Of Stones and Stars
Chapter 1: A Day at the Beach
It was the last day of summer. I had just this one day to do whatever I wanted before I had to return to school tomorrow. I had plans. I figured I’d start the day by sleeping in until around noon and then get together with some friends and hang out.
But all of these hopes and dreams came crashing down when my mom woke me up early in the morning and told me to get dressed.
Apparently my parents decided it would be a good idea to take the family to the beach for the day. My dreams of sleep flew out the window as I reluctantly got out of bed, showered, and got dressed.
I hate the beach. Truly hate it, and I always have. My mom and dad and sister seem to think it’s the greatest place on Earth, but I can’t stand it there. It’s not even like we were going to the ocean. The beach we visit is on the lake, and it’s usually too damn cold to enjoy anything there; what with the chilly breezes blowing in at you from the waters.
Groggily, I walked downstairs to the kitchen where I was greeted with the smell of pancakes and sausage. Mom’s cooking a nice breakfast, but I was bound and determined not to let that get in the way of my misery. I plopped into the chair and my mom set a plate before me with a big jolly smile on her face.
“Hi, honey,” she said. “Eat up, we’re leaving in half an hour.”
I left out a huff of air… That’s what it’s called, right? A huff? It was one of those “I’m frustrated” breaths. Whatever you call it, that’s what I let out.
I used the knife and fork and slowly cut through the pancake, the blade of the knife scraping on the plate below. I ate without emotion. The whole time, I hoped that my face showed how upset I was. I fixed my mother with countless dirty glares throughout the meal.
“Why are you so grouchy?” my little sister asked, apparently taking note of my mood.
“I hate the beach,” I told her.
“Not me,” she replied as cheerfully as ever. “I love it. I love to swim in the water and play in the sand. Plus, mom said she made her special punch for the beach. I love her special punch.”
“I hate her special punch,” I replied coldly. It was a lie, of course. Her special punch was fantastic. I gulp it down whenever she makes it. Everyone loves it, really, but I was in no mood for expressing my love for anything.
My mom sat down at the other side of the table with a plate of her own. “If you’re not going to say anything positive keep your mouth shut,” she told me.
I elected to keep my mouth shut.
“Lizzie, go make sure your father is moving,” mom said.
My sister got up from the table and ran up the stairs screaming “Daaaaaaaaaad!!” as she went.
“Stupid,” I said under my breath as I pushed the last few bites of pancakes around in the syrup.
“Go get your bathing suit,” my mom ordered without a hint of kindness in her tone.
“But I didn’t finish my pancakes,” I said.
“They’ll be here when you get back,” she told me.
“But they’ll be cold!” I argued.
“Andrew, I’m trying really hard to keep my composure here,” she took a deep breath before continuing. “Now go get your trunks before I strangle the life out of you.”
She’s never so much as smacked my butt, but something in her tone told me I had better listen; there would be no winning this argument. So I stood up and stomped my way up the stairs to my room where I got on a T-Shirt and a pair of swimming shorts. I also grabbed a pair of jean-shorts for when I got out of the water.
Having grabbed all of this, I stopped to check myself out in the mirror. My hair was a mess of curls and I quickly ran a hand over it all in the hopes of making myself look somewhat presentable. There was no telling who I’d run into up there.
I started to walk away when I spotted my lucky cap and a pair of sunglasses. I put them on and took one more look in the mirror. I posed there for a moment, admiring my overall coolness. It’s too bad the girls at school never take note of my stunning good looks.
After taking a deep breath, I left my room and headed down the stairs. My dad was up, but barely; he smiled a bit as I entered the room. Lizzie smiled up at me with beaming white teeth and a cheerful grin… Sometimes it was hard to carry a mood of melancholy with her around.
“You’re ready?” mom asked. Reluctantly, I said that I was. “Good, let’s get going.”
“Yaaaaaaaaay!!!!” Lizzie cried as she ran out the door for the car, mother right behind her with a picnic basket in her hand. Dad and I were the last to leave.
Dad locked the door behind us and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Come on,” he said. “It can’t be that bad.”
“I hate the beach,” I told him.
“Well, you should keep it to yourself then. Let your mother and sister enjoy themselves today, okay?” he said.
