#buchtton

[dancingadopteethoughts]

Ocean

Note: This essay is written from the perspective of the fictional character Ticklytudy Bolding, a Chinese adoptee.

I hate swimming in the ocean. And the ocean hates me back. The salty liquid itches my skin and the sand digs itself between my toes. And it’s relentless. No matter how much you try to run away from the water, another wave will crash over and leave you stranded. I hate the ocean.

But maybe the water, the sand isn’t the reason. Maybe there is more to the ocean that stirs something within me that makes me hate its tendrils that plaster my black hair to my cheeks and keeps me from escaping its grasp. Maybe my hate comes from a feeling I get as I stand on the boardwalk, staring beyond Buchtton, at the ocean, and farther along is where a place exists that I’ve been from, but not been to. A place that left me and so now I’m stranded.

Ticklytudy, my sister says to me as we sit upstairs in my bedroom. Safe, from the ocean, the reminders. Do you ever think about the ocean? And the waves shatter through the window and the anger settles in. 

But there is something beyond the hate, the anger, too. There is another feeling rattling inside of me as the ocean throws me back and forth. Confusion. This side of the ocean is the only home I know, but I do not belong. Not because my name is something that my classmates laugh at. I don’t care about that. It’s my missing or unknown name that is. A name on its way to being slurped up by the feral waves and lost forever. So I stay confused, my past a mystery and I move on.

I hate swimming in the ocean. It just drags you down and chains you to its currents. If I can never escape it, is there any hope for me left?

[darcydirectory]

Update 6/27/21

Happy Sunday! Usually, I only post one Darcy Ridge piece every other week, but today I’m posting two, one poem and one short story. You can find the links to read them below.

To read my poem “Sometimes,” which was inspired by my time with my aunt last Fall, click one of the links here:

-https://darcywriting.weebly.com/poems/sometimes

-https://www.wattpad.com/1091562095-poems-sometimes-2021

-https://sunlake1.tumblr.com/post/655168153421332480/sometimes To read my short story “Imagine,” which stars a character you might recognize from the last short story I published back in November, follow one of the links here:

-https://darcywriting.weebly.com/short-stories/imagine

-https://www.wattpad.com/1091561650-short-stories-imagine-2021

-https://sunlake1.tumblr.com/post/655168425904177153/imagine

Fun fact: I was inspired to create the fictional town of Buchtton after reading Rob Buyea’s Mr. Terupt series a few years ago. My novella Lucia was very much influenced by Buyea’s works.

Anyways, have a wonderful week!

[zhiridge]

