Private Beach

            "Really Pedro?  Why do they have to live here?  Why do you have to offer the worst of people something they don't deserve when we don't even have what they need?"  I ask my brother Pedro, my voice full of question.

            "They aren't what you think they are, they're good kids just caught in the wrong situation."  He replies smoothly.

I give him that look that means I don’t approve of what he’s telling me.

"Look, it's just for a couple days and they won't cause any trouble.  You might even like them after you get to know them."  He says with that same expression that I just shot him.

"You keep addressing them as 'the boys' or 'these kids'.  What are their real names?"  I ask.

"Damien and Trevor."  He says, looking confident.

I look around the room, down at my red polka-dot bikini and my bare stomach and legs. With my hands on my hips, facing Pedro while he comfortably lounges on one of our leather couches, feet rested on the coffee table, I decide a couple days won't hurt.

"Okay fine.  But if they even step foot in my room or touch my stainless-steel coffeemaker, you and your 'friends' heads will be in a bucket, ready for the dogs to eat."  I say, pausing a moment for the effect.  "Oh and if you teach them to put their feet on the coffee table like that they will be out the door before you even notice they were gone." I say, shoving his feet off the table.

Smiling, he says, "Don't you worry about this Peyton!  You won't even notice they're here." he says and runs up the stairs to his room, faster than I've ever seen him move.

Shaking my head, I walk into the laundry room and grab a beach towel from one of the cabinets.  Out on the balcony I am roughly greeted by our two pit bulls, Jesse and Sargent.

"Calm down, I'll pat you in a second."  I say as I make my way to our private beach. Stopping at the gate leading to the beach, I make sure the dogs don't sneak behind me as I open the gate.  I hang my towel on the wooden fence and bend down to pet the dogs, taking in the warm summer breeze.

As I open the gate, Sargent slips through the tiny space, onto the beach.  "Sarge, get over here!"  I call in my demanding voice.  He stands there for a moment before bolting to the other side of the beach, towards the neighbors’ private beach.  I run after him screaming his name over and over, carrying myself over the sand faster than ever.

I see a blurry figure of a boy, shirtless, and in swimming trunks.  As I stare at him and run as fast as I can, I trip on a piece of driftwood, face planting into the sticky sand.  While getting up and spitting out a mouthful of sand, I feel water running down my chin, then on my stomach and legs.  I look down and see drops of blood everywhere.  Feeling my lips and chin, I look at my hand and it's covered in blood.

"Shit."  I murmur to myself. I gaze back at the house, and then everything is black.

I wake up when I hear feet pounding into the dirt.  It’s that boy that was in the distance with swimming trunks.  Immediately I notice his deep blue eyes that are staring intently at me.  I also notice that he has blonde hair, cut short.

He pauses for a moment and says, “Looks like you got cut pretty bad,” gently observing my chin as I lay there helpless.