Roberto

When he was 14, Rafaniel went on vacation to the beach with his family. It was summer, hot, and everyone seemed preoccupied with their own affairs: his mother packing her bags, his father talking loudly to his uncles, and his older sister — Júlia — always looking like she was in charge of everything. Júlia was annoying to him, constantly asking him to be quiet, mercilessly embarrassing him. Rafael just wanted to play.

On the second day, he ran to the sea with a surfboard he had bought with money from his piggy bank. He felt the wind, his eyes widening at the first big wave of his life. He forgot to attach the leash to his foot. A wave came stronger than he imagined, threw the board far away and dragged him under. The water pulled everything in: air, sound, people on the sand seemed too far away.

Rafael thrashed about, swallowed water, opened his mouth, screamed, but the sound of the sea returned only a muffled echo. He blinked, sank. The voices faded into the distance. The world shrank to the cold of the bubbles on his face. He closed his eyes and thought of simple things: his grandmother's voice, the taste of strawberry ice cream. Then, he felt hands pulling. Someone dragged him up, scraped the sand from his face, covered his mouth with their own mouth until air could enter again—the fright turned into a cough, and then into silent sobs.

When he opened his eyes, he saw a girl. She was fifteen, her wet hair plastered to her face and her eyes seemingly too firm for her age. She was beautiful—Rafael would never forget that. The girl brushed the sand from his hair.