There was a boy named Timothy Logan. I was in love with him. He was a distant neighbor, living a couple blocks down from my house. Our parents were close friends going back generations. But I had never had the pleasure of engaging in a long insightful conversation with him. A fantasy that was always lingering in the back of my mind. He had been over countless times for barbecues, birthday parties, and even a Christmas I think one time but I had never stuck up more than “hello how are you” with him. I often wondered what it would be like to even have a taste of talking with him on my tongue. That sweetness of knowing that maybe inside my shy being there was a bit of courage waiting to surface. It was July, I was sitting in the grass wearing a pink tank top and short jeans shorts twirling a piece of grass in my mouth feeling the ants scatter under my legs buried in the grassy dirt when My mother came out of the house and generously served me a glass of ice tea.
    “We’re going to the beach next weekend with the Swayne’s."
     My arms itched just thinking about the sand.
   “Don’t worry, it’s only for a day” my mother rolled her eyes and shuffled back into the house. My hands grew wet. I couldn’t tell if it was sweat or the condensation from the ice tea glass. The beach already puppeted my nerves. I was always afraid of going in the water because of various dangerous creatures and the thought of sand glazing my body as if it were frosting on a cake made me shiver. My father said I was such a child about some things, the beach was one of them. When Saturday of next weekend came I climbed into the car, my brain was a little toddler kicking and screaming “No! I don’t wanna go!” But then it shifted gears from scratchy sand and vicious waters to a whole day I could possibly spend with Timothy Logan.
   “You ready?” My dad asked.
   A small smile crept across my face and I slammed the door of the car shut.
   The drive was long and hot, it was 99 degrees mid July, the closest it would ever get to Hell on Earth. Bugs stuck to the front windshield of my family’s car. My mother grimaced. My father laughed at her disgust. It was a normal family car ride. I sat, fist in my face, legs up against my chest as my mother’s phone rang. We had rolled the windows down and her sun hat was blowing in the wind, she didn’t seem to notice she was in deep conversation with Mrs. Swayne.
    “Yeah Janine we’re about 30 miles away. How the hell are you already there? Express lane? Ah that makes sense.” When she finally hung up she scolded my father.
   “I told you we should’ve taken the express lane.”
   “Well there’s always next time.”
   “Jerry, we go to the beach once a goddamn time of year.”
   “So we’ll do it next year” My father increased his voice volume.
   Growing bored of their ignorant bickering I plugged my ears with my new earbuds I had gotten for my birthday and listened to the first spotify playlist I found until we finally ended up at the beach. I eyed myself in my cell phone mirror one last time. I expectedly found nothing unusually beautiful about me. Same old eyes, freckles, and face staring back at me. The breeze tickled my neck and I jerked my neck up to see the masterful painting jumping out of his family’s car a couple parking spots away from ours. I flushed red, my body’s heat matching the warmth of the sun above. He had a pair of new red sunglasses, they dangled from his shirt, almost falling to the ground when we helped his father move the cooler from the back trunk. The sunglasses clung to him, like they never wanted to let go. I related to those sunglasses.
   I helped my father unload our towels and chairs out from the back while my mother talked up a storm with Mrs. Swayne. Their voices contributed to the strength of the wind getting stronger and louder with every syllable. My mother and Mrs. Swayne always talked as if they hadn’t seen each other since they were born. When I finally embraced the sand it immediately intruded into my sandals sinking into my toes. The beach was crowded that day, the sun was hot and blinding and the waves were cool and welcoming. We planted up towards the top of the beach, farther from the ocean. As soon as the chairs and umbrellas were set our fathers shared a familiar grin and our mothers shared a well known shake of the head as My dad and Mr. Swayne popped the lid of the cooler and took out two beers wet from sitting in the ice. They clinked their bottles and drank under the swelter of the sun. Timothy Logan took a chair and walked down towards the ocean. He sunk the chair in the exact spot where the ocean met the sand. The borderline of safe and sorry. He sat there quietly reading while our fathers drank and our mothers babbled. I traced my name in the sand a couple times out of boredom but then looked out into the ocean. The waves were calm. Children laughed and splashed while adults rode the soft waves on the belly of their boards. It really was a pleasant day and it was a day I had with the boy of my dreams sitting a couple feet away from me. I inhaled the unique smell of the beach wind and exhaled some of the nerves I knew were holding me back. I tiptoed over to him and peered down at the book he was reading.
