Water

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I wake up feeling the hot sun beating down on my skin. My whole body aches. Where am I? I twist my wrists and find someone's fingers wrapped in mine. I squeeze my eyes open and shield the sun with my free arm. I turn and find George's sleeping face next to mine.

I sit up quickly. Why did I fall asleep on the beach with George? The early morning sun soaks into the wet sand around me, the waves rhythmically crash towards my bare feet.

My mind flashes with images of last night. The dark cave, the glowing lights, the circular room, falling into darkness. How did I end up on the beach?

I shake George's shoulder. "George! George, get up."

He grunts and rolls over.

"George! Wake up," I say again, more frantic.

His eyes open and he looks at me. "What?"

And then everything registers in his brain. His face drops and he quickly sits up. He pats himself down and runs his hand through his sandy hair.

"What- what happened? Why am I on the beach? Oh my gosh, my mom is going to kill me. I didn't come home last night." His voice is panic-stricken.

"George, it's okay. Calm down." I move my hands down in a calming motion. His eyes are swirling in terror, but slowly turn to a calming deep chocolate brown. "Let's go home okay?"

He nods his head and we get up. We make our way to our bikes and throw our shoes on before pedaling home.

George and I are basically neighbors, only living four houses apart, so we split ways as he rolls into his driveway practically running into his house. I can hear his mom yelling at him as I cruise past and into my driveway, dropping my bike by the garage before heading inside.

I feel bad for keeping George out all night, even if it wasn't really my choice.

I walk in to find my dad is passed out on the couch still, and I can hear my mom doing dishes in the kitchen. I quietly sneak to my room, but my mom catches me before I can make it to the stairs.

"Clay, where were you all night?" Her voice is stern, and, despite the bubbles on her hands making her look less threatening, I knew she would still beat me up if I said the wrong thing.

"Sorry, mom. I slept over at George's house last night, I forgot to tell you." I cringe at my bad excuse.

"He lives right down the road. There is no reason to keep me wondering where you are all night. Don't do that again."

"Sorry mom."

"And please answer your phone!" She yells as I head up the stairs.

I strip my gross beach clothes off of me and the sand rains off of me. They smell like seawater and dead fish. I quickly jump in the shower and clean the ocean water off of me. It feels refreshing, but I have to get ready for school quickly.

After a warm shower, I throw on another school uniform identical to the one I wore yesterday. I tie my shoes and throw my backpack over my shoulder. I grab my water bottle off the counter and jump back on my bike to get George. He is waiting for me on the driveway and we bike to school.

I let the warmish air run through my slightly damp blonde hair as I pedal quickly down the road. The air makes me feel dry, and I start feeling queasy. I take deep breaths of the fresh air, but it seems to make it worse.

Just as I feel like I'm going to throw up my insides, we park our bikes at the school. I step off cautiously as the queasiness slowly vanishes. I shake my head. Must've been my imagination.

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