Brilliant blue waves break on golden-white shores; they even look hot

Brilliant blue waves break on golden-white shores; they even look hot. The soft cries of gulls, and- oh.

A sound breaks the silence.

Splash, splash, splash, splash, SPLUNK.

The creature clicks her tongue with slight annoyance and kneels, grasping a smooth, rounded stone and swinging it back and forth lazily in her right hand.

She swings her hand forwards to the sea-

Splash, splash, splash, splash, splash, splash, SPLUNK.

She paused.

“Well, it’s a little further I suppose,” she admits to herself grudgingly.

The boy has been watching shyly now for the past half an hour, curious about the thin lanky girl dressed all in black, with such a self satisfied smirk on her face when the pebbles did what she wanted.

Eventually:

SPLUNK.

That click of annoyance again. Another pebble. Instantly

SPLUNK.

The click, louder this time. A third pebble.

SPLUNK.

A pause.

Depression in her voice now.

“Well I guess when you’ve lost it, you’ve just lost it.”

He’s only about ten, and quiet as a mouse when he needs to be. She probably hasn’t noticed him yet, even if she does seem a little more aware of her surroundings than most people. Maybe as aware as him. They all think, when he gets that dreamy look on his face, that he’s not paying attention at all. But it’s the exact opposite. He’s listening, listening as hard as he possibly can, and waiting to run, or hide, or stand his ground. He’s very good at hiding.

Bright strands of brown fall forward once again to hide his face, and irritatedly, he brushes them back quickly. He wishes he knew how to cut hair, because then he’d have no problems with getting hit by the ball in football, because then he’d be able to see.

The girl turns around now- going to leave and maybe go home with a family. She looks relatively grown up, but looks can be deceiving. Perhaps she is sixteen, or seventeen years old. Probably not old enough to have left home.

She yawns, and halfway through, awkwardly covers her mouth with her hand, even if she thinks no one is there to see her. The boy smiles slightly to himself at her, and wonders a little bit.

Is she nice? Nasty? Does she like music, and if so, what type? Why is she so pale? Does she not tan well, or does she like being pale? Is she really as arrogant as she seems to act? When she throws her arms up in abject despair and wails to the heavens about her misfortune, is she serious, or just being a drama queen? Is she really that mad enough to dive in when she skips a stone and decides she wants it back?

The boy shrugs. He doesn’t really know. But he knows that he likes the girl.

He sort of wonders what it would be like to have her as a friend.

That’s probably what makes him get up and run in front of her, all bright smiles and chocolate strands of hair blowing in the wind, and bright sapphire eyes.

“Hello. I’m Daniel. What’s your name?”

She pauses, obviously taken aback at him darting in front of her so quickly. Then she grins- the girl likes his demanding, imperious face. He gave his name, how dare she not give hers?

“Isis. Isis Faraday.”

And she reaches down- but not that far, because even if she looks all grown up, she’s not that tall- to shake his hand.

And smirks brightly.

“Pleased to meetcha kid.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

The boy smiles happily as he sits and watches the sun set, content with licking his ice cream. Yes, the girl was nice to have as a friend, even if she was only his friend for the afternoon. They had gone everywhere, and she’d even let him get on the roller coaster (“put these shoes on, they’ll make you look taller than you are,”) and then brought him an ice cream (“what do you mean you don’t want ketchup on it? Okay… your loss.”)

He licks his ice cream thoughtfully. Yes, it was probably sad that she had only been his friend for the afternoon, and then vanished, a regretful smile on her face as she glanced backwards at him, managing to crash into three people because she wasn’t looking. (“Sorry kid. Gotta go be a grown up again. S’been fun.)

But then, he thinks, friends for the afternoon are very nice, because you don’t know them long enough to fall out with them, or miss them when they go.

And he glances down, proudly, at the picture of the girl, who smirks evilly. Daniel makes a decision.

One day, he’d like to find his friend for the afternoon again.

--END--