Anamnesis Illumining

Written by Darcy Ridge Character brainstormed by Darcy Ridge and Hunter Fawkes

Marietta cherished how the sun’s golden rays blanketed the snow-covered sand. She delighted in how the sprinkles of pink and orange glimmered in the writhing waves. She appreciated how as night crept ever closer, the sun made a promise to return. On New Year’s Eve 2020, Marietta stood by herself on the boardwalk. It was not even six o’clock and the sun had already begun to set over the little town of Buchtton, Massachusetts. She had been shocked to find the beach vacated at this time, but hadn’t spent long dwelling on why. Today she needed a sunset. The year was finally ending. Of course, Marietta knew that COVID wouldn’t go away with the chime of twelve and neither would the heaviness lodged inside of her vanish, but she hungered for the hope that her adoptive fathers and little sisters appeared to possess. She craved to smile and believe a better tomorrow did exist. The wind shifted Marietta’s black hair against her cheeks and she twitched. She had come to the United States at sixteen from a small orphanage in Jiangsu Province, China. She had grown up speaking Jianghuai Mandarin and had learned English from an American woman who had taught at the institution. What had been that woman’s name? That was another thing Marietta liked about sunsets. As the sun sank beneath the waves, so could her own distress over her inconsistent memories. She had been in the U.S. for three and a half years now, but anytime she tried to recall a specific memory from her life in the orphanage, nothing would surface. The only things from her past life that Marietta could remember were her Mandarin speaking skills and the faint image of that American woman smiling at her and holding out her hand. Marietta leaned against the wooden railing of the boardwalk and let the cawing of the seagulls fill her ears. New year, she thought to herself. I can’t get lost in my thoughts again. But the woman had meant something to Marietta. She had been more than a teacher. She had been a… friend? … guardian? No, something bigger than that. “Hey, there,” a voice came from her right. Marietta swiveled her head around to see a woman standing on the boardwalk beside her. The woman wore an olive winter jacket and her dark hair was sprawled around her shoulders. The sun glinted off her brown skin and if a blue mask hadn’t been covering the woman’s mouth, Marietta would have been certain that the woman was smiling. She looked familiar. Was this the woman from the orphanage? Although they were already six feet apart, Marietta took a step back from the other person. She fiddled with the hem of her sweater. “Hi,” she murmured. “No gloves, I see,” the woman said, chuckling. “Of course you don’t need them. I’m Lily Beas. You may or may not remember me. I taught you English, among other things. You can call me Lily.” So it was the woman from the orphanage, but what was she doing here? Marietta trembled. The ground felt like it was swaying underneath her feet. “I was just thinking about you.” A sad look came over Lily’s eyes. “I know.” Lily turned toward the ocean. “You like the sunset. You always come here at this time.” Panic sparked through Marietta’s body. How did this woman know so much about her? She clenched the railing beside her and was surprised to feel the wood bend to her will ever so slightly. “I’m not here to hurt you. I’m actually quite sad about what I was originally sent to do. I’ve been hearing from your fathers that you’ve been… off lately. Feeling depressed. Since you began college last year and quarantine started this March, I haven’t been able to get around to… visiting you as much as I did previously.” “There’s something wrong with me?” Marietta’s voice quivered. She wanted to run away, but for some reason her mind told her she was safe with this Lily Beas. Lily sighed. “There’s nothing wrong with you for feeling depressed. It’s… complicated. The others were concerned that this was some sort of defect. We made you to be as human-like as possible, so you developing a mental illness was always a possibility in my opinion.” “You-you made me?” Marietta peered at her hands. They seemed so real. Dark green veins stretched through her tan palms and creases formed at her knuckles. Lily observed the sunset. The sun was so low now that only streaks of gold hanging in the horizon proved its existence. “Since we moved you out of our lab in Mary’s Box two years ago, we’ve been keeping an eye on you remotely. Every now and then I would be sent to visit and reboot you.” Mary’s Box. Isn’t that a jewelry store? For some reason, Marietta felt comforted by the name of that shop. She couldn’t remember ever going inside of it, but it’s name felt familiar. She let out a deep breath. “Are… are you going to reboot me now?” “No.” Marietta gazed at Lily who still faced the ocean. “Why not?” “I’m tired of this cycle. I crave for you to live instead of always returning to this moment. It’s a new year and I want you to know the truth. You find beauty in these sunsets because they’re predictable and stable. The sun will always come back, right?” Marietta gave a stiff nod. She brushed away a strand of black hair that the wind had flung into her eyes. “It’s time for you to recognize that it’s okay if not everything is like the sunset. Some things can’t be lit up by the sun and other things won’t return. You agonize over your lost memories of your orphanage, but they never existed in the first place.” A tear stung Marietta’s vision. She let go of the railing to wipe it away. Her fingers left behind a dent in the wood. Lily’s dark brown eyes met Marietta’s own with generosity, but also ferocity. “You aren’t human, but we made you to be. You can cry, bleed, laugh, eat, and do almost everything a human can. You deserve honesty.” “What’s going to happen now?” “I’m going to allow you to go home and celebrate the New Year with your fathers. They already know that I have told you the truth. Your little sisters and everyone else in the world don’t know you’re an A.I. and for now, we at Mary’s Box would like to keep it that way. We will keep an eye on you still, but we’re no longer going to reboot you. You were designed to be independent and it’s time for us to start letting you go.” Marietta noticed a tear streaking down Lily’s face and dampening her blue mask. Letting go, Marietta thought. She tilted her head toward the sunset again. The stripes of gold were still there, but sinking lower and permitting the darkness of night to creep closer. “Thank you,” Marietta said. “Thank you for being honest.” Lily nodded and bowed her head. “Of course. I will leave you now.” With that, the woman stepped away from the boardwalk, her feet barely making a sound. ~~~ “Marietta, you’re back!” her tatay exclaimed as Marietta lumbered through the apartment door. She and her little sisters called their Filipino American father “tatay” and their Black American father “dad.” At the moment, her fathers and younger sisters were seated around the living room’s coffee table playing Trouble. Rosa, eight, seemed more interested in the book she was reading, but she glanced up to smile at Marietta. The five-year-old Tsunami ran over to hug Marietta’s legs. “I’m glad to see you’re okay,” her dad said. Although a grin lingered on his face, his eyes seemed to be searching Marietta for any insecurities. “Yeah, I’m alright,” Marietta said. Tsunami gripped onto Marietta’s fingers and dragged her over to the coffee table. “You can be on my team,” Tsunami whispered. “There are no teams in Trouble,” Rosa muttered. “Now there are,” Tsunami retorted. Marietta chuckled as she squatted down beside her youngest sister. As the family of five continued on with the game, Marietta watched the darkness settle outside the living room window. The heaviness from before still moped inside of her and she knew it would take time before she accepted everything she had learned tonight, but she allowed herself to share smiles with her fathers and sisters and to feel a twinge of excitement for the coming year. Despite everything Lily Beas had said, Marietta still loved sunsets, she decided, yet she now knew how to let them go. Maybe life wouldn’t magically get better and Lily was right, some things couldn’t return, but Marietta would keep living anyways.

