Angelina

Waves flitted on and off of the wet sand, causing a pattern of ripples to be sketched onto the beach. Birds of the sea called to each other in high wails, matching the rhythm of the ocean. Modern beach houses lined the edge of the sand like militia preparing to invade the depths. Even in winter it was warm here. The climate never really seemed to change. But if it had been summer there would have been many more people on that beach, especially in the late afternoon. At present there was but one soul on a long stretch of the sandy expanse. Her name was Angelina. She didn’t particularly like the ocean, or the sand, or the modern beach houses. When the tourists were here she pondered their reasons for staying.  She felt that there were so many places elsewhere that would be more enjoyable. Angelina had been to a few of those places and she had liked them a lot more than the scratchy beach or the unrelenting sun.

In her lap she held a novel from the shelves of one of her friends. She had started reading a lot more a couple of months ago, after she realized that she didn’t really care about getting a tan or enjoying the water anymore. The novels she read were usually about adventure, preferably long journeys with plenty of settings and interesting backgrounds. The paradox about this genre of fiction is that it is best to imagine them when lying in bed or sitting on a beach. Your body doesn’t actually move anywhere as you escape into whatever land the author takes you.

Angelina bookmarked her place and looked around at the empty beach. She understood that it was beautiful, but she had seen enough of this particular beauty. Slowly she got up and started off towards the road that bordered the beach. As she walked down the narrow street with her book in hand she thought about the passers-by with their bikes and sandals. Did these people ever get tired of the same old beach with the same sun and same smells coming from the same quaint little restaurants that served the same seafood? Or were they too stuck in their picturesque little lives to notice that, nevertheless, life was boring.

A group of teenagers passed her now. She recognized some of them from school, they were people that she would have hung out with if they weren’t so hypnotized by the beige and blue. Many of the friendships that she had cherished so much had stagnated because she could no longer relate to their interests. No one ever shut up about the next beach party or stopped commenting on the sunsets over the sea. But she knew that she shouldn’t judge them for it, she was probably just cynical and unthankful. Her personality was changing so much that she wasn’t quite sure who she was yet. Many of the new friends she made were all into books. While wanting to move around and experience things outside of her current bubble she had aligned herself with members of the school’s literature club. The majority of them were really nice people but most of them would rather read about Narnia than visit it. Angelina didn’t get that. Didn’t you read to experience something else? If you got the chance to, wouldn’t you plunge into the wardrobe? There was one kindred spirit that she had found in the den of half-introverts, her name was Molly. Molly was the sort of person that would step into the wardrobe, or the painting, or a portal. But the world is sorely lacking in magic portals so Molly made it a point to explore wherever she could whenever the opportunity arose. Angelina had been on a few trips with her already and they had been the most fun she had ever had.

Her bike was still locked up where she had left it. It was a classic model, given to her by her father. It road smoothly over the bumpy asphalt and winded its way through foot traffic like a charm. Angeline's mind morphed the streets into the world she hadn’t managed to pull herself out of as she took the long way home. The bell of a trolley sounded off somewhere near her and she swiveled her head looking for where it was coming from. She backed away from the tracks and watched it leisurely pass her. As it did, a woman dropped something onto the road and gasped in dismay as the trolley rolled away. Angelina put down her kickstand and retrieved the object. It was a jewelry box, purchased at one of the tacky gift shops that littered the town. She didn’t open it but could tell that it was some kind of dolphin necklace that was definitely overpriced. Angelina thought about leaving the aquatic adornment where it was but then realized that she could probably catch up with the trolley. Following the tracks would take her further away from her house but if she could manage to return the necklace she might as well take the time. Her town wasn’t big enough to have an excursion like this get her lost or anything. The bike rode beautifully as she sped up and eventually caught up to the trolley a few blocks away. Angelina simply kept up until it made a stop. Once it was stationary she approached the operator and asked him to give the box to the woman who had dropped it. After he took it from her she hurried home. It didn’t take long. Soon she was getting the key out from the grotesquely obvious fake rock and unlocking the painfully cute door. Her mom was chopping vegetables in the kitchen and her father was outside grilling chicken. They always cooked together. It would be romantic if her father was any good at it. As “grilled” could mean any number of things to him.

“How was the beach?” her mother asked between dissecting broccoli.

Angelina rolled her eyes and responded, “It’s the same as it always is.”

“So how would you like to go somewhere this weekend? Somewhere different as you would say.”

“Like where?”

“Your father and I are torn between visiting Tombstone or Flagstaff. So, we’re going to let you decide.”

“Really?” Angelina pondered the decision. Tombstone had been fun to research but gunfights and cattle rests weren’t really her primary interests. But wearing a parka for the first time did seem like something new, and skiing was one of her favorite fantasy hobbies. “Flagstaff sounds good to me.”

Her mother nodded. “We’ll all like that.”

“I’ve got to go see if any of my winter clothes are even close to fitting me.”

“Alright dear. If they don’t, it’s about time we bought some new ones anyway.”

Angelina climbed the stairs and turned into her room. The floor was clean and the bed was made. There were a few posters left on the wall but most had been replaced by elegant bookshelves. Those weren’t full yet but she was working on her collection. On the ceiling were maps of places as close as the next town and as far away as Mercury. Her desk was orderly but not really clean, homework and books fought for dominance over the space. Angelina set down her book in its empty space on the desk and opened her closet. It was much less organized in there, she never seemed to remember to get more hangers when she ran out so many of the underused clothes were draped over other things that sulked in the closet. She found her puffy winter jacket at the bottom of a heap of well… things. Old Christmas presents and articles of clothing that were barely ever used by someone living on the New Coast. But some of them might be nice to have in Flagstaff. There was an ugly pink and purple beanie, leather gloves with cloth insides, and a dozen other things. She discarded the beanie but put on the gloves. They felt marvelous and fit pretty well. The jacket that she had rummaged for didn’t fit her, which was fine because it had some sports team’s logo on it, probably passed down from her brother.
After an extended search, she found that not much fit besides the gloves and another, more attractive, beanie that she had discovered. Her phone pinged and she brought it out of her pocket to look at it. It was a New Year’s resolution app telling her that it was time to practice her guitar. Music had not been a passion of Angelina for most of her life but she wanted to at least commit of little bit a time to something in that sphere. Volleyball and softball had given her tough hands so the strings didn’t take the toll they would on most people. Stringed instruments also appealed to her so she had picked up guitar. Under the tutelage of YouTube and band class, Angelina had been practicing for more than a month. She knew a of couple songs already, including the theme for her favorite TV show. It took a little preparation but Angelina got comfortable and started to play. Half an hour later her mother knocked on the door and told her that dinner was ready. 

After putting away her instrument and the music, Angelina grabbed a map of Flagstaff and headed down the stairs.