Free Twenty Boy Summer by Sarah Ockler

them.
    Shhh, ahhh. Shhh, ahhh.
    "Lots of places, I guess," Frankie says, crouching to pick up a smooth, plum-sized rock. "The ocean has a never-ending supply of cool stuff. In the morning, you find shells and glass, too. Check this out." She holds the rock in front of me. "You can see bands of color from other rocks and sand that were pressed together over millions of -- what are you staring at?"
    I smile. "You know, Miss Perino, for someone who almost failed earth science, you sure know a lot about the oceanic ecosystem."
    "That's not science, Anna. It's nature. Big difference."
    I open my mouth to argue, but she's kind of right. Science: a construct created by man to explain away all of life's mysteries. Nature: its own creation, its own mystery, existing long before we took our first breaths and long after we take our last.
    Shhh, ahhh. Shhh, ahhh.
    "Frankie, thanks for bringing me here."
    She looks at me and smiles softly. Her body is here with me, her feet leaving wet imprints in the sand, but her eyes are a million years away, swimming with some prehistoric creatures as sand and stones and tiny bones press together and grind apart, nature moving slowly onward, unaffected by the insignificant comings and goings of human life. I suddenly feel very small, smaller and less important than the grains of sand under our feet, and I'm simultaneously comforted and humbled.
    "Here, keep it." Frankie smiles again, pressing her striped stone into my hand. "It's the first official souvenir from the A.B.S.E."
    We walk up and down the shore for another half hour, stopping every few feet to scoop up an empty shell or a square of green glass. My fingers and toes pucker and my hair blows into my eyes and mouth, but I want to spend the whole trip out here, with the ocean replenishing her treasures like an old shopkeeper as I sleep alongside her in the sand.
    Frankie is still quiet, digging in the sand for her own treasures. The last time she was on this beach, she was helping Matt unearth glass for his jewelry creations. They were throwing each other in the water. Making dinner plans. Talking about how you could ride a wave all the way to shore with just your body if you caught it right.
    Sometimes I think if she knew about Matt and me, it would bring us closer. If I could just make her understand how much I cared about him, she'd let me into the exclusive club where all the members have a right to be irrevocably sad. Instead, I'm an intruder. I look into the windows and see them crying, but I'm on the outside in the dark, and they can't see me.
    "Frankie, can I ask you something?"
    "What?"
    "Do you remember my birthday party last year? When I turned fifteen?" I ignore the sound of Matt's voice whispering over the waves. Shhh. It's our secret, Anna. You promised.
    "Sure, I guess." She rinses her hands and wipes them on her hips. "Hey, you ready to head back up? We can unpack and set up our room. Hopefully Mom and Dad are done unloading the car."
    "Okay." I throw a handful of stones into the water and watch them fall like rain.
    "So what were you gonna say about your birthday?" She smiles, and I don't want her to stop.
    "Oh, never mind." I grab her hand. "I forget."
    I don't say anything about him.
    I just swallow hard.
    Nod and smile.
    One foot in front of the other.
    I'm fine, thanks for not asking.
    As I cross into the house from the deck, sand grinds beneath my bare feet, making a soft, scratching sound against the floor. I try not to track it inside, but Frankie assures me that sand on the floor is just part of the Zanzibar experience.
    "It's like a moving decorative accent," Jayne says. "You know, bring a little outside in."
    "Hon, you're not allowed to redecorate on vacation," Red says. "We didn't pack your fabric swatches and paint chips."
    "Don't you worry." She laughs. "I'll find a way, if the mood strikes."
    There is no sign of emotional tumult -- no mascara-stained cheeks, no slammed doors, no long sighs or faraway faces. They've