She’s my closest friend, even though we’re different. Kat doesn’t know how to ride the train in the city, but I don’t know how to swim. Kat can play the piano and knows how to ride a horse, but I know how to get to Yankee Stadium or use my mom’s EBT card at the store.
But we love the beach, spring, summer, and fall, and we come out here to collect things, and look for buried treasure that might have washed up on the shore.
Her long wavy hair is loose, and she bats it away from her face as she wades ankle-deep into the foamy waves. A splash of summer freckles decorates her face
“Mom says the undercurrent is strong enough to pull you in,” I warn her. I drop our things in the sand at my feet and try to regain my breath. I roll up my pants legs as Kat kicks water into the blue sky, where it arcs and falls in a hundred sparkling droplets. The girl herself is equally as stunning as the scenery out here.
I heave myself forward and grab her hand as we scan the shallows, looking for shells or creatures or forgotten pirate gold.
“Where do you think people go when they die?” Kat pulls a strand of hair from her mouth and squints at me in the bright sunlight.
I know without asking that she’s thinking about her mom. My dad has always been gone, so I don’t think about it all that much. An old lady who lived in my building once told me my dad’s in jail. But Mom says he’s gone, and the far-away look in her eyes makes me bite my lip to keep from asking any more questions.
“You mean like heaven?” I ask her.
The water is warm, and the sun and salt on my skin is a feeling I’ll always associate with the Shaw’s estate. I went to the beach a couple of times before we moved here, but it never looked anything like this.
“What if people end up in the sea?” Kat asks. “How come heaven isn’t in the ocean? It’s as pretty as the sky.” She leans down, scoops up a sand crab, and lets him roam all over her palm, searching for an escape.
“I don’t know where heaven is. Maybe it’s not in the sky or on Earth,” I tell her. I spot a spiral shell in the clear tide pool and grab it, shake the sand off underwater and toss it in my pocket. “But I think wherever it is, your mom is there, and she’s probably watching us.”
I don’t know if it’s true, but Kat always goes out of her way to make me feel like I belong, so I want to return the favor and let her know I’m on her side. I take the spiral shell back out and give it to her. I already have enough in my collection anyway. She smiles at me, and her earnest blue eyes match the color of the Montauk sky.
“Race you to the jetty?” Kat challenges.
“You two dumb shits are not supposed to be in the water!”
We both hear Henry despite the wind, and Kat’s grip on my hand tightens.
Henry is Kat’s older brother by three years, but it might as well be by a million. He acts like he’s the man of the house and bosses us both around like he’s our parent.
“We’re not swimming!” Kat retorts and begins to pull me down the beach.
Henry grabs our bag and dumps it out on the sand. After grabbing a cookie for himself and stuffing it grotesquely in his face, he dumps the rest out, ruining our picnic.
“Punk,” I say under my breath.
Kat sticks her tongue out at him.
A hint of rage crosses Henry’s usually blank and bored expression, and he runs at us full-speed, tearing through the water. Kat tries to make me run, too, but I stand my ground. I’ve seen bigger bullies than Henry Shaw on the playgrounds where I grew up.
“You better run, you dumb little piece trash,” he taunts.
I take a deep breath before he crashes into me full force and knocks me down into the shallow waves.
Kat screams. “He can’t swim!” I hear her cry right before he pushes my head underwater.
I open my eyes into the salty sting and see his poker face distorted above me. I try to talk, but salt water rushes into my mouth. It’s true, despite my many visits to the beach at Wainscott Hollow, I still don’t know how to swim.
Then Katelyn is on top of Henry, trying to pry him off me. She scratches his face and wraps her skinny arms around his neck. My lungs ache as I hold my breath until I can’t anymore. The saltwater feels like razor blades as it rushes into my lungs. Panic bubbles up in my throat, and I freeze, wondering if this is what it felt like when Mrs. Shaw went under. My mind flashes to my mother and the scream she’ll let loose when Kat tells her I was lost to the angry sea, too.