Happiness at the Pier

When Gizem opened her eyes, the early morning light was seeping into her room. It had been exactly ten days since she arrived in town, and this morning, the gray sky no longer looked like a wall but like a window—as if this place was slowly blending into her world. She pulled the blanket up to her chest, her fingers curling around its rough fabric, while the sound of the waves outside reached her ears. A soft, rhythmic hum filled her room, merging with the town’s silence and giving her a strange sense of peace. She slowly sat up, perched on the edge of her bed, and felt the coolness of the wooden floor beneath her bare feet. Walking over to the mirror, she straightened her navy blue skirt, pressed down the collar of her white blouse with her hand, and draped her cardigan over her shoulders. As she gazed at her reflection, a thought crossed her mind: Ten days… This place no longer feels like a shadow; it feels real. The sea remains the same, but am I seeing it differently? Is this town hiding something, or am I the one assigning meaning to it? As she combed her hair, the scent of the town filled her nostrils—the salty air, the rustling of pine branches in the wind, the gentle swaying of boats along the shore. Maybe this isn’t just a stop; maybe it’s a beginning. Can I find myself here? I don’t know.

When she quietly opened the door and went down to the kitchen, her mother, Nuray, was setting the breakfast table. A plate of toast sat on the counter, accompanied by olives and white cheese, while steam from the boiling water in the teapot fogged up the windows. The usual worried lines on Nuray’s face seemed slightly softened; her hair was tied up, her movements were quick but unhurried, as if the town had given her a sense of calm, too. Hakan sat at the other end of the table, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose as he was absorbed in his newspaper. His tall frame was slightly hunched in his chair, and his coffee cup trembled slightly in his hand. As Gizem sat down, she caught her mother’s gaze—those familiar, questioning eyes were still there, but this morning, they were softer, more curious.
“Good morning,” said Gizem, her voice still thick with sleep as she picked up her fork.

Nuray looked up at her, a small smile forming on her lips. “Good morning, how did you sleep?” There was curiosity in her voice, her eyes scanning Gizem.

“Good, thanks,” Gizem replied, her voice soft but steady. “We’re working on the project today.”

Hakan lifted his head from the newspaper, glancing over his glasses with a calm smile. “A project, huh? Sounds good,” he said, his voice supportive as he took a sip of his coffee. “This town pulls you in, don’t you think?”

Gizem looked at him. “A little, I guess,” she said, slightly surprised, thinking to herself: Even Dad seems to be trying to figure this place out.

Nuray raised her eyebrows slightly. “Do you need anything for the project?” she asked, stirring her tea with quiet interest.

“Maybe you can help me organize the things I collected from the shore later,” Gizem said, a hopeful note in her voice as she gave her mother a small smile.

Nuray nodded. “Alright, we’ll see,” she said gently, placing another plate on the table.

As Gizem left the breakfast table, she slung her bag over her shoulder, grabbed her bike, and stepped outside.

As she pedaled through the narrow streets of the town, the wind hit her face, tossing her hair, and the scent of the sea filled her lungs. The streets were just waking up in the early hours; fishermen were gathering their nets by the shore, a stray cat lazily crossed the road, and the streetlights were flickering off. This town feels like a rhythm, she thought. Always the same, but am I seeing it differently? Maybe I can find a place here. The school building appeared in the distance—a gray concrete structure with large windows. It still felt a little unfamiliar, but the initial nervousness was gone.

When she reached the schoolyard, she locked her bike, slung her bag over her shoulder, and walked with a steadier stride, gripping the strap of her bag a little less tightly. Students were gathered in groups—some laughing and joking, others sitting with their backpacks on the ground, chatting. The bell hadn’t rung yet when she reached the door of class 12-A, and the sounds from inside greeted her as she pushed it open. The lively atmosphere of the classroom unfolded before her—Pınar and Beste were whispering in a corner, giggling every now and then. Pınar’s long black hair cascaded over her shoulders, her eyes gleaming mischievously, while Beste’s laughter cut through the air like a spark. Emre leaned against his desk in the front rows, running a hand through his messy hair as he talked to Mert, who stood beside him with his hands in his pockets, smirking lazily in response. Beyza sat in the corner, her short brown hair falling over her face as she sketched something in her notebook—always in her own peaceful world, like an island apart from the classroom’s noise. Selin was checking the class record book, her glasses slipping down her nose, her face serious.

Yiğit was sitting at the back, leaning casually against his desk, his dark brown hair falling onto his forehead as he flipped through a book. Next to him, Kaan, wearing a hoodie, stared out the window, faint traces of music escaping from his headphones. Ece, petite and bespectacled, sat in the middle rows, quietly scribbling in a notebook; her fine hair fell over her face, but her curious eyes roamed the classroom. Zeynep, tall-haired and energetic, stood beside Pınar and Beste, waving her arms animatedly as she spoke. Can, broad-shouldered with short hair, sat by the window, watching something on his phone, his laughter occasionally rising and blending with the classroom’s chatter.

As Gizem walked to her seat, Emre’s voice rang out, “Mert and I played basketball yesterday, but this guy threw the ball out again!” He laughed, slapping the desk with a playful grin.

