Sea Read Free Page A

the other on the sidewalk, the same sidewalk we used to skate race when we were kids. Once white and smooth, the concrete was now chipped and cracked, bits of scraggly grass growing between the spaces.
    “Look,” he called up, scratching his salty hair, “I better jam. Just wanted to stop by and wish you a happy birthday. Come over when you’ve bailed yourself out of your self-imposed isolation cell,” he joked.
    “Okay,” I said.
    He looked up at me for a second like he might want to say something else. But then he just shrugged. “See ya,” he said, with a little wave over his shoulder.
    “Spider?”
    “Yeah?”
    I wanted to ask if he was here because he wanted to be friends again and if so, why after all this time? But that sounded lame, so no words came.
    He cupped his ear like a conch shell. “I can’t hear you, Sea,” he yelled up.
    I winced at the sound of my old nickname.
    “What’d I say?”
    He must have noticed my expression. I wondered how to explain it. That we weren’t little kids anymore, that instead of being the skinny hyper kid I used to know, Spider was one of the hottest guys on the cove, his body filling out his chin-to-toe wet suit in all the right places, his lean surfer body six feet tall.
    He was Mr. Cool and I just ... wasn’t anymore. I wasn’t Sea anymore. And I got over him a long time ago.
    “It’s Sienna now,” I corrected him.
    He blinked. “Oh, right.” He sounded disappointed. “I forgot.”
    Shrugging, I tore my eyes away from Spider’s, stared past him, down the long street of our neighborhood, toward the peek of silver-blue ocean.
    If there were ever a tsunami here, it would hit Spider’s house first.
    I imagined the tall windows shattering into razors of glass. Spider, Bev and their perfect tennis-playing parents running from the giant wave as the water thrashed over their expensive furniture, flooding their polished wooden floors and overflowing their granite countertops.
    Spider wouldn’t be so happy-go-lucky after that happened.
    Cringing, I looked back at his uncomfortable face and felt horrible. What was wrong with me?
    “See ya, then, Sienna,” he called up from below.
    “See ya,” I echoed back.
    A half smile crept up his mouth before he turned to go. Why wouldn’t it? It wasn’t like he could hear my awful thoughts. Spider had that easy way about him that people who have never had anything bad happen to them seem to possess.
    Lucky him. Lucky Spider.
    I took another deep breath of salty air, let it tingle down my throat. Even after all the grief it had given me, the ocean still smelled good.
    I watched Spider walk away until he disappeared up his driveway ten houses down, leaving nothing but watery-gray footprints on the sidewalk.

TSUNAMI
    Dad was reading a thick book about child soldiers when I peeked into the den. The African boy on the cover was staring straight ahead, his eyes angry but empty somehow. He looked about ten years old and was bare-chested, pointing a gun toward a broad blue sky; the gun was obviously not a toy. A dim fluorescent light bent over Dad’s book, illuminating the unsettled look on his face.
    Dad’s office smelled like stale coffee and lavender; lavender from Oma’s garden, dried and hanging on the wall. The scent still reminded me of Mom, and I wondered why Dad kept it in here, when it seemed like most of the time he didn’t want to be reminded, or talk about her, anyway. About what happened.
    “Oma said you wanted to talk,” I said, standing in the doorway.
    My birthday was several days ago and we’d pretty much been avoiding each other since.
    Worked for me, but apparently it wasn’t working for Dad.
    Jazz music blasted from two old speakers on opposite ends of the mahogany desk where Dad sat. When I was little, he used to spin me around and around in that worn black office chair. Now I didn’t come in here much; we all have our corners in this house. This den was Dad’s.
    “Hey, kiddo. I need to talk to