Free The Day Before by Lisa Schroeder

treasure hunt
    I sit in the cool sand,
my mind drifting
like wood on water.
    A few years ago
we stayed at a beach house,
Dad, Mom, Kelly, and I.
    When we were almost ready to head home,
Mom insisted the three of us get
one last fill of the ocean,
as if we were fragile sea creatures,
needing the water
to survive.
    When we got down to the beach,
Dad started running and said,
“Ten minutes to find a treasure.
The winner of the best treasure
gets to pick the music for the ride home.”
    Kelly yelled out,
“I’m winning this one, Jelly!”
I threw my head back and laughed.
    We hadn’t played Treasure Hunt
since Kelly and I were little.
    We used to play all the time—
at the park,
on a hike,
even in our own backyard.
    I skipped across the sand, the breeze
catching my shirt,
exposing my belly, white
as a seagull’s.
I laughed again.
    Across the beach,
Dad and Kelly
scoured the wet sand,
no doubt searching for
one of Mother Nature’s
lost jewels.
    My eyes scanned
the dry sand
by the piles of driftwood.
I dug with my hands,
searching for
a buried treasure,
until my arms
became heavy.
    I climbed the pile,
searching the other side,
and then
something glistened
in the sun:
a blue-and-silver fishing lure
complete with a hook.
    An amazing treasure,
especially since I was saving someone
from being caught in the foot.
    Dad waved his arms,
telling us time
was up.
Kelly showed us her find first:
a golden rock, an agate,
clear and smooth.
    When I showed them mine, Dad said,
“An in-line spinner.
Very nice!”
    And then, with his fists closed tight,
he turned his hands over and slowly
spread his fingers
wide open
like a sea anemone
in a tide pool.
    Kelly and I gasped
when we saw
what he held.
    Two silver chains
with a tiny
silver dollar charm
on the end of each one.
    After Kelly—always the affectionate child—
gave him a hug,
she said, “But you don’t win, right?
You didn’t find it.
The rules are you have to find it.”
    Affectionate and competitive.
    “Kel, I think we both win.
Thanks, Dad.
I love it.”
    “Me, too,”
Kelly echoed.
“But who picks the—”
    I tapped her on the shoulder
and yelled, “You’re it!”
intentionally ending one game
and beginning another.
Of course she chased me,
because that’s what little sisters do.
And of course I let her choose
the music on the car ride home,
because that’s what big sisters do.
    They let their
little sisters
win.

mixed feelings
    I like
    the memories
because they remind me
I haven’t always been
this girl,
constantly
mad or scared
or confused.
    I don’t like
    the memories
because the tears
come easily,
and once again I break
my promise
to myself for this day.
It’s a constant battle.
    A war between
remembering and forgetting.

my heroes
    I catch a cab at ten
and make my way
to the aquarium.
    I want to look at sharks,
quiet and
fierce.
    Study them.
Learn from them.
    They own the water.
They are not afraid.

beautiful boy
    He stares
at the tank
of jellyfish.
    I stand on the other side
and watch
the pale pink parachutes glide
through the water.
    They are
    hypnotic.
    He moves
slowly,
circling the
round tank.
    Moving closer
to me.
    I realize
I’m not watching
the jellyfish anymore.
I’m watching him watching them.
    He stares
with such intensity,
I can’t help but wonder,
What is he thinking?
Feeling?
Wishing?
    While he’s under their spell,
I take him in.
He’s wearing a black knit beanie
with bits of black hair
sticking out,
a gray hoody,
and skinny jeans.
    Only skinny people
can get away
with wearing
skinny jeans,
which is why
I don’t own a pair.
Short-and-stocky jeans
are more my style.
    So, he’s skinny.
But not gross skinny.
Good skinny.
Cute skinny.
    His warm voice
tiptoes into the
quiet room.
    “Did you see that movie?” he asks.
    I did.
Without asking,
I know he’s talking
about Seven Pounds.
    My mom is crazy
for Will Smith.
She dragged me along
like a box of Junior Mints
as soon as it hit
the theaters.
    I was haunted
for days.
    “Yes,” I tell