"Mom?"
        Mrs. Pointer looked up from her crocheting. "Yes, dear?"
        Julie smiled at her mother sweetly-with a look of complete innocence. That was part of the plan. I knew what she was up to. What we were up to.
        "May Kenny and I go walking on the beach by ourselves? We'll be careful. We promise."
        I hid a smile with one hand. Because Julie had said may rather than can, we stood a better chance of a yes than if I had asked. Regardless of my grammatical expertise, I had the worst time remembering which word to use in asking permission.
        Mrs. Pointer looked at my mom. I could almost hear the two women thinking, "These precious seven-year-olds are our only children. The beach is no place for them to wander off on by themselves."
        So they shook their heads in unison. "Sorry, little ones," Mom said, "but we don't think that's a good idea. It wouldn't be safe."
        That was the response Julie and I had expected. Fortunately, we were prepared with an alternate approach.
        So I turned to my father, who sometimes viewed situations differently from Mom. "What do you think, Dad?"
        He scratched his chin. Cautiously.
        Uh-oh. You don't agree with our mothers, do you?
        He thought for a moment before answering. "I don't know, Kenny." He turned to Julie's father. "What are your thoughts, Tom?"
        Mr. Pointer scrunched his face thoughtfully. He looked at Julie and then at me. We looked back at him with pleading expressions we had perfected by watching our dogs successfully beg for treats and table scraps.
        He cleared his throat. "This whole stretch of oceanfront is private property. It belongs to the beach house owner. That's why we rented this particular house, even though it was more expensive than most of the other places we considered.
        "No Trespassing signs are posted everywhere; they're impossible to miss. We haven't seen a single stranger on the property. Or anyone, for that matter. Ladies, the kids wouldn't encounter anyone who shouldn't be there."
        Several seconds later, he continued. "You know how trustworthy Julie and Kenny are. They're the most obedient kids we know. They've never done anything remotely dangerous."
        "Anyhow," Dad took over, "how much trouble can they get into on the sand? It's beach sand out there, not quicksand. We can watch them the whole time from the upper deck of the house if we want to. If you want to." He chuckled. "Isn't that why each of you brought a pair of binoculars?"
        Yes, we would still be in sight that way. So, you shouldn't have any reason to be concerned.
        Our mothers looked at one another and then at us. Mrs. Pointer didn't appear to be totally convinced, but when Mom slowly nodded her approval, Julie's mother didn't protest. Not exactly. "You may go, but stay on the sand at all times. You are not to go into the water. NOT as in NOT AT ALL."
        Julie and I high-fived.
        No problem, moms. Yes, we would prefer to wade in shallow water rather than drag our feet across the dry, hot sand, but we wouldn't dream of doing anything to endanger our newly won freedom.
        We assured them we would be good.
        Off we went, hand in hand. Julie wasn't just my next-door neighbor, she was also my very best friend. I was hers, too. We were sweethearts, as much in love as if we were grownups. We were already planning to marry when we were old enough. So holding hands was just a natural thing for us to do.
        The sand was even hotter and drier than we had expected. Julie and I sighed simultaneously. How wonderful the water would have felt on our feet and legs. We couldn't disobey our parents, though. We dared not and we wouldn't. What if we could come up with an acceptable compromise, though?
        "Well, Julie? Whattaya think?" She knew what I was asking.
        Even though we were both highly intelligent and out-of-this-world amazing when it came to putting our heads together to solve normal kid-size problems, nothing came to either of our minds at first. Or at second or third. We frowned at one another, frustrated at having to admit defeat. Just temporary defeat, I hoped.
        After ten or fifteen minutes of slowly treading our way through the sand, we noticed that we were wandering closer and closer to where the incoming tide was washing onto the shore. Closer as in 'just a few inches from where the swash ended before going out again as backwash.'

[I found both of those words later when I looked them up on the internet. - Kenny]

        I squeezed Julie's hand. "Looks like we've arrived at a solution even though we had quit trying. Or should I say we've almost stepped into one?" I cackled.
        She stopped suddenly and frowned. "Don't the bottoms of your feet still feel like you've been walking on fire, Kenny?" She barreled on before I could respond. "Mine do." She lifted one foot and grimaced. "I can barely stand to put my foot down again."
        You just wait, girlfriend.
        I grinned. "You're right about that. Mine don't feel real great walking on this sand, either." But then I quickly added, "They'll feel better in a minute, though."
