THE SUMMER MY LIFE ENDED

Just thinking about leaving Briggs Beach made the tears come. I had grown up in the town for sixteen years, and leaving just didn't make any sense. It didn't matter that we were poor back then; it didn't matter that Dad and Uncle Dom lost their furniture shop; it made no difference that Mama was sick and just had to live somewhere else, away from the damp, coastal air. No. All that mattered was that I had just turned sixteen that summer and my whole life was falling apart. Of course, nothing would ever be the same. And the warm tears flowed and flowed, just like the Briggs Bay into the Atlantic.

Two years later, I can still remember it like it happened ten minutes ago. Cousins Jeff and Tamara were outside with me by the old oak tree. The sun's beams broke into slivers of light through the tree's large green leaves. We were sipping very sweet lemonade and talking about different locals we knew were leaving for the summer and those summer refugees we knew would be returning to the east coast of Maine for a few weeks or for the whole season. Cousin Jeff was incessantly yapping about his baseball team, the Lobster Traps, traveling north for the week to play a series of games against another team of teenagers just like his–-minor league hopefuls.

My life changed right there under that tree, sipping Mama's lemonade in my new light blue bikini top and board shorts, carelessly swinging on the old tire swing my dad had hung when I was a baby. Uncle Dom came sauntering out from our screened-in porch. He was holding a can of beer that was stuffed tightly into one of those trashy beer huggers sold at gas stations. It was all black except for a white image of a naked lady with pink nipples. I had never seen Uncle Dom with a beer before, nor had I seen his face as long as it was right then. The darkened skin under his eyes drooped–-as did his chin. He looked older than he had earlier that day when he kissed Mama's cheek and poured himself a mug of hot, fresh coffee. A really bad feeling poked the insides of my stomach and I could feel acid wanting to make its way up my esophagus. I recall swallowing until I had no more saliva to keep the acid down. My throat burned.

As Uncle Dom approached us, I dug my feet into the sand to halt the tire swing. Jeff stopped talking and Tamara lowered the glass of lemonade from her lips. The three of us quickly looked at each other; then our focus remained on Uncle Dom, Jeff and Tamara's father, my father's brother.

"What's up, Pop?" Jeff asked, leaning his back against the cool trunk of the oak.

"A lot, son."

There was just something ominous in the way he said those three words that made me want to cry. And for some reason, I knew what he was about to say. I mean, it was really no secret that Dragon Furniture was not the most successful business in Briggs Beach. Ever since Dad and Uncle Dom started making furniture back when they were in high school, they never found the right groove. There was always someone else, a bigger corporation, that could do everything faster and in volume. But my dad would say, "Damn those big guys, anyway. We can't let those pricks get to us. We do custom pieces and our customers love every bit of what we do." And then Uncle Dom would usually say something positive before telling Dad that Dragon Furniture needed more than just a few satisfied and loyal customers. Then Dad would call Uncle Dom young and immature. Seemed like Dad blamed a lot of his brother's visions and ideas on the fact that he was eight years younger. Uncle Dom had plans to expand, to be bigger–-better. To make Dragon Furniture the most respected, well- known, and successful furniture business on the whole east coast. But Dad would never listen to him; he'd just twist the top off a bottle of beer and go by the water and think.

I cried almost every day for the three weeks before we actually moved away from the only place I'd ever really known. And it wasn't only because I was leaving my friends, my school, my soccer team. It all boiled down to me leaving my home. Briggs Beach held all of my memories. The grocer, banker, sheriff, mayor, car wash operator, all knew my name and had known me since I was too little to remember them giving my cheeks pinches, or handing me a lollipop. Maybe it was the ocean air that I loved so much that made my home my home. And two years later, it is still hard to explain. I just knew that I loved Briggs Beach more than anything and that I could never love another place the same way.

Some of the older people in my family thought that all of my carrying on, as they called it, was silly and nonsensical. The ones not moving away would try to make me understand one pragmatic reason after another why it was the best thing that we move somewhere else and start again. How much better Mama would be now that we could go somewhere less damp than the east coast of Maine. How Dad would have steady work and could pull the family out of debt. "You're only moving down fifty miles and over another fifty. Come visit whenever you want." Aunt Cheri told me that a dozen times one day. Surely she would have made it a baker's dozen had I not asked her to keep quiet and leave me alone. The nerve of that woman telling me how it was when she wasn't the one leaving. She wasn't sixteen and leaving the best place to live on the planet. "You'll make new friends," others would say. No matter what I told any adult, that person didn't really hear my words.

