Collecting Shells: Rose

We've been driving forever. All I want to do is go home. The guy beside me is quiet and hasn't tried to talk, so I stay to myself. We come to a familiar intersection, but instead of turning left we keep straight, passing the way to our house. This road only consists of two things. Old houses and the beach. It's just two miles out, but I feel cities away from home.

We pull into the empty parking lot. Salt in the air and waves lapping in the distance. I search, but there isn't a single soul in sight.

We mount the grainy sand and head to the shoreline. I'm following behind. The closer we get the louder the ocean rumbles. Ang kicks off her sandals, sticking her feet in. Mr. Camaro skips shells in the water, barely but intentionally missing her. She shrieks with laughter. He claps the dirt off his hands and is all too easily down to just his shorts. He charges Angie, throwing them both into the water. Typical, I think. Boy gets girl wet.

"It's too dark for a swim, don't you think?" asks my quiet companion. He's fully clothed and looks about as fond of this night as I do.

"It's too dark for anything besides sleep," I say.

"Wanna walk around? Collect shells... Spear some fish?" he asks, talking over the waves.

I almost miss the joke. Taking him up on his offer, we walk down the shoreline, giving Angie and the guy she's with some space. I collect six shells at random before breaking the silence.

"So, what's your name?" I ask.

"Ben. The guy back there's Dan." He pauses for a second. "I didn't know Angie had a sister."

"She doesn't. I'm her cousin." I'm thankful that the night masks the warmth in my cheeks. It's silly, but I'm embarrassed. Has she really spoken so little of me?

"You two close?" He kicks away some red seaweed, waiting for my answer.

"Are we close?" My childhood tells me yes, and up until a few years ago I wouldn't have thought twice about it. "Something like that." Silence bobs it's head up again for a moment. "Ben and Dan? Weren't we at the same middle school?"

"I'd see you around, but we didn't have class together."

I've finally seen his eyes. Dark as coal like mine. His skin's a deep brown that looks blue in the moonlight. He stands over six feet, teeth gleaming in the dark.

"Sometimes Dan rode the bus home. He'd put pencils in my hair. Can't believe I forgot that."

Ben's deep chuckles compliment the soothing waves, like honey in warm tea. "That's Dan for you. Annoying the pretty girls who ignore him."

I thank the moonlight once more.

I'm never good at responding to comments like that. They catch me off guard and I have the perfect response all too late.

"Wanna head back to the car?" he asks.

We chuck the shells into the sea, and knock sand from our hands. I keep a pink one.

We talk and walk. Apparently we all go to the same high school. They're both seniors like Ang and I. Ben's been on the school's basketball team since freshman year. I never noticed. Then again, I'm not into sports and have little to no school spirit.

Angie didn't get held back, by the way. We're in the same grade, because her birthday started late and kindergarten decided to make her wait a year. It was nice to share some classes together. She seemed to always be there.

We share summer plans, and what our parents want us to do after school.

"If my mom could build a college in our back yard, I'd be going there," he says.

"That takes the cake. I don't think my grandma cares, long as it's the same college with Ang."

"Enough about them. What do you wanna do? We're just going to explode on our parents halfway through freshman year anyway, so let's do it now."

I grin at that image. The thought gives me butterflies. "Skip the dramatics?"

"Right to the point. Living the way we want, and blowing off opinions."

He makes it sound possible.

"I'd be a photographer," I say. He only smiles. "You're so hypocritical!"

"I didn't say anything, but enlighten me. What's so fascinating about it?" He looks easy with his hands in his front jean pockets.

"I love it. I'll get lost thinking about the story behind a good one. Those are the kind that I want to take."

"I hope you take a thousand of those, and leave them hanging all over your grandma's house."

I laugh until stitches burn my side. "I'm sure she'd love that. What about you? What if you skip the dramatics?"

"Oh, an artist. No doubt about it. For the same reason you love pictures, actually. I want to bring a story to life, one that people can feel." The smile he's been carrying grows faint. "Since you and I both know that we're going to be dramatic, what are you really going for?"

"Nurse. You?"

"Neurosurgeon. Like my old man. Maybe I'll see you around the hospital," he says.

"I hope I don't see you. I hope I see your paintings."

"I'll remember that."

We halt. The car's moving. There are faint groans. I'm frozen, unable to think clearly. I just want to go home.

"Oh," Ben says.

I storm off. I know my way home from here. It's a long walk, but I don't think about that right now.

"Wait!" Ben says. "I'll walk with you. I live pretty close."

I don't say anything. Just how long is a two mile walk, anyway?