Chapter 1
The waves rolled onto the white sand in a slow, rhythmic dance, each one reaching just a little farther before being pulled back into the deep. The afternoon sun hung high in the sky, its golden rays casting a heavy warmth over the shore, making everything shimmer—sea, sand, and even the sweat on Rose’s skin.
Rose, a seventeen-year-old with sun-kissed brown hair and a restless energy that never quite faded, lay sprawled on a lounging chair just a few feet from the water. Her olive-toned skin had already darkened from two days under the Italian sun, but she hardly cared. The heat pressed down on her like a weighted blanket, the kind she would have loved back home, but here? It just felt suffocating.
Around her, her family lounged in similar positions, all basking in the supposed paradise of their vacation. Her dad, Mike, reclined in a chair beside her, sunglasses perched on his nose, the outline of an old farmer’s tan still visible against his newly sunburned skin. He was a quiet man—stoic, dependable—but right now, he was completely still, looking as if he could fall asleep at any second.
Her mom, Paula, sat upright in her own chair, an open novel resting on her lap, though she seemed more interested in people-watching than reading. She had a habit of pressing her lips together in that way that made it clear she was judging the world around her—whether it was the tourists, the beach vendors, or, more likely, her own children.
Sam, her older brother, was the only one who actually seemed to be enjoying himself. At nineteen, he had an effortless charm and a grin that made him annoyingly popular wherever he went. He lay stretched out on the sand, arms folded behind his head, soaking up the sun like he belonged here. Occasionally, he’d glance toward a group of girls down the beach, probably debating whether or not to go talk to them.
Alice, her younger sister, was the opposite. At thirteen, she was pale, freckled, and clearly miserable, fidgeting with the edges of the oversized sun hat their mother had forced on her. She had earbuds in, probably blasting music to drown out the world, her expression twisted into one of dramatic boredom.
Uncle Peter, her dad’s younger brother, sat in the shade of a nearby umbrella, sipping an iced coffee like he was above the whole beach experience. He was the type of man who always had something to say, though right now, he seemed content just listening to the waves.
Tyler, her cousin, was sixteen, just a year younger than Rose, and somehow even more restless than she was. He kept shifting in his chair, bouncing one leg, drumming his fingers against his knee—itching for something to do. Every few minutes, he’d sigh loudly, as if hoping someone would take pity on him and suggest something exciting.
It was only their second day in Italy, and Rose was already tired of it all. The endless sun, the postcard-perfect scenery, the forced relaxation—it felt like she was trapped in a vacation that wasn’t meant for her. She wanted something real, something thrilling. But instead, she was here, listening to the waves and waiting for the next uneventful hour to pass.
The minutes dragged on, the heat pressing down like a heavy weight. Rose let out a quiet sigh, shifting in her chair, but there was no escaping the feeling of stagnation. The sound of the waves, the distant laughter of other tourists, the occasional call of a beach vendor—it all blurred together into an endless, lazy hum.
Then, a shadow passed over her.
“Hey,” Tyler’s voice broke the monotony, his usual impatience laced into the single word. “Wanna go get something to drink? I swear, if I have to sit here for another hour, I’m gonna lose my mind.”
Rose cracked one eye open, peering up at him. He stood over her, shifting from foot to foot, looking like he was ready to bolt if she said no.
Before she could answer, Sam chimed in from his spot on the sand. “Good idea. I could go for something cold.” He stretched lazily before sitting up, shaking some of the sand from his hair. His sunglasses hung from the neckline of his shirt, and his face was already pink from too much sun. “C’mon, Rose. You look like you’re about to die of boredom anyway.”
He wasn’t wrong.
Rose sat up, brushing a few stray grains of sand from her arm. “Where, exactly, are we going?”
“There’s a little beach café up the road,” Tyler said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “I saw it when we drove in yesterday. Looks decent.”
Rose hesitated, glancing toward her parents. Paula had already noticed.
“Where are you three going?” their mom asked, her voice carrying that sharp, almost instinctual edge of parental concern. She had put her book down, her brows slightly furrowed, eyes flicking between them like she was calculating all the ways they could get into trouble.
“Just getting drinks,” Sam said easily. “Nothing crazy, just something cold. We’ll be back in, like, twenty minutes.”
Paula didn’t look convinced. “Is it far?”
“Not really,” Tyler cut in. “Just up the road. A five-minute walk, maybe.”
Paula pursed her lips, considering.
Mike, who had been silent this whole time, finally spoke, his voice calm and unbothered. “Let them go, Paula. They’ll be fine.” He tipped his sunglasses down just enough to glance at them, then pushed them back up and leaned further into his chair. “They’re not kids anymore.”
Paula exhaled sharply, clearly not thrilled but unwilling to argue. “Fine. But stay together. And don’t go wandering off anywhere else.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Sam said, already standing up and stretching. “We got it.”
