R yan had her recurring dream the night before. It always shifted, sometimes leaning into terror, other times overwhelming intensity or what she hated most, deep sorrow that left her a mess. The worst nights were when all three collided into one. Last night was that kind of dream, and to make matters worse, it jolted her awake early, on the morning of her sixteenth birthday.

She bolted upright in bed, her body trembling as cold sweat clung to her skin. The image of her father seared into her mind, speeding away on a jet ski, desperate to save her and her mother. From the depths, a shark, impossibly massive, think megalodon-sized, exploded upward in a single terrifying breach. It swallowed her father and the jet ski whole, its jaws bristling with jagged teeth. In the dream, the shark had roared, a guttural, bone-chilling sound sharks couldn’t make in real life. Yet, even now, that unnatural roar echoed in her ears, refusing to fade.

She glanced at the clock across from her bed, a gift from her grandfather for her last birthday. Crafted from an authentic brass ship porthole, it was one of her favorite pieces in the room. Grandpop, she still called him that even now, had turned eighty-five this past year. After finally retiring the year before, he’d become a bigger part of her life than ever. She couldn’t imagine how she would have survived her first year of college without him.

Starting college at fifteen was challenging enough, but her family's notoriety made it even harder. Her famous grandfather, Dr. Greg Sawyer, was a towering figure in the marine biology world, his name synonymous with groundbreaking research on stingrays. Adding to the pressure, her stepfather, Dr. Lawrence Cordova, was equally renowned. Lawrence, she never called him anything else, headed one of San Diego's top marine research facilities. Together, their legacies cast long shadows that sometimes felt impossible to live up to.

And then there were her and her mother, survivors of a great white shark attack, a predator that had taken her father and seemed equally determined to eat them. Calling them a "meal" might be a stretch; her family had latched onto the unsettling hypothesis that the shark’s motives went beyond hunger, that it was out for revenge.

Students whispered and pointed as she passed, their curiosity barely hidden. She’d learned the hard way that most weren’t interested in her for who she was, just a fifteen-year-old trying to navigate college life. What they wanted was either a shot at working on one of Lawrence’s prestigious projects or a firsthand recounting of the deadly voyage that had made her family infamous.

Being homeschooled hadn’t helped. Despite her mom’s efforts to socialize her with kids her age, Ryan had always gravitated toward adults. That changed when she started college. There, she faced a rude awakening: college students, regardless of their major, seemed to live for parties. Invitations were never extended to her, not even by those who bent the rules and drank before it was legal. It left her feeling ostracized and, worst of all, painfully lonely and desperate for connection.

Even her dormmate largely ignored her. While they’d been paired for their shared academic focus, that connection didn’t extend to befriending someone Ryan’s age. Navigating campus life alone quickly became her norm. Her semi-weekly calls to Grandpops became her solace against the never-ending loneliness. He must have guessed what was really going on, but he let her hide behind requests for help with coursework she could easily ace or probing questions about his stingray research. Those calls gave her a rare chance to feel like a kid again, soaking up his stories and escaping the weight of her reality, even if only for a little while.

Her mother hadn’t wanted her to start college so young, but Lawrence had fought hard for her. The last thing Ryan wanted was her mother’s “I told you so” look or the weight of Lawrence’s disappointment if he knew how miserable she was. She loved him just as deeply as she had loved her father. He never pressured her or demanded her affection, but it was there, an unspoken bond born from his genuine love for her and her mother.

In their weekly calls, she always made sure to sound upbeat and enthusiastic about her studies and the friends she didn’t have. With Grandpops, though, she didn’t have to pretend as much. She could let her guard down, and sometimes her sadness slipped through. He never pushed her to talk about it, but his wisdom, even when hilariously outdated, was like a balm.

“One time, I had a research student so clueless he couldn’t even tie his shoes,” he’d say, his voice gruff but full of mischief. “He wore those silly Velcro things that belonged on a five-year-old. You know how to tie your laces, right?”

She’d laugh at every joke, the weight in her chest lifting just a little.

One thing kept Ryan going each day: her unshakable fascination with a certain marine biologist who had captivated her mind and quite possibly her heart. She devoured his videos, not just because he was gorgeous (and undeniably too old for her), but because of the way he explained things. His insights went beyond the surface, diving into the deeper intricacies of shark behavior and their dynamic relationships with other sea life. His passion was infectious, and every word he spoke pulled her further into the online world he created.

Ryan knew she sometimes wore a dreamy expression. Her roommate Alyss never failed to point it out. To keep her fantasies private, she stuck to earbuds and her phone’s small screen instead of her laptop, even though it offered a better view. The last thing she needed was to give Alyss more ammunition, especially when her roommate wanted the room cleared out for her latest boy visitor.

Instead, Ryan spent countless hours tucked away in the library, hiding in a quiet alcove where she could immerse herself in his videos. It wasn’t an ideal life, but it gave her a chance to lose herself in a world that felt far more exciting and meaningful than her own.

Ryan had come home for spring break to celebrate her birthday. Grandpops wasn’t sure if he could make it because his bursitis was affecting his joints, but he’d promised to call. The thought of age catching up with him weighed heavily on her. One day, he wouldn’t be there, and the idea of facing that reality felt unbearable.

But not today. Today was her birthday, and her mom always made birthdays special. Ryan knew that even when she was fifty, her mom would still find a way to do something outrageously fun and over the top.

She pushed the nightmare aside, climbed out of bed, threw on yesterday’s clothes, and headed downstairs, the smell of her birthday breakfast already wafting up to greet her.