The morning fog—what the locals called “June Gloom”—hung heavy over Marino Bay High School the next day. It was a thick, gray blanket that rolled in off the Pacific, muting the usually vibrant colors of the campus. For Ethan, the weather matched his mood perfectly.
He walked from the student parking lot past the rows of Jeeps and beat-up Hondas, his skateboard tucked under his arm. He kept his head down, the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up. News traveled fast in a school like this. By second period, half the junior class knew he had “shot his shot” with Ava and gotten shut down. Brutally.
“Dude, look alive,” a voice said, slapping him on the shoulder. It was Tyler, his best friend since middle school. Tyler was wearing board shorts despite the chill, holding a venti iced coffee. “You look like you failed a calculus midterm. It’s just a girl, man.”
“It’s not just a girl,” Ethan muttered, opening his locker. “And keep it down.”
“She’s weird, bro,” Tyler said, leaning against the metal lockers. “I’m telling you. My cousin in AP Bio sits behind her. Says she never sweats. Like, ever. Even when the AC broke last week and it was ninety degrees in there. She just sat there, cool as a cucumber. It’s unnatural.”
Ethan slammed his locker shut. “She’s private. There’s a difference.”
But as he walked to his first class, Ethan couldn’t help but scan the hallway. He saw her near the administration office. Ava was wearing a long-sleeved denim jacket and a scarf, which was strange for late May in California. She moved through the crowd like water—fluid, silent, and avoiding contact with everyone.
When their eyes locked for a split second across the corridor, Ethan felt that same magnetic pull. But Ava didn’t look angry this time. She looked terrified. She broke eye contact instantly and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Ethan standing there, more confused than heartbroken.
For Ava, the school day was a cage match against her own biology.
The “curse,” as her grandmother had called it back in the old country before they emigrated to the States, was tied to her emotional state. The rejection yesterday hadn’t just hurt Ethan; it had sent Ava’s adrenaline spiking, and the creature beneath her skin was reacting to the stress.
She sat in the back of Mrs. Gable’s English Lit class, her hands gripping the edge of her desk so hard her knuckles turned white. Her skin felt too tight. Itched. Burned. It was the sensation of molting, the biological urge to shed a layer that was becoming constrictive.
Not here, she chanted internally. Please, not here.
Mrs. Gable was droning on about The Great Gatsby, talking about the green light and the American Dream. The irony wasn’t lost on Ava. Her family had come to California for the dream—the safety, the anonymity of the suburbs. But you couldn’t outrun your bloodline.
A sharp pain shot through her left arm. Ava gasped, loud enough that a few heads turned.
“Ava? Are you alright?” Mrs. Gable asked, pausing her lecture.
“I… I just need to go to the nurse,” Ava stammered, standing up abruptly. She grabbed her bag, clutching her left wrist with her right hand.
“Do you need a hall pass?”
“No!” Ava snapped, her voice coming out with a strange, guttural rasp. She cleared her throat, terrified. “I mean, no, thank you. I’ll be quick.”
She rushed out of the classroom, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She didn’t go to the nurse. She sprinted toward the furthest building on campus—the old gymnasium bathrooms that were rarely used during class hours.
She burst into a stall, locking it with trembling fingers. She ripped off her denim jacket.
There, on her forearm, the smooth, honey-colored human skin was rippling. Patches of iridescent, emerald-green scales were pushing through, glistening in the dim fluorescent light. Her fingernails were lengthening, curling into sharp, dark points.
“Stop it,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face. “Go back. Go back.”
She turned on the cold water in the sink and shoved her arm under the stream. The shock of the cold usually helped slow the metabolism of the shift. She hissed—an involuntary sound that came from the back of her throat, sounding nothing like a human voice.
She stayed there for forty minutes, breathing deeply, visualizing a wall of ice, until the scales receded and the claws retracted. When she finally looked in the mirror, her eyes were still slightly slit-pupiled, glowing with that eerie luminescence. She put on her sunglasses, pulled her jacket back on, and walked out into the California sun, praying the day would end.
Friday nights in Marino Bay meant one thing: The Bluffs.
It was a stretch of coastline where the cliffs dropped down to a secluded rocky beach. The locals gathered there for bonfires. It was a ritual. Red solo cups, Bluetooth speakers blasting indie pop, and the sound of waves crashing against the rocks.
