•• As you walked onto the beach, you held a towel in one hand, and your board in another. Your friend, Evie pointed out that three boys kept looking at them both. ••

“I’ll be damned. New pogues.” John B said. He had a dirty yellow top on, fluffy hair and a wandering eye. “You wish.” Pope said. Pope was the brain of the group, an optimistic outlook on life, but always a doubt in the other two’s silly antics. The remaining boy whistled, it escaped his lips, of course; he was staring at you.