The Summer of Jake and Sarah

[ASHFORD COVE - NIGHT - 1903]

There was a big steamship called CORALINE. It carried people and goods up and down the coast. On June 12, 1903, it was near Ashford Cove.

A fast, bad storm hit. It wasn’t normal for summer. The waves got huge. The wind broke the ship’s wheel. Coraline crashed into the sharp rocks right outside the cove.

The ship sank in 6 minutes. 147 people were on board. No one made it out. Kids, moms, sailors — all of them drowned in the same spot.

The next morning, the water in the cove turned black. Like oil. When bodies washed up on the beach, their mouths were full of seaweed. Their eyes were open, like they saw something scary.

[PRESENT DAY]

The trees opened and there it was — Ashford Cove River.

The water was flat and still. Mist sat on the surface in thick sheets, curling around the rotting dock posts like fingers. It was late in the night. Cicadas didn't care if it was dark. They were still loud.

A tourist was walking along the riverbank, phone pressed to his ear, jacket pulled tight against the cold mist.

“Babe, I swear the GPS said—”

A black hand made of water shot out from the surface, slick and solid. It wrapped around his ankle and yanked him down.

No splash. No sound. Only the scream of the man. He was just gone.

His phone fell into the mud, the screen still lit.

***

Jake William, a 17 year old, was on the school bus. The seat vibrated under him, and the windows were fogged from the long ride. He’d barely slept.

When the bus got to Ashford Cove High School, the driver announced to the students that they were there. The brakes hissed, doors wheezed open.

Jake stepped off the bus, backpack slung over one shoulder. The air hit him cold and damp. He looked around, tired and out of place.

Suddenly he heard his name.

“Jake! Miho!”

He turned and saw his aunty, Aunty Marisol, hurrying toward him. She ran and hugged him, arms tight around his shoulders.

“You’ve grown so big and sad looking,” Aunty Marisol said, pinching his cheek. “School sent me your results. You’re failing English and Biology. Don’t worry, we’ll fix that,” she added, already talking faster than he could answer.

Jake was tired already from the long journey. He just nodded, trying to keep his eyes open.

Aunty Marisol sniffed the air around him, then pulled back. “You smell like a dog,” she said. That made Jake feel uneasy. He shifted his weight.

“The bus was a mess,” he managed to reply, pulling his jacket together tighter around him.

Aunty Marisol didn’t wait. She grabbed his bag and dragged him to her old truck, keys jangling. The truck rattled to life and they drove away, tires crunching on gravel.

They drove past the river. Jake stared out the window, half-asleep, until something caught his eye on the muddy bank. A phone. Screen still lit, glowing pale against the wet dirt.

Summer school was worse than normal school. Nine kids were half asleep, heads nodding like broken bobbleheads. The AC wheezed, giving up, and the room smelled like old textbooks and cheap coffee.

The door groaned open.

Cold air rolled in with her.

A girl walked in wearing all black. Hoodie pulled up so far it swallowed half her face, shadows pooling under the rim. She moved quietly. No greeting. No apology for being late. Just glided down the aisle and dropped into the seat right in front of Jake.

On her backpack, scrawled in white marker, almost scratched off: Sarah V

Then Mr. Ric walked in. Coffee stain on his shirt, tie crooked, expression carved from disappointment. He slammed his mug down and the sound made half the class flinch.

“Welcome to Biology Recovery,” Mr. Ric said, voice dry as chalk dust. He scanned the room, eyes landing on Jake and staying there a beat too long. “If you’re here, you messed up. Congratulations.”

The girl in front of Jake didn’t look up. She was writing in her notebook, pen moving fast, deliberate strokes. Black ink, no erasing.

Then she froze.

Her head snapped up. Not casual. Not curious. Like a predator catching a scent on the wind. Her nose flared under the hood.

Slowly, she turned back. Her eyes were sharp behind the shadow, locking onto Jake. She didn’t blink. Her head tilted, just slightly, like she was listening to something no one else could hear. Like she was peeling him apart layer by layer, trying to figure out what he really was.

Jake shifted in his chair. The wood creaked. His palms felt damp. “What?” he muttered, trying to sound annoyed instead of unsettled.

The girl didn’t answer. No smirk. No explanation. She just turned back around and kept writing, as if he’d already been dismissed.