One night after a late dinner with Uncle Dom, Jeff, Tamara, Mama, and Dad, I took a walk. I could hear the waves crashing against the rocks beyond my backyard, and the smell on the heavy air was something that I could never forget. The way the salt could get into my nostrils and linger for hours was amazing. And the moon was following me around every turn I made through the sleepy neighborhood. I would have walked down by the water, but that was off limits to me at night when I was alone. I never fought about it either because that's something that made sense–-even as a young girl who wanted to do whatever she wanted to do whenever she wanted to do it.

"Hey, Ginny," I heard behind me. "Hold up a sec."

I knew who it was without turning around. Jeremy Castle was one of my childhood friends. He'd always been kind of sweet on me and that made me feel good when I was going through a bad period. Puberty was not very nice to me. I developed lots of areas before many of the other girls in my school. I didn't mind so much in the summer when I'd wear my bikini because the older boys would want to talk to me, thinking I was older than what I was. But playing soccer with breasts like mine was no fun. Just to minimize movement, I would wear two sports bras at the same time.

The relationship Jeremy and I had was mostly platonic. Thank goodness he never pushed the issue because that would have spoiled everything.

"Why you going so fast?"

"I'm not," I said. "Hey, let's go by the water, okay."

"Sure."

I was glad that Jeremy showed up. He would do that once in a while. Just show up. And it's strange that he could appear when I needed him the most. Tears had been trying to fall from my eyes the whole time I was eating dinner, listening to the moving plans, not participating. Seemed like I was the only one in my family who hated the idea of moving away from Briggs Beach. Even my cousins, who also grew up there from birth, were not opposed to the idea.

Jeremy and I walked along the coastline, our sandals loosely dangling from our fingers. As we imprinted the hard sand with our bare feet, I could feel him moving closer and closer to me. I didn't mind at all. Right then I liked it. I was able to really understand the feelings he had for me. What I couldn't understand was why I couldn't feel those same feelings for him. The tears started to fall.

"Gin, what's the matter?" Jeremy asked, holding out his arm to stop me from walking any further.

"The same thing. Moving."

"I don't know what to tell you, Gin," he said thoughtfully. "I know you don't want to hear anything positive, like what you say your family tells you. I think I can understand what you might be feeling."

His eyes locked on mine. In the moonlight his eyes looked black, but I knew they were the brightest green eyes I'd ever seen. He reached out and hugged me. We had hugged before, but this hug was different. It all had to do with the look he'd given me.

When he pulled away, I could see that he, too, was crying. I took his hand and led him up the embankment so we could sit down. He wrapped his right arm around me and I let him.

"You're leaving," he said so softly I almost didn't catch what he said. "We've been friends since we were five or something like that. Out of that time, out of the time I've thought about kissing you and holding your hand, I never thought about being apart like we'll be. This'll be pretty tough on me, Virginia Dragon."

What he said made sense and it did not make me feel uncomfortable. Right then I realized how much of an effect my moving would have on other people, too. Like my soccer team. And Kate, my best friend. Jeremy Castle. I thought about that for a minute, then focused again on what was at hand. I was moving away and that would forever change my life.

Jeremy and I sat like that for about an hour. The sand was cool under my feet and gritty between my toes. Although the wind was chilly, it felt nice on my face and in my frizzed-out hair. Chill bumps covered my legs. I began to shiver, but did not want to go home. With my right hand, I used a stick to dig a good-sized hole I was hoping would suck me in and keep me there forever.

When Jeremy looked at his watch he groaned, knowing he had to be home very soon. So, he stood up and pulled me to my feet. We walked in silence toward his house, along the humid coast, hearing the water lap against the shore and break over the rocks. Here and there, small white crabs scurried about. Just before we reached his house I stopped. I looked up at Jeremy Castle and moved toward him a bit; then I kissed him. He pulled me to him and we stood like that, the tips of our tongues touching, in and out of each other's mouth. Even though I could feel his erection on my stomach, we still kissed.

"Thank you, Germy," I said after I pulled away.

Normally, he would have laughed at the nickname and rolled his big, green eyes. But Jeremy didn't laugh; he didn't say anything back to me and he didn't even really smile. Jeremy looked sad. I think he knew what I meant by what I said. Then he walked to his back gate and disappeared into the tall hedges lining the path to his porch door. Watching him walk away, I wondered if I would ever see him again. And I stood there, out of the moonlight, grinding shells into the sand with my heel, and I cried for my friend.

