When I got to Syd, the two of us waded out farther, toward where the suspension bridge hung over the water. Her bikini top was emerald green. Mine was navy blue, and we were both wearing short running shorts over our bikini bottoms so we didn’t get all scraped up going down the spillway. Everyone was looking. I mean, they started out looking at both of us, but it was her that their eyes stayed on.
In late August and early September, when the students came back, the college kids would claim Flatrock as their own, as if they’d discovered it. Frat boys would bring beers and whistle at us, acting like everything and everyone came into existence when they were here. What they never knew, what they couldn’t even begin to understand, was that this wasourtown. They were, always, only visiting. If you don’t live in a place the whole year long, it doesn’t count as living. You’re a visitor. You’re temporary.
The students always swarmed into town in the fall like locusts. Some of them were rich and snotty and not sure how they felt about living in a town as small as Lithia when they werefrom New York City or Chicago or LA. Some of them had extremely entitled conversations with their parents in the aisles at Target, or acted like they thought it was ironic and hilarious to do Lithia things.
But they also had this energy about them. They were young and interesting and full of potential, and you hated them and wanted to be them at the same time. At least, I did.
“I love this place,” I said.
“Yeah,” Syd said. “It’s pretty great.” But her voice was flat, and she wasn’t quite making eye contact. Why had she gestured for me to join her? Why had she asked me to come in the first place? What was going on?
“Hey,” I said. “Syd. Should I go home? Seriously? I feel like I’m a third wheel without Sam. Like I’m kind of crashing a date.” I waited for her to laugh, but she didn’t.
She looked at me, her hazel eyes turned full-on green thanks to her top. “Nah,” she said. “You’re already here.”
“Okay,” I said, confused. Itwasn’ta date, right? Alex wasn’t acting like it was. Plus, Syd and Alex? That wasn’t a thing. That had never been a thing.
She waved her hand, but I was still on edge. Sometimes Syd did that. Acted like things were fine when they were clearly not.
“Seriously,” I said. “What is it?”
“You’ve got Sam.” Syd kicked her leg and the water splashed up, shimmered. “I should have someone, too.”
“Alex?”I couldn’t keep the surprise out of my voice. Syd had known Alex for years, and she’d never expressed interest in him before. She tended to go for guys who played footballor lacrosse and were tall and broad-shouldered, or who were in bands and had what she called “interesting damage.”
Alex was cute and athletic in a rangy runner sort of way. He was interesting, but not very damaged.
“You sound skeptical,” she said.
“I’m not,” I protested. “Just surprised.” And happy for Alex, I guessed. If he found out she was into him, he’d lose his mind. Butwasshe really into him?
“Why?” Syd asked. “He’s basically the guy version of you. And we hang out all the time.” She was back to herself, that glint in her eye, her smile real again.
“That’s true.” I reached down into the water to pluck out a child-sized flip-flop that was floating past and tossed it to a mom nearby. “He and Iarekind of the same person.”
“Well, I can’t dateyou.” Syd reached up and pulled out the band in her ponytail, scooping her hair back again to make it tighter. “It would be like dating my sister.”
I laughed. “Right.”
“Whatever.” Syd grabbed my hand. “Come on.”
We went down the spillway screaming, the rush of water turning us slightly sideways as we slid. When we stood up, we started splashing each other, leaning into the water to swipe great swathes through it, shrieking with laughter.
“Everyone’s staring,” I said to Syd.
“Who cares.” She smiled at me. Beads of water hung from her eyelashes, and her shoulders were golden in the sun. “Let them look.”
42.
now
When I climb back into my car, I swear I smell watermelon lip gloss.
It’s in my mind,I think. The sun’s hitting the car and the interior is heating up, and when things get warm you can always smell them better, like when brownies are baking or you’re stirring jam on the stove. Maybe the heat is making me smell something else, a square of bubble gum left in the back seat, an old air freshener shoved in a side pocket, and my mind is doing the rest, turning it into Syd.
Yolo yowls. He’s not pleased about being carted everywhere with me, but I don’t want to let him out of my sight.
“You’re right,” I say. “I mean,you’rehere.”
