I was on my way to Nahlia's house. I like looking at things on the way and slowly my pace down. Her home makes me feel like a sucker, and best friend all in one. It's peaceful though, like billboard at the midpoint. It has two large purple eyes watching the sunset. It's an advertisement for sunglasses.

The tender movements of the palm trees pass me. It wasn't too windy today, allowing them to dance lightly across the chalky sand and sidewalk. I like the beach too, but I don't like being in public.

“There it is. No one's here. Ok....”

The salty air blows across my face. It didn't look like her uncle was home. Sometimes he comes home without his vehicle. Nahlia puts out a little flower pot or something small. It's our secret language. It lets me know when it's safe to enter.

The caustic breath of ocean water blows against my face, before disappearing. I was in front of her single-story house. It was covered in light blue paneling with large rectangular windows that stretched from the ground to the roof. The inside windows were covered with curtains, however on the outside were the familiar moving projections that simulated waterfalls.

Above the windows was a flat wooden roof with orange discoloration. The wooden boards formed a kind of porch above, surrounded by a white stucco wall. Sometimes. we go up there near the plastic umbrella table.

“Ah!...”

The hiss of several sprinkles surprises me near the young palm trees. Small lavender bricks surround them leaning on each other like dominoes and you don't want to stub your toe on them. I look at the long hose running to the faucet on. I wished I could turn it up and soak myself.

The click of a metal latch and suction from a heavy door refocuses me. I come face-to-face with my only friend, who was ironically from the ground. Nahlia is pretty hot. She's worth skipping school for, but not everyone thinks so.

“You weren’t at lunch today,” I blurt out.

Nahlia ignores my comment. She tries to close the door, but I stop it with my foot.

“Stop, Tayt!”

“Make me. I have something cool I found yesterday.” I smile and raise my eyebrows. I did find out something cool. It was sure to brighten Nahlia's day. Nahlia looks at me. A smile creeps up on the corners of her mouth. It vanishes quickly. She motions me in, but stops me.

“I'm not supposed to answer the door anymore,” states Nahlia solemnly. She hides in the doorway, playing with the door back and forth.

“So?” I answer.

“Better make this quick.” she adds.

Nahlia grabs my shirt and pulls me inside. There was a scab on her lip that was starting to bleed again. She tucks her lip in when she looks back at me. The kitchen had smooth tile that felt like it was coated in green plastic. Nahlia scoots a chair in so I could get buy. Magazines and coins cluttered the table and it was best not to touch or move anything out of place.

“Don't touch anything!”

“I already know that. Geez!”

We walk to through the kitchen and toward the hallway. I take a few steps forward, but Nahlia was in my way. Something had caught her attention as usual and she was completely zoned out. I look through the kitchen window to see what the big deal was. Across the street, was a billboard of purple eyes beneath some sunglasses with a slogan “eScapE lifE.” It was that same old advertisement promoting all-natural eye color surgery. However, the artwork was sound and the picture was from a book Nahlia loved reading.

“It's just another advertisement to me,” I think.

I snap my fingers and bring Nahlia back to reality. She moves out of my way and we both enter the hallway. The hallway was decorated with pictures of her relatives. Nahlia was an only child and her parents were killed when she was seven. Her early hardships never got her down and I liked that about her. There were moments when Nahlia was too alive in the present to be distracted by the past. Other times, I had to get her attention. It was annoying when she zoned out. Maybe she just didn't care?

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

In no time, we arrive in Nahlia's bedroom.

Inside, an expansive holographic poster hangs on the wall next to some folding closet doors. It projects a picture of a tidal wave, bringing a surfer toward the viewer as he or she passes. Beneath the picture was a plush bed and to the far side of it was a neon lamp, dimly lighting the nearby walls in pink. Across the way was a wall of glass – nothing more than sliding doors leading straight out onto the beach. Plastic curtains were held to the sides of the sliding doors in various shades of whites and dark blues. On the glass panels were moving simulations of floating clouds, changeable with the flick of a lost remote. Lush carpeting was spread neatly across the floor, yet a gristly floor mat covered part of it, keeping the outside sand near the doorway. A pair of sandals lay next to a large collection of old ones and a few pairs of sandals and long boots were placed neatly by the door. Nahlia loved her bedroom.