That was easy for him to say. He loves the beach. They all love the beach; the sun, the water, the seagulls, the sand. I’ve never been a fan, though. The sun scorches my skin, the water smells like fish, and the gulls shit all over the sand.
I shook my head a bit and got into the car. At least I could catch some sleep on the ride up, it usually took about an hour to get there. A few minutes later my parents were in the car, and dad turned the key in the ignition; pulling slowly out of the drive and onto the city streets.
The road up was long. I got what sleep I could on the way, but the bumps in the road kept waking me. It was a light off and on sleep, hardly comparable to what I could have been getting in the comfort of my own bed.
Stupid day at the beach.
*****************
We pulled into the lot and unpacked the car. I was given the towels and blankets to carry down to the beach. Lizzie had to stop at the bathrooms, she couldn't wait until after we got our stuff down to the beach, so my mom went with her and I walked down with my dad.
The sidewalk slowly transformed into the shifty sand. I hate walking on sand; it's constantly moving under your feet and making it difficult to get any sort of balance going. I seem to have to work far too hard when walking through the stupid sand.
The seagulls swooped by overhead, dropping their pasty white terds to the ground below. It's disgusting to think about how much seagull shit we walk over on the beach. It's probably the only thing holding the sand down from the wind.
"Looks like we have the beach pretty much to ourselves, eh sport?" my dad said.
"Don't call me sport," I told him. He knows I hate it when he calls me that.
We walked on in silence, trudging through the sand that was so difficult to find footing on. Eventually my father stopped and took in a deep satisfying breath before saying; “Here we are; the perfect spot.”
I didn’t see what was so darn perfect about it; it was a few yards from the water and a good distance away from the other people. The breeze that hit me from the water sent goose bumps crawling over my skin. The beach was miserable, and I was miserable.
I dropped the blanket and towels on the sand and helped my father spread the blanket out. We weighed it down on the corners with the cooler and some chairs, that way the wind couldn’t blow it away. Then I took my shoes off and set them towards the edge of the blanket as additional weight.
That’s about all we got done before Lizzie came running across the sand, squealing in content and jumping into the center of the blanket, messing it all up. I threw my hands up in the air in disgust, let out a frustrated growl, and stomped off through the sand and up the beach in anger.
I muttered to myself as I moved through the ever shifting sand. I was so frustrated and angry. It wasn’t really Lizzie’s fault, of course. I was primarily upset at having to be anywhere but in bed and sleeping at the moment. I was going to spend time with my friends, but there I was at the stupid beach with my stupid family, wanting to be anywhere but where I was. I guess it really comes down to being upset because I was not in control of my life.
In my fury I kicked up some sand, sending the granules into the air like a dusty cloud. I walked around like that for a good twenty minutes, just stomping around and kicking up sand and fuming. I lost myself in my anger until I soon found myself far away from the other inhabitants of the beach, virtually alone.
I stepped into the water at the shore and stared out at the distance, miles and miles of water. Canada was somewhere on the other side of the water. I took a deep breath and continued to stare out in the distance. What this a miserable day this was going to be.
As I stood there at the shoreline, waves washing over my feet and ankles, I stared out at the distant blue horizon. I’ve always been sort of mesmerized by the vanishing point where the water and sky become one, and despite my frustration, this moment was no different. A particularly large wave hit me and knocked me off balance a little. I stopped myself from falling be re-adjusting my stance, but my foot landed on something even colder than the water. It was hard and yet somehow comfortable against my sole.
Initially I assumed it was a rock, but it was so unlike all the other rocks in the lake. This one was smooth, not jagged like the other stones that poked and prodded at my feet. Smooth like glass and cold like ice. I freaked out a little bit. I’ll admit it, I was scared. You’d be freaked too if your foot settled on something super cold in the water. At least, I think you would. I did, anyway.
I moved my foot away as quickly as I could in the receding water. Where my foot had been was a brilliant blue stone pulsating with some sort of inner light. I stared down at it in the water for a while wondering what it was. “It has to be glass,” I told myself, figuring it was just reflecting whatever light reached it through the water. And glass is often cool to the touch, right?
Eventually, after a deep breath, I worked up the nerve to bend down and pick the thing up. It was possibly the coldest thing I’ve ever touched, but somehow it wasn’t an uncomfortable cold. It was cold like ice, but bearable. No, better than bearable; I actually wanted to hold onto it. It felt like its rightful place was with me.
