Oobi wanted to go to the beach. The summer was warming and the grasses were getting brown. He sat at the table sipping his orange juice ever so slowly when he told his mom in a slow juice bubbling fashion. “Mom,” he burbled. “I’d like to go to the beach and dig castles and make moats.” Oobi’s mom looked over her glasses at the boy as she sipped her coffee.

“Alright boy. It’s hot out and I think you’re right. And I suppose you want to bring Cannubi along too.”

“Uh huh.” He muttered through his toast.

To bring Cannubi along was quite an ordeal. For when you brought Cannubi along, you brought fur and fleas and sand. Oobi’s mom was fairly particular about her car, more so than Cannubi. Cannubi would flop his head over the seat and let the slobber drip from his muzzle, as they would drive down the road. Sometimes Cannubi’s cold nose would poke Oobi’s mother in the back, making her suddenly veer off the road. “Cannubi!” she would howl. “Get over on the other side.”

Oobi would chuckle while he would play his hand held game. But no sooner would he be done laughing when drips from Cannubi’s mouth would splash on Oobi’s screen. “Yuck! Cannubi sit back!” This time it would be Oobi who would howl.

Cannubi would flop down on the back seat dejected. He wouldn’t look out the window. Mom would see Cannubi from the rear view window and then she would open one of the side windows far enough so that Cannubi could stick his head outside for some fresh air. “Woof,” Cannubi would bark gratefully. Now this was the life.

And so they went down the road, to where the beach turned the road into a sandy blur of asphalt and street.

Manubi would park the car in one of the faded spaces, then open the trunk as Oobi would help his mom drag the cooler and the chairs, the towels, and the suntan lotion down to the beach. And same as ever, Cannubi would run after the birds. The seagulls would squawk and flutter into the sky, and Cannubi would huff at the birds as they circled above. Manubi would find the right spot then plop her chair into the soft sand as if this were her land discovered. Oobi would tumble behind with the towels coming unraveled at the last moment.

The beach was always a brilliant blue, a happy blue, a blue that would grab you by the body and stand you up and say: ‘What do you think of this day?’ And Oobi would draw in the smell of the sea until his lungs were ready to burst.

Today was a sand-digging day and Oobi piled all his toys into his bucket and looked for a nice dark spot where the sand would be soft enough to dig but still be damp enough for the water beneath to seep up mysteriously. About twenty yards from his mother’s chair was the perfect spot. He perched on his knees and shoveled into the sand. The birds above cawed and Cannubi stuck his nose into the soft pile of sand. “There’s nothing here Cannubi,” Oobi stated. “But I can hear the birds calling you.” And off the dog ran into the sea spray.

Oobi dug and dug making deep trenches and taking buckets of the sand and stacking them together so that they would construct the beginnings of a giant castle. His plastic figures lay in the sand waiting for Oobi to place them. With his hands he smoothed the bucket shapes together so that they made the beginnings of his mythological fortress. He rocked back on his knees to gain a better sight of the shape when a shadow fell over him. “What do you want?”

A small and delicate girl moved into his view. “I’d like to build this castle with you,” she said, then dropped to her knees and started helping Oobi shape the fortress. Without saying another word the two silently fell into place and worked till the sun fell to the other side of their head. Finally the girl said, “My name is Camille.” And she spoke those words with an exotic flair.

“Mine’s Oobi,” he said uncomfortably.

“Then Oobi, do you mind if I put the king and queen over here, since this is the best view of the world?”

“No. Then I’ll put the soldiers over here since this would be the weakest point to defend.”

“You’re right,” she smiled.

The two played for another hour or so until Camille’s mother came calling. “Camille, it is time for you to go now dear.”

Without protesting Camille stood and brushed the sand off of her knees. She gave Oobi a kiss on the head then presented him with a small delicate shell.

“It is so nice to meet such a nice young man so far from my home,” Camille said. “Someday, maybe we will meet, or meet someone like each other. And if you do, then you can give her this that I am giving you.” And with that she dropped the small shell into his open palm and ran off to her mother.

Oobi couldn’t see much of her because the sun blocked her face, but her image stuck in his mind like the beach sun that hung over his head. He made a wistful smile, then laughed when Cannubi came huffing back over.

When they drove home Oobi showed his mom the shell that Camille had given him. His mom held it in her one hand as she steered with the other. “It’s definitely beautiful Oobi, a nice memento to remind you of today.” She gave the shell back to Oobi who then stared out the window.

Oobi placed the shell in his box of small trinkets, and every so often when he looked inside for something to find, he would see the shell. He’d think of the girl then close the box back up.

As time passed, well beyond summer, when the winter months were wet from rain, Tyree Jefferson came over for a great game of marbles. He and Oobi went upstairs into his bedroom, and created a circle to shoot marbles back and forth. They laughed and drank root beer and ignored the foul weather that breezed outside. “Let’s find a target and shoot against that Oobi,” Tyree declared. He got up and rummaged through Oobi’s belongings until he found the shell. “This is a good target,” he proclaimed. Then placed the shell on the ground away from the lined marbles.

“Uh maybe I can find something else.” Oobi spoke uncomfortably, reaching for the shell.

“Ah come on Oobi, it’s just a stupid shell. Don’t worry, nothing’s going to happen.” And with that Tyree rolled the marble at the shell. A direct hit, and the shell wobbled across the floor and against the wall.

Oobi ran to the wall and found the shell cracked and up against the wall. He quickly swooped it up between his hands and placed it back into his collectable box. The edge of the shell was broken off only showing half of its beautiful colors. Oobi let out a sigh and spied one of his soldiers. “Here let’s knock one of these guys down instead.” Soon one of the soldiers got broken too. Later, it found a place next to the broken shell in the small box of collectables.