Blood & Sand by Wendy Hockstein

Lena sits in front of the fire, the sort you're not suppose to have on the beach, and watches the faces of new kids who have decided to settle on there. They are pale and dressed all in black, their hungry eyes watching as her friends worship them for being new and unknown. Skim, the boy her friend Linda Lu is friends with that she met at the IHOP a few days ago, says they're dangerous, to not come to the beach anymore, to be aware of the stories his father tells of bloodless children and the dead that walk and talk like the living. But as she watches the sharp bones of their faces outlined by the harsh light of fire she thinks of all the years that she has come to that beach and felt the sand under her feet and the water touch her finger tips. She thinks how long it took to teach her body to not burn whenever she went into the yellow light of the sun, old and breathless like her, and as she feels the teeth too big and sharp in her mouth and hears the pounding of the blood in their veins like syrup, thick and smooth running down them, she knows that Skim's father is right to warn his children of the people who have dug themselves out of their own deep cradles in the earth, and that her friends will be safe even if she has to show them what she truly is. 

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