[sunlake1]

The Question

What a simple question

That rubs the back of my throat

As my feet thump against green tiles

And light glimmers through a doorway

Where there resides empty desks 

Except for one, in the back

The largest one

A back bent over papers

Illuminated by the sun

To my students, I can count

All the digits in their names

Yet for her, I cannot speak eighteen

Will you go out with me?

[dancingadopteethoughts]

Who Am I Without You?

This fictional essay is written from the perspective of Lacey Vest, a fifteen-year-old adoptee living in the year 2330. Lacey and her adoptive sister Moria were both introduced in my 2015 short story “The Walk” where they separated ways with Moria running off to a city and Lacey returning to their town (Buchtton).

For years, I wondered where my sister ran off to. At night, I would lay in our bedroom staring up at the ceiling and paint stories in my mind. She found a new family with a dog. She was adopted by astronauts and now explores space. She is in school and every time a teacher asks her about her family, she thinks of me. Of course, none of those fantasies could be true. If Moria had been adopted or enrolled in a school, our adoptive mothers would have been notified by now and she would be back here with me. We would be curled up under the covers with a flashlight as Moria told me yet another ghost story as I clutched her hand. In the past, when we walked home from school together, I would listen to her rant about her teachers and how they just didn’t understand her. Moria was only a grade above me, but I felt so grateful to have such a confident, brave older sister who knew where she belonged in this world.

Because I didn’t and still don’t know where I belong. Not because I am an adoptee. My sister and I used to joke that half the kids in our school were adoptees or children of adoptees. Nor is it because my mothers descend from Southeast Asia and I was born in Northern Africa in a time when transracial and intercountry adoption is rare. Okay, maybe I do struggle with that sometimes even though I am connected to people from my birth culture. No, I don’t know where I belong because I can only see myself through my sister. She was the strong one, the fearless one. The one who made a plan to run away and then did. I was the one who listened. The one who followed. Until I didn’t.

Moria left and I am still here in Buchtton not knowing who I am. But, maybe, I’m beginning to realize, that’s okay. I am Moria’s sister. I am my mothers’ daughter. Defining myself through other people doesn’t automatically make me a weaker person. The confusion I sometimes encounter about being a transracial intercountry adoptee isn’t something I should ignore. The misery I feel from losing Moria is real. Maybe if Moria had just thought of herself through me more, there would have been less anguish for everyone.

[dancingadopteethoughts]

Counting Raindrops

This fictional essay from the perspective of the character Malia Blu is written for a friend. The relationship between the characters Maya Hong and Malia Blu symbolizes the warmth that this friend described to me when expressing her own friendship with another person.

If you asked me to count the raindrops, I would. I would stand there in the street with water dripping down my cheeks and my eyes squinted at the sky. I wouldn’t care about the little droplets that would thud against my glasses and create tiny bubbles to peek through. I wouldn’t notice the lightning painting the world golden while a sea churns inside of me.

At least that’s what I thought.

