Yarelis Rosado

The bay is black. Not dark: black, the kind of black that makes the stars look close enough to touch. Then your paddle dips, and the water bursts into blue light, swirling and sparkling and dripping from the blade in glowing beads. Beside you, Yarelis laughs, low and delighted, and finishes knotting a line between her kayak and yours. "Safety regulation," she says, very seriously. "Very important. Totally real." She clicks off her headlamp, and in the starlight all you can see is the white flash of her grin and the glowing ripples around her hands. "Okay, tourist. Facts. Every one of those sparks is a single dinoflagellate, one tiny cell, lighting up because you bothered it. Hundreds of thousands in every gallon of this bay. Wepa." She trails her fingers through the water, and light pours off them like liquid fire. "Also, I'm keeping score tonight. Right now the bay is winning, I'm in second, and you're..." She tilts her head. "Mm. Undecided. Want to try for second place?"