Tariq and Elias Build One Big Sandcastle Together

The beach was bright and warm on Saturday morning. The sea was calm and blue, with little white ruffles where the waves rolled in. Gulls floated high in the sky, and the sand was the color of honey.

Tariq ran ahead of his parents with a red bucket in one hand and a yellow spade in the other. He had been waiting all week for this.

"I am going to build the biggest sandcastle in the world," he told his father.

"That sounds like a lot of work," said Baba, smiling. He spread out a striped blanket and opened a big umbrella. "We will be right here."

Tariq found a perfect spot. It was close to the water, where the sand was damp and dark and easy to shape. He knelt down and started to dig.

Scoop, scoop, scoop. He filled his bucket. Pat, pat, pat. He pressed the sand down flat. Then he turned the bucket over, tapped the top, and lifted it slowly.

A round tower stood on the sand. It was smooth and firm, with a tiny bit of seaweed stuck on one side.

"One tower," said Tariq happily.

Just then, he noticed a boy kneeling a few steps away. The boy had curly brown hair, a green sun hat, and a blue bucket. He was building a sandcastle too. He already had two towers and a little wall.

Tariq frowned. He did not want anyone else to build a castle near his. He wanted his to be the biggest.

He dug faster. Scoop, scoop, scoop. Pat, pat, pat. Up went a second tower. Up went a third.

The other boy looked over. He dug faster too. Up went his third tower and his fourth.

Tariq dug so fast that sand flew over his shoulder. He made a wall. He made a bumpy hill. He tried to make a bridge, but it fell down with a soft flump.

The other boy tried to dig a moat around his castle. But the hole kept filling up with water and sliding in at the sides. His wall slumped over.

Both boys sat back on their heels, hot and puffing. Their castles looked a bit lumpy. Neither one looked like the biggest castle in the world.

The other boy looked at Tariq. Tariq looked at the other boy.

"Your towers are very round," said the boy at last.

"Your wall is very long," said Tariq.

"I am Elias," said the boy. "I am six and three quarters."

"I am Tariq. I am six and a half."

Elias looked at the sea. "I wanted to make a moat," he said, "but the water keeps knocking my walls down."

Tariq looked at his own castle. "I wanted to make a bridge," he said, "but it keeps falling."

They were quiet for a moment. A little wave rolled up and kissed the edge of the sand.

"My grandpa says sand is stronger when it is very wet," said Elias. "Like thick mud. You have to drip it."

"Drip it?" asked Tariq.

Elias scooped up a handful of soupy wet sand and let it drip slowly through his fingers. Drip, drip, drip. It piled up into a tall, bumpy spike, like a castle in a fairy tale.

"Wow," said Tariq. "Can you drip one on my tower?"

Elias grinned. He dripped a pointy roof onto Tariq's round tower. It looked wonderful.

"I know how to make towers smooth," said Tariq. "You have to pat the sand down three times in the bucket, hard, and then tap the top before you lift it. My mama taught me."

He showed Elias. Pat, pat, pat, tap, tap. Up came a perfect tower.

"Ooh," said Elias. "Can we put it on my side?"

Tariq hesitated. Then he looked at the gap between the two castles. It was only a small gap.

"What if," he said slowly, "there was no my side and your side? What if we made one castle?"

Elias's eyes went wide. "One big castle! With your towers and my walls!"

"And a moat all the way around!" said Tariq.

"And a bridge!" said Elias.

So they began again, together.

Tariq made the towers. Pat, pat, pat, tap, tap. Elias dripped pointy roofs on top. Drip, drip, drip. Together they built a long wall between the towers, pressing it with their palms until it was smooth.

For the moat, they had an idea. Tariq dug the ditch, and Elias lined the sides with flat shells and pebbles so the water could not knock them down. It worked! When a wave rolled in, the water swirled around the moat like a little river, and the walls stayed strong.

The bridge was the hardest part. It fell down once. It fell down twice.

"Maybe we need something underneath," said Elias.

Tariq ran along the beach and came back with a long, flat piece of driftwood, smooth and pale from the sea. They laid it across the moat and packed wet sand on top. This time the bridge stayed up.

Their parents came to look. Elias's grandpa came too, with a big straw hat and a kind, wrinkled face.

"My goodness," said Baba. "What a castle."

It had eight towers with pointy roofs. It had a long wall with a gate. It had a moat with shells and pebbles, and a driftwood bridge. On the very top of the tallest tower, Elias placed a white feather from a gull, like a flag.

"It is the biggest castle in the world," said Tariq.

"It is the biggest castle on this beach, at least," said Elias's grandpa, laughing.

The boys sat side by side on the warm sand and ate orange slices that Tariq's mother had brought. The juice ran down their chins. They watched the sun sparkle on the water.

Later, the tide began to come in. Little waves crept closer and closer. Soon they filled the moat, and then the wall began to soften.

Tariq felt a little sad. "Our castle is going away," he said.

Elias leaned against his shoulder. "That is okay," he said. "Next Saturday, we can build a new one."

Tariq smiled. "Together?"

"Together," said Elias.

And as the sea gently smoothed the sand, the two boys ran along the shore, looking for the best shells for next time.