They were loners even in first grade and that was how they wound up together on the bus taking everyone to the Dunes. They talked about what they each had in their lunches and looked out the window and tried not to be overwhelmed by the chaos of screaming, chattering voices rushing past them. She wore glasses and was thin and awkward. She was nice. Years later he remembered too her long brown hair. What he didn't remember was how the older boys found them behind a dune and pressed their heads together to make them kiss and the taste of sand in his mouth when they kicked him and the thin thread of blood that came out of her skinned knee. And how he felt sorry for her and mad and helpless to defend her. The salt of tears and the feeling of never wanting to go to a place called the Dunes ever again.