I pinned David Ritter down on the waxed floor of Liberty High, shoving handful after handful of sand down his throat.
“Say it again!” I screamed, he opened his mouth, sea dust spilling out. Though muffled, I heard his words:
“Your sister is-”
I rammed my fist into the back on his skull. His eyelids fluttered as his pupils rolled back. With one hand, I opened his left eye with pinching fingers. With the other, I let sand fall onto his exposed iris from my open fist.
“I will pour into you,” I whispered. “Until there is nothing left.”
The principal grabbed me firmly by the shoulder.
“That’s enough, Ms. Cadvil.”

The principal made me empty my pocket in the schoolyard. She didn’t understand the handfuls of sand that emerged, but she was sure it was a factor. I touched the wound on my head. I realized with disappointment, it didn’t bleed. No matter. I could always pick at my scabs or make new cuts where blood would seep from me like seawater.
The sand was thirsty. I could not leave it wanting.