Sarah's Seashell

Chapter One

Hey guys! I hope you like this chapter, because I worked really hard on this. If you don't vote, I will start throwing man eating, exploding, long-distance-spitting llamas. I'm working on the AWRH update, so stay tuned! Thanks, and enjoy.

To be quite frank, I used to hate the beach like nothing else. I despised how the sand got stuck in my toes, and beneath my eyelids. It scratched my iris everytime I blinked, and got stuck in my sandwich.- Even worse? The smell. That stench was ghastly; the reek of high tide. It permeated my nose, and stuck to my skin like a disease. It was worse than old sneakers and poop combined. I couldn't undersand why people were so attracted to such a smelly, dirty-litter, anyone? - type of place.

So naturally, when we headed to the beach for Summer break, my sentiments towards the sandy death-trap hadn't changed in the slightest. This year though, it was much worse than usual. I was stuck in Cape May, New Jersey for a full month.

I guess that the beach wouldn't be too horrible, if my siblings weren't thrown into the mix. A multitude of awkward experiences and strange run-ins have put me off of the shore for life.

First there's Naia, epitome of teenage drama queen and aficionado of all things sparkly. To put the icing on the cake, I have to put up with the twins. Connor and Aiden are double trouble, mini whirlwinds of destruction.

Man, I thought I had it pretty bad. But it went from bad, to worse faster then you could say "beach."

***

I sat with my hands clasped firmly over my ears, and my head tucked in between my knees. I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I had been in the car for two hours, I had to pee, and I had almost been impaled twice by flying projectiles. I figured if I curled myself into a tight enough ball, I would be safe.

Even though my eyes weren't open, I could take a pretty good guess at what was going on inside our boxy Chrysler Town & Country.

My older sister Naia was probably glued to her phone. I could almost see her tapping away about how totally lame her family was, even through my closed eyes. It was a safe bet to say she had her iPod blaring. She claims it protects her from becoming like the rest of us: "totally lame and uncool."

Apparently the inability to hear will rescue Naia from her ultimate demise-becoming like the rest of us. And we couldn't have that, now could we?

I'm not saying I'm cool or anything though. If I were Naia, I wouldn't want to end up like me either. Naia has long wavy blonde hair, whereas mine is kind of frizzy and messy. Her eyes are a solid shade of green, and mine are a weird shade of an unidentifiable color. Gray, maybe? My mom calls them hazel.

My mom was sitting next to Naia, which was a pity, because Naia can be pretty obnxoxious and Mom was a bad multi-tasker. Her fingers were wrapped around the steering wheel. They were probably a taunt white color around the knuckles and her hair was pulled into a messy corn silk bun. Mom's nose was likely to be folded down a little, nostrils flared. I didn't blame her. I would have kicked Naia onto the high way an hour ago if she snapped her gum in my ears. But I might be a little biased.

The blackness behind my eyes was starting to swirl, the way it usually did when I kept my eyes closed for a while. I used my fists to press them, and blurry gree-blue dots swirled through the darkness the invaded my vision. It's supposed to be bad for your eyes, but I like watching the circles move in and out.