        I looked into her eyes. "Here." I think I surprised her when I suddenly turned her hand loose. "The solution to this problem won't work if we keep holding hands. Now, just follow me and do what I do."
        I kept my eye on the incoming swash and waited for the water to retreat. Then I jumped onto the wet sand it had left behind. Was it ever pleasantly cool and soothing. When I saw another wave headed for the shore, I hopped back onto the dry sand.
        "Kenny, you're a genius!"
        "Of course I am." Even though she knew I wasn't as conceited as I was pretending to be, she gave me a playful poke in the arm. "Our moms said, 'Don't go into the water.' Not 'Don't let the bottom of your feet get wet.'"
        So we laughed joyously and then laughed some more as we jumped away each time we saw another wave washing up on shore. Twice we barely jumped back in time.
        Even if we hadn't, though, we still wouldn't have been guilty of getting 'into the water.' That little bit of ocean would've gotten on us. Just on our feet.
        I grinned at Julie. "Can you believe our parents agreed to let us come out here by ourselves?" I chuckled. "They're maturing unbelievably well in their middle age."
        Julie stuck her tongue out. "Kenneth England, don't you dare let them hear you say that!"
        I cocked my head and narrowed my eyes. "Say what? And why not?"
        "They're barely into their mid-thirties now. They don't need us reminding them they're getting older."
        I pursed my lips. "Hmm. I suppose not." I pulled at my chin. "Maybe they realize we're the ones maturing so beautifully."
        She shook her head. "It doesn't really matter, does it? It doesn't take maturity to know not to worry about sharks or undertows on the beach away from the ocean itself."
        She reached over and squeezed my hand. "No alligators, either." She giggled as she released my hand. "Of course, they're not salt water animals; so they're not found in the ocean." Her know-it-all tone could be irritating at times, but it didn't bother me then.
        I looked at her and feigned ignorance. "How'd you know that?"
        She smirked. "You know that science special they showed the last day of school?"
        I nodded.
        "Well, one of us was paying attention. I learned a lot of interesting stuff from it."
        I rolled my eyes without responding at first. You're not the only one, sweetie.
        Now to turn the tables. "You were right about alligators not being found in the ocean, but they can exist for very short times in salt water. Like in certain parts of the Everglades."
        She gave me a huh-look. "How did-?"         "What's wrong, girlfriend? Weren't you listening? I was. It was a really neat video." I kept going before she could say anything. "Wouldn't you love to have a pet alligator?" I couldn't keep from cackling. "You could let it eat your cat."
        She punched me in the arm. A little harder than before. But it was still too gentle to take seriously. She knew I was just teasing about a gator eating her cat and I knew she was just pretending to be upset. That's how well we knew and got along with each other.
        We didn't talk anymore for a while. We kept following one another down the beach, swinging our arms freely, toe-kicking the wet sand, and jumping away from the swash of incoming waves.
        Ten minutes later we spotted a small body of water about a hundred yards away. Maybe two hundred. At that distance, it appeared to be no more than fifteen or twenty feet from the ocean.
        I narrowed my eyes in thought. Then I pointed at the water. Assuming it was an inlet from the ocean, I said, "Do you suppose the water level goes down all the way when the tide goes out?"
        She glanced at it, shook her head thoughtfully, and scrunched her face. As if she was wondering the same thing. But then she took another look at the presumed inlet and smiled. "I don't think so, Kenny. Look at the end of it." She pointed towards the ocean.
        I looked carefully before shrugging. "What was I supposed to see?"
        "That's not an inlet. It's a pond. A lagoon, if you prefer sounding well-educated and highfalutin. See where it's closed off? A very slight barrier of land separates it from the ocean."
        Hmm. "I-"
        "You know the driftwood we've been finding more and more of along the shore?"
        I nodded. We were having to be careful not to trip on it.
        "I don't see any around the pond itself. Do you?"
        I shook my head.
        "So the ocean couldn't have floated anything into the lagoon." Embarrassing me wasn't easy, but Julie had just done it. Apparently without intending to.
        "Lagoon also sounds more romantic than pond. I wonder how deep it is." I hoped she wouldn't tease me for the way I'd changed the subject.
        Julie gave her head an I-don't-know shake and punctuated her response with a shrug. Since I really wanted to know the depth of the lagoon, her inability to make an intelligent guess was disappointing.
        Hmm. There must be some way to estimate it. But how?