Alice, still sulking in her chair, barely glanced at them as they started walking away.
“Bring me something,” she muttered, tugging her earbuds back in.
“Get it yourself next time,” Tyler shot back, but he was grinning.
The three of them made their way off the beach, stepping onto the warm pavement of the small road that led away from the shoreline. The air smelled like salt and sunscreen, mixed with the faint aroma of grilled seafood from a nearby restaurant. The street was quiet, lined with small shops, cafés, and sun-bleached houses with shuttered windows.
“So, what are we thinking?” Sam asked as they walked. “Lemonade? Iced coffee? Or are we going full vacation mode and getting something actually fun?”
“Fun?” Tyler repeated, raising an eyebrow. “You mean alcohol?”
Sam smirked. “I mean, we’re in Italy. No one’s gonna care if we get a little something.”
Rose rolled her eyes. “You realize Mom will actually kill us if we come back smelling like cocktails, right?”
“Only if she finds out,” Sam said with a wink.
Tyler laughed. “I like the way you think.”
They turned a corner, and the café came into view. It was a small, charming place with outdoor seating shaded by big white umbrellas. A chalkboard sign near the entrance advertised fresh fruit smoothies, iced coffee, and—sure enough—an assortment of local wines and cocktails. A handful of people sat at the tables, chatting in a mix of Italian and English.
Sam grinned. “Well, let’s see what they’ve got.”
As they stepped inside, the cool air was a welcome relief from the heat. The scent of espresso and citrus filled the air, and behind the counter, a young barista greeted them with a polite “Ciao.”
“Hey,” Sam said, flashing his usual easy grin. “Uh, English?”
The girl nodded. “Of course.”
Tyler leaned against the counter, scanning the handwritten menu on the wall. “Alright, what’s everyone getting?”
Rose stepped forward, eyeing the options. “I’ll just get a lemonade.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? We’re in Italy, and you’re getting lemonade?”
She shot him a look. “Yes. Because it’s hot, and I actually want to feel refreshed instead of drinking something that’ll make me dizzy in this heat.”
He smirked. “You sound like Mom.”
“Good. Maybe that means I’ll live longer.”
Sam rolled his eyes but turned his attention back to the barista. “Alright, well, I’ll take an iced coffee.” He hesitated, then added, “And… what’s the best drink you’ve got that’s, y’know, a little stronger?”
The barista tilted her head slightly, considering. “A spritz is very popular here. Light, refreshing. Or limoncello, if you like something sweet.”
Sam glanced at Tyler, then grinned. “Limoncello sounds good.”
The barista nodded and turned to Tyler. “And for you?”
Tyler glanced at Rose, clearly debating whether or not he should follow Sam’s lead. In the end, he said. “Another Limoncello.”
Rose sighed “Idiots.”
As the barista turned to prepare their drinks, the three of them found a table by the window. Outside, the street was quiet, a few tourists strolling along the cobblestone path, their sandals clicking softly against the stones. The sun reflected off the white buildings, making everything seem brighter, sharper.
Tyler slumped into his chair. “I swear, if I have to spend another five days just sitting on that beach, I’m gonna lose my mind.”
“You’re so dramatic,” Rose muttered.
He shot her a look. “Come on, you’re bored too. I can see it all over your face.”
She sighed. “I mean… yeah. A little.”
Sam leaned back in his chair, stretching. “We just need to find something fun to do. Something that’s not sitting in the sun until we turn into human raisins.”
“Like what?” Tyler asked.
Sam shrugged. “We could go into the city. Check out some old ruins, sneak into a party, meet some locals—”
“You mean meet girls,” Rose interrupted, deadpan.
Sam grinned. “That too.”
Rose shook her head. “You two are gonna get yourselves into trouble.”
Before Sam could respond, the barista returned with their drinks. She set them down with a smile, and Sam immediately reached for his small glass of limoncello, swirling the golden liquid before taking a sip.
“Alright,” he said after a moment, nodding in approval. “Not bad.”
Tyler grabbed his limoncello and took a long drink, sighing in relief. “Okay, yeah. This was a good idea.”
Rose sipped her lemonade, the tartness waking her up a little. She glanced outside again, watching a group of teenagers laughing as they walked past. For a brief moment, she wondered what it would be like to live here, instead of just visiting. To walk these streets like they belonged to her.
Sam followed her gaze. “See? That’s what we should be doing. Getting out. Meeting people. Having an actual adventure.”
Rose rolled her eyes. “You make it sound like we’re in some kind of movie.”
“Maybe we should be,” Sam said, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Would be more interesting than lying on the beach all day.”
Tyler smirked. “So what, are we just gonna walk around until something exciting happens?”
Sam grinned. “Why not?”
Rose exhaled, looking between them. The smart thing to do was to say no, go back to the beach, and keep things simple. But… she was tired of simple.
