She wondered how deep the swamp lagoon was and what she would name it. She liked rockets, so maybe she would call in Launchpad Lake. She told herself she could bring the spaceship she made out of a milk carton tomorrow and see if it would float.

A light ripple dabbed the murky water as she was thinking. She wasn’t conscious of it at first; not until several more ripples followed. She quickly glanced up to see if it was raining, as it often did. When she looked down, the ripples had formed an inverted triangle and were heading toward her.

Her heart started beating fast. She went to a memory where she asked her mom if there were any crocodiles in town and if they could go see them.

Crocodiles don’t live in Florida, momma corrected her, Alligators do.

The lake erupted, and a huge lizard head dominated her view. Its mouth was wide open and sloshing violent, throwing white explosions of water everywhere. The deep pink mouth sent out a warm, salty breath.

That’s an alligator, not a crocodile.