“I start counseling again,” I interject.

Nahlia walks over to her closet and folds open the sliding doors. She lets her eyes adjust to the dark. A take another look at her. She had the wardrobe of a typical Neandelerian girl:

A shirt with a wide-cut neck hole exposing her left shoulder. A diagonal cut along the bottom exposed a section of her midriff, parallel to the cut at the top.

A short denim skirt.

A loose belt to be worn untucked. A large butterfly belt buckle.

A band of shark's teeth worn around the exposed midriff.

A cigarette pouch, buckled apathetically around the thigh near a gun holster.

A long thin strap of chemicals to strike a match up the leg.

A Neandelerian corsage, and finally

A large pair of sunglasses with a matching middle finger.

“Why would you go back to counseling? It pissed you off before didn't it?” replies Nahlia. I hear her scrummage more in her closet.

I shrug. I hated going to counseling mostly because of the cliché advice I was given about my problems. Some of them were good, but the ones in Neandeleria seemed to have one thing in common. “I don't care” with a smile for money. Being happy was more than just eating crap and saying it tasted good. That was my experience living in Cepertine.

“Talk is cheap...”

I glance around Nahlia's room trying to forget the topic. I look at her sliding doors and barely make out the white sand on the other side. The holograms helped dull the brightness. Nahlia liked going out on the sand more than me.

“So, when are you coming to the sky platforms?” I ask abruptly.

Nahlia gives me a stare and then continues looking through her closet. Finally, she finds what she was looking for and gives me an answer. “I'm not going, so don't ask me anymore,” she says from across the room.

“You promised to come this week,” I say a bit frustrated, leaning against the wall.

“It's not safe for me there,” replies Nahlia ducking her head slightly. To one side of her head, her hair was pulled and spread out like a large flower. The rest was styled and wet-looking, like any stereotypical ground dweller girl.

“Pool hair.”

I watch Nahlia from behind. She was looking for her stash of happy.

“And it's not safe for you here either,” I shoot back, knocking on the wall of the house. An indentation in the wall from a slamming doorknob lay right below his fist. Nahlia gives an annoyed expression before she speaks.

“No one likes a smart ass,” states Nahlia narrowing her eyes at me.

“No one likes a dumb ass either,” I mock.

“What's that supposed to mean?” returns Nahlia a bit more frustrated. The whole room goes quiet except for the sounds of the air conditioning vents.

Before anything more is said, the sounds from the front door opening vibrate through the house.

“Crap,” I think. Nahlia's heartbeat jumps.

“Don't forget to cover your tracks this time,” she says leading me to the sliding doors of her room. She gives me a push out the door and quickly slides the glass door shut. Curtains close, to buy me more time.

I hear some shouting. Lots of shouting.

Her uncle was telling her to get on her knees again. It felt as worthless as he made her feel. Nahlia didn't want me to leave today. Usually, she yells at me. I saw it in her purple eyes. She wants to get them changed to blue. She thinks they're ugly. Most Neandelerians have blue eyes, but some have green and everything in between the three colors.

“Tomorrow.”

I had a surprise I wanted to tell Nahlia about. I go to an antique shop and buy gifts for her. I found this old picture. It was a piece of a bigger picture. The guy said it was from The Far Away Dream or something. At least I'll have time to check it out and wrap it better.

I kick up the white sand and re-adjust my gloves. I use them to grab the ropes, like any sky dweller. The ocean waves fill my ears and I sigh. I watch the boats pass. Sometimes the sea dwellers raided them, but I could never tell. They bobbed on the water calmly.

I look back at Nahlia's house. I wanted to beat her uncle down. The police were too expensive now. Everyone knew that. I look back again. I felt like a coward.

“Nah.....it doesn't matter”