Just One Voice

•Being A Beach About It•

~14~

Now in the sandy parking lot, I shift my new car into park and roll the windows back up. Acalia and Max have just finished an intense karaoke session to every typical girly song I can think of, ending with an attempted three-part-harmony finale to Single Ladies. And how, exactly, do two people sing three different harmonies? Ask Max, who took the leftover two upon himself, trying his absolute best to sing both at the same time—while also doing instrumentals, and backup.

My ears are still ringing.

But my throat is also scratchy from laughing so hard at such an entertaining show. I think these two would get a better grade in my performance class then I ever will.

"I just documented that whole thing." Rylie snickers, replaying the energetic duet on her phone, "Don't cross me now you guys, I've got dirt."

"Actually I was going to ask you to post it to YouTube. I wouldn't mind getting discovered, or whatever you music people call it," Max says.

I roll my eyes. I'm not convinced that even the best auto tune in the industry could fix his pitch. Also, I'm pretty sure he may have invented a few new notes during the last song alone.

"I feel great now," he continues, "like I really did just dump my old boyfriend and now I'm thriving. Single empowerment, am I right? And the acoustics in this new ride are beautiful."

I chuckle at his silly words, running my fingertips over the smooth, black interior of my new jeep. Hopefully no one asks me what brand or model it is, because I still don't know anything about cars. Max picked it out for me as expected, but at first he was definitely rooting for fancier, louder and way more expensive options. After finally convincing him to follow my simplistic style, he chose this one just the other day. I can really only knowledgeably describe it as silver, and nice to drive, which just so happens to meet all of my rich girl standards with flying colors.

My gaze now directs forward, softly rocking with waves crashing, rebuilding and pushing themselves higher up the beachfront ahead. A jetty is visible in the far distance, the jagged structure of rocks reaching into a mysterious and foggy horizon. Regardless of the slight haze, the setting sun is still clearly the dominant feature of the sky, glowing orange and teasing a vibrant sunset to soon follow.

I glance at the digital clock at the front of my dashboard. It reads about five o'clock in the evening.

"Are you guys absolutely sure that we can stay the night here? There are still quite a few people around," I ask.

Acalia practically beams from the back seat, pushing her rose gold pair of sunnies up into her hair, "Well, we have to walk along the shoreline a ways to actually get to camp, it's more secluded there. And don't worry, Ryls and I stayed here with a group of friends last year and it was super fun! I know a bunch of other people who have done it too, and only like, four of them have been arrested."

Four? As in two plus two? That's the exact human content number that currently occupies this vehicle. How reassuring, really.

"Good enough for me." Max pats the roof of the car and opens his door, beginning the unloading process.

Our definitely non-conspicuous bunch shuffles down the the grainy steps that lead to the beach, arms full of food, towels and sleeping bags. Though the load is heavy, my body suddenly relaxes as soon as my toes are buried in warm sand.

The bit of a hike to the girls' ideal site doesn't last long, but proves to be worth it as soon as we arrive. A few towering stone formations somewhat enclose the area, making a proportional concoction of shade and sunlight. The sheer granules of sand almost seem softer here, no longer contaminated by sharply scattered rocks and shells. There's a worn trail winding up a grassy hill, and I can't help but wonder to where it leads.