Mert shrugged. “If you had passed the ball, I could’ve made the shot,” he said with lazy sarcasm, glancing at Emre.

Pınar chimed in, “Are you playing basketball or fighting? It’s hard to tell,” she said with a teasing smirk, nudging Beste, who giggled.

Beste nodded. “It’s basically the same thing,” she said, her laughter lighting up the room, her eyes sparkling.

Zeynep put her hands on her hips. “You guys keep going, I’ll just watch,” she said with amused surprise, her long hair shifting over her shoulder.

Can lifted his head from his phone. “Zeynep, you should join them! That’d be perfect!” he said with a deep laugh, his eyes narrowing with amusement.

Selin looked up, frowning. “How do you all get anything done with this noise?” she said, sounding exasperated as she set her notebook down on the desk.

Mert smirked, “You’re always this serious,” he said, a hint of teasing in his voice, leaning against the desk.

Selin rolled her eyes, “One of us being serious is enough,” she said, a slight irritation in her voice, adjusting her glasses.

Zeynep laughed, “You two are so in sync, what a lovely couple!” she said, her voice playful and mocking, her eyes shining.

Beste immediately jumped in, “Exactly, Mert and Selin, the stars of the class!” she said, her laughter filling the room as she turned to Pınar and winked.

Mert slammed his fist on the desk, “Cut it out!” he said, his voice flushed with embarrassed anger, his face turning red.

Selin buried her head in her notebook, “Idiots,” she mumbled, her voice trembling with frustration, her cheeks burning red.

Ece looked up and quietly said, “I think it’s funny,” her voice high-pitched but curious, her eyes smiling.

As the science lesson began, teacher Ayşe entered the room, holding a thick folder, her eyes scanning the class. She was middle-aged, with thin-framed glasses and a neatly tied bun, giving her a stern appearance, but there was a weary softness in her voice.

“Your project presentations are next week,” Ayşe said, turning to the board to write a note. “Today, finalize your preparations with your groups.”

The class instantly filled with murmurs.

Emre grinned, “Teacher, Kaan and I already finished, what’s left to prepare?” he said, laughing as he slammed the desk, his eyes gleaming.

Ayşe rolled her eyes, “Then rehearse your presentation,” she said, a slight warning in her voice, placing the folder on the desk.

Gizem thought to herself: A project… It’s nice to be able to do something here. She glanced at Beyza, who had also turned inward in thought, then gave her a small smile.

Pınar, with a mocking tone, said, “Is the new girl still trying to save the town?” her voice laced with sarcasm as she turned to Beste, giggling.

Beste nodded, “She’ll probably wear a crown at the beach!” she said, her laughter filling the class, her eyes sparkling.

Gizem rolled her eyes, “Maybe one day you’ll actually do something useful,” she said, her voice calm but challenging, turning to Beyza with a smile.

Pınar raised her eyebrows, “Oh, really?” she said, her voice carrying a hint of amused surprise, but she fell silent for a moment.

As the lesson went on, the groups started working on their projects. Gizem and Beyza reviewed their notes on marine pollution. Ece approached them, notebook in hand, her eyes shining with curiosity.

“Can I help too?” Ece asked, her voice high-pitched but determined. “I took pictures at the beach; we can add them.”

Gizem smiled, “Of course, that’d be great,” she said, gratitude in her voice, nodding at Beyza.

Beyza opened her notebook, “It’ll look better with photos,” she said, her voice calm but sincere, making a note with her pen.

Meanwhile, Mert and Selin’s group had started arguing again. Mert was leaning on his chair, twirling his pen on the desk, while Selin turned to him with a frown.

“Mert, are you going to leave everything to me again?” Selin said, her voice laced with restrained frustration, slamming her notebook onto the desk.

Mert shrugged, “You interfere in everything anyway,” he said, his voice lazily teasing, his eyes drifting toward the desk.

Selin clenched her teeth, “Just show some effort for once!” she said, her voice trembling, her face flushing.

Can cut in, “You two are always like this, just like a couple!” he said, his voice carrying a deep chuckle as he waved his phone.

Zeynep burst into laughter, “Yeah, forget the project; you should just have a wedding!” she said, her voice full of playful mischief, winking at Pınar.

Mert slammed the desk, “Stop talking nonsense!” he said, his voice rising with embarrassed anger, even his ears turning red.

Selin buried her head in her notebook, “You’re insane,” she mumbled, her voice muffled and annoyed, her glasses trembling in her hand.

Yiğit looked up from his book, “Put the data into a table; it’ll be easier,” he said, his voice calm but firm, his eyes briefly glancing at the group before returning to his book.

Selin paused for a moment, “You’re right,” she admitted, a reluctant acknowledgment in her voice, starting to scribble something in her notebook.

Mert nodded, “Alright, we’ll do it,” he said, his voice carrying a slight relief as he picked up his pen.

Kaan took out his earbuds, “I found something about the beach,” he said, his voice low but intriguing.

“The fishermen are dumping the wrong kind of waste; you can add that,” he continued, placing his phone on the desk and showing a screenshot.