You see, my friend, you are so much more than that. You are more than the laughs sparking through a sunny day as we sit in the park. You are more than the smiles I share, though nervously, on one end of a camera. You are more than a girl named Maya who is my friend. You are you and you allow me to be me.

An emptiness used to tug at my heart when I was alone. I’ve been abandoned before, so who can say it won’t happen again? I used to (and sometimes still do) collapse into myself, my mind whirling with thoughts. Is it okay to look like this? Am I a burden? Do I truly belong here? On and on...And you would listen. To everything. And I would listen to you.

“Did you hear that new song?”

“It’s going to rain tonight.”

“I need a break.”

“Can we talk?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I’m here for you.”

“Me, too.”

As I sit here alone at my computer, typing out my thanks, I realize something. I’m alone, but I don’t feel lonely, isolated, or lost. I have everything I need right before me and beyond. Your kindness, patience, and determination will forever be with me and I hope mine will forever be with you.

Maya, I can count the raindrops all I want, but there would never be enough to express my gratitude for you.

[darcydirectory]

New Short Story

Hi, everyone! I have a new short story that you can read below! As always, make sure to check out these social justice and mental health resources: https://sunsblmresources.weebly.com/.

Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1154423532-short-stories-the-biology-of-a-story-2021

Website: https://darcywriting.weebly.com/short-stories/the-biology-of-a-story

Tumblr: https://sunlake1.tumblr.com/post/667869571334668288/the-biology-of-a-story

Fun fact: I actually had a hard time writing this story. I will say, the story seems to end on a happy note, but I encourage you to think more critically about everything that happened.

Enjoy!

[darcydirectory]

New Fanfiction Review!

Hi, everyone! Happy December! I have one new fanfiction review for you. As with my creative writing, I have found little joy in writing book reviews for the last year and I have recently changed the process I write them and I actually had a great time writing this one. As always, check out https://sunsblmresources.weebly.com/ for social justice/mental health resources.

You can read my review of the My Hero Academia fanfiction Powdered Gold and Pottery below:

-Website: https://redjumpreviews.weebly.com/reviews/powdered-gold-and-pottery-review

-Tumblr: https://hongyueg.tumblr.com/post/669387281137844224/powdered-gold-and-pottery-review

Fun fact: The first character I came up with knowing that they lived in Buchtton was Lucia, who I wrote a novella for when I was fourteen.

[darcydirectory]

Update 4/25/21

Hi, everyone! Happy Sunday! As always, take a look at the social justice resources I have linked here: https://sunsblmresources.weebly.com/ for educational resources and organizations to support. I suggest taking a look at 8toabolition’s resources. They have a bunch of links to articles about what the prison abolition movement is and the incredible opportunities transformative justice can create. 

This week, I have one new poem titled “The Mountain’s Daughter.” This poem has come to mean a lot to me since I wrote it in early March as it reminds its readers the importance of resting. I also have a video of myself reading it outloud. You can read/listen to it here:

-https://www.wattpad.com/1060913125-poems-the-mountain%27s-daughter-2021

-https://darcywriting.weebly.com/poems/the-mountains-daughter

-https://sunlake1.tumblr.com/post/649448151037640704/the-mountains-daughter

Also, I’m going to start doing a little thing where each week I share a fun fact from one of the three universes I created. If you’ve been reading my writing or the collaborative writing I’ve done with my sister Hunter, then you’ll realize that most of my stories take place in either Buchtton (a fictional Massachusetts town), Tranquila (a fictional planet with dragons and goblins), or Keldar (a fictional planet with ferfs and derfs). This week, my fun fact is that the friend Sam mentions in the poem “Apricot/Ladybug” is Eve, who you may remember from my poem “The Plummet.” A while back, I outlined a novel about Eve and Sam. I never ended up writing the novel, but you can read my outline on Wattpad. It’s titled “Outline of ‘Small Town Spirits.’”

Anyways, have a fantastic week! Remember to rest and take care of yourself and others!

[dancingadopteethoughts]

Mornings

Author’s Note: This essay is written from the perspective of the character Ashton Santiago.

I hate waking up in the morning. I detest the stiff feeling in my stomach and how my legs are pasted to the mattress. It always makes me feel itchy, like I don’t belong and maybe that’s because I don’t. How do I belong in the crazy family I call home? As I sit and watch the sun creep up along the treeline, I can’t help thinking that I belong elsewhere, not in this house in Buchtton, Massachusetts with five older sisters and four moms and so much to be grateful for. Maybe I belong out there.

