A summer breeze racks over the sunny beaches of Southern California. Sun shines on every acre of stretched out the sand covered beach, burning the frolicking children who forgot to reapply sunscreen.

But, in the center of the pier, a 19-year old girl stands, copper brown hair blowing fiercely to the wind. Her hands are decorated with silver rings and bracelets, barely big enough to grip the wood.

She smells of cedar wood and vanilla, her legs glowing with the scent of salt washing over any person too near.

Only seven feet away, a 18-year old boy stands in awe of the beauty that this young lady beholds. Every hint of glow in her legs, the mere glimpse of her jawline when the wind blows her hair just to the left.

He is fresh out of university with a bachelors in English, and he is soon to have a teaching job in the fall at the local elementary.

His bare feet slowly plant themselves in front of each other, as he makes his way to this fine lady.

He stops just around to be on her right, and her green eyes find his. He barely offers a meek smile, his eyes focused deeply on her lips.

“Hi, what’s your name?”, she asks with a soft grin. He starts to stutter a bit as he forms a response in his barely computing brain.

“Joey. Uh, Joey Lancaster.”

“That’s a nice name.”

“_Well_, what’s your name?”, he awkwardly replies to make conversation. He sounds quite rude when he says ‘well’ and immediately regrets it, but no apology comes out of his mouth.

“Sherry. Sherry Verua.”, she squints at him with somewhat judgement.

“Ha! Sherry. Your father have a lisp or something? Couldn’t pronounce ‘_CHerry_’?”, he loudly laughs. He throws his head back, certainly pleased with his attempt at a joke and shakes his head at the coastline.

“EXCUSE, ME?”, she shouts. Her face is as red as a cherry, and his face shoots towards her with obvious confusion.

“What? What?”, he says panicky. His eyes are filled with concern and regret.

“My father didn’t have a lisp! You rude son of a bitch! What is wrong with you?”, she barks back with disbelief and disgust. Hatred fills her eyes as her hands shoot up. Clinging of the fingers entrap his ears as she continues to yell at him.

A crowd starts to stare. Onlookers and lovingly couples stare with disapproval at young little Joey. People click their tounges and furrow their brow at the little man.

“What, lady, come on. I didn’t mean to offend you or your father-“, he whispered in a thick italian accent.

The footsteps of a burly bearded man approach heavily. He’s magnetic, everyone’s eyes are glued to him.

“What’d you say to her?”, he shouts, about eight feet away. His fist are clenched and shoulder hunched, making him look somehow bigger.

Joey begins to tremble a tad, his hand white-knuckling onto the post. He carefully opens his mouth, and begins to speak.

“Listen,”, he says slowly, “I didn’t mean to offend your daughter or you. She just didn’t, I mean, she didn’t look to bright to know what I was saying, you know? But, I know it was wrong and I was wrong so I’ll just-“, his words cut off with massive hands gripping onto his shoulders.

He’s hoisted on the edge of the pier, as tears prick his eyes. His hands shake as he tries weakly to push the man off him.

“NOT BRIGHT? I’LL THROW YOU OFF THIS PIER AND WE’LL SEE WHO WON’T BE SO BRIGHT SOON.”, the dark-haired italian man yelled.

“Nah, man-“, he rasped out with a croak.

He was then thrown down the pier, onto the sand. All of a sudden, the same sand that feels soft on your feet felt prickly and poked him all over. His neck formed an odd shape and his arm was twisted backwards.

Up on the pier, the father-daughter pair hurriedly walked down, never to be seen again. The wailing of sirens came, and soon Joey was hospitalized.

He’ll know the difference between a lisp and a real name, even when his broken neck heals.