Time melted like an ice-cream cone on a hot summer's day, quick and sweet and gone too fast. The weather was starting to cool, and I knew that it meant back to school season was upon us. 

My friends and I sit in the fast-food court, surrounded by mothers with carts of glue and squirmish children. “Have you got your supplies yet?” I ask. I'm not sure if high schoolers go back to school shopping. 

“Yeah,” Emily scrunches her nose, “My mom got me and my little brother the same things, it's so babyish.”

“It's like, they don't get it, we're basically adults now,” Mellisa rolls her eyes and I can tell she's had plenty of practice, “we can be independent, ya know.” 

“Yeah, totally,” Even though we just watched Mellisa's parents pull out of the parking lot.

The buzzer on the plastic table rings and Mellisa and Emily grab it and walk off to grab the food. 

Nobody has told me what I'm meant to do with this new “adult” me. I had spent most of my days the past few summers dreaming of the ones I could spend as a teenager, but suddenly I am one, and I don't feel any older than I did a few years ago. Emily and Mellisa grew up, changing who they were, but I seemed stuck in place, watching. 

Emily walks back to the table, holding a cardboard carrier of snow-cones. She hands me mine, and I can tell it's been spilled, syrup sticky on the sides. I hold it, the syrup adhering to my fingers. 

The first summer I can remember, I was five years old, messy and sticky like kids are. I played on the swings as my older sister sat on the sand with her friends, gossiping in the way only mean preteens can do. Once I was tired of falling off the swing into the sand, I would sit with them, digging holes and listening to their remarks about everybody's fashion and habits while they threw wipes at me. 

“Should we walk around the mall for a bit?” Emily suggested, “it's too hot in here,”

“Ok,” I nodded, stirring my snow-cone. It was melting a little, as snow-cones do. Emily and Mellisa are still talking, so I fall back into the past. 

Soon enough, my friends and I sat in the very same spot on that beach. Preteens making cutting comments about people who had done nothing wrong. We had been mean and talked too loudly, and it was clear that that hasn't changed since we were kids. We would talk about how soon we would be those girls down at the ocean who blared music and always seemed as though they were in a music video. 

“Gross, you have snow-cone dripping all over your hands,” Melissa swiped at me with a napkin. My snow-cone was melting, only sticky blue water. Nothing fulfilling, but I still slurped it. 

“Hurry up,” Mellisa called, as they kept walking. “We’re going to look at swimming suits!” There was no point in staying behind when there was nothing left.

“I'm coming!” I empty the water into a plant pot, and rip the cup from my hand, wiping down the remaining syrup. “I'll be right there!” as I run towards my friends. 

I'll wear my swimsuit to the beach.