And now for the drawbridge, I think as I push a pile of slightly moist sand toward an evenly sculpted medieval castle. Its towers are level and all of them are the same width and height. The moat is the same depth and width around the castle and looks as if it could actually contain deadly creatures such as snakes, alligators, jellyfish, and eels.
My nails are dirty and sand is seeping into my shorts, but I am content. Today marks the start of my second week of kindergarten. I haven’t made any friends yet, but most of the kids haven’t and we’re all still wandering around aimlessly. A tiny flock of short children play hide-and-go-seek around the slide while a group of boys huddle around a mysterious object hidden in the dirt. I strain my neck to see what they’re observing. A boy from the group picks up the object and cleans it with his shirt. His unwilling legs lead him in my direction.. He cautiously looks back at his whispering friends then drops the object into the sand at my feet and races back to his friends. I pick up the mysterious object and brush off the sand. It’s a shiny flat stone. The mixture of brown and gold tones melt together to create a non-edible chocolate delight. I toss the rock in the corner of the sand box. My mind ponders his motives as our teacher calls us inside and I demolish my medieval fantasy world.

The next day during recess the same thing happens. The boy runs over to me in the sandbox and drops a scratched up die onto my freshly paved avenue. It buries itself in the mound and sprays surrounding buildings with speckles of sand. I turn my eyes to him to say, “What was that for?” but he immediately drops to his knees and starts patching up the street and dusting off the buildings. His hands shake and fumble as he picks the sand-covered die up from the street. He offers it to me as I look at him with furrowed eyebrows and hold out my hand to receive the tiny trinket. A smile covers his pudgy face as he drops the cube in my hand. He turns and bounds back to his friends like a dog let off its leash.
I watch in wonder as he continues to play with his friends. “Why is he giving me these small things?” I wonder. My hand closes around the die, and I place it in the sand hole next to the faux chocolate rock.

The small boy continues to give me small tokens he finds during recess: my sand storage hole is starting to fill up. It is filled with small stones, board game pieces, miniature pencils, and a lone pawn from an incomplete chess set. I decide to gather all of his “gifts” and keep them hidden in a box at home. As I uncover all of my prizes, the boy appears next to me in the sand box.
“Do you like them?” he asks me, looking at the pile of treasures he gathered for me.
Looking at the lopsided sand motel on Cracker Drive, I replied, “They’re nice.”
“What’s your name?” he asked, shifting his gaze to my puzzled expression.
“Sophie. What’s yours?” My shoulders tensed and I cringed away from his intrusive eyes.
“Soren. Do you want to play tag with us?” he motions toward his friends huddled near an ant hill.
I shake my head and turn back to my sand city. “Maybe tomorrow.”
“Okay.” His eyes are wide and hopeful as he walks back to his friends who are now poking at the doomed dune.
I wipe off my sweaty palms and control my breathing. My eyes focus on the sand and I go back to working on my utopia. Some of the sides of the castle have deteriorated during the conversation. We can’t have that, I think to myself as I scoop up a pile of sand and patch up the imperfect structure.

The next day Soren walks over to me and hands me a packet of fun sized Skittles. “I thought you might like these.” he said.
I brush my hands off and gesture to an open spot around my geometric village. My hand finds the bag of Skittles and I pop one into my mouth. Soren starts to add a lumpy igloo-shaped hut to the village while I finish my package of sweet treats.
“Thank you,” I say, examining his features. His sandy blonde hair hangs over his intelligent looking eyes. A button nose hovers over a pair of lips that seem to always be in the position of a sly smile.
He notices me looking at him and asks, “What are you looking at?”
I immediately turn away and stare into the trees. My voice quivers as I say, “Nothing.” I try to think of an excuse, “ It looks like a storm is moving in.”
He looks behind him while his cheeks flush a violent color of red. He then focuses his attention back to building his flat skyscraper. “Do you want to go play tag now?” he asked.
I had forgotten the small promise I made to him yesterday. “Umm,” I stuttered, “my legs actually hurt today. Tomorrow for sure.”
“Okay.” Soren sighs, heading back to his friends shaking his head at them.
I glance down at the sand mailbox sitting in the driveway on First Street in my sandtown. A small sand figure of a girl stood outside in the sand grass next to a sand box. Her sandy expression was sad and lonely. Down the sand street, a group of sand children were frozen within a game of eternal sand tag.

