Love And War in Cecil Beach

Chapter 1

In the beginning, there was nothing. And then, there was Diana Turner. A bright star in an inky abyss, a guiding light. Some ethereal angel that sailors tell tales about, one they see on dark nights when the waters calm and the boat is gently rocking, like a baby's cradle. A star that has the power to silence everyone on board and capture their attention like nothing of this world, not a siren's call nor a drunken haze was as enchanting as this.

It was no wonder that I'd fall for her.

But I was just one of those lowly sailors. I was nothing interesting, another speck in the ocean below. It was a wonder that I was even noticed by her. But, that's the great thing about a childhood friendship that grows into an adolescent one. It doesn't matter how much you've grown into different appearances or interests or social statuses, the same thing that drew you two together when you were young still holds, like a lifelong cement.

I suppose I should stop with the melodramatic metaphors. They're exhausting to read, I know. I read The Fault In Our Stars. But I suppose I can't help myself. If you knew Diana, you'd be saying the same things. That is, if you, too, are in love with her. If that's the case, we might have a problem.

Like I said previously, Diana and I had been friends since childhood. We met in first grade, and our friendship was explosive enough so that our parents met as well. Thankfully, they got along, which is strange, too, seeing as how different they are. Diana's parents are the uptight, traditional type. They have a lot of rules and squeeze their kids' shoulders in photos to remind them to put on the biggest smile possible, even if they'd just screamed at them a few minutes ago for getting mustard on their pants. My parents are more laid-back. My mom was a hippie in high school, and my dad had been an emo. They were the sort of worldly, well-rounded people who always smelled good and had plenty of stories to tell. I was their only child, and they doted on me relentlessly. I don't feel any guilt describing them as such, because I'm grateful I got to have them as parents, instead of the bad hand Diana was dealt. I don't feel guilty saying that, either.

Despite our unlikely friendship, Diana and I were thick as thieves all throughout elementary and middle school. We even went through the same phases at about the same times. (I don't want to elaborate on the emo phase, it's too embarrassing. But you KNOW my dad got a kick out of it when I asked for a raccoon tail in my hair.) We were able to do just about anything together, and we loved doing stuff together. But, you know how these things go. We're best friends and then high school comes along and ruins everything.

And boy, did it kick up a storm.

I still remember that day when Diana and I were laying on the grass like two shepherds after a long day, staring at the summer sky and admiring the clouds. Our picnic basket and blankets lay a few feet away, a tradition we'd been upholding ever since our parents let us have lunch in the abandoned lot near my house that we called "The Meadow" on summer days. I could feel my face burning, but that didn't seem to matter. All I could focus on were Diana's fingers weaving grass into my hair. For a reason I hadn't yet discovered, it made my heart pound. I closed my eyes against the August heat and focused on the gentle tug from her fingers.

"Winnie?" I heard Diana ask.

"Hm?"

"What do you think high school will be like?"

I kept my eyes closed, taking in a deep breath as I mulled it over.

"Hmm, I'm not sure. I don't know how accurate all those coming-of-age movies are, but they have to have at least a seed of truth to them, don't they? I think... we'll finally get a few liberties, like driving and jobs and the like."

One of the things I admired about Diana was how she'd just listen quietly while you talked. I was so used to speaking freely with her that when I talked to other friends, I was surprised by their sudden interjections. Diana never tried to force her opinion onto mine. I know that part of that was a result of her upbringing, being taught to be a good housewife who kept quiet. But I could also see that Diana had so much empathy for other people and respect for their opinions that she loved hearing what they had to say. She would have made a great reporter.