Mom was home by the time I returned from the beach. I could smell the kimchi-fried rice cooking, the bacon sizzling, as soon as I walked through the door. She smiled when she saw me.

"Back from the beach, sweetie?"

"Yeah." I managed a smile. "Nothing like a good swim on the first day of summer."

"I bet." Mom's smile was wistful—I wondered if she was thinking of where she grew up, near Honolulu. "I might have to take a dip myself after dinner."

She stirred the rice in the frying pan with a small spatula. "I'm glad that you weren't hurt in your fall overboard. It's a good thing you've always been such a strong swimmer."

I took a seat on one of the bar-stools on the other side of the kitchen island. I hung my beach bag by the strap over the back of the neighboring stool. "How old was I, when you first taught me to swim?"

Mom chuckled. "We didn't really teach you. You just took to it, the first time we brought you into the ocean. Like a duck, as they say."

I wondered if maybe there was more truth to what Talu and Jewel had said. What if I was part-mermaid, a tide-dweller, as they'd called me?

"How old was I?"

"Hmm." Mom tilted her head, sending a cascade of black curls over her shoulders. "Not even a year old. Probably around nine months or so. Same age we introduced Lena."

"Did you have to teach Lena?"

Mom laughed again. "We did, she didn't want to get into the water at first, hated getting wet—but eventually she loved it. And now she's off with her friends at the beach all the time."

Some things never changed. Lena did still hate getting her hair wet because it could frizz up in the heat without the proper conditioner and styling gel. And it wasn't like she was in the water all that often when she was at the beach. But I wasn't going to tell Mom that, since that was Lena's business. After all, I had some secrets of my own now. 

"You were so cute," Mom continued as she sprinkled some salt over the top. "We bought this little pink and orange bikini, with a flower print that reminded me of home. We just dropped you in the water, and I couldn't hold on even though I wanted to—you were just determined to explore the ocean!"

She paused as she switched over to the pan where the bacon was cooking. "What's with the questions, kamalii?"

I shrugged. "I don't know, just guess I was feeling nostalgic or something. Just curious."

Mom nodded sagely. "Sixteen is a good age to be nostalgic. You're growing up—you can't know where you're going until you know where you've been."
She turned the bacon over in the pan, then removed a set of tongs from the kitchen drawer. "You've been making changes a lot lately. I'm proud of you."

"Why?" I was taken aback by that. All I'd done was cut my hair a little and bought new clothes. I still felt like the same old Mika. 

"Realizing that you aren't happy with the way things are going and making the change can be hard for adults to do." Mom scooped up the bacon and set it on the cutting board. "Even if it is for boys to notice you, I'm still proud that you're taking initiative and making your life the way you want it."

My face went hot. "Mom!"

"It's only natural, at your age." She smiled mischievously as she picked up a chef's knife and lined up the bacon. "And don't forget, I am your mother—I notice everything."

I decided not to correct her.

"And it's cute, to see you wanting a little boyfriend." She used the knife to push all of the chopped bacon bits into the rice. "I just hope you'll bring him over so he can meet your old mother."

"You're not old," I scoffed. I pulled my phone out of my swim bag. 

"Just good genes at work, thanks to your grandmother." Mom winked. "Text your sister, let her know that dinner's almost ready."

I did as I was told, and almost immediately got a reply back. "She's out at dinner with Tess."

Probably more people than Tess, but again, I wasn't about to be a snitch.

Mom shrugged. "I'll box up some for her. Or for when your father gets up and wants a midnight snack."

I scrolled through my texts—Max had sent a message. "Is it okay if Max comes over after dinner?"

"What does he want?"

"I just wanted to hang out with him." 

Mom narrowed her eyes and was quiet for a long minute. "Your door needs to be open, or you need to be on the back porch, where I can see you."

"Come on, it's Max, we've been friends forever, it's not like he's my boyfriend or anything," I protested. 

After all, Max knew the old me. So why on Earth would he have any interest in the new me?

"That's what you think," Mom snorted. "Does he know that?"

"Mom!"

"You can go on the porch, I won't listen in, I promise!" Mom lifted her hands in presumed surrender, although her holding the chef's knife negated that somewhat. "Just no kissing or anything else—I worry enough when it comes to your sister."

"Oh." I could feel my face going redder. "Mom, no, it's nothing like that!"

"As long as it stays that way," Mom said primly as she dropped the chef's knife into the sink. "I don't care what the two of you want to talk about otherwise."

Thank God for that.