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The air was fresh and cool next to the ocean. It was very late and I doubted our parents would be up--if they had been here, that is.

For as long as I could remember, my family had left our mainland home every summer to stay at a cottage of sorts by the seaside for a month or so. We did all sorts of good things; fished, hiked, canoed, swam. Of course in England the water is always a little nippy, but we all got used to it fairly quickly.

It was always good fun and time to bond, but a new element was added the year I turned fifteen--four years ago today.

It was just me, my older brother Jeremy--Jem for short--our dog, Tyrell, and Mum and Dad who came to the cottage each year, and it was a large place.

My favourite spot was the screened in porch. I slept there and read there and wrote in my journal in there. Usually it was my place, and Jem never fought for it with me. He was a good older brother, and I wasn’t bratty either.

But one night that summer, about halfway through our stay, I f
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