The morning we left Briggs Beach the sun was blazing and it was business as usual. The amusement ride workers were riding their bikes or skate boards to the small boardwalk where they would stand in the sun for eight hours, hearing kids scream, praying none of them vomited. The fishermen were coming and going, right on schedule. Delivery trucks were abundant along the one main road in Briggs Beach. I had gotten up before the sun showed over the horizon. When it did show itself, its gold made me squint through the tears in my eyes, making them burn. The relatively calm Atlantic sparkled like a field of diamonds under the dawn's light. This was moving day--my last Briggs Beach sunrise. To me, it was worth more than gold.

While everyone was running around checking this and that, I spent my last hours on the coarse sand, thinking. My tears were hot against my sunburned cheeks. I held my hand against my brow to shield the sun as I looked to my left, hoping to see Jeremy. I don't know why I didn't just go to his house. Sitting there, I thought about a couple of weeks ago when I kissed him, and he kissed me back. The look on his face before he turned away from me hurt; it was burned into the backs of my eyes. His eyes seemed so dark and deep. That look screamed a thousand words and emotions all at once. I was trying to figure out why he was in my head so much, and what was that feeling in my gut?

I looked to my right and saw the big rock with the names of many kids all over it. Mine was near the top, printed neatly in small block letters with silver nail polish. I got up and walked to it–- climbed up and traced my name with my finger. The night I painted the name Ginny Dragon on that rock was the night of my first kiss. Nick Brewster was a kid from New Hampshire who always came to Briggs Beach for the summer until his family moved to Alabama; that was the year I left Briggs Beach. His parents were white, but he was from Puerto Rico, adopted as an infant. He had jet black hair that he kept longer on the top than on the sides. And he always wore a black shell necklace around his tanned neck. I thought he was so cool with that little gold hoop in his left ear and a rope bracelet around his wrist. Nick liked to body board and I watched him everyday. He noticed me, introduced himself, and we hung out for a few days. The rock-painting night we kissed for the first time. I was fourteen; he was fifteen. For the two remaining weeks of his vacation in Briggs Beach, we met every night by the rock and talked and kissed and I would let him go to second base if I felt like it, never beyond.

Nick Brewster left my home town just before a huge storm hit the coast. We said our good-byes down by Mackey Market's dock as the men were bringing in traps filled with huge, snapping lobsters that would soon be sold and eaten. The next summer, Nick and I acted like we didn't even know each other. That was strange. But that was part of growing up.

The time I had left in Briggs Beach was quickly dwindling. It was as if I had a gigantic clock strapped to my back that was ticking like a time-bomb, never letting me forget what was happening, not even letting up an ounce. My cousin, Jeff, had to come find me on the beach. He knew exactly where I'd be. For a while, we chucked rocks into the water. What was great about that moment on the beach with him was that he didn't say anything to me. He didn't try to delude me by saying what everyone else in the family was saying. Jeff knew that the only home I could ever have, as a younger person, was in Briggs Beach. Leaving his home, three blocks from mine, was not a big deal for Jeff Dragon because he had better baseball opportunities in Boston. Tamara, though, his younger sister by two years, was not as psyched about leaving, but she understood that Dragon Furniture had more of a future in Massachusetts. And because she was always so materialistic, the move suited her just fine.

We pulled out of the driveway that morning before the real traffic started. The kind of traffic that made me so glad to live on the water and close to downtown all at once. I sat in the back of our 1988 Cutlass and watched, with tears in my eyes, on my face, and in my lap, as we passed under the archway sign that read Welcome to Briggs Beach, Maine. I knew that I would always be welcome there, just like any stranger, but a part of me died right then. My heart pounded so hard in my body that I thought I might pass out. Mama reached over the seat and held onto my right knee; she was crying, too.

I looked out the back window, hoping to see Jeremy Castle riding his bike or Kate or Robin or Micha or Tiff or any of my friends, chasing the car, forcing my father to pull over, tearing me from the seat, not letting me leave.

In my head I made leaving so dramatic. It was the absolute worst thing that could possibly happen. I had just turned sixteen and didn't even have my driver's license. My last two years of high school would be completed at a different school, with different people who had different ways of living. That is not what I wanted. I wanted everything to always be the same. Of course, nothing would ever be the way it was in Briggs Beach because I wouldn't let it.