Gizem was surprised, “Are you serious? That’s amazing,” she said, excitement in her voice as she turned to Beyza with a smile.

Beyza nodded, “Let’s write that down,” she said, her voice soft but determined, taking notes in her notebook.

During the break, Gizem noticed a poster in the hallway: "Talent Competition—Next Saturday." It listed categories like dance, music, and painting. She turned to Beyza, her eyes shining.

“Beyza, you should enter this,” Gizem said, excitement in her voice, “Your drawings are amazing.”

Beyza, her cheeks slightly flushed, said, “I don’t know,” her voice hesitant but thoughtful, pressing her notebook to her chest.

Gizem threw her arm over Beyza’s shoulder. “Come on, maybe I’ll write something too,” she said, an encouraging cheer in her voice. “I used to love writing.”

Beyza smiled. “Alright, I’ll think about it,” she said, a small courage in her voice, looking at Gizem with gratitude.

By the time they returned to class, the talent show topic had already spread. Pınar and Beste were planning a dance performance, Emre suggested a ridiculous comedy act, Kaan surprised everyone by saying he would play the guitar, Yiğit quietly mentioned he was considering a science demonstration, Ece announced she would participate with photography, and Can burst into laughter, saying, “I’ll be the host!”

After school, Gizem, Beyza, Ece, and Kaan went to the beach. They found an old pier—a place where the town’s youth gathered, its wooden planks worn but still sturdy. The sea rippled beneath a gray sky, seagulls glided over the horizon. They leaned their bikes against a tree, sat on the sand, and picked up trash for their project. As Ece took photos, Kaan pointed at the waste from a fishing boat.

“Look, this stuff goes straight into the sea,” Kaan said, his voice calm but serious, his headphones hanging around his neck.

Gizem nodded. “We need to add this to our presentation,” she said, determination in her voice, pulling out her notebook from her bag.

Beyza found a seashell. “We can show this too,” she said, her voice soft but excited, handing the shell to Gizem.

When she got home, Nuray had already spread the materials from the beach across the table. “Let’s organize these,” she said, support in her voice, her hands working quickly.

Gizem smiled. “Thank you, Mom,” she said, gratitude in her voice, sitting at the table.

Nuray held up a piece of trash. “You used to love things like this,” she said, warmth in her voice.

By late afternoon, the air had cooled. As the sun set, the sky was painted in shades of orange and purple. Gizem and Beyza sat on the pier, their feet dangling over the edge, waves gently lapping below. The faint cries of seagulls and the soft hum of the wind surrounded them. Gizem took out her notebook, reviewed her last notes, then lifted her head to gaze at the sea. A fishing boat glided slowly in the distance, the sky reflecting on the water, making everything feel momentarily frozen in time.

“How do you think the talent show will be?” Gizem asked, curiosity in her voice, her eyes drifting to the waves, her fingers gripping the edge of the wooden planks.

Beyza pulled her knees to her chest, her short brown hair swaying in the wind. She was silent for a moment, then smiled. “I don’t know,” she said, a shy excitement in her voice. “But trying… might be nice.” She picked up a shell that had fallen onto the sand and traced its surface with her fingers.

Gizem nodded. “Definitely,” she said, enthusiasm in her voice. “You with your drawings, me with my writing… Maybe something will come out of it.” Her eyes rested on Beyza, and she saw a quiet spark on her face.

Beyza chuckled. “The others in class aren’t bad either,” she said, a hint of amusement in her voice. “Kaan playing the guitar… That surprised me.”

Gizem laughed. “Me too! And Can being the host… It’s going to be hilarious,” she said, delight in her voice, tapping the wood lightly.

The wind picked up, blowing their hair into their faces. Gizem took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the salty air, her gaze fixed on the horizon. The sea stretched out like a gray sheet, but the rhythm of the waves seemed to whisper something to her—as if this town, this moment, was offering her a place. She thought to herself: This place is hard, but beautiful. With Beyza, with the class, with the project… Maybe I can be myself here.

Beyza turned to her. “What are you thinking?” she asked, gentle curiosity in her voice, her eyes scanning Gizem’s face.

Gizem smiled. “Just… that this place is more than I thought,” she said, a quiet peace in her voice, her eyes shifting back to the sea. “The project, the competition… It feels like they’re starting something.”

Beyza nodded. “I think so too,” she said, a note of agreement in her voice, squeezing the shell in her palm. “We’ll do this together, right?”

“Of course,” Gizem said, determination in her voice, giving Beyza’s shoulder a light tap. “Together, anything is possible.”

They sat for a while longer, watching the waves, listening to the wind. As the sun disappeared over the horizon, the wooden planks beneath them creaked slightly, the seagulls let out one last cry, and then silence settled in. Gizem closed her notebook, slipped it into her bag, and stood up. Beyza joined her, and they walked toward their bikes. The town’s lights had begun to glow in the distance, street lamps flickering to life one by one.

Gizem thought to herself: This town is giving me something—a place, a chance. The project, the competition… I’ll leave my mark here. As she got on her bike, a smile played on her lips. She pedaled forward, the wind keeping her company.