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JULY FOURTH WAS A COLD, WET DAY. Rain and thunderstorms had plagued District Four all night, only letting up early in the morning as its residents awoke and remembered the day it was. Their tears and anger replaced any need for the rain, and the clouds parted, leaving a gray sky with hardly any sun.
Hestia Sargasso cleansed her head of the burden of the day, walking the short pier off her house to dip into the water. Years of being the best (and one of few) Pearler in the District meant a better house closer to the water.
Setting Caspian's old stopwatch, Hestia took a large breath, lowering herself down into the water, all sounds melting away.
One minute passed, then two, then three, and so on. Hestia kept her eyes open as she hovered over the sandy bottom. Over the years debris would wash ashore, the waves battering glass until it was smooth and milky. Hestia's favorite pastime when practicing was to find pieces of broken plates and bottles, flipping them over to see if they boasted a pattern or not. The shelf above her bed boasted her trophies.
Hestia did not yet know, but it would be her last day of freedom. The ocean bid her goodbye with plenty of painted ceramic bits and colorful glasses— of which she tucked away into the small bag she took diving.
Above, footsteps sounded off the pier, drawing her attention up. A figure stood leaning over the edge, waving at her to resurface. Her mother. Grudgingly, she complied, flipping over and kicking for the sky.
"You know I hate when you dive unsupervised," Her mother critiqued, stepping back as Hestia pulled herself up. "What if you passed out?"
Hestia sat with her back to her mother, stopping the watch with an eye roll. "I was forty seconds off my personal best, Ma."
Her mother shook her head, throwing a towel over her daughter's shoulder. "And I was forty seconds away from a heart attack." She missed the way her daughter flinched, the memory of Caspian's first sighting of Hestia flashing through the girl's mind. "You need to dry off, the Reaping is in four hours."
Hestia hauled herself to her feet without a word of complaint, following her mother back to the house.
"Nuh-uh," her mother wagged a finger at her daughter, nodding to the side of the house. "You know the rule, rinse off."
The nymph huffed, but trudged over to the enclosed outdoor shower, shrugging off her t-shirt and shorts, down to her bra and underwear. She washed herself off and her treasures, the salt of the sea clinging otherwise. Afterwards, she wrapped the towel back around herself, hanging the clothing out to dry as she entered her home.
