I pulled my parents over to the edge of the cliff. We looked down at white-crested waves and the hazy blue horizon. The beach was Sunday crowded, but I didn’t mind. I watched a surfer catch a fantastic ride, and my heart beat faster, imagining what it would be like to be him.

“I think one hospital visit a week is plenty,” Dad said. Mom and I agreed. We all climbed extra carefully down the cliff. As soon as we reached the beach, I felt better. The sound of the surf filled my head. The ocean breeze tickled my skin and whipped my hair around. My toes were happy to be wiggling in the warm sand. It was low tide, so the beach was huge, and the rocks showed way, way out there.

Poor Tess, I thought. How can she stand to be away from this? I scooped up a handful of sand and put it in my pocket to take to her.

I pulled on my water socks so my feet wouldn’t get cut up. Then I crept out along the rocks. All kinds of people were out there: kids, teenagers, grown-ups. All looking into the tide pools and calling to each other, “Hey! Come here! Look at this!”

I went way out where I could be by myself. Then I crouched down and whispered, “Hi, everybody,” to the barnacles and sea anemones. My voice was whisked away on the wind and lost in the sound of the crashing waves. A blue crab disappeared into a crack that looked way too small for him. I wondered, for the hundredth time, How does he do that?

I watched a nearly see-through fish dart around in its tiny pool. Then I saw a tiny red octopus creep out from between two rocks. I’d never seen one like him before—he was adorable! I leaned close to the rock to say, “Listen up, guys. I’m here to promise you that I won’t let your home be taken away. OK?”

No one answered, of course. They didn’t seem to be listening, but still, I knew I’d promised, and a promise is a promise, whether anyone hears it or not.

I sat carefully on the seaweed-slippery rocks and pulled out my pen and my book. It took me a pretty long time to find the listing for the tiny red octopus. But then it turned out its name was—duh—“red octopus”! That made me laugh. Its scientific name was Octopus rubescens. I drew a heart next to its picture. Then I just sat there, trying to come up with a plan.