Dan scowled at her. She stuck out her tongue and he threw a handful sand at her face.
“MaaAAAaaaa—plbttt—plbttt—plbtttt...”
Mom looked up from the trench she was digging. “Would you two please get along? Why is it always a battle with you?”
Vacation was winding down. While they usually wouldn’t have been down at the beach before ten, on their last day the Purvises found themselves sandcastling on Ewa Beach at seven, fitting in one final hour before flying out of Honolulu and returning to Redwood City, California.
The last of the sand off her tongue, Connie swept her chestnut brown bangs under her UH ballcap and charged her brother. Dan ran for the edge of the surf, knowing his mom would call Connie off. Sure enough—
“Constantina Nicolette Purvis! You know your brother cannot swim, so do not chase him into the ocean.”
Connie turned and monster-stomped Dan’s pail-shaped castle.
Dan ignored her, focusing on a line of airplanes just separating from the horizon. As they neared, he turned, spread his arms, and flew towards Connie’s more-elaborate castle. As he neared, Connie leapt and tackled him, bringing him down a yard short of his target.
The squadron of airplanes continued inland.
Infantryman-style, Dan wriggled his way forward, brought his hand whomping down on the gate of her castle.
Mom shook her head. “Always a battle with you.”
Thirty seconds later—three miles northeast—the battle began in earnest.
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