Jake stared at the back of her hoodie. The fabric didn’t move. But he swore he could feel her still watching him through the corner of her eye.

Mr. Ric cleared his throat. “Eyes front, people. Or you’ll be here all August.”

Jake didn’t move. He was still looking at Sarah V.

And she wasn’t looking back — but somehow, it felt like she still was.

***

Jake was in Aunty Marisol’s tienda helping her restocking shelves. The air smelled like cleaning soap.

He opened the fridge. The light buzzed on, cold air hitting his face. He grabbed a bottle of water, unscrewed it, and gulped half of it fast.

Then he pulled the bottle down and made a face. His tongue felt coated.

“Why is the water so salty?” Jake asked, holding the bottle up like it’d personally offended him.

“The pipes are old,” Aunty Marisol’s voice was heard from the back, muffled by boxes and the hum of the old fan. “Been that way since last month.”

Jake set the bottle down with a thud. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

He looked outside the window. The river was visible from afar, flat and still under the afternoon sun.

Hours passed in the tienda. The air was thick, heavy.

Jake was studying with his Biology textbook open, pen chewing at the corner of the page. The fluorescent light buzzed above him.

When the door bell rang, Jake didn’t look up right away. Then he heard footsteps.

Sarah walked inside.

“Hey, you’re in my bio class,” Jake said, closing the book a little. “Sarah, right?”

Sarah looked at him like he just grew another head. She didn’t answer.

She went straight to the fridge and took out a bottle of water.

“You don’t belong here,” she said her voice was cold. Final.

“In the tienda,” Jake said, leaning back in the chair. “Kinda. I work here.”

“In this town,” Sarah said. She walked to the counter and slid a $5 bill to Jake. Didn’t wait for change. Didn’t even look at him.

Jake’s eyes caught on her hand as she slid the $5 bill. A black fingerless glove. And over it, a thin bronze bracelet, dull against the leather.

“Ain’t you hot in that?” Jake asked, “because it is 90° inside and you are wearing gloves like it was winter.”

Sarah stopped. Turned. Her expression was flat, but her jaw was tight.

“Are you always stupid,” Sarah asked, clearly irritated, “or is today the chosen day?”

Before Jake could reply, there was a sound in the pipe. A low groan, then a hiss.

A black water rushed out of the tap. Thick. Murky. It gurgled into the sink for a second before turning clear again, like nothing had happened.

“Don’t drink that, mijo,” Aunty Marisol’s voice called out from the back room. “They are working on the city pipes.”

“Weird,” Sarah said and kept a face. She didn’t move from the counter. Just watched the water like it might do it again.

“What is wrong with this city?” Jake wondered out loud, nudging his textbook aside.

Sarah walked out of the tienda. The bell jingled behind her. She opened the bottle of water to drink, but instead poured it in the gutter. The water hit the concrete and ran dark for a moment before soaking into the dirt.

She looked up at Jake through the window. He had by that time gone back to his Biology study, pen moving again like nothing happened.

***

At night in Jake’s room, he lay there staring at the ceiling. He’d been trying to sleep for a while but couldn’t. The heat in the room pressed down on him, thick and sticky, making the air feel heavy in his lungs.

Then Jake stood up like he was being pulled. No thought. No decision. Just his legs moving before his brain caught up.

He checked his phone on the nightstand. 11:52 PM. The blue light hurt his eyes.

He grabbed his shirt off the chair in the room. Didn’t bother with anything else. He opened the window and jumped. The cold night he pulled the shirt on while standing there barefoot, the fabric cool against his skin. Then he started walking with no idea of where he was going. Just one foot in front of the other.

He passed the tienda. Lights off. Shutter pulled down.

He passed the school. Gates locked. Silence everywhere except the crickets.

And somehow, mysteriously, he found himself at the river. The water was black and still, reflecting the moon like a sheet of glass.

That was when he heard it.

“Help… help.”

A voice cried from a distance. Jake looked and saw a guy struggling with an invisible force. The guy’s legs were already deep in the water, but his torso was out, thrashing, like something underneath was pulling him down.

Without thinking Jake moved fast. Before a second he was already in front of the guy.

He offered his hand to help.

Something moved beneath the water.

