Saltwater & Secrets

The bonfire crackled behind me, but I couldn't feel its warmth. Not with what I'd just heard.

"You told him?" I stared at my best friend, my palms suddenly sweating against my phone. "About my mom?"

Chloe wouldn't meet my eyes. "It slipped out, okay? I didn't think he'd—"

"You didn't THINK?" My voice cracked. "That's literally the only thing I asked you not to share."

I turned and ran toward the water, the Pacific stretching dark and endless before me. The waves crashed like my chest—wild, messy, completely falling apart. This was supposed to be our last summer before college, before everything changed. But I guess some things changed first.

A wet nose nudged my ankle.

I looked down. A golden retriever sat there, tail thumping against the sand like it had known me forever. Its collar read: BUDDY.

"Hey, Buddy," I whispered, sinking into the sand. He flopped down beside me, warm and solid and completely unbothered by teenage drama. "Wish I was a dog. Your biggest problem is probably whether someone throws the ball."

The ocean breeze rustled the palm trees overhead, their fringed leaves silhouetted against a sky full of stars. This beach had been our spot since seventh grade. Chloe had once read our palms here, with a Sharpie she'd stolen from her mom's purse, predicting we'd be friends forever.

Now I was wondering how many other secrets she'd spilled.

Buddy rested his head on my knee, and something about his goofy, open face made me breathe again. Maybe Chloe hadn't meant to hurt me. Maybe she was just scared, too—scared of growing up, scared of things changing, scared that the person she'd been inseparable from since forever was slowly becoming someone she didn't know how to talk to anymore.

I pulled out my phone. *You coming?*

*Yeah,* she typed back. *Bring towels. I'm going in.*

I stood up, salt air filling my lungs. Buddy scrambled up, tail wagging like he'd just been invited to the best party ever.

"Alright, friend," I said. "Let's go see if she still remembers how to apologize."