Ethan hadn’t planned on going. He wanted to stay home and play video games, wallowing in his rejection. But Tyler and the guys practically dragged him out of the house.
“You need to get back on the horse,” Tyler shouted over the noise of the fire crackling. They were sitting on a driftwood log, the warmth of the fire battling the cool ocean breeze.
“I’m not looking for a horse,” Ethan joked dryly, staring into the flames.
“Well, don’t look now,” Tyler whispered, nudging him. “But the Ice Queen cometh.”
Ethan looked up. Walking down the steep dirt path from the highway was Ava. She wasn’t alone; she was with her cousin, a bubbly sophomore named Sarah who was trying desperately to integrate Ava into the social scene.
Ava looked uncomfortable. She was wearing a thick oversized hoodie and leggings, arms crossed tight over her chest. She stood at the edge of the firelight, looking out at the dark ocean, avoiding the groups of teenagers laughing and drinking.
Ethan felt a surge of concern. She didn’t look stuck-up. She looked like she was in pain.
“I’m going to talk to her,” Ethan said, standing up.
“Bro, she literally told you to get lost yesterday,” Tyler warned. “Have some self-respect.”
“I just want to see if she’s okay.”
Ethan walked around the perimeter of the bonfire. The sand was cold beneath his Vans. As he approached, Ava seemed to sense him before she saw him. Her head snapped toward him, her body tense.
“I thought I told you to stay away,” she said, though her voice lacked the bite it had yesterday. It sounded tired.
“You did,” Ethan admitted, stopping a few feet away. “But you look like you’re about to pass out, Ava. Are you sick?”
Ava took a step back, closer to the shadows of the cliffs. “I’m fine. I just… I don’t like crowds.”
“Then why are you here?”
“My aunt made me come. She thinks I’m depressed.” Ava let out a bitter laugh. “She thinks fresh air will fix me.”
Ethan stepped closer. “Is it? Fixing you?”
“Nothing can fix me, Ethan.”
Suddenly, a loud pop from the fire—someone threw a firecracker into the pit—echoed like a gunshot. The crowd screamed and laughed in surprise.
Ava flinched violently. She stumbled back, clutching her head. A low, agonizing groan escaped her lips.
“Ava?” Ethan reached out to steady her.
“Don’t touch me!” she shrieked.
But his hand had already brushed her neck.
Ethan froze. Her skin wasn’t just cold; it was freezing. And it felt… different. Rough. Like sandpaper.
Ava pulled away as if burned. She looked at him with wide eyes, and for a second, the light from the fire caught her face. Her sunglasses had slipped down.
Ethan saw her eyes. The pupils were vertical slits. Black diamonds in a pool of electric yellow.
“Oh my god,” Ethan whispered.
Ava didn’t wait. She turned and sprinted away from the bonfire, running into the darkness toward the tide pools and the caves further down the beach.
“Ava, wait!” Ethan yelled, ignoring Tyler’s calls to come back. He took off after her.
The chase led them away from the noise of the party, down the coastline where the moonlight reflected off the wet sand. Ava was fast—unnaturally fast. She moved over the slippery rocks with a grace that no human should possess.
She disappeared into one of the sea caves, a hollowed-out section of the cliff that flooded during high tide. The tide was low now, leaving the cave damp and echoing with the sound of dripping water.
Ethan stopped at the entrance, panting. “Ava? I know you’re in there.”
“Go away, Ethan!” Her voice echoed, distorted. It sounded like two voices speaking at once—one human, one something else. “If you come in here, I can’t promise you’ll be safe.”
“I don’t care,” Ethan said, his voice shaking. He pulled his phone out and turned on the flashlight.
He stepped into the cave.
The beam of light cut through the darkness. At first, he saw nothing but wet rock and seaweed. Then, he swung the light to the back corner.
Ethan dropped his phone. It landed face up in the sand, casting a long, eerie shadow upward.
Ava was huddled in the corner. But it wasn’t the Ava he knew.
Her skin had transformed. Patches of shimmering green and gold scales covered her face, her neck, and her arms. Her legs had fused together, lengthening into a powerful, serpentine tail that coiled around her torso. Her hair was slicked back, and her face… it was still beautiful, but it was terrifying. Her jaw was unhinged slightly, revealing sharp, venomous fangs.
She was a Lamia. A Naga. A monster from a storybook.
