Chapter 7 - Shifting

Even with the strength of thirty young people, it takes us hours to make the Westside beach look clean. More of us spend our time talking and bonding than doing any actual work, but I cannot complain. After all, it's one of our aims: to get the two packs together.

The sun is right above my head, sending trickles of sweat down the sides of my forehead. I fill the last of empty plastic bottles and such I can spot into a black trash bag.

I wipe the beads of sweat on my forehead with the back of my hand and approach a group of girls standing close by. My legs have become stiff. I like the sand, but walking on it is another matter.

"Thank you for being here, girls. It means a lot," I say with a genuine smile, wiping the sand from my hands on my jeans.

"Oh, Nessa," a girl named Emily waves her hand. "I couldn't have thought of a better way to spend my Sunday morning." She wears a smile on her freckled face, but I'm not sure if it's as genuine as my own.

They stride off, the exposed skin