by Liz SanFilippo
After we pass a 'no trespassing' sign in the sand, I tug Nathan's shirt.
"Don't worry, kid. We're just in Nazi territory."
He's always making up lies, but I know better. I learned in Social Studies that Nazis were in Germany, not Michigan. I want to catch him in a lie, like the one about finding a creek that ran with blood. He wouldn't shut up about it. But I'm not stupid.
The wind stings my cheeks. I jump over the waves, which are so loud we don't hear the buzzing noise until a go-cart rolls to a stop next to us. The Nazi found us. I'm waiting for Nathan to lie, to get us outta here, but he says nothing.
The Nazi yells, "This beach belongs to--"
A caw cuts the air. Wings flash through the sky. Before I can tell if it's a Bald Eagle - Nathan claimed he saw one - he starts pulling me along. I run with him. The Nazi is distracted by the eagle but then his go-cart pows like a gun.
We pass a trespassing sign facing the opposite way, but we keep going. I stumble. Nathan rolls after me. We splash into red water. WATER! It’s a creepy red, but it’s totally water.
Nathan's a jerk. I might be a kid, but I know better. The Nazi turns around. I shove Nathan down. He pushes back. We get soaking wet and start freezing our butts off, but I don't care.