FAIRY TALES CAN COME TRUE (eBook)

Chapter Two

Today is Saturday, and the family is on the way to Cabrillo Beach. It’s Dad’s favorite beach to explore. I can feel the glares as I sit between Marie and Mo in the back seat of the car. Mom just scolded them for pinching and pulling each other’s hair. Mom always has me sit between my sisters when they fight. She’s also quick to scold Marie and me if we ever hurt “the baby” of the family.

Little does Mom know that I have ways to get even with my sisters for all of the times they are so annoying by teasing them without Mom knowing what I’m doing. I made up a song that I play on the piano. It’s called I Know a Big Fat Cootie and Her Name is Marie (or Mo, depending on who I want to make mad). My sisters know the words, so when Mom is in the room, all I have to do is play the tune and glare at them.

Even better than the big fat cootie song is a name I made up that means everything bad in the whole wide world to the person I say it to. Even better, if someone calls me the name, or any other made-up name, it means everything good in the whole wide world!

The name is Mocoso.

Mo went absolutely berserk when I first called her Mocoso. In fact, her name is actually Marta, but now I call her Mo. My real name is actually Linda, but Marie renamed me Nina because when Mo was a baby, she pronounced my name Nin-a. I think Marie thought I would get mad for not being called by my real name, but it doesn’t bother me. I kind of like the name Nina.

As Marie and Mo quiet down, my thoughts turn to the music playing on the radio. “Fairy tales can come true. It can happen to you if you’re young at heart.” This song is about fairy tales! It’s confirming what I know is true, and on the radio no less! Dad often says that my head is in the clouds, but I do know the difference between my daydreams and reality. I also know in my heart that sometimes the imagined can become reality. And my imagination is telling me right now that something wonderful is about to happen.

I sing my favorite song about wishing upon a star to make dreams come true. The message I hear in my head from the song on the radio and from my favorite song can’t be just a coincidence. I think the songs are telling me that at least one of my daydreams or wishes will come true. Marie stares at me with disgust as I hum with glee, but I don’t care. I have a young heart, and I will never stop imagining. My heart continues to sing!

•••

At Cabrillo Beach, the first place Dad leads us to is the break wall, where we can jump from one large, flat rock to another to see how far out from the beach we can get before being threatened by the powerful waves. We never really get very far, because Mom makes us turn around before we can get close to the big waves. I think she’s afraid. If only we could make it to the end of the wall to explore the inside of the old lighthouse that’s out there. But that can never happen, because it really is too dangerous to go out that far.

Dad reminds us to be careful and says, “Just last week another fisherman was washed off these rocks, and his buddy slipped and fell into one of the deep crevasses. Go slow and watch where you jump.”

The gaps between the rocks grow wider as we get farther from the beach. I look in every crack for remains of the lost fisherman. Some of the crevasses contain pieces of dead tree branches, spider webs, and crabs that scamper sideways down into the bottomless depths. There is no trace of anything human other than snagged fishing line, a candy bar wrapper, and a very old Coke bottle.

The huge rocks are stacked carefully from the ocean floor to rise several feet above the water, and they extend almost a mile out from the beach. The rocks that form the top of the wall have been cut into giant rectangles. Even though they were carefully placed to form a flat surface with a tight fit, many have been moved or shifted by huge storm waves that have battered the wall. In some places, there are gaps large enough for a man to fall into for sure. I understand Dad’s warning, because even though the break wall is mostly flat stones close to the beach—a perfect surface for running and leaping from rock to rock—there’s also the possibility of slipping and getting hurt. I ask Dad if anyone found the dead bodies of the fishermen.

“No. Everyone is speculating that their bodies were washed out to sea.”

I wonder silently why the bodies were never found and tell everyone that they were probably eaten by a sea monster. Otherwise, their bodies would have washed up on the beach.

Marie says, “Get real!”

“You get real, Marie! What else would have happened to them? You think you know everything.”

