THE SAND THIEF

D. J SERRANO'S POV

I couldn't remember the first time I came to the beach in my mother's hometown. But I vividly remembered the last time. It was years before the accident. I was ten. Mom had suddenly woken me and Enrique up in the middle of the night and told us to pack our bags.

"We're going to visit your Abuela Anita in Cebu," she had said, wearing one of the fakest smiles I had ever seen. But I had been too excited about the journey, the adventure to think much about it- or ask her about it- at the time.

It was only later, when the light of day filtered through the window of the bus we were on that I noticed the bruise on her face. By then, I was already beginning to comprehend just how much of a monster my father really was. So, I was happy...because I thought she was finally leaving him.

That summer, Enrique and I were the freest we had ever been.

Unfortunately, Mom had gone back to him. To the monster...the rich man she had married and, until the day she died, I had resented her a little for it. Over and over, I found myself wondering, 'If only she hadn't gone back to him, would she still be alive today?'

Lalanita was there to greet us at the airport. She hadn't changed much in the seven years since I last saw her. She just looked older. More wrinkles lined her face and her hair was mostly gray now. I knew she looked that way because she was now in her sixties. But I also recognized the effects of grief on her. It took a strong woman to keep going at her age. She had lost her husband and her only daughter in the span of five years.

"D. J! Rico!"

"Lalanita!"

I rushed into her arms, mindless of our audience. When we embraced, it felt like home.

Ignacio was there to help us with our luggage. Lalanita had also brought a driver with her. I was pleased to see the car she brought to pick us up at the airport. I was even more pleased to see the house she lived in. She still lived in the villa mom had bought for her when she hit the Serrano jackpot- I mean, when she got married to my father.

For a while, before the accident, when my parents' relationship had eroded to the point where they were barely speaking to each other when they weren't in public, Dad had refused to provide my Lalanita with the funds needed to maintain the villa. But my grandmother had managed somehow. 'In your face, Dad.'

Now, Enrique took care of our grandma's financial needs. He spoiled her with a monthly allowance fit for an army. And Lalanita put it to good use; the was involved in a lot of charities these days.

All through the ride to the villa, we only exchanged greetings and pleasantries. She tried to inform us of the changes that had taken place in the province since the last time we visited. A lot had changed in our absence.

But things got a lot more serious when we reached the villa. She didn't even ask Enrique to excuse us before she started in on me.

"D.J, my child, are you better now? How are you feeling?" She asked sternly.

"Yes, grandma. I'm fine." I couldn't quite meet her eyes though.

"Daniel Juansen Serrano, I'm asking if you're planning to pull a stunt like the one you did last time."

"Lalanita, he just got out of the hospital," Enrique said. She cut him off with a raised hand.

My grandmother was wise. So was Dr. Marquina, my therapist. "More often than not, one attempt was only the beginning," the doctor had said during one of our sessions. Another thing he told me was that I had to confront my demons. Otherwise, eventually, I would try again...because I was looking for peace and I thought death held the answer. Lalanita probably thought the same thing.

I never told anybody, but sometimes I could feel it - death - hanging over me like a heavy cloud. Sometimes, I could see 'her' there, a vague personification of death, in the corner of my reflection whenever I looked in the mirror. She looked like my mother; as if she was waiting for her beloved son on the other side of the veil. And she always looked at me like she had something to say.

It wasn't the kind of thing you wanted to say out loud when the people around thought you were suicidal. They were wrong though; it wasn't like I wanted to die, I just didn't see any point in...living. But that's why I was 'here.' In Cebu, the last place I'd been happy and hopeful for the future; for a tomorrow where my mother, Enrique and I could be together, free from my father's control. I was here because I wanted to try and discover that hope again, away from my anger and grief. Finding happiness...that would be my personal quest here in Cebu.

"Let your brother fight his own battles for once in your life, Rico," my grandmother chided. "You may be much older than him but you can't protect him forever. Let him answer my question."

I still kept quiet. I knew what I wanted to say- what I had to say to end the conversation here and now. But none of the excuses that came to my mind would get her off my back. So I considered giving an answer that was the closest I could get to honesty without scaring my grandmother.

"Are you okay, Daniel?" And I saw...the shimmering in her eyes, the slight wince as she pronounced my name. It was a good name. Strong. I looked it up once on the internet and it meant "God is my judge." It was also my father's middle name. And Lalanita was not a fan of my father, or anything that had to do with him. Except maybe his money. But that had been Mom's as well. Now, it was ours; Enrique and I.

"No," I whispered hoarsely, letting a little bit of my brokenness shine through. "I'm not okay, Lalanita. I'm not sure I'll ever be okay. I don't even think I know what okay feels like anymore. But I'll try. I promise, I'll try."

She reached out and hugged me. "Oh, sweetheart! That's all any of us can ever ask of you. Try. Try as hard as you can everyday, D.J. That's all you have to do."

I glanced at Enrique when I opened my eyes. His eyes were hard and angry. His hands were tucked in his pocket. His entire body was locked in a rigid pose. He looked so much like our father when he was like this. One important difference though, was that Dad lashed out at other people when felt angry and useless.

Enrique only punished himself.

