SMALL LOSSES by Renee Anderson Amy sat on the blanket with her legs straight out and her arms propped stiffly behind her. The glittering white sand of the beach was sprinkled with bright, multicolored forms that moved quickly and then became still, like confetti blown by the wind. She looked up and down the beach, smiling slightly, as if she expected the entire crowd to turn and greet her. So here I am, she thought, at the kids' beach. Just a mile or two down, past the hot-dog stand and the sand dunes and the wild clumps of beach plums, was the family beach, where she had gone with her parents every summer before. She had liked it there, when she was very little and could play in the sand all day long. But in the last few years, it had become unbearable, and she and her best friends, Cathy and Joni, would ask for their own blanket so they could at least look as though they weren't with their mothers while they discussed, in private, how wonderful their summers would be when they all turned fourteen and could go to the kids' beach. They would talk about it for hours. They understood that every girl has a summer when she has her first kiss and her first date. The summer they were old enough to go to the kids' beach, they were sure, would be their summer. They would each meet that special boy. They all knew what he would look like, what he would say. He would be perfect bronzed by the sun, fun-loving, caring. It would be a wonderful, bright summer. Of course, they realized, there would be moments of sadness too. But it would be a lovely sadness, a sadness that would keep them up all night, staring at the moon through the screens in their bedroom windows, thinking of love. Amy looked at the boys and girls stretched out on blankets and smiled. Over her shoulder, she saw Cathy and Joni coming back from the hot-dog stand. Cathy was carrying a can of soda and a box of animal crackers. "We got you a soda," she said, handing Amy the can and throwing herself, knees first, onto the blanket. "You should have seen the cutie who sold it to us." Ever since the three of them had met in the train station that morning, Cathy had been noticing cuties. "And he was really nice too," Joni added, "He winked at Cathy." "Yeah!" Cathy giggled. "I'm going up there again." "Me too," Joni said, laughing. She put her hand on her hip and squinted. "Do you want to go in the water?" Amy pulled the flip top from the can. "Let me drink my root beer first," She took a sip; it was warm and sweet. Cathy opened the box of animal crackers and popped one into her mouth. "Amy can watch the pocketbooks." She rose, pulling at the elastic leg bands of her bikini. "Don't get picked up while we're gone," she said. Amy laughed. "Don't worry, I won't." They both turned and walked toward the water, Joni with her long arms dangling, her head down, and her feet making a slightly circular motion in the sand, Cathy with her arms folded in front of her and her back perfectly straight. Amy took another sip of her soda, then dug the can into the sand beside her and stretched out on the rough brown blanket. Someone nearby had a transistor radio on, and the tinny, jingling music, like the laughter from the people in the water, and the occasional cry of a gull, had that hollow, faraway sound the beach gives to everything. She closed her eyes. The sun was hot but not uncomfortable. She lifted one palm from the blanket and placed it on her hipbone. She moved her shoulders a bit. She could hear the soft crunch of the sand as people walked by her blanket. "Excuse me," she heard someone say. Not me, she told herself. "Excuse me, miss?" She opened her eyes slightly and through her lashes and the bright sun saw a shadowed figure standing at her feet. "Miss?" It was a young man. She sat up quickly, pulling her knees close to her. "Yes," she said. "Were you sleeping?" "No," she said, suddenly aware of another kneeling in the sand just to her right. The boy who was standing motioned toward the blanket. "Can I sit down for a minute?" Unable to speak, she reached out and pulled the box of animal crackers close to her thigh. He sat down next to her. He was wearing denim cut-offs, and she noticed that his legs were covered with curly blond hair, although his bare, slightly tanned chest was smooth. "My name is Allen," he said, smiling, and she suddenly realized, with the same frightened delight she had felt when her father first let her steer the car, that he was cute, even handsome. He had tousled ash-blond hair and blue-gray eyes that seemed to sparkle, even though he was squinting. One of his front teeth was chipped, and his smile a little crooked. She had no idea what to say to him. "This is my friend Billy," he announced, nodding at the boy kneeling in the sand. "Hi," the boy said with a funny kind of laugh. He was picking up handfuls of sand and letting them sift through his fingers. "Hi," Amy answered dumbly. "What's your name?" Allen said. She turned to him. He was grinning, and she could see the tip of his tongue behind his broken tooth. Name? "Amy," she mumbled. "Do you come to this beach a lot?" "No," she said, shaking her head. She tried to make herself say more, but her heart and her throat seemed to be beating at the same rate. Allen rested his arms on his raised knees. "Why not?" he asked. There were a few blemishes on one side of his chin, and she found them somehow appealing. 