“Alice and I made a list of approved questions and topics for the podcast.” I glance over at her on the porch, talking with my parents while eating a cheeseburger. Of course she ignored my recommendation.
“I can tell she likes you.”
She sometimes had a funny way of showing it, but I could tell that too.
“You’re up,” Claire says to me, placing the plastic orange bat in my hands.
“Go get ’em, Captain,” Derick says. “Remember, plant your feet, square your hips, follow through. You got this.” Derick’s faith in me is adorable, if entirely misplaced.
I step up to bat. Avery’s eyeing me from the pitcher’s mound. She spits like a serious sports pro from the fifties who would have a wad of chewing tobacco lodged in her bottom lip. I love her commitment.
Strike one whizzes by, while strike two is a clear miss from me.
No strike three comes because the third ball sails and hits me right in the upper arm. Avery looks unapologetic as she yells, “Walk!” and I scuttle to first base on a technicality. Could’ve been worse.
Right around dusk, Derick peels off and hops the fence. He needs to report to Earl before the gates open for the fireworks guests.
We got creamed in Wiffle ball. Despite Claire’s impressive batting average, we lost 10 to 6. Mateo is a lot speedier than he looks, and who knew you could throw a curve ball with a holey orb of plastic. Avery’s wheelhouse of tricks defies logic.
“How does it feel to be theWickedto ourAvenue Qat the 2004 Tonys, babe?” Mateo asks, gloating about their shocking win. I laugh and finish my pasta salad in peace.
An hour later, in the middle of a rousing discussion about which patriotic anthem is the queerest (top contenders: “Kids in America” by Kim Wilde or Whitney Houston’s rendition of the National Anthem), I get a text from Derick:
Jump the fence and come meet me. Earl says it’s okay if we all come up here.
I type back:
What do you mean “come up here”?
His reply:
You’ll see
As we trek over the fence one by one, Avery gets her dress caught in one of the wires, crying out for help like she’s being attacked by rabid animals, so we all pitch in to save the fabric of her vintage thrift-store find. And here I thought Mateo was the dramatic one in our friend group.
The day is fading into night, and the lot is almost filled. Earl appears happy, standing in the shade of the screen, thumbs hooked in his belt loops. I expect Derick to be at his side. I scour the lot but don’t see him.
Avery wants to pop into the snack shack to grab the Rosevale sweatshirt she left here last weekend. That’s when I hear Derick whisper, “Psst.Up here!”
When I tilt my gaze upward, Derick’s head is peering over the edge of the roof.
“What are you doing up there?”
“Earl says if we’re careful, we can watch from up here! There’s a ladder propped up over by the bathrooms.” I’m not a huge fan of heights. Even still, I’m up for this—watching fireworks on the roof of my favorite place in the world. Brandon holds the base of the ladder chivalrously while the rest of us navigate the rungs until we’re all on the very dirty landing.
Derick’s set up on the edge. He points his camera lens skyward, capturing the swirling sunset over Willow Valley, almost as beautiful as the impending display. The clouds have parted and the night looks clear. The view should be unblemished from this spot.
I settle down next to Derick, sitting crisscross so my legs don’t hang, fear percolating only slightly. He smiles at me beneath a draping of golden locks that spill across his eyes. He got sweaty during our Wiffle ball game, and his usual poof has deflated into a delightful, damp mess. He smells like two fresh swipes of Mountain Spring deodorant.
“Come close,” he says, holding up his phone for a selfie. He’s activated the interactive filter he made for the evening. There’s a superimposed exploding firework effect, a bit of facial softening, and the Wiley’s logo roving beneath our chins. “Smile,” he chirps before taking the shot.
“How’d you do that? It’s so cool.”
“I do it on Spark AR Studio.” Tech dork is a different role for him. It suits him nonetheless. “Anyway, it’s all about making a fun branded, interactive element that the consumer can keep. Once they try the filter, it saves into their preloaded options when making a new story. It’s the hope that after Fourth of July, they’ll see the Wiley’s logo and remember to come back and visit us again.”
Us.My ribs crack open and rainbow light spills out when I hear that he considers himself a part of the Wiley’s family. Sure, I was hesitant at first, but he really does mesh well with our mishmash of recruits. Unlike Mateo who, on the pyramid of stellar employees, has solidified himself as a staple in the bottom row. But today is not the day to dwell on that.
“Do you mind if I post this?” Derick asks, tilting the screen toward me to show me. It’s a winner, for sure. We’re both happy, smiling from ear to ear. When I look back up at him, he’s wearing the same expression, but the tips of his ears have turned Dubble Bubble pink.