     “What are you reading?”
   He looked up at me and through his sunglasses I could almost hear his eyes saying “what’s wrong with you can’t you read the title.”    
     “Catcher In The Rye”he said.
    “Didn’t we read that in English last year?”
     “I wanted to read it again.”
     “Oh.” I said, sliding my foot through the sand trying to stifle my anxiety.
    “Why” I asked.
    “Huh?”
    “Why did you want to read it again?”
   He took his sunglasses off and faced me. I looked into his blue eyes like they were a new universe.
   “It’s one of my favorites, I try to read it every year.”
     “That’s cool.”
   We were silent for a minute and he eventually looked away. Eager to get his eyes on me again I said,
    “I try to read To Kill A Mockingbird every year.”
    It was the first classic that came to my mind,  I barely remembered it but I had already dug myself a grave and ironically enough the only way to stay alive was to climb in.
     “It’s one of my favorites.”
    “Why?”
   He seemed genuinely intrigued. I swallowed my nerves and took a deep breath.
   “I just love the fact that a story with such a simple plot could be so impactful, and the author, she’s so humble it’s like she doesn’t even realize what she’s created.”
   He nods attentively “I like the fact that the story starts out so simple and childlike and it gets darker as you go on.”
   “Yeah.”
   “I had no idea you liked reading, I guess I just assume no one our age likes reading because we’re all so entitled and belittle the things we think we don’t have time for.”
   Him using the word “our” turned my insides to butter. I hoped I hadn’t become too scarlet-faced. Too jittery to stand, I crouched down next to him placing my hand on his beach chair. I let my legs sink down into the sand but I was in such a lovestruck high I barely noticed the way the sand tickled and scratched.
     “You think so?” I asked him.
     “I know so, people don’t notice what’s right in front of them no matter how immediate.”
   I couldn’t even hear the gentle crash of the waves, or the children running around, or our parents talking louder than the end of the world. Because he was right there. He was so close to me, and though no celebrity he was, I became starry-eyed. The whole world faded from vision as I stared closer and closer into his eyes.
    “Do you ever think people don’t notice people?”
     “Absolutely, it’s like look at our parents over there, they probably don’t even notice we’re down here.”
    Confidence washed over me like the waves washing over the sand, I leaned closer to Timothy Logan.
   “Yeah, but don’t you think there are people that you’ve known like your whole life but you don’t really know them?”
   He was taken aback, I knew he knew what I meant and every fiber in my body hoped something would change. The lightbulb in his brain wouldn’t flicker any longer it would illuminate. He looked at me. I once again moved closer to him our faces inches apart and before I could get any closer Timothy Logan turned away, picked up his book and muttered
     “I think I know all the people I need to know.”
   The sand turned from an irritating itch to shards of glass digging into my skin but I gripped the sand in my hands wanting the pain to go away so badly. I sat there motionless but I ached. Everything inside of me stopped. I couldn’t breathe. I was sitting in the same spot but I felt like he was moving farther and farther away from me and perhaps because I came out of the fantasy of my overflowing heart that I noticed the sky. Dark and gray and unforgiving. I turned to the ocean and my eyes came upon a giant wave the size of cities. He saw it too and immediately got up and ran, not even looking down at me once. The last thing I saw was him running. He tripped and rolled down towards the wave. He looked up at it with complete terror someone so calm and collected knowing that even they won’t be condoned by the ways of the world and I was fine with that. I would’ve protected him any other day but I smiled right before the wave swallowed us whole. He could drown all he wanted and I would not care.