24 "Oh, I don't know," she said, shrugging. "School and everything." "School's over now, isn't it?" "Yeah." "So now you can come here all the time, right?" She stared at him. He tilted his head a little. "Right?" There was a thin, squiggly line of dried salt on his arm. He smelled of salt. "Sure," she said softly. She noticed the small, brownish-pink nipples on his chest, the way his collarbone stretched his skin and formed little hollows near his shoulder and throat. He nodded, looking at her through his pale lashes and thick bangs. "That's a nice bathing suit." She looked down at her suit, suddenly seeing the light blond hairs on her thighs, the way her stomach seemed to fold in to form a line at her waist, the slight shadow between her breast. She felt a little confused, a little surprised that she was sitting with her bare legs nearly touching those of this strange, handsome boy. "Is it new?" he asked. She looked at him. She could feel his shoulder next to hers. She could feel a warm dampness rising from his skin. "The bathing suit," he said slowly, "is it new?" "Yes." She nodded. "I just bought it." She held herself stiffly, barely breathing. "It's nice." He tilted his head a little more and winked. "Well, Amy," he said, "Maybe we'll see you again. We come here all the time." He placed a hand on her thigh, and suddenly she felt blinded by the sunlight. He patted her leg. "See ya," he said, starting to leave. Amy tried to smile. His friend had already begun to walk away, and she watched Allen move quickly to catch up. His cut-offs were just below his hips. His feet kicked up sand. Allen. It was just the beginning; she would see him again. Every day at the beach. He would ask her to the movies. He would be her first date, and love. She reached for the soda; her mouth was dry, her throat ached with excitement. The can wasn't there. She looked around, confused. She had placed the can in the sand just a few minutes before. She looked to her left side and saw a damp shape on the blanket where Allen had been sitting. The animal crackers were gone too. Cathy and Joni, their bodies covered with tiny droplets of water, their hair stringy and dripping, came running to the blanket, squealing and trailing damp sand. "Who were those guys?" Cathy cried in a stage whisper. "We saw you talking to them," Joni added, crouching beside her. The water glistened on her face. "What did they say?" Cathy asked. "Did they pick you up?" Amy smiled at them. There was something about their damp faces, the way their chests rose and fell with their rapid breaths, the way they placed their fingertips on her arms and on her knee, that made her want to have them very close to her. She crossed her legs and bent a little so they would move nearer. "Their names were Billy and Allen," she began. And she told them all about the conversation, making it sound just as they'd planned, just as they'd dreamed. She didn't mention the can of soda and the box of crackers. EARTH TREASURE by Sheldon Talbot There had been a time when the black clouds had not covered the sky, but the time was buried long ago in the memories of the people. They were used to the dark canopy and its menacing aspect above them just as they were used to the broken machinery and the crushed towers pointing their accusing fingers at the sky. It had all happened during the last World War, and the remnants of that conflict now served almost as monuments to man, reminding him of what had happened when he made his own morality for himself. Now the Box regulated man's behavior and dictated his actions. No longer did individuals blunder along, making mistakes. The Box computed the decisions and gave them answers based on infallible moral rules. There as a cave outside one of the major cities. It was one of the few places left on Earth where the black clouds were not very thick. Every once in a while a patch of sunlight managed to filter its way through the clouds and touch the ground. Beside the cave a few green blades of grass fought their way to the surface. In the cave there lived an old man with a long beard and a face wrinkled with experience. His clothers were ragged and tattered from much use and worn thin from many washings. He did not use the new clothes that the Box provided for people and for that reason looked a little queer. Now he was sitting on a three-legged stool, smoking a plant that grew near his home. A fire was burning the wet wood that he had gathered, sending white smoke billowing upward into the gray sky. He knitted his dingy white brows close together as he thought, while his crooked hands played with his stomach-length beard. So far he had managed to keep living happily as he was. But sonner or later the Box would get hold of him and discover his secret. Then They would arrive. He sighed. Why couldn't they leave an old, nearly senile man like him alone? He looked at the hard shiny path pitted with age that led to his cane and sighed again. Finally he got up and went inside. The shadows of the old candle he used as a light teased his own reflection. He went to the back of the cave, entered an abscure passage and looked at something there. "My treasure, my treasure," he whispered. "Soon they're going to come and take you away from me." He knelt down and felt a bead of moisture at the white of his eye. Then he got up, went back to the main section of the cave and started to rummage around, looking for his evening meal. 25