“Now, girls,” says Mom. “Let’s not bicker. We’re here to enjoy the day.”

Mo is now standing in front of what used to be a chain link fence that was put up to keep people from walking out to the end of the wall. The rusty supports and fencing have been twisted and torn in such a way that the fence is no longer a barrier. “Cool! Look! There is a break in the fence here!” I squeeze through the fence and climb over a huge, torn sandbag on my hands and knees. Mo is right behind me. But beyond the fence the gaps are much deeper between the jagged rocks, making it dangerous for us to keep going.

“That’s far enough! It’s time to go back now,” yells Mom.

Mo turns around and quickly crawls back through the broken fence, then gets up and begins running and leaping back over the flat rocks. She wants to be the first one back to the picnic table, but I always win every race. I quickly catch up and nudge her as I run past. “You can’t beat me, Mo!”

Whoops! Maybe my nudge was a little too hard. Mo fell, and it looks like her knees are bleeding. “Here it comes,” says Marie, while holding her hands tightly over her ears. Marie had lagged behind us hoping to look like she was by herself. When Mo and I ran in her direction as we raced, we had almost reached her when Mo fell. Marie tries to move away from us before Mo starts screaming, but it’s too late. Mo’s piercing wails are already drawing attention from everyone within hearing distance, including the cute lifeguard. Marie is so embarrassed. She shouts at Mom, “This is the last time I will go anywhere with you guys!”

Not really understanding why Marie is so mad, I turn to Mom and say, “She doesn’t like us, does she?” Mom’s answer is not what I expect to hear. “Marie is growing up, just as you and Mo will someday.” Adamantly, I come right back with a forceful reply. “I will never grow up if I have to act like Marie and never have any fun!”

•••

Sand, old pine needles, and sticky tree sap cover the picnic table. Even so, under Mom’s direction, everyone but Dad has to eat lunch at the table. I hate to waste time eating when there is exploring to do, so I politely ask, “May I please be excused? I can eat my sandwich while I walk.”

As usual, Marie starts complaining. “Why should you be excused when we have to sit here? I hate greasy tuna on soggy brown bread!” She rolls her eyes at her smelly sandwich, wraps it in wax paper, and stuffs it into her pocket to give to the seagulls later.

Dad’s loud whistle breaks the tension, and Mom relents. “Okay. You may all be excused. Your father is waiting to explore the tide pools. You can take your sandwiches with you.”

From the picnic table, we walk across the sand to a slippery, skinny path that goes along the edge of the bluff toward the remains of what used to be a house. Mo and I scream every time a big wave splashes against us as we eat our sandwiches and walk. One of the walls of the house has fallen and is almost flat on the ground. As we approach the fallen wall, there is an inlet about six feet wide strewn with rocks, pebbles, and broken pieces of concrete. We have to cross it to get to the wall. I tell Mo to let me go across first. It’s a little scary the way the surf comes crashing in and rumbles over the rocks, then pulls back, leaving rocks and pebbles of all sizes exposed for half a minute before it comes crashing back in. But the danger excites me, and I’ve done this before.

I scoot across the inlet. When I look back to tell Mo when to head across, I see that she didn’t wait. She’s already standing in the middle of the inlet, and another huge surge of water is coming. I go back to help her, and we are both knocked down and pulled over the rocks as the water goes back out. Like ragdolls, we have no control over our bodies.

Dad rushes in and picks us up, one under each arm, and carries us to the wall. I watch his cigarette bounce in his mouth as he curses, and all I can think about is what keeps the cigarette from falling out!

A seagull swoops down and picks up Mo’s floating tuna sandwich, and three more seagulls screech loudly as they chase after the first one. Marie, who had no problem at all crossing over the rocks and getting onto the wall, looks at Mo and me. We are still frightened, shivering with cold, and bleeding from our cuts and scrapes.

“Can we please go home now?” Marie asks...