new school is… different. Miles from the coast, she quickly gets used to the dry air, the inland heat. She falls into step beside a gaggle of girls her age who talk of college requirements and entrance exams and little else. She is grateful that they don't ask her any questions.
Her mother's new restaurant is the talk of the town. The assistant manager bares her teeth in something like a smile. She peppers her with questions about school, her latest gallery showing, and the biology project that earned her an A+. Charlotte frowns and stabs at her salad.
One day, shopping for new running shoes, she sees a flash of chestnut hair out of the corner of her eye. Her heart constricts in her chest. She swears she can feel a pair of curious eyes, watching.
Later, she stands in front of the mirror and stares. Her reflection stares back: plain, dark brown eyes, rounded cheeks that have hollowed with time, her shock of fiery red hair. She pulls at the strands, turning them this way and that.
She remembers a time when she could bend fluids to her very will. When she quirks her hand towards the little plastic bottle it remains still on the bathroom counter.
Charlotte lets out a breath and throws the bottle of brown hair dye into the trash.