Sea Change by Susan Fletcher: A Gripping YA Sci-Fi Tale

On Spoonbill Island, Texas—now flooding from climate change—fifteen-year-old Turtle and ninety-six other genetically modified Mer children live aboard the ship Mermaid. Created to have greater lung capacity, the experiment instead gave them gills. When Turtle opts for an operation to remove her gills so she can be with a Normal boy, Kai, she leaves her isolated pod behind. As anti-Mer sentiment rises and Turtle struggles to fit in on land, she must decide where she truly belongs.

My Review

Susan Fletcher plunged me straight into Turtle’s conflicted world. I felt her loneliness after leaving the Mermaid and her hope when Kai reentered her life. Fletcher’s tight pacing—balancing underwater rescues with tense land encounters—kept me glued to every page.

This book will leave you feeling unsettled and hopeful, convinced that identity and belonging are worth fighting for.

You can get a copy of Sea Change by Susan Fletcher on Amazon or Bookshop.

If this has you intrigued, read an excerpt from Sea Change by Susan Fletcher below.

Excerpt from Sea Change by Susan Fletcher

CHAPTER 1: A SCAVENGER, LIKE ME

MONDAY, APRIL 5

It was the piano that caught my eye when I swam into the flooded town­house. I’d
finned through the front doorway and into the dim entry hall, drawn to the great room
ahead, oddly bright. Up in the ceiling, a few feet above the surface of the water, a crack
had opened up. A shaft of wavering daylight pierced the room, making the blond wood
of the piano glow.

Sycamore. Grandmother used to tell us how unusual it was, a grand piano made from
sycamore.

A school of herring, glinting silver, flickered past my face. The curtains billowed out like
sails in a light sea breeze. A jellyfish drifted in through a glassless window frame, and
an octopus slipped under the open lid of the piano and nestled in the wires.

I sculled there, breathing. I studied the bamboo pattern of the curtains’ fabric, the layout
of the kitchen cabinets, the design of blue-and-white tiles on the floor.

Yes. This was Grandmother’s house. I’d known it was somewhere in this sector – rows
of stucco townhouses, teetering on stilts. But, I hadn’t recognized it for sure.

It had been years.

Light and shadow flickered green in the water beneath a high, floating film of debris –
leaves, grocery bags, plastic bottles, a sponge, a cork. I made out unfaded rectangles
on the wall where the pictures had hung. The one of Grandfather and his guitar. The
one of Daddy and Mama on their wedding day. The one of my sisters and me in a little
boat.

Gone.

Everything was gone, even the windows and doorknobs and hinges . . . ​ except the
piano. Which looked perfect – surreal – in the rippling underwater light. But it was
ruined, I knew, and the sight of it struck me somewhere deep – spoke of some tragedy I
couldn’t imagine. Why didn’t someone move it before the flooding? Why had it been
abandoned?

And Grandmother . . . ​ Where was she now?

The school of herring circled back and gathered round me, tickling my earlobes and
ankles and wrists.

The building groaned, way down deep in its bones.

Whoa. That didn’t sound good.

The stilts – starting to go. The door jambs had already gone twisty, and that cracked
ceiling… And the drones would show up any minute now.

Better get moving.

I tucked my empty plundersack into my ­ belt, switched on my headlamp, and swam
through the dim hallway, leaving the herring behind.

Colder here. My lamp thrust a blade of light into the dark back bedroom ahead.

Grandmother’s ancient iron bed. Her wicker dresser, with a top drawer open. Another
glassless window.

And, just inside the doorway – Kai.

I didn’t know him then. I didn’t know a thing about him. He was a halo of copper-bright
hair. A twist of long, lean, wet-suited body. The dull glint of a scuba tank. A sudden burst
of rising bubbles.

A Normal.

With a plundersack hanging from his belt.

So, a scavenger, like me.

Naomi, on lookout, must have missed him. Or maybe he’d been here for a while.

In one hand he held something flat and gray and round. He was staring at it, examining
it.

Wait. Daddy’s dive watch?

Could it be?

I kicked hard and lunged for it. The guy turned his head. Behind his face mask, a
startled look – unguarded, vulnerable. I tore the watch from his hand and twisted round
to go, but he slammed into me. The watch slipped from between my fingers and floated
down beneath the iron bed. I reached for it, but he was reaching, too; he shouldered me
aside and snatched it up. When I tried to pry it from his hand, he turned his back to me,
and the hard metal of his tank knocked painfully against my chest. I hooked one foot on
the bed rail and tried to reach around him, groping for the watch, but the muscled mass
of his body shut me out.

He had no right.

He thrust the watch into his plundersack. I grabbed for it, but he yanked it away from
me, clutched it tight.

Rumbling. A crack. A harsh, grating shriek of metal. The walls shuddered; the dresser
mirror spiderwebbed; the ceiling tore open and yawned wide above us. Clouds of
waterborne grit poured in. The iron bed lurched, scooted a ­ little way from the wall.

And I was going to leave – I was. Was going to flee the bedroom, stroke right up
through the window. But the rumbling came again – a shift, a shudder, a screech. A
swirl of dust; a sudden surge in the water. And when I looked back . . .

A dark feather of blood sprouted from the shoulder of the boy – the man, the boy-man
who turned out to be Kai. He was flailing – seemed to be stuck – and his mouth opened
wide.

His mouth . . .

And it came to me that his regulator, the thing Normals breathe with underwater, was
nowhere in sight.

Excerpted from Sea Change. Copyright © 2025 by Susan Fletcher. Reprinted by permission of Amulet Books, a division of Harry N. Abrams, Inc.

Ready for More?

If Turtle’s journey has you hooked, grab your copy of Sea Change today.

You can get a copy of Sea Change by Susan Fletcher on Amazon or Bookshop.

When you’ve finished, come back and share your thoughts in the comments—I can’t wait to hear which part of Turtle’s story resonated with you!