The sand under Minerva’s feet stung in ways she couldn’t quite describe. She’d spent four hours or so with her cousins down at the Outer Banks of North Carolina, and was coming home to the beach house her uncle, Diego, owned. After Minerva filled her jean shorts’ pockets to their brims with junk and shells, her cousins called over to her from the big white jeep.

“C’mon Minerva! We don’t have all day to get back to the beach house!” Sadie yelled, cupping the sides of her mouth with her hands.

“Aw, man…” Minerva sighed. She trudged up the sandy hill, grains falling in between her toes.

The car door opened, and the back of the white jeep was dirty with debris and tote bags of beach toys. Minerva buckled up and Cousin Asher jammed the keys into their hole. The three were off, leaving the burning, setting sun in the pink-tinted backdrop. Sadie and Asher talked about what they might do with the fish they’d caught on the motor boat, but Minerva zoned out and counted the pail of clams and trinkets in her pockets. Thirty-three seashells, and nine pieces of sea glass. She documented all of it in a journal filled with photos of her years growing up in North Carolina, the most recent entry, her eleventh birthday. Once Asher turned the corner to 896 Salvador street, the radio abated and Minerva picked up all of her possessions.

”You’re so late! Dinner was ready seven minutes ago!” Uncle Diego and Aunt Phoebe stepped outside, a pitcher of lemonade was perched on the patio table alongside some peanut butter cookies with those perfectly laid fork divots in their dough. Sadie snagged one after she entered the air-conditioned living room.

”Seven minutes is barely a dent! We’ll be here on time tomorrow.” Asher followed Sadie soon after. Minerva came out of the car and sprang up to hug Uncle Diego.

Dinner was collard greens, fish, and some mashed potatoes. Minerva’s grandmother sat across the table from her, warmth just radiating from her squinted eyes as she looked up and welcomed the girl. Minerva pushed the greens around her plate while the ceaseless chatter of the adults blanketed her dreamy mind. Fishing, clamming, and boating replayed in her mind. In time, Minerva would get asked a question or two. She could tell the story of how she saw a jellyfish whilst snorkeling today, or her impressive sandcastle, possibly even the fact she went on the motor boat for the first time! The cacophony of chewing and the dog attempting to snag some of the fish was suspiciously overwhelming tonight.

“Nighttime will come soon.” Minerva thought, and so it did.

Eight-o-clock and Sadie’s phone buzzed, “Oh! Aunt Jane’s calling. Minerva, I’ll let her know you’re doing good.” Minerva nodded.

Minerva settled into the room she’d called her own for two months now, just a small room in the house painted blue and yellow with little flowers on the wallpaper. The empty purple suitcase on the side of the room lay as a future reminder of the coming fall. Two pails of her shells on the hardwood floor beckoned her as well. She found the largest fox seashell on the top of the container and held it up to her ear.

If you listen closely, you can hear the ocean.

Only, she heard a voice. Wake up, Minerva.

That scared Minerva pacedly and enough to lead her asleep for the night. She clicked off the lamp with the switch she pulled downwards and the room around her swirled. She lay awake in the darkness, peacefully, yet confused.

Wake up, Minerva.

The next thing Minerva could remember was water. Water filling her senses as she brought herself to conscience. She felt the cool embrace of scales on her once smooth but scraped up skin and her hair was suspended in the mess of liquids around her. The fox seashell, the one with the voice and the regal orange markings, was hooked around her neck with a string of pearls.

There was no need to wake up anymore, she was no longer dreaming.