The light was no reflection of sunlight at all, it pulsated from somewhere within, giving off a calming blue glow. I stared down at it for some time, the minutes and possibly hours slipped by unnoticed by me; time no longer had meaning. There was a depth to it, a seemingly unending depth; its surface shiny smooth and semi-transparent.
It wasn’t a large stone, somewhere between a pebble and a rock, but its color was what held my gaze. It was a shade of blue that I’d never seen before, and have never seen since. It was the most blue thing I had ever seen, almost as though this color was what inspired blue to be. It was the most captivatingly beautiful thing I’d ever laid my eyes on. Beautiful, awe inspiring, calming, and hypnotizing, the stone was all of this and more. I remained transfixed until I heard an unfamiliar voice reach my ears from a great distance.
“What?” I said, blinking and turning around. Lizzie stood just inches away, staring up at me with curious eyes. It was strange to think about how unfamiliar and distant her voice had seemed just moments ago.
“I said what are you doing all the way over here by yourself?”
“Oh,” I responded absently, “nothing.” I slipped the stone into my pocket, my leg sensing the chill through the mesh.
“What was that?” Lizzie asked, indicating the stone.
“Nothing, just a rock,” I told her.
“Well mom said it’s lunch time,” she said, running cheerfully away down the beach.
I took a deep breath and began the long trek back to the beach blanket. It may sound strange, but I felt more at ease now that I had the mysterious blue stone in my pocket.
****************************************
Lunch was chicken sandwiches and some fresh fruit, with mom’s special punch to drink. Her special punch is homemade, and is the best stuff anyone has ever had. But that day, on the beach, something just wasn’t right about it. Dad made a strange face when he tasted it and Lizzie spit it right out.
“Sorry,” mom said. “Too much lemon juice came out of the bottle and we didn’t have any pineapple juice except for what was at the bottom of the little fruit can.”
“No,” dad lied; “it’s fine honey.”
“Is it safe to drink lake water?” Lizzie asked.
Mom and Dad and Lizzie laughed hysterically. I may have chuckled a bit myself, but I’ll not admit to anything.
The rest of the day was uneventful but peaceful. I tried to hold my grudge about being there, but eventually that dissipated and I was left with a strong sense of curiosity about the strange blue stone that made me want to pull it out and look at it more, but this feeling was countered with a desire to keep it secret.
Lizzie alternated between swimming in the lake and playing in the sand, swimming in the lake and playing in the sand, swimming in the lake and playing in the sand. Back and forth, from one to the other; non stop. By the time we were ready to leave, sand clung to nearly every exposed bit of flesh on her body. Dad called her a “little sand monster” and she giggled as he threw her in the lake to rinse off.
We packed everything up and made the long and uncomfortable walk to the car. The shifting of the sand under my feet didn’t seem to bother me as much on the way back; I didn’t exactly like the walk, but it didn’t seem to aggravate me like it had on the way there anyway.
No sooner than we reached the car did Lizzie announce that she had to use the restroom again; which of course left my father and I to load up the trunk. Normally I would have been upset by this, complaining the whole time that everyone gets out of the work because Lizzie strategically decided to use the restroom when work needed to be done, but in that moment it didn’t seem like such a bother. I wouldn’t say I enjoyed it, mind you; but it wasn’t something that annoyed me either.
Once everything was loaded, I got into the back seat and waited for them to return; dad stood outside leaning on the car as he waited.
The moment they got back, dad got in and started the engine.
He acted like he was going to drive away while mom tried to get in, releasing the brake and moving the car back as she was about to sit down. He and Lizzie thought it was funny, clearly mother did not feel the same way. When she finally sat down, her face was red and she cast a vile gaze at my father.
“What the hell, Dave? I could have been hurt!” she scolded him. But dad just laughed it off and said “Calm down, she-beast.”
“Don’t call me that,” she said. He knows that she hates it when he calls her that. Hate the name or not, though; it was effective in dropping the subject.
The ride home was quiet for the most part. Mom eventually warmed back up to dad and the two held hands in the front seat. Staring out the window, I watched the sun set behind the hills and homes that whizzed past. The sky turned to varying shades of orange, red, pink, and dark blue; the clouds reflecting the brighter and more colorful hues. All in all, it was really quite beautiful.
