Seafoam //Completed//

Chapter 1.1

The wind had begun to pick up and Lulu could taste the salt in the air as she stood on the balcony of the lighthouse. The large edifice stood atop a cliff overlooking the sea. The guard rails had fallen off long ago and she had scooted to the very edge of the wooden balcony until her toes were just hanging off.

Looking ahead, she watched the setting sun as it painted the water a thousand shades of pink, and thought how much she wished to be a part of the twilight. It was her destiny, she believed. She didn't belong on solid ground, but rather in the sea foam, in the waves, the water filling her lungs.

From beside her, a boy spoke.

"What are you doing?" he asked her curiously.

"What do you mean?" she replied.

"Well, you're standing on the edge, a little too close to the edge if I may add."

"Yeah, what's your point?" she snapped.

"Well I'm just wondering what you're doing."

"How's that any of your business?"

"Well I'm standing right next to you," he said matter-of-factly.

"So?"

"If you're gonna jump while I'm standing next to you I think that makes it my business."

"That doesn't make it your business," she spat.

"I think it does."

"Well I'm not going to jump."

"You're not gonna jump ever or you're not gonna jump while I'm here," he narrowed his eyes.

"That isn't any of your business."

"Here we go again. Why are you gonna jump?" he asked impatiently.

Upset, she clenched her jaw and muttered under her breath. "I am..." she began, searching for the right words. "Sad," she finished lamely.

"Are you sad or quite sad? There's a difference," he informed her.

"Well, what's the difference?"

"Being quite sad means you cry a lot, and being just sad is like being numb."

"Well, I don't cry," she replied after a pensive pause.

"Ok, then you're just sad."

"And?"

"And I don't think that being just sad is sad enough to jump," he advised.

Lulu let out an exasperated sigh.

"Why are you so sad?"

Lulu ignored him, taking a deep breath to clear her mind. She could feel his eyes on her, though she hadn't turned to look at him. He'd surprised her when he first spoke, believing she was entirely alone. The lighthouse had been boarded up years ago and even the squatters had moved on to better shelter. No one ever came up here, she was sure of it, since it had been her refuge from the chaos at home for at least a year. Her mother's illness had consumed their lives and she would come up here to escape the sorrow that clung to the walls of her house, the smell of grief that hung in the air of her home.

"How old are you?" his voice was softer now, less grating.

Giving in, Lulu turned to look at him for the first time. His big gray eyes stared right into her chocolate ones. His hair was dark and reached just below his ears in loose ringlets.

"Thirteen," she replied curtly, turning away.

"Me too," he said brightly. "What's your name?"

"It doesn't matter."