Prints in the Sand: My Journey with Nanea

The moment we are safely indoors, Mrs. Mitchell kneels and scolds Nanea, demanding she understand how reckless tonight truly was. She endangered me, herself, and her own mother, all at once. Nanea’s shoulders shake with quiet sobs.

Mrs. Mitchell softens slightly, admitting she already knows the reason why we stayed out so late. Mrs. Santos told her. We wanted to reunite a family. Nanea nods through her tears, apologizing again and again.

Mrs. Mitchell sighs and rises, saying she believes the lesson has sunk in this time. The rules exist to keep everyone safe, and thankfully everyone made it home safe tonight. She sends us off to bed, promising they’ll talk more in the morning.

I trail behind Nanea down the dark hallway toward her room. Minutes later, her mother knocks softly and brings us guava bread, saying nothing more, though I catch her brushing a hand against Nanea’s cheek before pulling the door shut.

Nanea barely touches her slice. I try to eat, but it’s hard to find the bread on the plate in the dark. Neither of us say anything.

I knew coming here would be an adventure, but tonight taught me exactly how dangerous this world can be, between air raids, curfews, and wardens ready to haul you off to jail. Part of me just wants to hide away like Mango did earlier today.

Thinking of Mango gives me a strange kind of comfort, and I admit to Nanea that despite everything going sideways tonight, I’m still glad we got him home safe.

Nanea agrees, adding that he’s finally where he belongs, just like we are. Then, she corrects herself and says she’s where she belongs. I must miss my family terribly.

I admit that I do, but I’ll go home to them tomorrow. Honestly, I’m glad we get to have one more sleepover. Nanea laughs softly. It was definitely an adventure, maybe a bit too much of one.

As sleep finally pulls us both under, I picture my brothers back on the beach, free to play without curfews or fear hanging over them. Tomorrow, I will join them there, maybe staying out until the sky goes dark, simply because we can.