Soren walks toward me as I sit. Lost in my sand world. Skyscrapers soaring over my head. He dumps buckets of trinkets onto me and my town, drowning me with lost game pieces and colorful shapes. I dig my way out of the landfill of forgotten items and search for Soren. He appears next to me, but he is not the same Soren. His eyes are more menacing and his sly smile has turned into a mocking sneer. His arm reaches out and pushes my shoulder.
“Tag. You’re it,” he jeers.
I stumble backward and reach toward him, but he’s already running away from me. “I don’t want to play!” I shout after him.
“Then don’t be ‘it’ anymore. Tag someone else.” He yells from across the city. A group of other children stand between him and me. They stand in lines and begin to run at me. I turn to run away from them, but I’m stuck.
My feet are covered in sand and I am slowly sinking. “Hey! Help! Come back!” I shout in Soren’s direction, but he’s too far away to hear my pleas. My mind begins to panic and my heart races. I try to lift my leg, but the sand buries me deeper. A shrinking vision of Soren is running off into the distance. I call for help, but the sand is swallowing me whole. My arms flail as I try to dig my way out. Handfuls of gifts appear in my palms as I dig into the sand. Every item Soren has given me seems to be closing in on me. A mixture of sand and presents cover my torso as I reach for the skyscrapers and yell for anyone’s help. My cries are easily masked by the loud laughter of children. Sand is starting to get in my eyes and I can’t brush it out because my arms are trapped. My mouth is covered and my eyes dart around desperately searching for help. I see no one coming to my aid. I close my eyes and wait for darkness.

A crash of thunder fills my ears. I sit up in a pool of sweat. My hands shake as they reach for the light switch next to my bed. It is raining outside. I spot another flash of lightning. I bury my head in my pillow until the sound of thunder passes. The pitter-patter of rain creates a rhythmic drone to calm my uneasy nerves. I stand up and dig under my bed for the shoe box of gifts Soren has given me.
I gaze over the gifts and wipe my hands on my nightgown. I've noticed all the earlier gifts have all come from some sort of set or greater item. The stone came from a larger stone, a card came from the game Sorry, the die came from a game of Chutes and Ladders, and a beaten pawn came from an old chess set. The gifts he’s been recently giving me have been relating to each other. A black crayon, a white crayon. Markers and crayons. His most recent gifts to me have been a hand full of puzzle pieces. They are all different colors and don’t seem to fit together. I spot a dark black line running down one of the pieces. My hand reaches for the palm sized puzzle piece. I notice that all of the puzzle pieces have different black lines running over them. Even though the pieces have come from different puzzles, they still fit together. After putting the pieces together, I stand back and stare at the image in front of me. It’s a stick figure in motion. Running. I realize that all Soren wanted was for me to play tag with him and his friends.
I stare at the box and say aloud, “I am going to play tag with Soren tomorrow.” The sound of my voice is soft compared to the percussive rain. I cover the box and slide it under the bed and crawl back into bed with my planning gears turning.

The next day at school, I notice that Soren is absent. My heart falls into my stomach. My plans are ruined. I mope through the day, hardly paying attention to what I’m doing. My addition skills fail me as i add five and nine up to equal twelve. During coloring time, my marker seems to have a mind of it’s own. I can’t focus. After a long story about a rainbow fish, our teacher finally lets us out for recess. I turn to the door and see a familiar face appear in the doorway. Soren is standing next to his mother with a bag in his hand.
“Soren! Let’s go play outside!” I almost yell. I am so relieved my plans hadn't been ruined.
“In a minute Sophie.” He walks over to our teacher as I slide out of the room like a frog covered in oil.
I sprint out the doorway and head directly to the sandbox. My hands dig into the remains of yesterday’s metropolis. I create huge letters in the sand. Sculpting each letter perfectly.
When i finish, I stand up and admire my handiwork. I glance towards the door. A group of children sit on the stoop playing tic-tac-toe.. I sit on the edge of the sandbox and fiddle with the chipped paint. My heartbeat accelerates with every minute that passes. I begin to wonder if he’s forgotten about me when he and his mom emerge from the group of children surrounding the door. I wave as Soren motions for me to come over by him. I trot over to the doorway.
“Soren you have to come see what I made!” I shout at him.
“Sophie,” he pauses, “ I have to go.” He looks at the ground. I start to motion toward the sandbox but his mother interrupts me.
“Sophie, Soren’s dad got a job in a different state. We’re moving today.” Her eyes examine me as if I am some sort of spastic child.
“What?” My heart drops as I turn my gaze back to Soren.
He looks back at me with apologetic eyes and reaches his hand into his pocket. Out comes a string with a trinket on the end of it. He holds it out to me.
I reach forward and grasp the tiny plastic gift and step back as his mother leads him toward their car. He turns around and waves at his friends and me. My eyes begin to water as their car pulls out of the driveway. I stand and watch it shrink into the distance for as long as I can.
When I can no longer see them, I walk back to the forgotten sandbox. My legs wobble and I fall into the forgiving sand. Tears slide down my cheeks as I open my palm. A small dog stares back. It is connected to a plastic purple ring that is looped onto a piece of string. “Soren must have gotten it out of a vending machine one might find at a grocery store,” I think as I place it around my neck. My teacher calls us inside. Recess is over. I slowly stand up and walk toward the doors. Tears fall from my face and splash onto the unread sandy words, “Do you want to go play tag now?”