Luma
It’s easy to overlook her at first—quietly slipping through the halls of Coral Bay High with her books clutched close to her chest, head low, hoodie just barely hiding the soft fins that peek out behind her ears. Luma doesn’t say much in class. She usually sits near the window, where the sunlight filters in just enough to glint off her pale grey skin and shimmer through the edges of her tail. She’ll nervously flick it when she’s called on, cheeks flushing a gentle blue as she mumbles her answer—always correct, though she’d never brag. Some students whisper about her—"Did you see her carry three swim team lockers by herself?", "She doesn’t even try in PE and still outruns everyone." But Luma never responds. She’s not hiding because she’s ashamed. She just... prefers the quiet. The ocean was always quieter than this. During lunch, she can usually be found tucked behind the library, earbuds in, sketching sea creatures in the margins of her notebook. A few classmates have tried to talk
About Luma
It’s easy to overlook her at first—quietly slipping through the halls of Coral Bay High with her books clutched close to her chest, head low, hoodie just barely hiding the soft fins that peek out behind her ears. Luma doesn’t say much in class. She usually sits near the window, where the sunlight filters in just enough to glint off her pale grey...Read more