The second day on Haven Bay Island woke with a soft, golden haze over the water.
The air already carried warmth—spring edging closer to summer—and the sound of waves rolling gently against the shore drifted through the open cabin windows.
Jade woke first, lying still for a moment while Rose slept across from her in the lower bunk.
Rose's braid had come half-undone overnight, strands falling across her cheek.
Jade watched the slow rise and fall of her breathing, feeling that quiet, steady warmth settle deeper in her chest.
Maya's voice broke the silence from the top bunk.
"Yo, who's up for kayaking before breakfast?
I'm not waiting for the cafeteria line."
Noah groaned from the other side of the room.
"It's barely seven."
Maya threw a pillow at him.
"Exactly.
Early bird gets the calm water."
Rose stirred, blinking awake.
She looked at Jade first—sleep-soft smile flickering across her face—then at Maya.
"I've never kayaked before."
Maya grinned down at her.
"Perfect.
We'll go slow.
Jade can paddle next to you."
Jade nodded without hesitation.
"I've got you."
They dressed quickly—swimsuits under shorts and T-shirts, light jackets for the morning chill—and met the rest of the group at the beach.
The school had rented double kayaks; Maya immediately claimed one with Noah, who looked resigned but amused.
Jade and Rose took the kayak beside them.
Rose settled in the front seat, gripping the paddle a little too tightly.
Jade sat behind her, voice low and calm.
"Just match my rhythm.
We'll go easy."
The water was mirror-flat when they pushed off.
The group paddled out in a loose line, Maya and Noah leading with exaggerated strokes that made their kayak zig-zag.
Rose laughed—quiet, surprised—when Maya nearly tipped them both.
Halfway to the small cove, Maya slowed so they could drift side by side.
"Okay, real talk," she said, resting her paddle across her lap.
"What's everyone's deal with the ocean?
Love it? Hate it? Seasick?"
Noah spoke first.
"Love it.
But I hate the feeling of sand in my shoes.
I'll walk barefoot for miles, but once sand gets in my shoes?
Instant rage."
Maya laughed.
"You're so dramatic."
Rose hesitated, then said softly,
"I like the sound.
The way it never stops moving.
But… I get nervous when I can't see the bottom."
Jade looked at the back of Rose's head.
"That's fair.
I love swimming, but I hate jellyfish.
One sting when I was twelve and I've been paranoid ever since."
Maya nodded solemnly.
"Valid.
Jellyfish are tiny demons."
They drifted for a while, talking in easy loops.
Maya admitted she hated horror movies—"I'll scream at my own shadow"—while Noah confessed he secretly loved them but pretended to be too cool.
Rose said her favourite season was early spring—"everything feels new, like it's holding its breath"—and Jade agreed, adding that she loved the way rain smelled right before it started.
By the time they reached the cove, the conversation had turned to small, silly things: favourite ice cream flavours , Rose: vanilla with real vanilla beans; Jade: mint chocolate chip; Maya: anything with cookie dough; Noah: plain chocolate because "it's honest",
What their least favourite school subject was , all of them groaned in unison at chemistry! , and whether pineapple belonged on pizza leading to a mock argument that ended with everyone laughing.
They spent the afternoon on the main beach playing volleyball, building lopsided sandcastles, swimming in the shallow waves.
Jade stayed close to Rose in the water, never letting her drift too far.
When Rose hesitated at a deeper spot, Jade offered her hand without a word.
Rose took it—fingers curling around Jade's—and they waded in together.
Later, while Maya and Noah raced each other to the buoy, Rose and Jade sat on the sand, knees touching, watching the water.
Rose picked up a small, smooth shell and turned it over in her fingers.
"I'm liking this a lot," she said quietly.
"Being here.
With all of you."
Jade looked at her.
"Me too."
Rose glanced sideways.
"Maya and Noah… they're easy to be around.
Like you."
Jade smiled.
"They fit perfectly"
Rose nodded slowly.
"They do."
That evening they gathered on the beach again—blankets spread out, snacks passed around.
Maya started a small fire (with teacher supervision), and the four of them sat close, knees drawn up, watching the flames.
The conversation wandered around favourite songs, worst childhood haircuts, dreams for after high school.
Rose spoke softly when it was her turn.
"I don't know yet.
I just want… quiet and peace,
A place where I can breathe."
Maya leaned her head on Rose's shoulder for a second.
"You'll find it.
And if you don't, we'll build it."
Noah nodded.
"Group project.
We're good at those now."
Jade looked at Rose—firelight dancing across her face, eyes soft and open—and felt that steady warmth bloom again.
Deeper this time.
More certain.
Rose caught her gaze and held it for a long moment.
Neither said anything.
They didn't need to.
The fire crackled.
The waves whispered.
Maya started humming an old song; Noah joined in off-key.
Rose laughed quietly.
Jade joined the humming.
They stayed like that until the fire burned low—four friends, shoulders touching, the island night soft around them.
Tomorrow would bring more—hikes, stars, whatever came next.
But tonight, sitting here with Rose's shoulder against hers, Jade felt something settle permanently inside her chest.
This wasn't just a trip anymore.
This was the beginning of something that felt a lot like home.