Lizzie fell asleep before the sun touched down. With my sister sound asleep beside me, and mother and father absorbed in themselves, I finally had a chance to pull out and examine the cool blue stone. That pulsating inner glow was utterly mesmerizing; its depths seemed infinite. It was more than a simple stone, of that I was certain; but I had no idea of what it could possibly be.
For the rest of the ride home my eyes saw nothing but that unidentifiable shade of blue. I was completely and utterly hypnotized by its beauty. Something about it just gripped me, and once it had me firmly in its grasp, I never wanted it to let me go.
The cold from the stone was intense, it was undoubtedly the coldest thing I’d ever felt. At the same time, it was a different kind of cold… It didn’t hurt like an ice cube did when you held it too long, it didn’t give me the shivers like a draft of cold air… It was almost like it made me colder, so the chill from the stone affected me differently. If that even makes sense, but I don’t think it does. I guess it’s hard to explain, really.
When we pulled into the drive, I slipped it back into my pocket where I could feel the chill through the fabric.
Mom carried Lizzie up to bed and I helped dad unpack the car before going to bed myself. I wanted to stay up later, but dad told me that summer was over.
I had school in the morning.
******************************************
I took a quick shower and slid into bed.
Unwilling to break contact with the stone, I slept with it under my pillow.
In the night, it whispered to me. Its voice was angelic, but somehow weak. I knew that I had to help it become stronger even before it told me so.
I had several vivid dreams that night. In these dreams the stone was fixed precariously in the sky, like a star that isn’t supposed to hang out with the others. The light that came from it was a brilliant blue pulsation, much like the light that pulsated from the stone in reality except that as a star the light was much stronger. It wasn’t brighter, necessarily, just stronger.
It spoke to me from high above, telling me the secrets that I needed to know so that I could do what needed to be done. It told me that I was chosen; that I hadn’t found it at all; it was the other way around entirely.
Its voice was a whisper that reached only my ears. It told me things; things that no one was ever supposed to know; things I dare not repeat: secrets.
It was the last day of summer. I had just this one day to do whatever I wanted before I had to return to school tomorrow. I had plans. I figured I’d start the day by sleeping in until around noon and then get together with some friends and hang out.
But all of these hopes and dreams came crashing down when my mom woke me up early in the morning and told me to get dressed.
Apparently my parents decided it would be a good idea to take the family to the beach for the day. My dreams of sleep flew out the window as I reluctantly got out of bed, showered, and got dressed.
I hate the beach. Truly hate it, and I always have. My mom and dad and sister seem to think it’s the greatest place on Earth, but I can’t stand it there. It’s not even like we were going to the ocean. The beach we visit is on the lake, and it’s usually too damn cold to enjoy anything there; what with the chilly breezes blowing in at you from the waters.
Groggily, I walked downstairs to the kitchen where I was greeted with the smell of pancakes and sausage. Mom’s cooking a nice breakfast, but I was bound and determined not to let that get in the way of my misery. I plopped into the chair and my mom set a plate before me with a big jolly smile on her face.
“Hi, honey,” she said. “Eat up, we’re leaving in half an hour.”
I left out a huff of air… That’s what it’s called, right? A huff? It was one of those “I’m frustrated” breaths. Whatever you call it, that’s what I let out.
I used the knife and fork and slowly cut through the pancake, the blade of the knife scraping on the plate below. I ate without emotion. The whole time, I hoped that my face showed how upset I was. I fixed my mother with countless dirty glares throughout the meal.
“Why are you so grouchy?” my little sister asked, apparently taking note of my mood.
“I hate the beach,” I told her.
“Not me,” she replied as cheerfully as ever. “I love it. I love to swim in the water and play in the sand. Plus, mom said she made her special punch for the beach. I love her special punch.”
“I hate her special punch,” I replied coldly. It was a lie, of course. Her special punch was fantastic. I gulp it down whenever she makes it. Everyone loves it, really, but I was in no mood for expressing my love for anything.
My mom sat down at the other side of the table with a plate of her own. “If you’re not going to say anything positive keep your mouth shut,” she told me.