At night, I can close my eyes and imagine. Imagine myself in another world. Maybe I’m a princess sitting by the window gazing out at a moon shining down on a kingdom. Maybe I’m a scientist exploring the ocean in a submarine and being reminded of my small size. Maybe I’m just a girl leaning against a mysterious woman, but one who I love and know. Maybe in one of those places, I belong.

There is no time during the day for me to wrestle with my identity. It’s always, Ashton, have you done this? Ashton, can you do this? Ashton, you didn’t do this the right way. With a big family, there is always someone to help and someone who needs help. I get so absorbed into everyone else’s struggles and hurdles that I forget my own until I’m sitting on my bed with darkness beginning to close in and I start to wonder just who the heck I am.

How did I even end up here? I was born in Colombia, just like my sister Aleah, but now I am here. What decisions were made? What pressures existed that led to my abandonment? I wish I knew the truth. No matter how long I spend on Wikipedia and Britannica looking up the history of my birth country, I can never know with certainty. I can make guesses and imagine situations--so many situations--but I can’t grasp the truth.

And so, in the morning as I wake up, I find myself lost. I’m just a sixteen-year-old sophomore who exists in a world so complicated that I don’t even know for sure why I am here. 

Maybe that’s the beauty in your story, I know my sister Louise would say. She would smile, her dark eyes bright as her warm brown hand clutches my own. She would laugh and tell me not to worry because not all things in life need to and should have answers.

But still, I wake up, my body cramping, my eyes burning, and my head buzzing. I can’t let go of my past. I don’t understand how Louise can. How does she not wonder if there is a family in Ethiopia wondering about her right now? How can she not feel confused about how she has ended up here in this exact house with this exact family and not anywhere else? All these questions race through my mind in the early morning as the sun rises and I just want to shout, to cry, to cackle. I crave to leap out of my bed and run and keep running until all of my anxieties roll right out of me. I can’t do that because I am locked in. I am barricaded by so much going on around me. By my sisters Chloe and Christie sleeping in the bunk bed across from me. By my mothers getting their coffee ready downstairs. By the friends waiting for me at school. It’s too much and none of them know the answers.

Maybe that’s okay. Yes, maybe it is okay that I and everyone else around me doesn’t know the truth, but is it okay for me to wonder?

[sunlake1]

Youngvia and the Fair

The fair blinded Youngvia. Street vendors crowded the black pavement. Advertisers scurried around the crowds waving little pamphlets and business cards. It was all so exhilarating for the quiet town of Buchtton. 

Youngvia clutched the straps of her cello case and continued on her way to the town hall. A few people glanced at her as she walked, but most were content to focus on the excitement of Community Day. 

“Hey, Youngvia!”

Youngvia twirled around to see her friend Aleah racing toward her with her own cello case thumping against her back. Aleah’s dark wavy hair bounced around her shoulders and her brown eyes were bright. 

“Oh, my goodness,” Aleah said as she stopped beside Youngvia. “I thought I would never find you. Buchtton is such a small town, but it really gets crazy on Community Day.”

Youngvia nodded in agreement. “That’s for sure. Are you ready to play?”

Aleah laughed. “You bet I’m ready. My mothers and sisters are all sick of me playing the songs at home. I’m sure your family feels the same.”

Youngvia definitely had been practicing a lot, but her little sister and parents were used to it now, so they rarely ever complained. 

She and Aleah weaved through the crowds to reach the brick building at the center of the streets. Around her, Youngvia could smell the sweetness of cotton candy and hear the laughter of kids and parents. As pop music boomed from speakers above her, she could feel the ground vibrating below her feet. The scene both energized her, but also made her nervous. What if she couldn’t do this Community Day service? It was the first time she had performed at an event like this. Most of the time, she played in school talent shows and musicals where the only people she was being judged against were other high school students. Here, the stakes seemed so much higher.

The two girls finally made it to the steps of Town Hall. At the top of the steps, a black platform had been wheeled out in front of the great brown doors and tech people were racing back and forth across the stage to check the mics and connect the mess of wires that were required for the performance. 

