Sprouting scales from the cold, cold water, Luca swam around looking for his friend. After he'd just promised that nothing bad would happen to him, Alberto just slipped right out of his grasp.

He blamed the scales.

There was no one in the dark, cold sea. For safety measures, Luca tore a branch from a fallen undersea tree. He dove all the way down to the bottom, to the only sign of life he could find. He knocked on a boulder housing a family of trembling blue crabs; one nervously lifted the rock.

"Excuse me," Luca said. "Have you seen a sea monster that looks like me? Purple, kind of gangly? Red eyes, sharp teeth?"

The crab pointed its shaky pincer past the strait.

"Thank you." Luca lowered the rock and went soaring past the strait. "Alberto?" he screamed at the top of his gills. "Alberto? Alberto!"

Sinister cackling behind him sent chills down Luca's spine. It was Alberto's voice… but it wasn't. It didn't sound like him. It didn't even really look like him; with those red eyes, he looked like some kind of demon from the deep.

"Little Luca of Liguria," he greeted. "Back for a second round?"

Hands shaking, Luca brandished his staff.

Alberto looked at it and tsked; he spun a baby whirlpool in front of Luca, whipping the stick in his face multiple times.

"Ow!" Luca swam back, holding his eye. It would surely leave a mark he'd have to explain away. He began to get angry. "What is your problem?" he shouted. "Why are you being so mean to me?"

"You really think I need a reason to be mean to you?" Alberto said, floating on his back. "Look at you. You're weak."

"Don't say that."

"Oh why not? Your wittle feelings gonna get hurt?"

Luca ignored him. "Alberto, this isn't you."

"Really." Alberto dismissively swiped his hand, creating a whirlpool that carried away a grass bed below, sending sea stars flying.

"Stop!" Luca grabbed his head, thinking fast. He had to find a way to distract him. "You… you have to stop. Please. This isn't you."

"Oh? And who am I?"

"… You're my best friend."

Alberto chuckled, dissolving into a hysterical fit of taunting laughter. "Oh. Do you realize how dumb you sound?"

"You have to remember. Don't you remember anything?"

"Guess not." He picked his teeth, aloof. "Why don't you enlighten me before I get bored."

"Alberto… Alberto Scorfano. Isola del Mare? Remember? You lived there until I came to the island and we had fun riding scooters off cliffs… and we ate pasta and rode bikes and we were obsessed with Vespas and we won the Portorosso Cup race and we got a Vespa and you sold it to give me a ticket to go to school… because that's the kind of friend you are. You're good," he begged. "You're a good person."

Luca watched Alberto's face slowly transform. "I do remember."

Luca brightened, elated. They were still okay. Everything was going to be fine.

"… that I don't care."

Luca's smile disappeared as with a slow, deliberate turn of the finger, Alberto swept a giant maelstrom into Luca's path, a naval ship getting pulled into its course.

"No!" All Luca could do was ball himself up before everything went black.

. . .

"It's just a scrape. It's fine."

"Shhh." Ms. Marcovaldo insisted on laying Luca down on the couch while she treated his scar with hydrogen peroxide. She poured the bottle over his snaking wound.

He sucked in a breath. "Ow."

"Sorry. Too much?"

"No… " he whimpered, knotting up the sofa blanket in his hand. "Thanks."

Too much. She didn't blame him for lying. That "scrape" looked like it might have required stitches if she'd gotten to it any later. Ms. Marcovaldo took the rag and set to work dabbing more gently. "Where'd you get it?"

"In the sea."

"How?"

"On the bow… of a ship," Luca confessed.

"How did that happen?"

Luca didn't answer right away. With all the confusion and danger these whirlpools presented, there was something he wasn't telling her. Ms. Marcovaldo knew he wouldn't just go running himself into ship shards for no reason; Luca was a smart boy, even if he was coming home late and acting like this troubled kid.

"Was it done by somebody you care about?" she guessed.

Luca hesitated then sighed, nodding ever so slightly.

Ms. Marcovaldo got up. "Santa Stracchino," she muttered, wringing the rag out in the sink.

Luca lifted his head. That was where Giulia got it from.

"Listen, tesoro," she began. "I'm not going to pretend I understand everything that's going on with you, but take it from me. Any friend who does this to you isn't a friend worth having."

We were always laughing

I just remember laughing, mama

We were always laughing