Mussels stuck to cave walls in the periwinkle beach light. Surfing and the sun turns orange against the waves. Laughing with my friends on the cold sand. A potato chip wrapper blows by in the wind. My hair dries in spirals, and underneath my braided roped bracelet my wrist is white, not tan. I put on a gold necklace I borrowed from my sister, and head to school feeling one with the damp trails and waterfalls. Even moving through gray smog and streetlights on Lincoln, underneath this is Santa Monica and my friends.