I elected to keep my mouth shut.
“Lizzie, go make sure your father is moving,” mom said.
My sister got up from the table and ran up the stairs screaming “Daaaaaaaaaad!!” as she went.
“Stupid,” I said under my breath as I pushed the last few bites of pancakes around in the syrup.
“Go get your bathing suit,” my mom ordered without a hint of kindness in her tone.
“But I didn’t finish my pancakes,” I said.
“They’ll be here when you get back,” she told me.
“But they’ll be cold!” I argued.
“Andrew, I’m trying really hard to keep my composure here,” she took a deep breath before continuing. “Now go get your trunks before I strangle the life out of you.”
She’s never so much as smacked my butt, but something in her tone told me I had better listen; there would be no winning this argument. So I stood up and stomped my way up the stairs to my room where I got on a T-Shirt and a pair of swimming shorts. I also grabbed a pair of jean-shorts for when I got out of the water.
Having grabbed all of this, I stopped to check myself out in the mirror. My hair was a mess of curls and I quickly ran a hand over it all in the hopes of making myself look somewhat presentable. There was no telling who I’d run into up there.
I started to walk away when I spotted my lucky cap and a pair of sunglasses. I put them on and took one more look in the mirror. I posed there for a moment, admiring my overall coolness. It’s too bad the girls at school never take note of my stunning good looks.
After taking a deep breath, I left my room and headed down the stairs. My dad was up, but barely; he smiled a bit as I entered the room. Lizzie smiled up at me with beaming white teeth and a cheerful grin… Sometimes it was hard to carry a mood of melancholy with her around.
“You’re ready?” mom asked. Reluctantly, I said that I was. “Good, let’s get going.”
“Yaaaaaaaaay!!!!” Lizzie cried as she ran out the door for the car, mother right behind her with a picnic basket in her hand. Dad and I were the last to leave.
Dad locked the door behind us and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Come on,” he said. “It can’t be that bad.”
“I hate the beach,” I told him.
“Well, you should keep it to yourself then. Let your mother and sister enjoy themselves today, okay?” he said.
That was easy for him to say. He loves the beach. They all love the beach; the sun, the water, the seagulls, the sand. I’ve never been a fan, though. The sun scorches my skin, the water smells like fish, and the gulls shit all over the sand.
I shook my head a bit and got into the car. At least I could catch some sleep on the ride up, it usually took about an hour to get there. A few minutes later my parents were in the car, and dad turned the key in the ignition; pulling slowly out of the drive and onto the city streets.
The road up was long. I got what sleep I could on the way, but the bumps in the road kept waking me. It was a light off and on sleep, hardly comparable to what I could have been getting in the comfort of my own bed.
Stupid day at the beach.
*****************
We pulled into the lot and unpacked the car. I was given the towels and blankets to carry down to the beach. Lizzie had to stop at the bathrooms, she couldn't wait until after we got our stuff down to the beach, so my mom went with her and I walked down with my dad.
The sidewalk slowly transformed into the shifty sand. I hate walking on sand; it's constantly moving under your feet and making it difficult to get any sort of balance going. I seem to have to work far too hard when walking through the stupid sand.
The seagulls swooped by overhead, dropping their pasty white terds to the ground below. It's disgusting to think about how much seagull shit we walk over on the beach. It's probably the only thing holding the sand down from the wind.
"Looks like we have the beach pretty much to ourselves, eh sport?" my dad said.
"Don't call me sport," I told him. He knows I hate it when he calls me that.
We walked on in silence, trudging through the sand that was so difficult to find footing on. Eventually my father stopped and took in a deep satisfying breath before saying; “Here we are; the perfect spot.”
I didn’t see what was so darn perfect about it; it was a few yards from the water and a good distance away from the other people. The breeze that hit me from the water sent goose bumps crawling over my skin. The beach was miserable, and I was miserable.
I dropped the blanket and towels on the sand and helped my father spread the blanket out. We weighed it down on the corners with the cooler and some chairs, that way the wind couldn’t blow it away. Then I took my shoes off and set them towards the edge of the blanket as additional weight.
That’s about all we got done before Lizzie came running across the sand, squealing in content and jumping into the center of the blanket, messing it all up. I threw my hands up in the air in disgust, let out a frustrated growl, and stomped off through the sand and up the beach in anger.
