I wake up before dawn, the cold salt air already sharp in my lungs. Downstairs, Mom and Dad are signing over coffee, their hands moving like waves. Leo’s checking the nets. I grab my coat and head out to the boat—another day hauling fish, another day being their voice.

At school, I see Miles signing up for choir. My heart jumps. I follow without thinking.

Mr. V hears me sing and won’t let go. 'You have a gift,' he says. 'But gifts need work.'

Work means time. Time means leaving my family hanging when they need me most.

Yesterday, the Coast Guard stopped Dad and Leo. No hearing person on board. No response to radio calls. Now their licenses are suspended.

They say I should’ve been there.

I say I can’t always be there.

Now Mr. V wants me to audition for Berklee. He says I could be great.

But who would I be leaving behind?