Maybe a little trouble wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Back at the beach, Alice had grown tired of listening to her podcast. With a sigh, she yanked out her earbuds and tossed them onto the small table next to her lounge chair. She pulled the wide-brimmed sun hat off her head, shaking out her dark, shoulder-length hair before glancing around.
Her mom, Paula, was still buried in her book, though Alice could tell she was only half-paying attention to the words. Her uncle, Peter, sat under the shade of an umbrella, absentmindedly tapping his fingers against his glass of iced coffee.
And her dad—Mike—was out in the water, standing waist-deep in the rolling waves, his back to the shore.
Alice hesitated, then got up, brushing the sand off her legs. She wasn’t sure what made her do it—maybe it was boredom, or maybe it was something else—but she found herself walking toward the water.
The moment her feet hit the shoreline, the foamy waves curled around her ankles, cool and inviting. She took slow steps forward, the wet sand sinking beneath her heels as she waded in deeper.
By the time she reached him, Mike had noticed her presence. He turned slightly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Thought you were glued to your podcast,” he said.
“I got bored,” Alice muttered, hugging her arms across her chest as another wave rolled past, splashing against her thighs.
“Ah,” Mike said, nodding like that was the most reasonable thing in the world. He turned back to the horizon, letting the silence settle between them.
Alice watched the water move—endless, shifting, never still. She let the rhythm of the waves calm her.
After a moment, she asked, “Did you ever feel like you weren’t like other people?”
Mike glanced at her, raising an eyebrow at the question. “Well, sure,” he said. “When I was a teenager, I felt like I was the only person who didn’t know what the hell they were doing.”
Alice huffed a quiet laugh. “That’s not what I mean.”
“I know,” Mike said. He was quiet for a beat before adding, “You mean in a way that doesn’t go away. A way that’s always there.”
Alice nodded.
Mike exhaled, running a hand through his damp hair. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ve felt that way before.”
Alice looked down, dragging her fingers through the water’s surface, watching the way it rippled and broke apart. “Mom never really says it, but I can tell she thinks I’m different. Not in a bad way, just… like she’s always watching me, waiting for me to struggle.”
Mike was quiet for a moment before he said, “She worries. It’s how she is.”
“I know,” Alice said, her voice small. “But I don’t want her to think I can’t handle things.”
“You can handle things,” Mike said firmly. “You just do them in your own way.”
Alice took a slow breath. “I feel like my brain doesn’t work like other people’s. Like everyone else just knows how to be normal, and I have to learn it. I have to think about stuff that other people don’t even notice.”
Mike nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I get that.” He glanced at her. “You know, when you were little, we took you to a specialist. You were seven.”
Alice’s stomach twisted slightly. “Yeah,” she said. “I remember.”
“They diagnosed you with autism,” Mike said gently, watching her reaction. “Level one. High-functioning, but still on the spectrum.”
Alice’s fingers twitched in the water. She had known this—her parents had told her before, in small, careful ways. But hearing it said out loud, here in the middle of the ocean, made it feel different.
“I don’t feel autistic,” she said.
Mike smiled slightly. “What do you think autism is supposed to feel like?”
Alice opened her mouth, then shut it again. She didn’t have an answer.
“Everyone thinks it’s just one thing,” Mike continued, his voice steady. “Like, you either have it or you don’t. Like it’s a checklist. But it’s not. It’s different for everyone.”
Alice swallowed. “Yeah, but—” She hesitated. “I can talk to people. I can do things on my own. I don’t have meltdowns or anything. So… what if they got it wrong?”
Mike shook his head. “Alice, it’s not about what you can’t do. It’s about how you experience things.”
Alice looked at him, searching his face. “Do you think I’m normal?”
Mike didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached up and adjusted the baseball cap he always wore, as if choosing his words carefully. “I think you’re you,” he said finally. “And if that’s different from other people, so what? It doesn’t make you any less.”
Alice bit the inside of her cheek, staring out at the horizon. The sky and sea blurred together in the distance, a never-ending stretch of blue.
“I just don’t want to be treated like I’m broken,” she admitted, her voice quiet.
Mike turned toward her then, fully facing her. His expression was serious, but there was a warmth in his eyes. “You’re not broken, Alice. And you don’t need to be ‘fixed.’ You just see the world differently.”
Alice let those words settle over her, feeling them sink in like the waves lapping at her skin.
“Besides,” Mike added, nudging her lightly with his elbow, “most people are way weirder than they let on. They just hide it better.”
Alice let out a small, genuine laugh, the tension in her chest easing slightly.
The two of them stood in the water for a while, letting the waves move around them. The sun was starting to sink lower in the sky, casting golden light across the surface of the ocean.
Eventually, Mike spoke again. “You wanna swim for a bit? Clear your head?”
Alice thought about it, then gave a small nod. “Yeah. That sounds good.”
And for the first time that day, she felt a little lighter.
