He scoffed with skill beyond his eight years.

“Bastian, baby,” the familiar man laughed, splashing at the scowling boy. “If my black ass can wade out here, your city butt sure can too.”

“Like hell.” He backed away from flying droplets and big body of water, alike.

“Bastian,” Adrian chimed in, “how’s dad going to teach you to swim if you won’t get off the beach?”

“Swimming is stupid.”

“No, boy,” Adrian’s father corrected, the smile in his voice doing nothing to sooth the ferocious child he easily flung over his shoulder and carried out to sea, “sinking is stupid.”