Moonglass

rolled his eyes. He surfed a ten-foot single fin board and never wore a leash. Had he caught the same wave, he would have paddled in smoothly, popped up, and gone straight to the nose to finish out the ride.
    I hopped over their backpacks and turned my attention to the point, where black cliffs rose sharply from the green water and mussel-covered rocks. Briefly I let myself wonder how my parents had met here. I couldn’t even picture them that young.
    Was it my dad out in the water and my mom walking the beach early in the morning? He’d probably tell me if I asked. He’d probably be happy to.
    I dismissed the thought almost as quickly as it had come into my head, and hopped over a tangled-up strand of seaweed. Three more paces brought me to a large rock, and I tagged it with one foot, pushed off, and turned around. As I did, I stole a sideways glance at the guys in the water, which wasn’t enough to tell how old they were or what they looked like, but enough to know that they were looking in my direction, probably trying to figure out those same things. I put my head down, suddenly self-conscious, and picked it up again. This time to a pace that was faster than comfortable. A slow burn spread out in my chest as I flew over the sand, hoping they didn’t realize.
    thankfully, just up the beach something caught my eye in the brightening sunlight. It looked like a piece of frosty ice sitting on the sand. Out of place, but next to invisible if you weren’t looking for it. I stopped abruptly to pick up the thick half-dollar-size piece of sea glass, then turned it in my fingers and held it up to the light. It was pitted and translucent on the outside, but there was one edge that was still crystal clear, a window to the inside of the glass. In the center I saw the small spots my mom had told me about. Something about the process of making the glass that meant it was close to a hundred years old.
    She would have said it wasn’t a great piece, because of the broken edge.
    I liked the ones with the chips in them, though, where you could see what the piece looked like bare and pure, before the ocean had tumbled it around and worn it down. The beauty of a piece like this was that after it had been worn down, something had happened to crack it open. Something big.
    I curled my fingers around it and ran the rest of the way back, switching it from hand to hand and feeling like I had found a small treasure.
    By the time I stood stretching in the sand, the beach was alive and the sun shone brightly as families lugging umbrellas and sand toys staked out their spots. The unmistakable smell s of syrup, coffee, and bacon wafted over, drawing me up the beach to where I could see small groups of people milling about. Out in front of what must have at one time been another cottage, a sign read THE BEACHCOMBER. The deck was packed, and the sounds of clinking plates and happy Sunday morning chatter almost drowned out the waves. The people waiting stood by in sunglasses, smiling and laughing while their kids played happily in the sand. It was definitely a different set of people from what I was used to seeing up north, and it was exactly what I’d expected here. The people dressed to impress, even for breakfast at the beach, which made me feel distinctly out of place in my sweaty shorts and sports bra. Actually, I would have felt out of place in this crowd no matter how I was dressed. I watched a moment longer before turning to head for a shower.
    “So. Do you always run that fast?” a voice behind me asked. I turned around and saw a tiny blond girl in a long sundress, heeled sandals, and sunglasses the size of her face. She shifted the giant bag on her shoulder, and a fluffy white dog poked its head out.
    I glanced around. Nobody else she could be talking to. “Uh, no, not always. Why?” I couldn’t decide if I was suspicious or annoyed.
    “Well, I never ran, because I always heard it shortens your muscles, but I was watching the Olympics this summer, and all of the runner girls are really skinny, but not too muscley, kind of like you, and so I decided to do cross-country this year. You know, running on a team.” She blinked a few times, waited for a response, then clarified, “To lose some weight.”
    I looked at her tiny, perfectly tanned frame, trying to figure out if she was serious. She didn’t seem to notice, and I let her go right on with it.
    “Anyway, it starts tomorrow, and so I told my dad that this would have to