Autumn began to show its presence just before Labor Day; the hot summer air had cooled off a bit by then and the air had a different smell–a dirty, leave-changing smell. It was September again and I was beginning a new school year at a very new school. Lake Shore High was definitely far away from any sort of lake and it was twice the size of my old school. I was immediately intimidated. Going from elementary school to middle school to high school were changes I could make along with my friends. This change of schools was much much different. The kids at this new school dressed like it mattered and most of the girls were so vain that it made me nauseous to look at them. At least I was able to join the soccer team, but even a lot of those girls were more worried about their hair and nails than actually playing the game. At lunch time, I would take my brown bag, usually containing a sandwich of some sort, a small bag of cookies, and an apple or orange, out to the edge of the trees by the playing fields. It all boiled down to me trying to find some place where I could be alone and sulk if I wanted to.

Under the trees I found a spot I liked. By myself, I could view the school and the other kids walking around by the cafeteria, talking about this person or that person, late night television, or some upcoming test or project details. I would imagine myself with those people, except those people were my friends from Briggs Beach.

And then one day, a Friday, as I sat alone under a huge oak tree that reminded me of the tree with the dangling tire swing that I left in my backyard, two girls from my soccer team and three players from the guys' team walked up to me. They stood there watching me chew the last of my chocolate chip cookies. I brushed the crumbs from the corners of my mouth.

"Ginny, how's it going?" asked Andrea, one of the girls on the team I actually liked. She didn't care about make-up and nail polish. Andrea liked to win. She was a very tall girl for sixteen, about five-nine or ten. Her short hair made her seem taller than that. For a goalie, she was on the skinny side, but her right leg and hips could punt a ball almost to the fifty.

"Good, thanks," I said.

"This is Jacob, Larry, and Grady," she said, pointing to each one as she named him. "And you already know Tabby."

I nodded at Tabby Gingham, a fair-skinned girl with gloomy brown eyes, whose mouth naturally curved down into a frown. I stood up, stuck out my hand to each of the guys and said it was good to meet them. When I said that I was Ginny Dragon, all three nodded and said they already knew that. I felt my face flush a bit, but knew it could not be seen through the sunburn on my cheeks. It was an awkward situation for some reason. And there was this strange feeling in my stomach like something was about to happen. With so many things running through my head at once, especially because Jacob reminded me of Nick Brewster and Grady looked a lot like Jeremy, I was unable to say anything else. So I just stood there, looking from person to person. I raised my eyebrows at Andrea and she started talking again.

"Oh, well, we didn't mean to disturb your lunch," Andrea began, "it's just that I wanted you to meet these guys."

"Yeah," Tabby said. Her eyes were dark under the bill of her kiwi-colored golf visor. "They were interested in meeting you."

All three of the guys looked at the ground and found a stick or a stone to kick. I smiled. At that moment I felt very attractive, almost sexy, and that was weird. But the way Tabby said what she said made me uneasy; I couldn't figure out if she was being genuine or fake.	"We've seen you play," Grady said, jamming his hands into the back pockets of his jean shorts. He wore a new pair of black Mitre sandals and royal blue soccer socks.

"Yeah, good ball skills," Larry told me, pointing at my feet.

"Thanks a lot," I said. "That's a nice compliment."

As the six of us stood under the pine trees talking for the remainder of the lunch period about me and where I came from, graying clouds moved swiftly above the school; the sun quickly disappeared. Just after the bell rang, Andrea said that all of them were going to a local burger joint around six to hang out, eat, then hit balls at the batting cage. Asked if I was interested in going.

"I'm not sure if I can tonight," I lied. "If I can, then I'll meet you there. If not, then I'll see you guys at the game tomorrow, but thanks anyway for asking."

That day I went straight home after school–-our practice had been canceled due to a brief thunder storm that blew through the area. So, when I got home, I went to my room, lay on my bed, and stared at the ceiling. I played over and over in my head what happened at lunch earlier that day. And I realized that there were people who liked me at my new school. At least Andrea had to, otherwise, she would never have agreed to introduce me to Jacob, Larry, and Grady. I couldn't be sure that Tabby really liked me, but that didn't really matter much. The fact was that after three weeks I finally connected with some people. By that time, my initial intimidation had really worn down, and I had spoken with others in my classes, but had not had any real conversations at all, even at practices. So, that invitation meant I had a decision to make.