I muttered to myself as I moved through the ever shifting sand. I was so frustrated and angry. It wasn’t really Lizzie’s fault, of course. I was primarily upset at having to be anywhere but in bed and sleeping at the moment. I was going to spend time with my friends, but there I was at the stupid beach with my stupid family, wanting to be anywhere but where I was. I guess it really comes down to being upset because I was not in control of my life.
In my fury I kicked up some sand, sending the granules into the air like a dusty cloud. I walked around like that for a good twenty minutes, just stomping around and kicking up sand and fuming. I lost myself in my anger until I soon found myself far away from the other inhabitants of the beach, virtually alone.
I stepped into the water at the shore and stared out at the distance, miles and miles of water. Canada was somewhere on the other side of the water. I took a deep breath and continued to stare out in the distance. What this a miserable day this was going to be.
As I stood there at the shoreline, waves washing over my feet and ankles, I stared out at the distant blue horizon. I’ve always been sort of mesmerized by the vanishing point where the water and sky become one, and despite my frustration, this moment was no different. A particularly large wave hit me and knocked me off balance a little. I stopped myself from falling be re-adjusting my stance, but my foot landed on something even colder than the water. It was hard and yet somehow comfortable against my sole.
Initially I assumed it was a rock, but it was so unlike all the other rocks in the lake. This one was smooth, not jagged like the other stones that poked and prodded at my feet. Smooth like glass and cold like ice. I freaked out a little bit. I’ll admit it, I was scared. You’d be freaked too if your foot settled on something super cold in the water. At least, I think you would. I did, anyway.
I moved my foot away as quickly as I could in the receding water. Where my foot had been was a brilliant blue stone pulsating with some sort of inner light. I stared down at it in the water for a while wondering what it was. “It has to be glass,” I told myself, figuring it was just reflecting whatever light reached it through the water. And glass is often cool to the touch, right?
Eventually, after a deep breath, I worked up the nerve to bend down and pick the thing up. It was possibly the coldest thing I’ve ever touched, but somehow it wasn’t an uncomfortable cold. It was cold like ice, but bearable. No, better than bearable; I actually wanted to hold onto it. It felt like its rightful place was with me.
The light was no reflection of sunlight at all, it pulsated from somewhere within, giving off a calming blue glow. I stared down at it for some time, the minutes and possibly hours slipped by unnoticed by me; time no longer had meaning. There was a depth to it, a seemingly unending depth; its surface shiny smooth and semi-transparent.
It wasn’t a large stone, somewhere between a pebble and a rock, but its color was what held my gaze. It was a shade of blue that I’d never seen before, and have never seen since. It was the most blue thing I had ever seen, almost as though this color was what inspired blue to be. It was the most captivatingly beautiful thing I’d ever laid my eyes on. Beautiful, awe inspiring, calming, and hypnotizing, the stone was all of this and more. I remained transfixed until I heard an unfamiliar voice reach my ears from a great distance.
“What?” I said, blinking and turning around. Lizzie stood just inches away, staring up at me with curious eyes. It was strange to think about how unfamiliar and distant her voice had seemed just moments ago.
“I said what are you doing all the way over here by yourself?”
“Oh,” I responded absently, “nothing.” I slipped the stone into my pocket, my leg sensing the chill through the mesh.
“What was that?” Lizzie asked, indicating the stone.
“Nothing, just a rock,” I told her.
“Well mom said it’s lunch time,” she said, running cheerfully away down the beach.
I took a deep breath and began the long trek back to the beach blanket. It may sound strange, but I felt more at ease now that I had the mysterious blue stone in my pocket.
****************************************
Lunch was chicken sandwiches and some fresh fruit, with mom’s special punch to drink. Her special punch is homemade, and is the best stuff anyone has ever had. But that day, on the beach, something just wasn’t right about it. Dad made a strange face when he tasted it and Lizzie spit it right out.
“Sorry,” mom said. “Too much lemon juice came out of the bottle and we didn’t have any pineapple juice except for what was at the bottom of the little fruit can.”
“No,” dad lied; “it’s fine honey.”
“Is it safe to drink lake water?” Lizzie asked.
