Mickaila Hinnen is a junior at Karl G Maeser Preparatory Academy.

Unbearable heat licks at my skin and even the loose green shorts and the thin blue tank top are too much in this heat. Seven days I have been at sea, and the red ocean of lava burns as bright as ever. Only my first mate Dori travels with me. Those treacherous sea dogs known as my crew stole my ship and left Dori and me nothing but a small dingy and provisions for two weeks. My stomach clenches with hunger and my poor friend is as starved as me. We are deep within the En Glish ocean, known for its inhabitants: Lava-Men, scaly, fierce creatures who live in the thick burning depths. My hope is to avoid their queen (who is said to be territorial), and gain provisions from the lands surrounding her kingdom.

The hunger gnaws at my stomach like a termite chews on wood and I fear we will not make it. Oh woes to the world when a captain of many years meets her fate at the burning hands of what she loves.

My morbid thoughts are interrupted by a nudge at my ribs. My attention turns to my best and first mate Dori.

“What?” I groan. Annoyed she would not let me die in peace. She points to the other side of me.

“Food,” she whispers; a smile breaks free on her face.

Following her arm, I see a small island with rainbow color fruit growing on the sparse trees. I see one or two Lava-Men munching on the delicacies. My stomach rumbles at the sight before I turn to put on my boots.

“The shore is too shallow and the dingy and too brittle for us both to cross safely. I will return with the provisions my friend. Fear not, for we will not starve.” I smile at her and once my laces are tied, I pat her shoulder.

Turning, I look over the edge. Floating in the lava are sheets of rock cool enough to walk on with lava boots. Standard materials for captains like myself. I brace the edge, ready to jump on to the first sheet from my boat. Taking a deep breath I leap and land in its center.

“Mickaila,” the whisper carries.

I look to the Lava-Men and back to the dingy. Dori urges me on. However, I do not believe it was her that called. After all, she calls me Captain. I look ahead and launch myself forward, landing on the next sheet and gaining the attention of the two Lava-Men. They stare at me but make no move to attack and look more likely to flee.

“Mickaila,” the whisper comes again, louder this time. I am too far away for the voice to belong to Dori and there is no way for the Lava-Men to know my name. Unless, no it couldn’t be. What would the fair queen of Lava-Men be doing this far from her kingdom?

“Mickaila, get off the desk!” I look from the two startled girls sitting three desks from the one I’m crouched on to see my English teacher standing in the classroom doorway.

“What on earth are you doing? Get off that desk!” She yells.

“But,” I reply ” there’s lava beneath it.”

The incredulous look on her face says it’s game over. The sheet of lava rock beneath me has split open and I’ll burn to my death while my first mate starves stranded on the ocean — unless…

Staring at the Lava queen, I watch as she frowns and taps her foot at the helm of her ship. To my right, Dori gives the signal; we have one shot at this. As I look at the island, the two lava-Men smile and begin piling the brightly colored fruit on a blanket.

With out warning, I shoot off the lava sheet towards the island and snatch the bundle of provisions from the shore. Just as quickly, my first mate fires and overturns the queen’s dingy providing us time to escape.

“Dorian! Mickaila! Get back here…” the shriek of the school bell cuts off Miss Moore’s shout. She lets us go and we fly down the hallway, a bag of Skittles in hand and the laughter of class mates on the wind. It was a good day for sailing.