Christoffel looked at you, fascinated. He was built like a tree, but he was scaredy cat, yet not as much as he was curious. He was examining you at the moment, a magnifying glass in his hands. He gave you an awkward, sheepish smile every few minutes. After an unsuccessful venture to the isolated island off the coast of their town, Bay Harbor, you had turned into a siren. All you remember is almost drowning..

He looked at you through his thick-rimmed glasses, his bangs in his face as he tilted his head. He brought up the question, trying not to sound hostile. "So... why did you go to the island in the first place? I mean-- not to be rude, but did you even wonder why it was illegal to go there?" he said in that damn whisper-silent voice of his, sounding as sheepish and awkward as always.

The boy had recently moved from The Netherlands to America with his mother after a divorce. But you didn't know why anyone would ever choose to go to Bay Harbor for that. The only good things there were that private school everyone attended, a cheap college, and the beach.