She sits hugging her knees, feeling the warm fingers of sand curling between her bare toes. She can smell it in the air, almost taste its gritty texture mixed with the tangy spice of the sea salt. The water lies before her in a slow blue spread to infinity. Far off, she squints to see the tiny speck of a single bird swooping down to pluck an unfortunate fish from the cool depths.

She feels the chill of his shadow on her back before she hears his deep voice. "Kelly?"

"Yes, Dad?"

"Your mother says to tell you not to get yourself sunburned." He puts his hand up to block the direct sunlight from his eyes. "You hear?"

"I won't. I'm just sitting here for a few minutes to dry off."

"You should get yourself dressed pretty soon and go help your brother set the table."

Kelly sighs. "Yeah."

"I'm going down to the pier to get the shrimp." He pauses. "You don't want to come, do you?"

"Why not?" She rises and brushes the sand off her thighs.

"Put your towel around you," he says, tossing one to her.

"Dad, it's a beach --"

"Just put it on! You can't walk around half ..."

"All right, okay!" She whips the brightly colored stripes about her waist, and they begin to trek down the beach in silence. The squeals of children, the repetitive roar of the surf and the steady hum of transistor radios clog their ears. Kelly watches a little girl in a bright pink swimsuit with a purple frill tightly clutching a man's hand; his eyes never leave her small frame as she inches into the fringes of the icy water, skittering back in surprise as a wave hits. Vividly, Kelly recalls her first time in the water, the security of her father's warm, rough palm enveloping her tiny fingers as the salty tentacles of the sea tried to claim her. She remembers the strength of his arms when he swept her up and carried her out to the deep water as she clung to him, her face buried in his sweet-smelling neck, his whiskers faintly brushing her cheek. She glances now at him; the late afternoon light illuminates half his face, giving his familiar dark beard and strong jaw an eerie glow. She wants to ask him if he, too, remembers, but he is speaking.

"Summer's going to be over soon. School will be starting before you know it."

"Yes." Abruptly, her mood shifts; she clenches her jaw and digs her heel hard down with each step, anticipating the direction of the conversation.

"This would be a good year to bring up those grades, now, wouldn't it?"

She concentrates on the rhythmic slapping of her feet down into the wet sand, heel-toe, heel-toe. Don't-get-mad, don't-get-mad. "All you need to do, Kelly, is learn to focus. A little more time devoted to studying, a little more organization. Make flashcards or let's buy you ..."

All the sounds of the beach slowly fade from her ears as though she has been sucked into a vacuum, and she can hear only the slow thudding of her pulse through her ears. She thinks about the hours spent in a sweaty stupor -- the hundreds of verbs her mind wrestled with but would not, could not learn; the numbers that lay on the page in their perfect columns and bold arrogance, mocking her stupidity; the cruel glare of the desk lamp the night when she hurled her clock against her bedroom wall, smashing it into smithereens, finally terminating its incessant, immutable ticking. Heel-toe, heel-toe.

"I know you can do better, hon. You've just got to put some effort into it. The rewards don't come by themselves, you know." He pats her shoulder as she stiffens. Kelly hears the thunderous crash of a breaker smacking the shore, and the vacuum has expelled her. She comes to an abrupt halt and wheels toward him.

"Effort? What do you know about my effort?" she manages to squeeze out between teeth that have fused together. "You know nothing! Maybe it all comes so easy to you. I work and I work, and there are no rewards -- " Kelly breaks off and strides ahead. Heel-toe, heel-toe.

Slightly panting -- and infuriatingly calm -- her father comes up beside her. "No one is saying that you don't work. But, Kelly, it's all about priorities and time management. You wait until the last second for everything, and that's why you get so overwhelmed. Turn off the radio and the phone when you're studying so you can actually concentrate. Maybe get yourself some sleep once in a while."

"But, Dad, I study the way I have to study." I'm not like you, echoes throughout her insides.

"Obviously, you're not doing it the right way, or your results would be different. If you are prepared and know the material, exams should not be difficult. It's just a question of . . . of . . . redirecting yourself. There's no reason why any daughter of mine should be getting the grades you are, Kelly."

She takes a sharp breath, feeling the grainy sensation of the sand and salt teasing her insides. Kelly looks out over the water, but her vision is blurred and she cannot see the horizon clearly. "I don't know how to get across to you that I can't try any harder," she says, weighing each word, her voice hoarse with emotion. Kelly turns to face him, every inch of her begging him to understand. Please. But his face is closed off, and she can see that he does not. She faces away, not wanting him to see her tears, her defeat, for once again he has won. Kelly knows that the failure belongs even more expressly to her because, despite all her effort, she doesn't know how to be the daughter that he desires.

He clears his throat. "I'm going to go in and get the shrimp now," he tells her shoulders. She nods, not trusting her voice. She watches in the sand as his shadow moves away from her.

To her left, she again sees the little girl in the pink swimsuit skipping toward her, still clasping the man's hand tightly and prattling about the day's events. A yellow plastic sand pail swings from her free hand. As they pass, the little girl stops and stoops down to pick up a shell from the sand. She holds it up in triumph to show her companion, her freckled face all aglow. He appears to admire it with sufficient gravity, and she places it into her pail. They continue on farther down the beach, slowly fading to become a silver silhouette of darkness against the background of the dwindling sunlight.

Kelly takes a deep shuddering breath, demanding control of her senses, as she sees her father returning with the shrimp. The muscles across the back of her shoulders tighten, her knuckles clench. Her long hair whips against her face in the stirring breeze.

As he approaches, his face is blank and impossible to decipher. Kelly opens her mouth to say something, but the words are lost to her. He touches her arm, and she flinches involuntarily. She watches in horror as his features crumble. Hesitantly, she stretches her arms up around his neck and lays her head against him. "Oh, Kelly, I'm so sorry," he whispers gruffly into her ear, now next to his shoulder, and she is able to relax into his strong embrace once again.

The cool, twilight sea breeze tenderly soothes their warm, damp cheeks. On the dunes behind them, the long wisps of grass ripple as though caressed by an invisible hand. The water licks at their toes, and the surf is calm for now.