December 31, 2008

                                    

                                          
The trip was a disaster.
                          
We were at the beach. It was supposed to be a day filled with fun in the sun and all that, with my mom sunbathing, my dad and Amy playing in the water, and Olivia and I were going to build a sandcastle. 
                          
Only, when we got to the beach, there was no sun. It was misty and foggy, the sun hidden behind layers of clouds. I should have known then that nothing would go well. Unfortunately, I paid no attention. It was a fairly warm day for December, and we only needed thin sweaters. For some reason, my sister still liked playing in cold water. So she splashed around like a dog, getting me wet and annoyed. Second minor disaster.
                          
My mom decided to read instead of sunbathe, saying that we would be back in the summer for that anyways—and there was no sun. She would have been cloudbathing.
                          
At first Olivia had stood there awkwardly, unsure what to do. I beckoned her to come help me build a castle with twisting spires and towering turrets. Olivia didn't seem to be enjoying herself too much, though, so I asked if we could take a walk. 
                          
My mom sighed, and told us that we had to be back by lunch. Then she gave me her cell phone for emergencies. Not playing, she'd said. 
                          
Olivia had a twenty dollar bill, and she had wanted ice cream despite the wind. Her mother didn't usually buy her sweets. So we headed to the small ice cream parlor across the street, looking both ways before we crossed. At least that part hadn't been a disaster.
                          
"Do you want anything?" She asked, as she told the clerk she wanted the chocolate and mint flavors.
                          
I shook my head. If my mom found out . . .
                          
"Come on, Sophie! We're on vacation! Ice cream is part of it!" Olivia wheedled. In her head, she just wanted to be a good friend. She was oblivious to the fact that I had never had ice cream before this. But if she was trying so hard, I supposed it couldnt hurt. So I nodded and picked out the most plain flavor—French vanilla—in a cup. Waffle cones had an extra cost and I didn't want to waste Olivia's money.
                          
As the man handed me the ice cream and a spoon, I picked at it, a little more than nervous to try it. "What's wrong?" Olivia asked as we strolled around the small tourist neighborhood.
                          
I shrugged. "I've never had ice cream."
                          
She gasped. "Really? In all your six years?"
                          
"My mom says it's unhealthy, too sweet and bad for your teeth. She never buys any." I said. 
                          
She laughed. "My mom says that too. But for once she isn't here to scold me, so I wanted some. Are you going to try it?" She peered at my ice cream, which had begun to melt.
                          
I shrugged again. Would my mom or dad see what I had eaten? It wasn't brown or green like Olivia's, so it probably wouldn't be too bad . . .
                          
I took a small spoonful and shoved it in my mouth. The sweet vanilla taste melted on my tongue and my eyes widened.
                          
Olivia, who had been watching me, laughed and watched me shovel all of it in my mouth, not stopping for one second. When I finished I was full and wished for more. Then i remembered: Lunch!
                          
I reached for my mom's phone, which had been in my pocket a few seconds ago. It was gone.
                          
"Sophie?" My friend asked. "Are you okay?"
                          
My mom was going to kill me. I pivoted, looking for where I could have dropped it. Maybe at the ice cream parlor . . .
                          
"Sophie?" Worry crept into Olivia's voice. "What is it?"
                          
"My mom's phone," I wailed. "It's gone!"
                          
"Come on, let's retrace our steps. . ." She trailed off. "Um, come to think of it, where are we?"