Lying there on my twin bed, I weighed the pros and cons of going and not going. Many times I asked myself what it was that I was afraid of. Actually liking different people? Or forgetting about the other people I grew up with and loved? No matter how I felt when we first moved, about eight weeks prior, I knew that I had to stop feeling sorry for myself and start feeling glad that Mama, even in that short period of time, was more healthy, and that Dad was making steady money working with a third cousin of his who managed a successful furniture shop in Prampton, two towns over from Lake Shore.

It wasn't until around 5:30, when Mama knocked on the door asking if I wanted some dinner, that I made my decision. The pros won. My father dropped me off at Roger's Steak and Eggs, which was about a mile from Lake Shore High School. It was humid that night because of the storm. To avoid having my hair look like a big brown frizz ball encircling my head, I pulled it back into a pony tail. It wasn't like I was going on a date or anything like that so I felt comfortable enough with my informal look. And because it was still warm outside, I wore a pair of khaki shorts with a navy, long-sleeve T-shirt.

I was hoping that Grady would be more like Jeremy Castle than he was upon our first meeting. The first time I saw Grady in the hallway at school, I had to look three times to be positive that he wasn't Jeremy coming to look for me. Even though I missed Jeremy a lot, I had only called him once in the eight weeks I was gone. For some reason, I still couldn't get that forlorn look of his out of my head. Plus, after being accustomed to seeing him almost everyday of my whole life, it took a lot of adjusting. It's not that we even hung out together each day. It's just that I could always count on Jeremy being around.

I had called Kate a few times and she had done the same. Once when she called, Tiff and Robin were at her house, so I was able to talk with all of them. I heard about all of the cute boys that were in town for a few weeks, what happened during the beach horseshoe competition, which kids were a couple for the summer, who their teachers were going to be during their junior year. That was fun and refreshing. But once school started we didn't talk as often.

Before school began, every time I talked with Kate, or with someone else from Briggs Beach, I lost whatever progress I had made during the week. I was so completely sad for the five weeks before school started, that all I ever wanted to do was stay in my room and listen to the radio. I felt lost without the water in my backyard and the cool, soothing sand of the evening under my feet. No seagulls flew around my house. No store keeps knew my name.

Uncle Dom dropped by one day with Jeff. It was nice to see that Tamara wasn't with them because I was in no mood to hear her scratchy voice. We have always had a very good love/hate relationship that works just fine. Jeff brought a satchel of old books for me that he bought at a street fair. Most of the titles I didn't recognize, but there were some second and third Dickens editions, and one really great find–-a first edition Wizard of Oz. When I saw that book, I jumped on Jeff and tackled him. I laughed and screamed and laughed and screamed. It was the absolute best gift anyone could have given me right then. Too bad I didn't have my own pair of sparkling ruby shoes.

In the restroom at Roger's Steak and Eggs I found out from Tabby that Larry was gay. It seemed like she was expecting me to, or hoping I would, make a crude comment about Larry–-something very derogatory. That would have been her weapon to keep me out of their little group. All I said was, "Oh, I guess I won't hit on him then." Tabby didn't laugh like I did; I thought my comment was clever. It obviously wasn't the response she was looking for. She crinkled her stubby nose and walked out of the restroom, leaving me alone with the dripping faucet and loud hand dryer.

At the batting cages, Grady walked up to the concessions window with me to get all of us drinks. He started some small talk with me, trying to find out how I liked Lake Shore and how I was making out with my adjustment. Talking to him I realized that Grady wasn't much like Jeremy at all, and that was okay.

"I don't know if I should say anything right now because I hardly know any of you," I said to Grady as we waited in line, "but what's with Tabby? She doesn't seem to like me very much. For no apparent reason."

Grady touched my arm. "There is an apparent reason," he said, unconsciously looking at my chest. I never flinched, though. "When Jacob and I asked Andrea to introduce us to you, Tabby was there."

I looked at him blankly, knowing that there was an underlying reason that he thought I should understand. I shrugged and opened my eyes wider, an indication that I needed more information. When he glanced at my chest again, I put my hands on my hips to give him the whole effect. I was acting out of character, really, but it was fun. Grady flinched.

Ignoring the fact that I caught him looking at my chest, Grady laughed at himself and rolled his eyes. "Sorry," he said. "I forgot you just got here." He furtively looked over his shoulders as if he were about to disclose some ancient secret. "Tabby and Jacob used to go out. So when he asked about you, she turned green."

Grady told the girl through the small window that he wanted four large orange drinks and two large root beers.

"Oh," I whispered, more to myself than to Grady. "That's silly."