A shape.

Long fingers.

Then—

The hand exploded out of the river and cut Jake across the palm.

Jake shouted as he moved back and looked at his hand. Blood gushed out, bright and hot against the cold air.

He turned to look at the guy again and suddenly everything was gone. There was no one there. No sound. Just the river and him. The surface lay still, like it had never been disturbed.

He looked at his hand again and there was no blood. No cut. Skin untouched.

Jake shook his head. He was hallucinating. He took a deep breath.

“Get it together, Jake,” he said to himself. Another deep breath. Then he ran. Fast. No looking back.

***

The riverbank was chaotic.

Next morning, cops were everywhere — yellow tape stretched from tree to tree, two patrol cars with lights still flashing even in daylight. Paparazzi and newsmen jostled for space behind the barricade, cameras clicking, microphones out.

At one end, the summer school students stood by in a tight cluster. Backpacks still on, dresses wrinkled. Sarah was part of them, arms crossed, face unreadable.

“This is the second incident in the last 2 days,” the newsman announced into his mic, voice too loud for the quiet water. “The cops call it drowning. Locals call it...” He paused for effect, letting the word hang. “...something else.”

Jake walked over the crowd to take a clear view. He ducked under an officer’s arm, ignoring the warning.

A body bag was zipped closed on the stretcher. Black. No nameplate. We didn’t see who.

Jake was wondering what happened. Was his hallucination last night real

Sarah kept watching him from one end. Not the body bag. Not the cops. Just Jake. Her eyes never blinked.

“You are the new kid, right?” A voice asked behind Jake.

Jake blinked. He forgot people existed in deep thought. The river, the guy's face last night — it all tunneled out until that voice cut through.

He turned.

“Yeah,” Jake said.

“Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” the girl named Rose said. She had a backpack slung over one shoulder and an easy smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Yeah,” Jake lied, trying to look normal. He wiped his palm on his jeans, like that would wipe the expression off his face.

“Move back, kids!” a cop shouted from a distance. Yellow tape fluttered near the riverbank. Two officers were already blocking the path.

“Common, let's go!” Rose said, pulling Jake softly by the arm. “Let’s go before Mr. Ric gives us detention on day two.”

Jake looker back at the river. It was calm. Normal. No ripples. No bubbles. Like nothing had ever happened.

As Jake looked forward, walking with Rose, his eyes met with Sarah’s.

She was standing by the fence on the other side of the courtyard. Not moving. Just staring. Her arms were crossed, face unreadable.

For half a second, neither of them looked away.

Jake and Rose walked into the school locker hallway from the crime scene. The sound of their footsteps echoed off the metal.

“I’ll be leaving now,” Rose said. “English class starts in 2 minutes.”

“Yeah sure,” Jake said, then paused. “I didn’t get to know your name.”

“Rose,” Rose said with a smile. Easy, warm, nothing guarded about it.

“I’m Jake,” Jake said. “Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Rose replied and walked away with a small wave.

Jake turned front. And —

Sarah was right in front of him. Arms folded. Expressionless face. No blink. No smile.

“Whoa,” Jake said, surprised, moving back a bit. “Didn’t I just leave you outside?” He asked.

"That body didn't surprise you," she said.

Jake frowned. "What?"

"You looked at your hand." Sarah said

"So?" Jake asked

"You touched it before you looked at the body." Sarah said

Jake laughed awkwardly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Sarah took one step closer. "People who just arrived in town don't stare at a drowned victim like they already know what happened."

Jake's smile disappeared.

"So I'll ask once." She held his gaze. "What do you know about the incident?” She asked.

Jake looked around the hallway. It was empty. Lockers clicking shut in the distance. He lowered his voice.

“Look, Sarah, I’m new here. I know nothing, alright.”

“The cops looked surprised,” Sarah insisted. “You looked like you were there when it happened. What do you know?” She asked.

Jake gave her a half-smile. “I know English class just started. I know Rose is my seatmate in Biology— And I know you are blocking my way now.” Jake teased.

Sarah looked at him from head to toe. No reaction. Then she walked past him, hitting his shoulder as she went. Not hard, but enough to make him shift.

Jake turned to look at her as she walked out of the hallway. The door swung shut behind her with a dull clang.