Mom and Dad and Lizzie laughed hysterically. I may have chuckled a bit myself, but I’ll not admit to anything.
The rest of the day was uneventful but peaceful. I tried to hold my grudge about being there, but eventually that dissipated and I was left with a strong sense of curiosity about the strange blue stone that made me want to pull it out and look at it more, but this feeling was countered with a desire to keep it secret.
Lizzie alternated between swimming in the lake and playing in the sand, swimming in the lake and playing in the sand, swimming in the lake and playing in the sand. Back and forth, from one to the other; non stop. By the time we were ready to leave, sand clung to nearly every exposed bit of flesh on her body. Dad called her a “little sand monster” and she giggled as he threw her in the lake to rinse off.
We packed everything up and made the long and uncomfortable walk to the car. The shifting of the sand under my feet didn’t seem to bother me as much on the way back; I didn’t exactly like the walk, but it didn’t seem to aggravate me like it had on the way there anyway.
No sooner than we reached the car did Lizzie announce that she had to use the restroom again; which of course left my father and I to load up the trunk. Normally I would have been upset by this, complaining the whole time that everyone gets out of the work because Lizzie strategically decided to use the restroom when work needed to be done, but in that moment it didn’t seem like such a bother. I wouldn’t say I enjoyed it, mind you; but it wasn’t something that annoyed me either.
Once everything was loaded, I got into the back seat and waited for them to return; dad stood outside leaning on the car as he waited.
The moment they got back, dad got in and started the engine.
He acted like he was going to drive away while mom tried to get in, releasing the brake and moving the car back as she was about to sit down. He and Lizzie thought it was funny, clearly mother did not feel the same way. When she finally sat down, her face was red and she cast a vile gaze at my father.
“What the hell, Dave? I could have been hurt!” she scolded him. But dad just laughed it off and said “Calm down, she-beast.”
“Don’t call me that,” she said. He knows that she hates it when he calls her that. Hate the name or not, though; it was effective in dropping the subject.
The ride home was quiet for the most part. Mom eventually warmed back up to dad and the two held hands in the front seat. Staring out the window, I watched the sun set behind the hills and homes that whizzed past. The sky turned to varying shades of orange, red, pink, and dark blue; the clouds reflecting the brighter and more colorful hues. All in all, it was really quite beautiful.
Lizzie fell asleep before the sun touched down. With my sister sound asleep beside me, and mother and father absorbed in themselves, I finally had a chance to pull out and examine the cool blue stone. That pulsating inner glow was utterly mesmerizing; its depths seemed infinite. It was more than a simple stone, of that I was certain; but I had no idea of what it could possibly be.
For the rest of the ride home my eyes saw nothing but that unidentifiable shade of blue. I was completely and utterly hypnotized by its beauty. Something about it just gripped me, and once it had me firmly in its grasp, I never wanted it to let me go.
The cold from the stone was intense, it was undoubtedly the coldest thing I’d ever felt. At the same time, it was a different kind of cold… It didn’t hurt like an ice cube did when you held it too long, it didn’t give me the shivers like a draft of cold air… It was almost like it made me colder, so the chill from the stone affected me differently. If that even makes sense, but I don’t think it does. I guess it’s hard to explain, really.
When we pulled into the drive, I slipped it back into my pocket where I could feel the chill through the fabric.
Mom carried Lizzie up to bed and I helped dad unpack the car before going to bed myself. I wanted to stay up later, but dad told me that summer was over.
I had school in the morning.
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I took a quick shower and slid into bed.
Unwilling to break contact with the stone, I slept with it under my pillow.
In the night, it whispered to me. Its voice was angelic, but somehow weak. I knew that I had to help it become stronger even before it told me so.
I had several vivid dreams that night. In these dreams the stone was fixed precariously in the sky, like a star that isn’t supposed to hang out with the others. The light that came from it was a brilliant blue pulsation, much like the light that pulsated from the stone in reality except that as a star the light was much stronger. It wasn’t brighter, necessarily, just stronger.
It spoke to me from high above, telling me the secrets that I needed to know so that I could do what needed to be done. It told me that I was chosen; that I hadn’t found it at all; it was the other way around entirely.
Its voice was a whisper that reached only my ears. It told me things; things that no one was ever supposed to know; things I dare not repeat: secrets.
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