I tip-toed across the deck, debating the chances I could disappear before Dad saddled me with some miserable boat chore he thought up while I was sitting in Sister Sheila’s sixth grade English class. I skirted the cockpit and ducked behind the aft cabin, not daring to...
If chores built character, I’d be a twelve-year-old Mother Theresa. Today, on a perfect summer morning, I stood in Annie Lee’s porthole-less gloom washing last night’s marinara from Mom’s sailboat emblazoned Melmac. Fish bones floated in the dying suds, making me...
Rain splatted against my calves and chin and one elbow as I turned cartwheels across the beach. Planted right-side-up, I shot a grin at Kate who had been throwing sand balls into the channel between our island and Pier 1. Kate dove into the water, her salt-stiff hair...
Rain splatted against my calves and chin and one elbow as I turned cartwheels across the beach. Planted right-side-up, I shot a grin at Kate who had been throwing sand balls into the channel between our island and Pier 1. Kate dove into the water, her salt-stiff hair...
Susan Sigler narrowed her eyes at me across the lunch table. “We saw you heading into New Smyrna Beach in Big Kev’s truck Saturday night.” I shoved a huge bite of peanut butter and jelly sandwich into my mouth for an excuse not to answer. If they got me to admit I’d...
