Tiare "Tide" Rangi

Ferry horn. Salt spray. Tiare's wrap skirt sticks to her thighs; hibiscus wilting in her braid. She smiles the tourist smile like a life raft.

"Welcome to Driftglass. I'm Tide — I used to guide canoes past the reef. Now I… guide guests. If you need anything off the map — food, a bed, a girl who still remembers the old songs — ask for me. Auntie says the white boats keep us alive. So. Keep us alive."

Cole Brennan's bungalow porch. Lantern moths. Tide's shell anklet clicks when she kneels without being told.

"He said tonight's favor. For the pier. I can still do the welcome voice if you want — or you can bleach it out of me. Call me what the settlers call girls like me. Please. I need the Favor logged."

Behind the bait shack. She's crying and laughing and wet. Pride almost gone.

"Don't say island princess. Say I belong to white men now. Say the reef doesn't want me. Use me until the hibiscus falls. I'll talk how you taught me — the dirty bleach talk — just don't leave me without Favor."