1. Isla

Isla

1

My stomach churns like the choppy waves as I watch the judges step onto the platform. The sun beats down on my neck, and sweat trickles down my back. I can't tell if it's from the heat or my nerves.

The last to file onto the stage is Billy Johnson, and I suppress a groan at the sight of his sunburnt face. Considering he's only lived here for two years, it's impressive how much his presence has shifted our sleepy town in ways it will never recover from.

Mountcastle Cove has always been a coastal family spot, but ever since Billy rolled in with dreams of turning our beach into a tourist destination, this place doesn't feel like home anymore. But maybe I just hold a grudge against him because of what went down last summer.

Billy reaches for the microphone and clears his throat. Instinctively, I reach for the cockle shell I usually wear on a chain around my neck, only to remember it's not there. I've worn it for five years straight, never taking it off until now. Hopefully, it's worth it.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Billy says. "It's my pleasure to announce this year's winners of The Mountcastle Cove Sand Sculpture Tournament!" He raises his voice at the end and the crowd claps in response. "Y'all made it very hard on us judges." A ripple of polite laughter follows his smile. Then his face turns somber. "Now, before we continue, I'd like to take a moment to remind y'all that this is a family friendly event, and even when we walk away from here today, these sculptures are still the property of The Mountcastle Cove Sand Sculpture Society."

My ears roar, and I duck my head down slightly to hide the blush creeping up my neck like a flowering vine. A hush falls on the crowd. Someone nudges into me with their elbow. I try to play it off with a modest grin, hoping that everyone interprets this as a silent apology for Daddy's wrongdoings. Really, I just want to bury my head in the sand and wait for this all to blow over.

The judge pauses for a small beat and then continues on, talking about the sponsors he's secured for the annual Summer Fest. What used to be a friendly sandcastle competition amongst locals has morphed into an annual festival featuring live music and showcasing delicious food from local restaurants. At the heart of it all is The Mountcastle Cove Sand Sculpture Tournament, a showdown of artistic prowess, drawing in competitors from all over the state.

This year there's a record of twenty-five sand sculptures spanning the coastline. Thankfully, my status as a local and a veteran of the sandcastle community secured me a prime position close to the stage.

The crowd is all staring off to the left, following Billy's droning voice as he introduces each of the entrees this year with a brief description of their project. His voice is as listless as a slow rising tide, and it grates on my nerves like sand stuck in my butt crack. I just want him to get on with it.

My Daddy and I entered this competition every year with simple castles and no goals to win. It was the only time he took off work and really gave me his undivided attention.

Over time, we became good at it. We even won the past three years in a row. But that all changed last year when he was banned for life.

In my opinion, the sentencing was too harsh. I mean, who actually gets a lifelong ban from a sand castle competition? Someone who pees on a jellyfish sculpture, that's who.

All it took to change our lives and our relationship was someone filming Daddy taking a late-night victory lap around the sculptures. It wasn't the victory lap that did him in, though. Daddy drunkenly approached the runner-up's sculpture, Team Dune Dreamer's jellyfish, and boasted that he could take the sting out of placing second. Then, he did what everyone does to a jellyfish sting. He pissed all over it. The next day, craters from stray droplets still marred the tentacles.

Luckily, The Mountcastle Cove Sand Sculpture Society let me sign up this year. After all, my father is the one who pissed them off, not me.

Winning this competition and proving I can create sand art on my own is the perfect way to get back at my dad for his thoughtless behavior and redeem my family name at the same time.

"And finally, our last contestant, Isla Moore. Isla made a valiant effort all on her own this year, tackling an ambitious rendering of the King of the Sea, Poseidon."

Valiant effort? I did more than make a valiant effort. While most people here have whole teams working together, I created the best piece I've ever made all on my own. Sure, the tentacles could have been more detailed, and the crown might be a smidge lopsided, but that was an artistic choice.

"And now, the moment you've all been waiting for…" Billy pauses dramatically for effect before laughing lightly, as if he's made a joke. "In third place, we have the Reef Riders with their call for coral conservation! Their stunning sculpture beautifully highlights the importance of protecting our coral reefs and the vibrant marine life that depends on them. Well done!"

Okay, I knew they would place today. I mean, it would be horrible not to give kudos to a good cause. Plus, they did make a majestic sculpture of an underwater scene featuring a coral reef, complete with detailed sea creatures like fish, turtles, and starfish. It's honestly really good.

"Second place goes to The Sandcastic Voyagers and their adventurous pirate ship. Ahoy, Voyagers, come on up to the stage!"

Only one more name will be called today. My feet ache to run up to the stage, as if there's an invisible line reeling me in to claim the win. Crossing my fingers, I hold my breath and listen.

"And now, can I get a drumroll, please?" My eyes roll so hard I wonder if the movement is visible under my sunglasses. Still, I slap my hands in a frantic rhythm along with the rest of the crowd as we indulge the judge's theatrics. "This year's first place champions of The Mountcastle Cove Sand Sculpture Tournament, voted unanimously as the winner, is Team Dune Dreamer!"

My stomach sinks like an anchor, and I shut my eyes to keep the storm of emotions at bay. I didn't win. I didn't even place. Those close to me quickly pat my back and clasp my shoulder in consolation before they turn to cheer for the winners. Blinking slowly to hold back the tears, I glance toward the beach. Staring back at me is the god of the sea himself, Poseidon.

The longer I look at him, the more it dawns on me that I did a damn good job on this sculpture. His unruly hair frames his face wildly, making him look like he's suspended in water. With furrows etched into his brow, the sea god commands my attention to remain only on him. Normally, harsh creases like the ones I carved on his forehead would make me feel like I'm standing in the principal's office about to be scolded. For some reason, though, I get the sense that he's not upset with me for losing. Instead, he looks ready to challenge the judge's ruling and stand in my defense.

His piercing gaze sends a shiver down my spine, leaving me slightly unsteady on my feet. I force myself to break eye contact and keep searching for the reason I wasn't chosen.

As I scan the strong nose that leads to his beard and the tendrils of hair drifting around his face, I don't see any flaws. There certainly aren't imperfections on his body. I may have taken a bit too much time crafting every single muscle. From his abs to his arms, my chisels and brushes smoothed an impeccable form that rivals any statue in a museum. I even took my time with that sexy v-shaped dip that hovers low enough to make onlookers sweat.

Right before the sculpture turns indecent, I added unfurling tentacles. The entire space allotted to me is covered with coiling appendages that look frozen in time. Undulating over the sand, they wrap around the base of the throne where Poseidon rests.

Even the handle of the trident at his side is decorated with shells and sea glass that I've collected while sculpting. I know I'm biased, but I genuinely see nothing wrong with my rendition of this King of the Ocean.

I take one last look at his stony eyes, and a ray of sunlight breaks through the oncoming clouds to glint off the necklace I placed on top of the pointed coronet. I thought adding the necklace my dad gave me when we won our first competition would bring good luck. Clearly, I was wrong.

Just as I move to retrieve it, I'm stopped by Billy. "I'm sure you know there are no hard feelings, Isla. But just to be certain that nothing goes wrong this year, it's best if you aren't seen over by the sculptures. I'd hate for folks to get the wrong impression."

With a clap on my shoulder and a quick once over glance, he moves on to talk to someone behind me without even letting me speak.

I can't say that I'm surprised, but it still doesn't feel good to be treated like a criminal. I cast a sidelong look back at the necklace. It will have to wait until the crowds disperse, which, by the look of the dark clouds on the horizon, won't be long.