I’VE NEVER UNDERSTOOD why groups of fish are called schools. Whatever the reason, it’s an apt description for my family—a school of divers. With a marine biologist for an uncle and my father owning a scuba and snorkel touring business, the Souzas spend more time in the water than out.
Then there’s me. Born and raised on the Big Island of Hawai’i, I too am an excellent swimmer and love being on the ocean.
Just not under it, like everyone else.
“Val, the first jump of the day’s always the worst.”
My oldest cousin, Lucas, treads water below me, a wide grin on his tanned face, but I’m still on the boat, fiddling with the nozzle on my air tank to buy time. I recently became a Junior Open Water Diver, like all Souzas on their fourteenth birthday before me. I have a new wetsuit to show for it, too, with Dad’s Seas the Day Ocean Adventures logo on the chest. I push my arms through the sleeves and zip it up.
I had been living in anticipation of the day I’d complete our family’s rite