Ethan stood paralyzed. His brain couldn’t process what he was seeing. This was California. This was real life. Snakes were things you saw on hiking trails, not girls you had a crush on.
Ava hissed, coiling tighter against the rock wall, hiding her face in her hands—hands that were now tipped with obsidian claws.
“Look at me!” she cried out, her voice breaking into a sob. “Look at the monster! Are you happy now? This is why I can’t be with you! This is why I can’t be with anyone!”
Ethan’s heart was pounding so hard he thought he might pass out. Every instinct in his primate brain screamed at him to run. Predator. Danger. Run.
But then he looked at her eyes.
Despite the vertical pupils, despite the scales, the tears were real. She was shaking. She looked small, lonely, and absolutely devastated.
Ethan took a breath. He stepped over his phone.
“Stay back!” Ava hissed, baring her fangs. The sound was primal, a warning that vibrated in Ethan’s chest. “My blood is toxic. If I bite you… if I scratch you… you die. Do you understand? I am a killing machine.”
“You haven’t killed me yet,” Ethan said. His voice was quiet, steady.
He took another step. He was five feet away.
“I’m dangerous, Ethan!”
“I know.”
“I’m a freak!”
“You’re Ava.”
He knelt down in the sand. He was close enough now that he could smell her—a scent like rain on hot asphalt and saltwater.
“You said you wanted to know the real me,” Ava whispered, tears dripping off her scaly cheeks. “This is it. There is no normal girl underneath. It’s just this.”
Ethan looked at the tail coiling in the sand. He looked at the scales shifting along her arm. It was terrifying, yes. But it was also strangely magnificent. Like looking at a tiger or a shark—nature at its most powerful.
Slowly, deliberately, Ethan reached out his hand.
“Don’t,” she pleaded. “Please.”
“I’m not scared,” Ethan lied. He was terrified. But his care for her was stronger than the fear.
He placed his hand on her cheek, right over a patch of rough green scales.
Ava froze. She stopped breathing. Her eyes widened, the vertical pupils trembling. No one had ever touched her in this form. Her mother used gloves. Her father wouldn’t even look at her when the change happened.
Ethan’s hand was warm against her cold skin. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t pull away. He just ran his thumb gently over the ridge of her cheekbone.
“You’re freezing,” he said softly.
A sob broke from Ava’s chest, a horrible, wrenching sound. She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes. The aggression drained out of her body. The tail uncoiled slightly, losing its tension.
“Why aren’t you running?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
“Because,” Ethan said, “I think you’re the loneliest person I’ve ever met. And I don’t want you to be alone anymore.”
They sat there in the damp cave for what felt like hours. Slowly, as Ava calmed down, the transformation began to reverse. The tail split and shortened back into legs. The scales flaked away like dead skin, dissolving into dust in the sand. The fangs retracted.
It was a painful process to watch. Ava shivered and groaned, her bones realigning. Ethan took off his hoodie and wrapped it around her as she returned to her human form, exhausted and pale.
She slumped against him, her head on his shoulder.
“You can never tell anyone,” she murmured, her eyes half-closed. “If the government finds out… if the school finds out… they’ll lock me up. They’ll dissect me.”
“I won’t tell a soul,” Ethan promised. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to keep her warm. “I swear.”
“This doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy,” Ava warned. “I can hurt you by accident. I have instincts I can’t always control.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Ethan said. He looked out the cave entrance. The bonfire was dying down in the distance. The fog was rolling back in.
“You’re crazy, Ethan.”
“Probably.”
He looked down at her. Her eyes were brown again, soft and human, but he knew what lay beneath. He knew that beneath the cardigan and the quiet demeanor lived a predator. And strangely, knowing the secret didn’t make him want to leave. It made him want to protect her even more.
“Can you walk?” he asked.
“I think so.”
“Come on. I’ll drive you home. My heater works really well.”
Ethan helped her up. They walked out of the cave, leaving the darkness behind. As they walked back toward the parking lot, Tyler texted him: Dude, where did you go? You miss the best part of the night?
Ethan glanced at Ava, who was holding his hand tightly, her sharp nails digging slightly into his palm.
He typed back: Nah. I think I found it.
He put his phone away. The secret hung between them, heavy and dangerous, but for the first time since moving to Marino Bay, Ava didn’t feel the crushing weight of it alone. She squeezed Ethan’s hand, and they walked together into the mist, two teenagers with a secret that could burn their world down, or perhaps, build a new one.