EMMY MENDOZA'S POV

When it was eight-thirty, Sara and I closed the shop. She was still humming tunes from 'Party.' She joked about making a cover of the song- minus all the stupid parts- and posting it online. I knew she wouldn't do it. Believe it or not, my best friend was shy about her talents. I didn't get it. Her parents were two loving and caring people who supported her every move, and eagerly footed the bills for her hobbies. If she felt like traveling, they would have a private jet ready for her. If she wanted to dance, they would hire the very best choreographers in the city to give her private lessons. After all, her parents were insanely wealthy, and she was their only child. Somehow, they managed to cater to her every whim without spoiling her rotten.

Sara was a very bright, very confident and extremely talented person. But for some reason, she wasn't confident about her talents. She never thought she was a good enough singer or dancer.

She was amazing.

I did my best to encourage her to showcase her talents, but I feared it would be too late when she finally realized that there was no 'perfect'. Life was simply as it was. You could either make yours better or worse but perfection was out of it- because nobody knew what perfect looked like. Not really. So, why waste so much valuable time searching for it?

Sara's chauffer was already waiting for her when we were done. See how much her parents loved her?

The driver had been given orders to drop me off, before taking Sara home. I appreciated the generosity because I really hated going home alone- much less at night, in public transportation. I would never admit it but I thought Sara was heaven-sent; a weird angel that lit up my path in this life. Without her and Inigo, I would have been a bigger grouch than I already was.

I would have been truly miserable.

Sara and I lived on opposite ends of the same estate. Highlander Estate; home to the richest people in Cebu.

Some houses even had beach-front access...like my stepfather's villa. It was here that my mother moved me and my cousin to after she remarried. That was five years ago... The same year my father died. Around the same time my little brother, Eduardo, was born.

He has my stepfather's DNA.

Sometimes, I did the math and this wave of anger would hit me. It wasn't just anger, it was a sense of...having the ground shift beneath you and then instead of the earth, it's a bottomless abyss under your feet and you're falling and there's nothing to hold on to.

Eventually, I settled on calling that feeling 'disillusionment'. How could she have cheated on my father?

I used to believe in fairytales when I was younger.

After watching one particular cartoon by Disney, I actually entertained the idea that my parents were like the fictional king and queen. My dad was sort of like the big, grizzly Viking king and my mom was his elegant, dainty wife.

Then dad got diabetes, and the story changed.

It's sad to think that at the end of his life, my formerly vibrant and energetic dad lay in a hospital bed with his kidneys failing...and his wife was pregnant with another man's child. It's sad enough to make a girl stop believing in fairytales. Disillusionment...

Now, I lived with them- my mother, her new husband, Jose Hernandez, Eduardo and my twin stepsisters. I watched them grow into a family and most of the time, I felt like I was all alone.

After Sara dropped me off. I didn't feel like going into the house. I didn't feel like pretending I understood inside jokes or that I didn't understand the snide comments my stepsisters occasionally threw my way. I just wanted to be alone...for a few minutes at least, I wanted to feel the soft sand of the beach beneath my feet and drown my thoughts in the roaring of the waves. So, I made the short walk to the beach. The night air was chilly but I didn't mind.

Only three houses had access to this particular section of the beach. It was possible that I would have company but I didn't count on it.

The sound of the tides was comforting. I quickly took off my shoes and walked over to the edge of the water. Then, I dipped my toes in and thought about my future.

I was building a future for myself; one where I wouldn't have to depend on anybody else's money. One where I could afford to be a little reckless instead of being this cautious person I was all the time.

Even when I was a little girl that believed in fairytales, my nose had always been buried in books. Not just because I wanted to learn for the fun of it. But because I'd always been deeply conscious of the fact that my parents didn't have a lot of money. So I bottled up my adventurous spirit like a genie in a lamp and only allowed myself to let it out when I thought it could grant wishes. The one time I had thrown all caution to the wind was seven years ago. With the boy that had first brought me here- to this very beach. His grandmother's house was one of the two other houses that could access this part of the beach.

After all this time, I still remembered him. My first crush...D.J Serrano.

Fireblade...

I took my phone out of my pocket and checked again...for notifications. He still hadn't posted anything on his blog. It was at that exact moment that my life changed all over again.

"Are you also thinking of going in?" A voice from behind me asked.

"Ah!" I jumped. It was a wonder that I didn't drop my phone.

"What are you doing scaring me like that?" I shrieked at him.

He was a boy. Wait. None of the neighbors we shared beach access with had boys.

Okay...maybe he was a thief.

Or not.

I mean, what kind of thief wanted to rob a beach? What was he going to steal, sand?

"I think about going in sometimes," what's-his-name said with a smile, completely ignoring my question, and my shock. He wasn't even polite enough to apologize for nearly making me drop my phone in the water. How rude!

"It's actually been my favorite fantasy for a while," he continued. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with the back of his thumb.

I just stared at him.

It was very dark in spite of the glow of the full moon. My favorite kind of night- and he was ruining it!

"I would be barefooted because I love the feel of the sand against the soles of my feet. And I would walk into the water- toes in first, because I also love doing that. I wouldn't stop walking even when I'm chest deep." A pause deep enough to swallow the universe. "I wouldn't stop walking until my head was underwater."

My jaw dropped open as I gasped in shock, wondering what sort of crazy person I'd just met in the dark.