The Bottle

I always loved bottles. It doesn’t matter what they’re made of or what they were used for. A bottle can tell a story just as easily as a book or other collectible, especially when they have something inside them! My name is Kenny. And I was thirteen years old when I saved the world.

I’ve never been the type to sleep in. There were days when I’d wake up before the sun was up. This was one of those days. The pre-dawn light was enough to help me navigate the beach as I breathed in the fresh air. My parents didn’t like crowded places, but they agreed to rent a bungalow for the summer.

I could see a few boats already, but it was nothing compared to the chaos that would come in a few hours. People would crowd the beach like it was going out of style, and I’d be lucky to see the sand in some places. It was enough to drive anyone crazy, so I was out there so early.

The fewer people out didn’t make the beach safer. It made it cleaner. More pure. And on days like this, with the clouds slowly drifting along, you were never too hot or cold when the wind blew. These are the days when I felt like the beach was mine. I could go anywhere, and no one would blink twice at me.

Except for Pete, the unofficial lifeguard and local expert on knowing everything despite never being seen off of his favorite sun chair. Pete blinks at anyone he sees. And he always has his eyes open! I saw Pete’s pale yellow sun chair with faded blue stripes. At the same moment, Pete waved at me.

“Morning, kid. Do your folks know you’re out here?”

I shook my head as I reached his chair. Pete didn’t look intimidating in the dark, but I saw him stare down a surfer twice his size on the day we met. Pete didn’t shout. He didn’t raise his arms or do anything to draw attention to himself. He spoke and was always heard. He cared about keeping the beach clean, but I’ve never seen him help pick up trash.

Pete doesn’t have anything to do with trash. And that goes double for people. He pushed his gray sunhat to the side and scowled at me. “That’s not good, kid—one of these days. Your folks are going to wake up and find you gone. Do you know what’ll happen then?”

“They’ll go back to sleep and yell at me when I come back.” Pete glared at me, but I wasn’t lying. My parents hate mornings even more than crowded places. No one knows how I bounced out of bed every day, and I had more pressing things to talk to Pete about anyway. “Did anyone bring in their hauls yet?”

Pete pulled his hat down and sighed. “Not yet. You looking for more bottles again?”

“Uh-huh! I read this cool story about a boy who could make glass come alive, and I want a new bottle to help me remember it!”

Pete coughed and spat into an old tin can he kept next to his chair. I wasn’t sure what it used to hold, but Pete’s next words distracted me from asking. “I saw a ghost ship last night. Maybe they left something behind.”

I frowned. “I’m too old to believe in ghosts, Pete.” I love reading made-up stories, but that’s because it’s all pretend.

Pete snorted and lifted the brim enough to reveal one pale green eye set in his wrinkled face. “Boy, it ain’t about what you believe. There are things in this world. Great things. That don’t make sense to the ways of science and doctors. I know what I saw. And I ain’t above smacking you for thinking I’m lying. Do you want to know where I saw it or not?”

I winced and rubbed my head. Pete rarely got violent, and he wasn’t supposed to hit other people’s kids. But the adults always turned a blind eye when it came to Pete, and I wasn’t about to start the morning with a sore head. “I’m sorry, Pete. I won’t do it again!”

Pete stared at me for several minutes before pulling the brim back into place and pointed toward the lighthouse. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Kenny. You shouldn’t be making promises at all, but there are some that are worth it.”

“You mean like promising to clean your room before playing video games?” My mom was always yelling at me for that one, but Pete shook his head.

“I was thinking of something bigger, but you should clean your room before you eat breakfast. It helps keep you fit. Just like finding the ghost ship and any treasures you can carry. Do you still want to find it?”

“Sure. Anything is better than staring at the ceiling until Mom makes breakfast.” Should I ask him how he knew it was a ghost ship?

Pete chuckled. “Then, get to the lighthouse and the beam past the rocks. Be careful you don’t fall in the water. I don’t feel like getting up just yet.”

It was my turn to frown. “That’s it? Follow the beam past the rocks?”

Pete didn’t bother adjusting his hat as he agreed. “That’s it. You can’t get much simpler than that, can you?”

“But I was going to head by the rocks anyway. I do it all the time!”

“I know. I’ve been getting complaints from good Samaritans and the like about kids running around where they shouldn’t be. It’s like they forget that it’s the parent's job to raise the kids and teach them common sense. But at least this gives you a reason to go out there this time.”

“Why do they complain to you, Pete? I’ve never seen you wear a uniform.” I’ve never seen him wear anything besides shorts, sandals, a hat, and an open shirt. There’s no way that’s a uniform!

Pete shrugged and wiggled his toes. People love complaining and assume they can get away with it with me because I don’t complain back… It’s an adult thing, Kenny. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“I’m thirteen, Pete.”

“Thirteen ain’t an adult. Thirteen means nothing in this day and age. You’d best get started if you want to avoid the early birds. I can smell the desperation already.”

I sniffed, but all I got was more sea breeze and fish. It wasn’t the worst thing I’d smelled. I found a dead skunk under my house once. But I knew Pete was done talking, so I thanked him and headed toward the lighthouse. The sand crunched between my toes, making me smile as I tried to walk with one foot on the sand and the other on the rocks that looked like they were leading to the ocean.

The lighthouse wasn’t the tallest, but it must have done a good job because I’ve never heard of any wrecks since summer began. It didn’t take long for me to figure out where Pete must have seen his ghost ship. The beach was ringed by a fake coral wall to help control the waves and keep people from drowning.

And near the center of the “curve” was a small mass of land that was shaped like a heart. I didn’t know if someone made it, but there wasn’t anything else to see out here. I hopped off the rocks and swam/walked to the island and walked to the middle, keeping my eyes on the ground in case any broken glass had washed ashore.

I already had two pieces of glass pulled out of my foot when we arrived, and I wasn’t interested in getting a third. Pulling anything stuck in the bottom of my feet hurt, and I’d rather look at glass that isn’t coated in blood, especially mine, which is why I noticed the faint glinting right away. It didn’t look like it came from a ghost ship.

The bottle was about the size of a small jug, perfect for keeping milk or iced tea in. Its coloring was slowly getting clearer as I held it up to the sun’s strengthening rays… reminding me of a prism… until I saw the rolled-up sheet of paper tucked inside. “No way,” I breathed as I turned the bottle around.

I’d never seen a real message in a bottle before, and I wasn’t sure I could keep it since Pete told me where to find it. But I knew one thing for certain: I needed to open the bottle and see what was inside. Nothing else mattered more to me at that moment, and it was something I’d regret for the rest of my life.

I carried my prize over my head, going slower to avoid tripping and breaking the bottle. I wanted to open it the right way, not the cheating way!