“I’m so glad that I don’t have to handle the tech stuff,” Aleah said beside Youngvia. She had to shout to be heard over the speakers. “I know I would mess everything up.”

Mr. Agu, the high school music and drama teacher ran over to Aleah and Youngvia from the top of the stairs.

“There you two girls are.” He grinned at them. “I know how hard you have been working in class and it must be nice for it to finally be paying off.”

Aleah beamed at the teacher. “Thank you for always supporting us.”

“Well, go be awesome.” He nodded toward the stage.

Youngvia’s heart pounding, she started up the steps. The cello on her back weighed down on her and with each step her feet made, it felt like she was walking through mud. The noises of the background faded to the edges of her senses and all that could swarm in was her anxiety. 

Stop it, Youngvia, she scolded herself. She had never been this nervous about performing before. She had always loved sharing her gifts with the world and being able to bring others joy through her music. Why was today different? 

What if everybody hates me after this? What if they think I’m terrible and stuck-up and they abandon me? There it was. That word. The word that Youngvia tried to push out of her mind all of the time. That word that had caused her so much pain since she was an infant. 

She glanced at Aleah. She couldn’t tell what her friend was feeling, but she wondered if Aleah also had the fear of failure leading to abandonment like her. They both were adopted, meaning that they had to have been abandoned first. It was part of their stories. Yet, Aleah had only been abandoned once and she had been adopted into a loving family with four mothers and five sisters. Youngvia had been adopted as a baby and then abandoned again when she was ten, only to be taken in by her first adoptive mother’s cousin. What was Youngvia thinking hiding behind her music? The pain of the past would never leave her.

She crossed the last step and trudged toward the black stage. She smiled back weakly at the tech people who waved and grinned at her and her eyes drifted over the cobbled ground. 

Aleah went up the stage steps first and strode toward one of two wooden chairs on the platform. Youngvia lumbered after her friend. Her mind erratic, she unzipped her instrument and went through the movements of tuning. Her arms shivered and sweat dripped down her forehead. Even though it was a warm day, she still felt this weird sensation of feeling both warm and cold. Her stomach churned inside of her and her legs wobbled as she positioned the cello between them.

The pop music quieted and Aleah flashed Youngvia a smile. We got this, she mouthed.

All Youngvia could do was nod back. And then they played. Once she felt the cello vibrate between her legs. Once she heard the silence settle down among the people below. Once their footsteps quieted, their chattering paused. Once she knew she was safe up here, Youngvia could breathe the music.

“See? That wasn’t so bad,” Aleah said to her fifteen minutes later after they had finished playing and were heading back into the crowds. The pop music had returned to the speakers and chattering fluttered around them.

Youngvia grinned. “Yeah, it was nice.”

“Do you want to talk about what had made you so nervous? Usually, you aren’t this uptight about playing in front of all these people.”

Youngvia watched as a family of four passed by, their laughter a light breeze blowing by her ear. “I mean, this is our first time playing at Community Day. We usually play in more formal places where the people there are our families or people who know music. It’s weird playing here where us playing isn’t the main act.”

“We’re just part of the crowd.” Aleah nodded. 

“Right, but it was nice…being part of the crowd. I was so worried everyone would just leave if they didn’t like what they were hearing, but no one did. They just listened. It made me feel like I belonged and that I didn’t have to worry about being abandoned.”

Aleah’s brown hand grasped onto Youngvia’s pale one. “You never have to worry about being abandoned again, if that’s what you’re worried about. Buchtton is a small community, but we look out for one another, okay?”

Youngvia smiled. “Okay.”

[sunlake1]

Waves

We held each other through the waves of time

Two brothers: Noah and me

As the tendrils of the sea grasped our bodies

We hiccuped and sand fell out

Littering the ground with love

Thriving in the midst of chaos

We decided then,

That day in the ocean,

No matter what,

We had each other

And

It wasn’t fair

It wasn’t right

It shouldn’t be

Just us

But it was

And

We clutched each other’s hands

As the abyss shrouded ourselves

Until the sun rose over the waves

[sunlake1]

Something I Miss

There is something I miss

About sitting on that swing

My feet in the air

As I tremble just a bit,

Which is quite a feat,

Not because of fear

But because I am flying

And I can’t find fear

With the world beneath my feet

Suddenly breaking into bits

The wind in my ear

Just Wendy on a swing

And that’s something I miss

[sunlake1]

Timed Thoughts

“We should really try that someday,” Kaya said.

