Carmen - a childhood story (aka a longish drabble)

1967

You were ready to pull out your hair. Every time you thought you got the sand out, you could feel those miniscule demons crusting on your scalp.

You tsk and you around for your nylon bag. Half-submerged in sand you haul it to you and rummage inside. Sunscreen, sunglasses, change of clothes. You take out of book and frown. How did that get in here? You're not a bookworm, actually you find it super goddamn boring. 

"You didn't bring one, kid," a voice interrupts your musings.

Carmen's laying on her towel, arms at her side and body glistening. She gave you and Dante specific instructions not to bother her while she's tanning. You can't see her eyes from behind her heart shaped sunglasses but her face is clearly toward away from you.

"Didn't bring what?"

"A comb," she replies in a distant voice. She sounds drowsy. But she wouldn't be caught dead ruining her tan.

"Huh?"

She sighs, "you keep repeating 'comb, comb, comb' like an idiot. You didn't fucking bring it."

You start at her blasé use of the F word. You say it sometimes around your friends but never with family. Although, the Grecos are in a weird place where you wouldn't call them your cousins but they're not really your friends. Especially Carmen who treats you like you're 12.

"Can I use yours?" you ask.

She curls her lip. "And get your gross sandy hair all over it? No thanks, kid."

You never know who you want to punch more, her or her brother. At least Dante treats you like you're almost his age.

"You don't have to be so mean," you grumble.

Carmen lets out a dry laugh. "If you think I'm being mean you would probably wet your pants if you heard me talking to someone I hate."

You raise an eyebrow. "I thought you hated me."

She lowers her sunglasses onto the slope of her nose. She peers at you with languid eyes. "Don't use hate for annoying kids, Luce. You have to use 'hate' for someone who really pisses you off. A real piece of work deserves hate because hate equals death."

You look at her in confusion. "I hate sand in my hair, doesn't mean I want to kill the ocean."

Her eyes fill with judgement at your perceived stupidity, "in our world it-"

She props herself up on her elbow. Her eyes track along the shore. You lean forward a bit.

"In our world... what?"

She sits up and starts fluffing her hair. She adjusts her sunglasses and then moves around her bikini top. You look away in mild embarrassment when you see how pronounced she's making them.

She stands up and starts strolling to the shore, her hips swaying in a way you know is fake. You squint and see a boy, no older than Carmen walking along the wet sand.

"Oh course," you say. You see her bag and reach over for it.

"Touch it Luce and I'll shave your eyebrows off," Carmen shouts. You look over your shoulder and she isn't even looking your way. Her arm is looped lazily around the boy's torso.

"Witch!" you shout back.