The sun shone brightly over the garden, warming the children's cheeks like a warm hug. Ziggy had found a long stick, straight as a wooden sword, and he waved it in the air shouting: "Charge! Charge!".

Lily had tied an old checkered blanket around her shoulders like a pirate flag, and she ran in circles making it flutter. Dash, fast as ever, climbed onto the garden table as if it were the mainmast of a ship. Skye, tall and slender, sat quietly on the grass, drawing a route in the dirt with a little twig: a curving line that went toward a faraway tree. "That is the treasure island," she said softly, "but you can't see it yet."

Ziggy's cats, Sofia, Dora, Poldo and Milo, watched them from under a bush, their tails moving like little waves.

That's when from the bottom of the garden came a sound the children knew very well: "CHOO CHOOOO! CHOO CHOOOO!"

It was Toby the Magic Train, with his white puff of smoke rising to the sky and his wheels shining in the sun. He stopped right in front of them, and Toby, with his warm voice of wood and wind, said:

"Land pirates, hop aboard, all aboard,
a sleeping lighthouse has lost its accord!
A little fish is far from his shore,
he's waiting for a path you must explore."

The children jumped into Toby, laughing. Ziggy still held the wooden sword, Lily her flag, Dash a map made of twigs, and Skye a handful of dry grass for good luck. "CHOO CHOOOO! CHOO CHOOOO!" and away they went, through a cloud of little stars like breadcrumbs.

When Toby stopped, the children stepped down into a harbor unlike any they had ever seen.

It was called Yawning Lighthouse Harbor. The boats rocked gently, and the air smelled of salt and wet wood. At the end of the harbor, as tall as three houses stacked one on top of the other, stood a lighthouse of white and red stone. It was so tall you had to tip your head back to see it all. Dash looked at it and said: "It looks like a giant in a striped hat!"

But there was something strange about the lighthouse. Even with the sun high up, its light at the top blinked on and off, like a yawn. "It's yawning," Skye whispered. "The lighthouse is yawning."

Near a red buoy, something went "splash" and then a belly-up pirouette. A little fish popped out of the water, dancing in zig-zags. He was small, and smelled of coconut cream and lemon cookies. Only, instead of being orange like all clownfish, he was all gray. Gray like a foggy day.

"Good morning, sailors!" said the little fish, laughing. "Do you know why clams never go to the movies? Because they always clam up!" And he laughed and laughed and laughed, making silly faces.

The children laughed a little, but Skye didn't. She looked at him carefully. She really looked. "What's your name?" she asked, in a very small voice.

"My name is Pepe," answered the little fish. And he did another pirouette.

"Pepe," said Skye, even more softly, "you feel different, don't you?"

Pepe stopped mid-air, in the middle of his pirouette. He fell back into the water and for a moment he wasn't laughing anymore. Then he hid behind his own fin, like behind a fan. "A little," he admitted. "A big wave brought me all the way here, and since then my colors have gone away. My family lives far away, at the Pink Cliffs. I don't know how to get home."

Ziggy raised his wooden sword. "We'll take you home!"

Lily nodded firmly. Dash jumped to his feet. Skye smiled softly: "We'll help you, Pepe."

Pepe explained that they needed two things: the lighthouse lit, to set out, and the stars, to navigate. Without light, you couldn't see the stars. Without stars, you couldn't find the way.

Toby blew a little puff of smoke, and from his train car a rail-boat came down. Small, of light wood, with a sail that looked like a leaf. The children climbed in. Ziggy took the oars. Lily stood at the bow as lookout. Dash opened the shell-map, which was a pink shell with a route drawn inside. Skye held Pepe in cupped hands, full of water, so he'd be comfortable.

The little boat slid out of the harbor. The sun was still high. Pepe kept telling jokes: "Do you know what a cold octopus does? He puts on eight coats!" The children laughed. But Skye felt that Pepe's voice was like a closed door: he laughed on top, but behind it there was something sad.

Then, suddenly, something changed.

The sky turned gray in an instant. It started to rain. But it wasn't a normal rain: each drop, falling on the water, on the wood of the boat, on the children's hair, made a different music. "Pling-plong, pling-plong, ding," it sang on Lily's hair. "Tip-tap, tip-tap," on Ziggy's oars. "Plif-plif," on Dash's ears. It was the rain that sings.

It would have been wonderful, except that, at that very moment, the lighthouse went out completely.

Dark. Dark above. Dark all around. Dark on the water.

