A Dustland Fairytale

"I swear I was blind before I met you." - Bright Eyes

The beach ahead of us was empty, which I found surprising. I’d only been here a few months, but I noticed people seemed to spend a lot of time at the beach. The sun was sinking towards the horizon, sending long shadows sprawling across the ground. I shrugged out of my jacket and draped it over my bike, pocketing my keys and walking towards the sand. Juliet followed me, kicking off her sandals as soon as we reached the sand.

I dropped down on the ground, relaxing in the fading sunlight and ignoring the loud buzz of Juliet’s phone. It was probably her boyfriend. “Don’t tell me – your posse is looking for you,” I said, grinning. “You’ve only been gone for twenty minutes.”

“I know,” she replied, her fingers clicking on the buttons as she replied. “I wasn’t kidding when I said Poppy would be back soon.”

“Mhm, sure,” I said, rolling onto my back and craning my neck to look straight up at the sky, which was beginning to turn a brilliant orange color out over the ocean but remained blue overhead. “You know, you make no sense,” I said pensively.

“What?” she questioned.

“You heard me,” I continued. “You make no sense. You tell me you hate me, but then you agree to take a ride on my bike. I didn’t even tell you where we were going – you just went. You completely contradict yourself.”

“Uh…” she began, but quickly dropped her sentence. I had caught her. What I’d said was entirely true. In physics I thought she hated me, but she literally jumped on my bike and agreed to speed away, off to God knows where. I could have wanted to kill her, and she had willingly jumped onto my bike. She was a walking contradiction.

“It’s not like you make perfect sense,” she said finally. “This morning, you were rude. Now, you’re polite. You’re not bipolar or anything, are you?”

I sat up, letting the sand run back onto the beach. “Maybe I am,” I said, my tone entirely serious. Of course, I wasn’t, but I wanted to see how she would react. Her eyes grew huge and her whole body tensed, causing me to smile. “You don’t have to look so terrified – I’m not bipolar.” She sighed and brushed the sand off her dress, flinging it towards me. “You’re flicking sand at me.”

“Are you only capable of complaining?” she snapped, turning away from me and snatching her phone. She texted quickly, her fingers flying across the small keyboard.

For a moment I stared at her, wondering if she was the bipolar one. I shook my head, dismissing the thought and saying, “Sorry. I’m not used to California. After living in New York for my entire life, you people seem so sensitive… and fake.”

Her blond hair slid over her shoulder as she turned back to face me. “So now I’m fake, too?” Her eyes glittered with anger. I tried not to roll my eyes in frustration.

“No, you’re not.” I picked up handfuls of sand and allowed the grains to slide through my fingers. “You’re not fake, but a lot of people here are. That cheerleader, Sanctity – ”

“Charity,” she replied automatically.

“That one,” I continued. “She’s so fake I wouldn’t be surprised if she was entirely made of plastic, like some animated doll. People here hide their feelings – mask them with fake happiness. A lot of people I knew in New York just don’t show their emotions.”

“Well, aren’t you special,” she said sarcastically, a smirk on her face.

“We’re all special,” I replied, standing up. I could feel sand slipping into my Converse and considered taking them off, but I didn’t want to sit down again. I brushed the sand from my hands and offered to help Juliet to her feet. “Let’s go for a walk.” She looked at my hand skeptically, as though I would hit her or push her down. “Come on, I don’t bite.” She slipped her hand into mine and I pulled her to her feet. “Hard,” I added.

She rolled her eyes and stepped away from me, taking a few steps towards the frothy waves. The water pooled around her feet but she quickly sprang back, crashing into me. I caught her and led her a few feet away from the water. “What?” I asked.

“It’s cold,” she explained, motioning to the gentle waves drifting up the shore.

I rolled my eyes and sat down, taking off my shoes and socks, hoping I would remember to dump the sand out of my shoes before putting them back on. I rolled up my jeans a few times so the ocean wouldn’t soak them before standing back up. “You’re ridiculous,” I said, taking her hand and leading her back to the water. “Come on, I promise no more inappropriate comments.” I took a few steps into the cool water, but she stood firmly on shore, our clasped hands stretching between us. “It’s September. It’s not that cold yet.”

“It’s cold,” Juliet repeated, allowing the waves to barely touch her foot before withdrawing it quickly.

“Fine,” I said, walking out of the water. I stood next to her on the dry sand and scooped her up, carrying her out into the water. I had only gone a few feet out; the water barely reached above my ankles, but because I was carrying her, she could not see how deep the water was. “If you don’t want to walk in the ocean, I’ll just throw you in.”

“No!” she yelped, wrapping her arms around my neck and curling her body into mine, tensing against the throw she knew was coming. “Please don’t throw me in! I can’t swim!”

“Really?” I asked, carrying her out of the ocean and back to the place where I’d left my shoes. We’d walked farther than I remembered, but Juliet was light and not at all difficult to carry.

“No,” she said, laughing as I returned her feet to the ground. “I just didn’t want to get thrown in the ocean.”

“You’re such a liar, Juliet Hanson,” I said, trying to fight the smile that was tugging at my lips.

“You’re such a mean person, Dean Montague,” she retorted creatively.

I sat down in the sand next to her, staring out over the ocean that sparkled as the sun continued to drop towards the horizon. It had to be around six o’clock. “Do you want to head back now?” I asked.

“I told Poppy to bring my car here,” she replied. “She’ll probably be here soon. Besides, if my parents see me coming home on your bike, they’d seriously flip out. They don’t appreciate motorcycle-driving rebels.”

The smile that had been on my face a second ago disappeared, my lips now pressed together in a line. I should have realized this. She was beautiful and rich – and her parents controlled every aspect of her life. My dad gave up trying to control my life years ago. It seemed Juliet was naïve enough to not even fight. “They appreciate lacrosse-playing Abercrombie models,” I said darkly.

Juliet turned to face me, about to reply, when someone drove up blasting some terrible band I’m sure I’ve never heard of. Headlights illuminated Juliet’s features and she stood, brushing sand from her skirt.

“I should probably go now,” she said, picking up her shoes. Without another word, she walked back towards the bright red car, her best friend, and her perfect life.

“See you tomorrow,” I called, smiling again. My gaze was drawn back to the sand, where something silver glittered brightly among the gold grains. I was positive Juliet had dropped it, and I also realized she would probably want it back as soon as possible. I slipped the ring into my pocket and grabbed my shoes, ready to return a piece of buried treasure.