Andrew didn’t mean to spoil things. It just kind of slipped out. After all, he hadn’t promised Jessica he wouldn’t tell anybody. And Carey had said there were a few other people who knew, so it wasn’t as if he were giving a big secret away. And in all the times they’d been to the dunes, never once had the old man told them not to tell. So.
It happened in the Boys Only Fort, when he and a couple of friends were talking about dreams.
“I never have dreams,” said Rob. “Or if I have them, I never remember when I wake up.”
“I usually remember mine,” said Nathan. “The other night I had this really cool dream. There was this whale riding on two dragons and it got really angry and changed into this gigantic bird, and its wings were so huge the whole sky turned black. And the wings were getting closer and closer, and beating in my face, and finally I woke up!”
“And the wings made thunder, right?” asked Andrew.
“Yeah! Hey, how did you know?”
“’Cause that’s one of the old man’s stories.”
“What old man?” asked Rob.
Well, Andrew had put his foot in his mouth alright, and it was too late to back out now. He might as well make the most of it. “The old man who sifts sand and tells stories, out on the dunes. Haven’t you heard about him?”
“No!” the boys exclaimed. “Tell us!” Andrew felt quite pleased, seeing as how he knew something they didn’t. Especially being a newcomer and all.
“What! You’ve lived here all your lives and never seen the sand sifter? That’s amazing!” And he told them about the old man who sifted the sand, with every pile in its proper place, and every grain holding a story.
“Can we go out there with you?” asked Nathan. “Sure! I go almost every afternoon, usually with Jess and Carey. Meet me on the beach after lunch, and we’ll go!”
“No,” Andrew assured them. Anyway, it was too late now if he did.
After they’d gone, he realized he probably should have told them to keep it a secret. But it was too late now, and that was that.
Now the old man was surrounded by children, as well as his pails and piles of sand. First there had been Carey and Jessica, then Andrew, then Andrew’s friends, then all of their friends. For nobody was keeping it a secret anymore.
Every afternoon they met at the cabin in the dunes. Waited quietly while he brushed the sand from their feet and swept it into a pile to be sifted. Then, taking his sieve, he would begin. Sifting, sifting, every grain holding a story, woven into words by the sand sifter.
He spoke of man-eating giants that stalked the woods, and ice witches who dwelt in caverns of snow. He thrilled them with tales of hideous ogres and monstrous demons, of scaly sea serpents and gruesome goblins.
And they shivered with fear and delight, and kept coming back for more.
“Why do we always go in the afternoon?” Andrew wondered one day. He had buried Jessica in the sand, and except for her head sticking up she looked very much like a miniature dune. Now Andrew was idly letting grains of sand trickle through his fingers, building up hills over her toes.
“I don’t know.”
“Well, that’s what I mean. There’s no reason. Let’s go at night for a change.”
“We’re not allowed to go out at night.”
“I know, but look— we’ll pretend to go to bed, and then sneak out. I’ve done it before.”
“Really?” Jess sat right up, shaking the mountain of sand away. What was even more amazing than Andrew sneaking out at night was that he was telling her about it. “Do you really?”
“Sure. I go out to the fort sometimes, or down to the beach.”
“Wow!” sighed Jessica, impressed.
“So that’s what we can do. You just sneak into my room, then we climb out the window. It’s not that high up. I’ll bring a flashlight.”
“O.K.!” beamed Jessica. “And you don’t have to worry, Andrew, I won’t tell, ever.”
“I know that. You’re dead if you do, right?” “Right!”
And that was that.