The waves splash against the sandy beach and the fire’s flames flicker, giving off an orange glow into the night sky. The chatter of people’s voices rises into the air like music, swift and meaningful.

“What are you staring at?”

I look over at Barbara and smile, “I’m admiring the feeling. All of this.” I say, taking a deep breath, filling my body with the smell of the salty water and the smoky flames.

“Are you really enjoying this? There are so many bugs!” She says and swats away a mosquito. I laugh, “Unlike you, I was born for the outdoors. Not to stare at my phone all day.” I tell her, snatching her phone out of her hand. “This is the week we enjoy ourselves with no phones,” I say, tossing it back to her. “But I’m waiting to see if he texted! I’ve texted him a million times already!” She whines, drawing a pattern in the sand. I smile and look over to the fire where a bunch of boys are chanting. “Lorenzo! Lorenzo! Don’t be a chicken!” They continue to shout it at a boy. I watch him, and notice his tanned skin glowing orange in the firelight, and the curly bush of brown hair. Barbara and I watch as the boy stands up. I roll my eyes and stand up, walking over to the cooler. I bend down to grab the last remaining root beer, when a hand reaches down and snatches it up. “Hey!” I say, and the boy from earlier smirks, walking off. I roll my eyes again and go back to Barbara and I’s spot and sit next to her. I watch as Lorenzo’s friends chant his name, as he shakes his head holding my stolen root beer. Before I can stop myself, I run over to the boys chanting and put my hair into a ponytail, my earrings, six on my left ear glimmer in the firelight as people turn their attention to me. Barbara walks over, “I don’t think this is a good idea, Sara.” She tells me, but people overthrow her. I smirk at Lorenzo and take a step back; I close my eyes and breathe in the warm air. “On three.” One of the boys’ shouts and I nod. “One, two, three!” He shouts and I sprint forward, take a leap, flying over the tall flickering flames and land safely on the other side. People begin to cheer, so I bow and walk over to Lorenzo. “Chickens don’t deserve these.” I say, smirking at him before taking the root beer out of his hand, and walk over to Barbara. I hear him chuckle and I roll my eyes. I sit down by Barbara and she turns to me. “Sara, that was dangerous for two reasons, one beca-“ I shush her, and point to a boat that’s coming closer to the shore, and the clicking noises coming from it. “Everybody get under cover!” Mario, our instructor yells and people start running. Barbara grabs my hand abut I snatch it away, and start running toward the boat. I hear people scream my name, and then I see why. All the men in the boat have cocked guns and the one in the middle has a cylinder thing. I hear feet behind me and see Lorenzo run at me “Get down! Get down now!” He yells and throws himself on top of me and I scream. The man in the middle throws the cylinder he was holding and it bursts into flames with a bang mid-air, and throws sand everywhere. I feel my legs go numb. Lorenzo’s body puts pressure on mine, his breath rapid, and his hands on my waist. “You. You are aw true idiot.” He says before rolling over and getting up. I sit up and bite back a yelp. Lorenzo looks down at me, “Are you going to get up?” He asks and sticks his hand out to me. I shake my head, “Get Barbara, please.” He nods, and runs up the beach, coming back a moment later with Barbara on his tail. “Sara, you are the stupidest person I know!” She says and bends down next to me. “It’s just a sprain.” I say looking at her, then glancing at Lorenzo. She nods, and helps me up. “Take her to the room and I’ll get some ice.” Lorenzo says, and I nod. “Thank you.” I say, and smile a little. He runs back to the main tent and Barbara looks at me, “Did it go numb?” She asks and I nod. “The running and getting smashed by a boy two-and-a-half years older than me didn’t really help. If you know what I mean.” I say, and she rolls her eyes. I wince and limp towards our tent.

I’ve been camping here every year, it’s a surf camp formed in 1963 when Mario’s dad moved here from Venice. Mario said his dad thought Sicily was the prettiest place in Italy, and in his father’s (Mario’s grandfather) will there was a ticket for three people to move here: Mario’s dad, mom, and older sister, moved to Sicily in 1960 and his dad started the camp three years later. Mario was born in ’73 and took over as camp instructor in ’92.

Lorenzo knocks on the door, and Barbara lets him in, “I brought you a cookie. That’s how Mario is getting everyone to be still while he counted them. I told him you two were in here though.” He says, placing the ice on my ankle and handing me the cookie. “Thank you.” I say, and smile as he walks out. Barbara repositions the ice and takes the cookie out of my hands. “Hey! That’s mine.”  I say as she takes a bite out of it. I smile and lay down on the bed, listening to the crashing waves and the crunching of Barbara eating the cookie. I sigh, and close my eyes, taking in the sounds and smells of somewhere I truly belong.