Pepe hid behind his fin. The whistle-shell he wore around his neck, hanging from a strand of seaweed, didn't sound anymore. Lily clutched the flag tightly. Ziggy raised his wooden sword toward the dark. Dash's eyes went wide.

Skye breathed slowly. She turned toward the lighthouse, which was now only a dark shape. And she whispered:

"Dear lighthouse, are you tired? Thank you anyway for your light."

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, at the top of the lighthouse, a little light yawned. Tiny tiny. Like when someone opens just one eye.

Ziggy looked at Skye, understood, and said it too: "Thank you, lighthouse, for standing so tall."

Another yawn of light. A little bigger.

Lily, who still had her hands clenched around the flag, whispered: "Thank you, lighthouse, because you protect us when it's dark."

Another yawn, wider.

Dash took off his pretend pirate hat and said: "Thank you, lighthouse, because you're taller than everyone!"

And then the lighthouse really woke up. The light at the top opened like a great warm eye, golden, and began to shine bright, steady, sure. It lit up the sea. It lit up the rain that sang. And then, above all, it lit up the sky: one by one the stars appeared.

Pepe came out from behind his fin. He looked at the sky. "That one!" he said, pointing to a star that shone warmer than the others, in an almost orange color. "That is the Star of the Warm Heart. It points me to the Pink Cliffs."

Skye smiled. "Then let's go."

Ziggy put the oars back in the water. The little boat slid forward, following the star. The rain kept singing, sweetly, like a lullaby. For a while everything was peaceful. Even Pepe stopped telling jokes: he watched his star, in silence.

Then, from the depths of the sea, something moved. A wave. A big one. It rose in front of them like a hill of water, and the little boat began to rock hard from side to side.

Lily got scared. She let go of the flag. She pressed her hands close to her heart. "Skye," she said in a tiny voice, "I'm scared."

Skye didn't shout. She didn't run. She came close to Lily and took her hand. "Listen," she told her. "Listen to the rain. It's singing."

Lily closed her eyes. She heard pling-plong, plif-plif, ding on her hair, on the flag, on the wood of the boat. She heard that it was a song, not a noise. She squeezed Skye's hand. And little by little the wave passed under them, lifted the boat for a moment, and then set it back down, gently, like a big hand.

"We made it," said Lily, her eyes still a little teary. Skye nodded.

In front of them, after the wave, there were the Pink Cliffs. They were tall cliffs, of a coral-pink color, that shimmered under the moon like cotton candy. And in the water, around the cliffs, there were many little orange fish swimming in circles.

"PEPE!"

Six little fish, all orange with white stripes, swam toward him. They were the little brothers and sisters. Behind them, mama fish and papa fish. Mama had a fan-shaped fin. Papa had a golden scale, big, in the middle of his back, that sparkled.

Pepe leapt out of Skye's hands and swam toward them in zig-zags, doing three pirouettes in a row.

Mama fish rubbed a fin on his cheek. Papa rubbed a fin on his belly. Each little brother and sister, one at a time, rubbed their colored fin on his. And each time, as if by magic, a little piece of color came back: first a tiny orange dot on the tail, then a white stripe on the side, then another stripe, then his whole back, then the fins, then his eyes lit up.

Pepe became orange again. Brilliant orange, like a little sun underwater.

And the whistle-shell at his neck began to play, loud, clear, sweet. It really played, because Pepe was really happy.

Pepe swam toward Skye, out of the water, and came close to her face. On his fin he held a little golden scale, fallen from papa fish's back.

"For you," said Pepe, and he placed the scale in Skye's hand. "When you feel different, look at it. Different is just another way of being beautiful."

Skye held the scale tight in her palm. It was warm.

Toby, who had waited for them behind a cliff, went "CHOO CHOOOO! CHOO CHOOOO!". The children waved goodbye to Pepe, waved to the brothers and sisters, to mama and papa fish. They climbed onto the train.

On the way home, while the singing rain became sun again, Toby said:

"Did you see, little captains brave?
Light returns when helping hands we gave.
A thank-you wakes the lighthouse, a gift gives colors back,
and we all go home with hearts on a brighter track."

When the train left them again in the garden, the sun was setting. Ziggy put away the wooden sword, Lily folded the flag, Dash put away the twig map. Skye held the golden scale in her palm, still warm.

"Tomorrow I'll put it in my pocket," she said softly, "so if I feel different, I can look at it."

And the four friends hugged each other, while Ziggy's cats came out from the bush to say goodnight.