Drifting in the Sea [OPEN]

Rick stepped of the stony streets of District 4 and on to the cooling sand of the beach. He reached down and took of his sandals, letting his toes sift through the sand. He picked up his shoes and jogged over to a small rock, where he kept several things. It was formed in an odd way, the rock, with a shelf-like piece sticking out of it. Under the shelf was a small bucket, a fishing rod, a sketch book, a spear, and a few extra spear heads. Rick tossed his sandals into the pile, then took out the spear and bucket. He put the two things on top of the rock, then pulled off his shirt and tossed it underneath. He grabbed the spear and bucket, then headed for the water.

Rick was the member of a very small family, with his mother, father and little sister. But even if he worked twelve hours a day at the harbor, he couldn't earn enough money to buy his family a full meal. Sure he might be able to get a few pieces of bread, but that was about it. So, he had to spear a few fish every day, at five in the morning and eight at night. The few fish that he could catch were enough to fill his family's stomachs, at least until the next day. Then he had to come and get more.

Rick's feet met the water as he walked down the shore. The waves washed over his ankles. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the salty sea air, refreshing himself. This was where he belonged, at the ocean. He waded out a bit farther, till the water reached just below his knees. The crystal-clear liquid made it easier for him to see silver fish as they zoomed by. The seventeen-year-old set the bucket down in the water, tossing a few rocks inside so it wouldn't float away. Then he stood still, poised to strike.

He had his legs apart, and the spear aimed in his right hand. His brown eyes darted around the water, searching for that quick flash of silver that meant food was nearby. The water flowed around his legs, not stopping, just moving aside and continuing it's path. His shadow fell onto the wet sand under the waves, attracting fish to a place where they could cool off. He stood there for about ten minutes, just waiting for a sign of movement. Suddenly a flash caught his eye, and he tossed his spear into the water. It stuck into the sand, holding itself up. 

Rick grinned and splashed over to it, then yanked it out of the muddy ground. There, on the shaft of the spear, was a silver, ten inch fish, he gently pulled it off, tossed it in the bucket, then looked around. He was the only person on the beach as far as he could see. Wait, no. There was a figure on the shore line. A girl. He watched her wade into the water, much farther than he had, then lay back and simply float on the surface. An image clicked in his brain, and he remembered seeing the girl at the harbor. She was the one who washed the decks. A very hard job, one Rick had been given when he was ten years old. He had worked hard at it, and the men had promoted him so that he could help with the fishing. Rick absently wondered why this girl was still scrubbing the decks at her age. 16 or so, he thought.