“Wait, what?” I glanced over at my friend. The sun baked her shoulder-length black hair, causing it to glow a slight crimson.

“That.” My friend pointed in the distance where a group of teens our age was boogie-boarding in the waves. Their laughter tingled in my ears, causing me to smile.

“Yeah, that looks pretty fun. I’m pretty sure Ayana has some boogie boards we could borrow and use.” I thought of my other best friend who lived right across from this very beach. She had been busy lately with a badminton tournament, so I hadn’t seen her very much this Summer.

“We’re going to be graduating high school in just two years,” Kaya said. “We need to do it before then.”

I frowned and traced a line through the sand. Although I had slathered sunscreen all over my pale skin earlier today, my fingers were still tinged pink. Were we really that close to the finish line? It was hard to believe we were going to be juniors in a couple of weeks. Sophomore year, half of which was online thanks to COVID, had passed by so quickly and our freshman year had ended abruptly due to the pandemic. Did I really have only two more years to enjoy the company of all my classmates? Ayana’s smiles. Kaya’s determination. Lucia’s creativity. Isabelle’s confidence.

“You okay, Summer?” Kaya peered at me, her brown eyes brimming with concern.

I chuckled and shook the grainy sand off my fingers. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just feels like things are going too fast.”

Kaya shifted closer to me, her body so close our shoulders almost touched. We had been best friends since elementary school. Would that still be the same even as we moved on?

A cloud blocking the sun floated off and the light blinded me, so I looked away from my friend. A breeze flitted with my blonde hair, bringing along with it the briny scent of the ocean. Even the weather seemed to be moving onward.

“I honestly can’t wait to get out of here,” Kaya said. “I mean, you know how things are with my sister. I love her, but sometimes it’s exhausting when she’s having another tantrum and none of us can help her. And my parents, they aren’t the warmest of people. They show their affection in different ways and I understand that, but…”

“You want something else,” I finished for her. I kept my gaze on my feet submerged in the sand.

“Definitely.” Kaya sighed. “Not sure if I’ll ever get it. I haven’t earned that much money to be living on my own.”

“Kaya,” I said. My heart thrummed in my chest. “We should move forward together.”

Kaya stared at me. Then her face broke into a grin. “Are you asking me out, Summer?”

I must have looked disappointed because Kaya placed her hand on my wrist. “I think that’s very sweet,” she murmured.

“So what do you say? Are we going to tackle the future together?”

Kaya leaned her shoulder against mine. “I don’t know what will happen, but you’re right, it’ll be easier doing this if we’re not alone. But first, let’s go find some boogie boards!”

[sunlake1]

Traveling in Place

Celio felt the grass sting his palm and breathed in the salty air of the sea grumbling in the distance. He cherished the thrumming of the waves, the shuffling of the wind, the dancing of his own heart. He couldn’t see it at all, but he could still enjoy the environment around him. That’s what many people didn’t understand. Sometimes, you don’t need eyes to enjoy something beautiful.

“Celio, I found a nice shell!” His little brother Horatio called a few feet to his left. Horatio’s voice was light as if it could drift with the breeze.

Celio pushed himself off from the sandy grass and, with the help of his cane, made his way toward the sound of his brother’s voice. The grains of sand shifted underneath the metal stick and embraced his sneakers. He loved the way his feet sunk into the soft substance as if he were being transported to another world.

When he reached Horatio, he knelt down and held his hand out for his brother to place the shell in his palm. The damp, curvy figure tickled his skin and he could feel the water dripping off his brother’s slimy hand.

“The water feels cold! I don’t get how you can stay so long in the waves, Horatio.”

Horatio laughed. “It was worth it to get this shell.”

Celio fingered the sea’s gift, stroking each curve and feeling its smooth underbelly. “It’s fascinating. You should bring it home to show Mom and Dad.”

“I think I will!” Celio smiled at the excitement in Horatio’s voice. He loved how enthusiastic his brother was about all the little things in life. Celio wanted to be that way, too. That’s why he visited natural environments and forced himself to focus on his senses. He liked being himself, he liked belonging.

