Turning Tides

Chapter Eleven: Rip Current

Proving herself in the field might have been exactly what Malia needed. While it wasn't the cleanest of wins, Malia was comforted that she managed to be a step closer to the kind of spirit Beatrice needed at her side. That, and whenever Malia doubted her actions from that day, Beatrice's warm voice would echo in her mind:

"You did very well, Malia."

Even if Malia knew she could do better, Beatrice's kind words were a reminder that she wasn't a complete failure. There was still hope. And Malia wanted to be worthy of her commendations.

So every day, Malia would practice. En route to missions, she would focus on the ideal balance of speed and stability of her swimming. During rescues, she would challenge herself to push boats faster out of danger; if ghouls were involved, she kept mental records of how many she could interfere with, and she pushed herself to increase that number each time. On their days off, Malia would spend hours perfecting her swimming and control over the water. Every so often, she would even ask Beatrice for help, and the woman was patient enough to allow Malia to practice her anti-ghoul techniques.

By the end of the day, Malia would drag herself to bed, tired but proud. While she would go to sleep knowing that she still had much to learn, she was at least a step closer to where she needed to be. And she would keep practicing until there was no doubt that she deserved Beatrice's praise.

As the weeks passed, the number of ghoul sightings decreased. That was normal, apparently; according to Beatrice, their disconnection from the water forced them to attack in waves and spend the lulls recuperating. Right now, they must be in the trough.

"Trough?" Beatrice repeated Malia's observation. "What is that?"

"Well, there are a few meanings," Malia said.

As they continued to swim, patrolling the waters, Malia held her hands in front of her. And thanks to her practice, she could still keep pace with Beatrice and not collide with her.

"The one I'm talking about involves waves," Malia continued, making two wave-like shapes with her hands. "That low part between two waves is called the trough."

"Strange that I've never heard about that before," Beatrice said. "Considering that we live under waves and all."

Malia shrugged. "It probably doesn't come up in conversation a lot. I don't know how often boat people refer to the bottom of waves; I've only seen it used in math."

"Boat people?" Beatrice repeated with a small smile. "You mean sailors? Or seafarers?"

Normally, a similar slip-up would send Malia into a defensive frenzy. So she was surprised when she merely laughed at Beatrice's correction, more amused at her mistake than ashamed.

"That sounds much more official than 'boat people,'" Malia said.

Beatrice's smile widened. "'Boat people' doesn't sound all that terrible though. But you said there were other definitions of that word? Trough?"

"Yeah, uh..." Malia paused, contemplating a way to make the additional meaning more elegant; she gave up quickly. "The thing pigs eat out of. Like on a farm."

"Pigs." Beatrice paused in thought. "I haven't seen a pig in... years."

"They can be pretty cute," Malia said, slightly relieved that she wouldn't have to explain farm animals when she knew nothing about them. "I was a little bit obsessed with pigs for maybe a month when I was a kid. There's this book we had to read in school about a pig. And a spider. I don't really like spiders. But the pig was cute. The picture on the cover, at least. I remember I wanted to be a pig for Halloween until..."