"You're right. Jacob's a good guy and he hates it that Tabby is like she is. He split up with her mostly because she was suffocating him."

"I don't want to make any enemies, you know," I told him.

"No. Yeah. I get it. I wouldn't want that either. Don't worry about it."

"I'll just put up with it until she gets to know me better, I guess." I reached for the three paper cups I was supposed to take back to the others. "Is there anything else?" I asked him once we were headed back toward the batting cages.

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, Grady, I saw you looking at my chest. Is she sad about that? Because she doesn't have as much?"

He stopped walking. Grady was not quick to answer.

"Kind of. Yeah. That's what Jacob told me she told him, but it wasn't really a nice thing she said." Grady looked embarrassed.

"You don't have to feel embarrassed, Grady. Boobs are boobs. You have too much or too little. I have too much and she has too little. Who knows," I said, "maybe she'll sprout big knockers by graduation." I was amazed that I said that to him.

Grady almost dropped the drinks he was holding. His big mouth opened wide when he laughed.

"That's funny, Ginny," he told me. "Mature, too, I guess."

"Well, if you had these things, you'd learn to deal with them, too."

"I know, I know–-guys just don't understand."

"Exactly."

I thought about asking Grady to keep our conversation to himself, but I got the feeling that I didn't need to, that he wouldn't tell anyone, anyway. It was really nice standing there talking to him, hearing everyone around us. The sky had cleared and thousands of flecks of glitter adorned the darkness above Lake Shore. It really was nice.

Tabby never admitted that she was jealous of the attention Jacob showed me that night, or the next Friday night, or the next one. It was all really harmless and I never had any stronger feeling for Jacob than one of friendship. He, like Larry and Grady and some other guys we'd hang out with, were fun to be around–-much more fun than many of the girls I grew up with who I thought were loads of fun.

By the time summer came, and I could go back to Briggs Beach for three weeks to stay with Kate and Tiff, I was feeling very comfortable in Lake Shore. My life hadn't ended after all, for I had found a nice group of friends to hang out with on the weekends, and I had other friends at school and on my team. Even though life for me was on the pretty good side, it was still really good to see my first friends again, to walk on the beach, to see my old backyard.

One night I went to Jeremy's house. His voice had gotten deeper and he had grown more than an inch taller. Jeremy wore a thin goatee that I thought made him look very sophisticated and a few years older. We walked along the water's edge chatting away. His hand hit mine and I grabbed it and held on to it.

When the scent of the ocean crawled into my nostrils, I couldn't help but smile; I was home. The deep breaths I took caused me to get a bit light-headed and I lost my balance. Jeremy was there to help me stay on my feet. Once he had me in his arms, he kissed me, confidently, and studied my face. Again, Jeremy said nothing to me, but the corners of his mouth twitched a bit, as if he was trying to smile. Softly he kissed my neck and ran his hands down the back of my thin sweatshirt. Underneath, his hands were steady and firm on my stomach, hips, back. I wondered where he practiced what he was doing and I felt a tad bit jealous of some phantom girl. Beads of perspiration formed on my body as he gently rubbed his sharp nose and soft lips along the curve of my neck. Jeremy Castle was sensual; he was sexual.

For a long time, Jeremy and I walked in the light of the full moon along the deserted strip of beach behind my old house. The new owners had strung Christmas lights along the roof of the back porch. I liked it.

We stopped by the colorfully-painted rock.

"It's great to see you, Gin," he told me again.

I nodded and grinned. "You, too," I said. "Look at you-–all tall and hairy."

"Growing up," he said and flexed his biceps.

We both laughed. It felt really good to be there with him.

"You like your new school, then."

"Yeah. I guess. It's not as bad as I thought it would be." I was digging my left foot into the coarse sand, not looking at him. "Things are different here, now."

"Of course they are. Did you expect everything to be the same when you came back?"

I didn't answer the question with words. My body language answered for me.

Jeremy laughed. "Really? You thought--"

"Okay, okay. Enough," I said, slapping his arm. "I hoped!"

"Why? Don't you think you grow more when things change?"

"Yes," I said. "I do now. But back then...Hey, you weren't the one to move away, Mr. Castle. I was!"

Jeremy was silent, just looking at me, smiling. "I know," he finally said.

"So, you like your new school, then."

I was about to tell him that he already said that when he pulled my face to his and kissed me. And as we stood there in an embrace, on the sand, under the moon, letting the mosquitoes bite our legs, I think I heard him whisper, "Some things will never change," but I couldn't be certain.