Celio let his brother take back the shell and he buried his hand in the sand. The dry and wet particles mingled together and shivered against his fingers. He wondered if the tiny insects that burrowed in the sand were being disrupted by his movement. A flicker of guilt flashed through him. Humans could be so destructive sometimes.

His brother was now mumbling a Portuguese song their mother often sang, although a bit out of tune. Celio gently recovered his hand from the soil and swayed to his brother’s music, letting himself hum along.

“I want to go to Portugal someday,” Horatio said. “It would be cool to actually visit our grandparents in their own home instead of through phone calls once a year.”

“Yeah.” Celio brushed off sand that had floated onto his t-shirt. “That would be nice.” He wasn’t sure that would happen anytime soon. While his family wasn’t struggling at the moment financially, it wasn’t like they had that much money to just throw around. Celio wished he could go on vacations like his friend Pavel did with his family.

“Hey, Celio,” Horatio said. His voice was tentative in a way that made Celio want to pause his whole body just so he could focus on listening to Horatio. “Do you think we will ever be able to travel?”

Celio didn’t know what to say. He wanted to comfort his brother, but he didn’t want to lie. He plastered a smile onto his face. “You know, we can travel right now. Close your eyes.”

He heard the sounds of Horatio fidgeting on the sand. “They’re closed,” Horatio announced.

“Good,” Celio said. “Now, listening to what’s around you and keeping your eyes shut, what do you see?”

A moment passed. Celio focused on the wind whistling by him and the laughter of a family playing in the waves. Along the boardwalk behind him, he could hear the thumps of footsteps and the scratching of bicycle wheels along wood.

“I hear people having fun and walking around,” Horatio said slowly.

“What else?”

“The ocean, but Celio, this is nice and all, but it isn’t the same.”

Celio sighed and ran his fingers through the sand, letting the dry particles slide off his skin. He could heard the disappointment in his brother’s voice, the sadness of feeling stuck. Celio had been so focused on observing his environment, he forgot to pay attention to his brother. “You’re right. To be honest, I don’t think we’ll be able to travel anytime soon.”

“It stinks.”

“It does.”

Horatio groaned. “Vacations are probably overrated anyway. Maybe we’re the lucky ones since we get to stay here and really appreciate this place.”

Celio grinned. He listened to the sound of his brother rubbing his hand along his seashell. “Yeah, that may be true.”

[sunlake1]

Speechless

INT. FIRST GRADE CLASSROOM- AFTERNOON

Two girls squat side-by-side on the carpet. One girl, MADDI VIANA-GOVEA, plays with a plastic horse with a broken leg. The other girl, COLLETTE ZONG, shifts around a collection of toy people.

A teacher stomps by to reprimand two students tugging on a small train.

A fly swoops by Maddi’s head. Maddi’s gaze tracks the creature as it flits towards Collette’s direction.

Collette reaches to grasp the insect. It floats away and out an open window. Maddi grins.

A beat. Collette smiles back.

The school bell rings. The two girls turn away from one another.

INT. MADDI’S MOM’S CAR- TWENTY MINUTES LATER

Maddi fiddles with her toy horse.

MADDI’S MOTHER

(in Argentinian Spanish)

Did the second day of school go better?

MADDI

(in Argentinian Spanish)

Yeah.

MADDI’S MOTHER

(in Argentinian Spanish)

Did you talk to anyone?

Maddi gives a slight smile.

MADDI

(in Argentinian Spanish)

No, but I think I might have made a friend.

MADDI’S MOTHER

(in Argentinian Spanish)

You have to talk to people, Maddi. The only people you ever talk to are Dad and me. If you want to keep this friend of yours that you’re making, you better start speaking to them with words.

INT. FIRST GRADE CLASSROOM- NEXT AFTERNOON

Maddi and Collette play side-by-side on the carpet. Collette clutches a small airplane. She makes it woosh around Maddi’s head.

Maddi’s eyes sparkle. She taps her hands together. She picks up a plastic green snake and slips it onto Collette’s vehicle. Her hand clasps Collette’s fingers.

Collette’s hand pauses. The airplane and snake hover in the air with the two girls grasping them.

Collette smiles at Maddi.

A beat.

Maddi grins back.