Waves crash over hidden sand bars, sending water spiralling out across the beach in long licks. Crash. Crash. Crash. The sound resonates in my ears, punctuated only by the light cacophony of birds chirping in the distance. Adjusting my dark sunglasses I shift to make myself more comfortable on the wide retaining wall I've ungracefully sprawled across.

"Blue or red?" Zoe asks, breaking Mother Nature's peaceful lullaby. Unlike myself, sleep is not infringing upon Zoe's mind - her stomach is. She too sits on the wall, her feet dangling off the edge and counting every coin we managed to scab from our pockets like our lives depend on it.

"Red, thanks." I respond.

Twisting my neck to the side, I allow the hot sun to beat golden waves of solid UV over my body. I've never been the biggest fan of the outdoors but as I bask in the afternoon light, my bare legs stretched out next to me, I realise I could get used to this. Let me rephrase: my quickly developing tan could really get used to it.

Zoe skips over to the small take-out shop not far from the retaining wall and soon returns with two bright red slushies clasped tightly in her hands.

"Thank you," I say taking one of the frosty drinks from her and sitting up to take one long slurp from it.

It's been a week now and I've somehow managed to avoid almost all forms of interaction with Zachary. I've encouraged my family to participate in having early breakfasts to promote a more productive use of daylight hours and, if timing is unkind to me, I also encourage them to sit at the table furthest from his brown mop of hair had we happen to be in any dining room the same time as him. Despite Zoe still managing to drag me off to cheap house parties and the occasional poolside hang-out, Zach has not made an appearance at any of these events, much to my relief.

"We should go shopping," Zoe announces a few moments later.

"Sure," I agree, "Any particular reason?"

"Perhaps," Her lips curl upwards in a slow smile known to occur before she introduces me to her newest, most controversial idea.  

"Yeah? And what's that?"

Crossing her legs over and shuffling so she's sitting directly opposite me, the small smile begins to excitedly unravel across her face. "So, I know a guy. A weird guy. Actually, he's kind of a cute guy-"

"Zoe." I urge her to get to her point.

"Right, right. I know a guy who's co-hosting this epic bonfire down at Southern Beach tomorrow. You know that one with all the giant mangroves? Anyway, its meant to be some annual party with a lot of dancing the locals hold to mark the beginning of some ancient ritual where certain objects are sacrificed to ensure the Gods supply plenty of rain for their crops or something. I don't know much about it. It's called The Vocatio, I think. He told me to bring friends along."

"The Vocatio?" My voice is thick with scepticism. "A sacrificial rain dance?"

"That's what it used to be," Zoe is quick to clarify. "Now it's just an excuse for teens to sacrifice their livers for one drunken night of rebellious freedom. It's gonna be fun, I promise!"

"I don't know Zoe. That sounds pretty wild, even for you . . . "

"Come on Kales! It's meant to be mad! And if it does get too crazy, then we'll just leave. Whenever you want to, whatever the time or circumstances. My guarantee."

I don't know if it's the slushie intoxicating me with unnatural sugar, if it was Mother Nature's perfect weather or just Zoe's infectious smile already blooming across her face at the thought of this supposedly grand night. But somehow, my own lips found themselves curling upwards in the same hopeful grin. "Alright. Let's do it."

-----

Rows of cropped tee's flash across my retinas before morphing into a kaleidoscope of bright bikinis and then dissipating back into a flurry of thin hoodies. Lifting a hand, I lightly touch the fabrics as I shuffle through them, hardly even looking at them anymore.  What sort of outfit is socially acceptable for a wild bonfire primarily catered by the local pub, I'm not sure. No doubt, something revealing a lot of skin. 

Looking up, I see Zoe talking to a guy who works in the store about what colour bikini he thinks looks best. I say talking, but judging from the smile on Zoe's face and the glint in his eyes, I think 'flirting' would be a better verb to depict the situation.

Eventually, I stumble across a black mini skirt within an affordable price range. Coupled with a pair of high-top Vans and a cropped navy tee I already own, my outfit for the bonfire is sorted. I take my loot to purchase at the counter before skimming the surrounding area for a bench to wait for Zoe on. Judging by her tanned hand that's made it onto his bicep, it could be a long wait. 

Slipping my hand into my pocket, I flush out my phone to fire off a quick text to Lucy: 'Zoe's dragging me to a bonfire tomorrow night. Want to come?'

Within seconds my phone buzzes in my palm, 'Can't. Going to snap some turtles.'

