Anecdotal Home no. 2

We started our our night in the (then) new food court.  The seven of us devouring huge plates of food from Don's Pake.  The comfort in our friendship was never in the amount of time we physically spent with each other, but in the knowledge of a deep, unshakable shared love.  The conversation was typical for Waimea teens... what should we do?  Beach, obviously, we had Jon with us after all.  We drove down to Hapuna, racing the sun in the soccer mom van.  Once there we (the girls) comprehended our lack of suits and sat on the beach while the boys dove in.  And then, of course, we were all in, disregarding the weight of our thoroughly soaked clothing.  I think I was forced.  I seem to remember shrieking in faked protestation as I was dragged into the waves, but I can't remember now.  It felt like we tumbled and giggled in the waves for hours, but in reality the sun went down all too soon.  Once it was undeniably dark, we shivered back up the hill and spent the evening with photobooth, because, really, is there a better way to end your evening when you're seventeen?