At first glance, Lucy looks like your typical delinquent teen with her dyed black hair, her appetite for booze and the occasional smoking of a variety of drugs. In my opinion, this wild display evolves mostly around Lucy's parents' mild neglect in which I've never heard them tell Lucy off for anything, ever. But beneath the harsh surface, Lucy's got an inner nerd who, if she wants to, can be really smart. She's not going to snap turtles violently with the intent of causing harm, rather she's going to snap photos of them. At least, I hope that's what she meant.

'Enjoy,' I reply.

'Drink a keg.'

I don't bother masking my smile at her blatant attitude and slip my phone back into my pocket. Without meaning to, my mind begins to wonder about the size of this party. The Vocatio, Zoe called it. An annual event suggests it'll be a large party . . . does that mean Zach will be making an appearance? I shake my head to clear my thoughts. I spend far too much time thinking about a boy I'm meant to supposedly feel only indifference towards. 

Sighing, I get up from my mildly uncomfortable bench and subtly motion to Zoe over the top of Store Boy's shoulder that I'll wait for her outside. She nods back understandingly. 

The air's cooler now and with each light puff of wind, wisps of sweetly scented ozone itches my nose. Somewhere over the horizon, Mother Nature sits over a cauldron, brewing up a storm. According to Patrick, these evening storm's are going to become more and more common as we continue to rapidly approach the middle of Summer. When I was little I would have hated his cautioning. Storms, along with spiders and the ghosts that lived in the attic frequently visited my nightmares. Now, storms along with ice-cream and the smell of freshly baked bread frequently visit me in my daydreams as a source of comfort. 

From the store front I can see the bay where a majority of boats have docked for the night. Not far from the bay is a shallow beach where a couple of kids run up and down tossing what appears to be a soggy tennis ball back and forth between them. I make my way over to the golden sand and, kicking off my pair of thongs to instead hold in my hand, I bury my toes in the sand allowing the salty waves to wash over them. 

Crash. Crash. Crash. The lullaby that had nearly pushed me unconscious over an hour ago, once again infringes on my ears, worming its way through hidden tubes within my head until my mind becomes drowsy. It's the sort of drowsiness that numbs my senses in a peaceful way. Peaceful, until a hard object aggressively slams into the base of my skull with an echoing 'thwack!'.

"Sorry! Are you alright?" 

Still dazed from unexpected sheer force of the small projectile, it takes a moment to clear my mind enough to focus on the pair of golden pigtails wrapped in hot pink ribbons that stands before me. The girl - around the age of seven or eight - wears a concerned expression with a hint of fear tinging her features. Scared that I'll get angry, perhaps?

In an attempt to prove to her I'm not upset I crack a light smile and pick up the tennis ball that's implanted itself in the sand at my feet. "Here you go," I offer the ball to her. 

"Thanks," A smile of her own appears across her small face, "Sorry again about your head. I'm not very good at aiming. I'm Lexi, by the way."

"Hey, it's all good. And I'm Kaylee, it's a pleasure to meet you," Smiling, I lean down to shake her hand as if we are forty-year-old business professionals. 

She giggles and instantly I'm glad I made the gesture, for her sheer happiness if nothing else. "Will I see you again?" She asks, shyly. 

"Sure you will. We're friends now, right?"I smile again at her before she agrees and runs off again, throwing the ball at a boy a similar age to her that lags behind in the distance. 

Watching them play, I feel a twinge of nostalgia for my own childhood. What was it like to have so little problems? No stress, no real self-concerns. Most of all I miss having no concern about what any others thought of me. Of what a certain boy thought of me. 

I watch them for a moment longer, laughing when Lexi accidentally throws it at an old man's foot instead of the other little boy. The man, like myself, picks up the ball for her with a wide smile on his face before shooting me a friendly wink when he senses me watching. 

My phone vibrates in my pocket rapidly. It's Zoe, 'I'm out.' And again, 'Where are you?'

The kids and man are still watching me in the distance. For a moment I think they're waiting for me to play with them. If I had the time, there is a strong chance I would have taken them up on their offer. Instead, I shoot them a wave and flash a row of smiling teeth at them before jogging back to the store I had left Zoe at. 

With the sun beating down my back, the taste of red slushie remaining on my tongue and the hopeful burn of Zoe's wild bonfire sitting in my stomach, my holiday is finally becoming the textbook definition of how a holiday should be - all sunshine and wild smiles. 

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A/N:

Not the most action-packed chapter but it's about to get going. I promise. 

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