“No buts. I refuse to let you miss this.”
“Where’s Ava?” We left things unsettled at dinner, and I’ve got that same gutted feeling I had when we fought as kids, like I’m unmoored, floating into space. I don’t know if it’d be better for her to be there or not.
“Can’t find her, so I definitely need you.” She taps her foot impatiently. “Ten for two, right?”
A smile spreads on my face. “Ten for two.” I strip down and tie my towel tightly around my chest.
Imo ambles out the front door, where a golf cart waits for us. Inside are a few of the other lifeguards only wearing towels, too.
“Got her!” Imo calls. We hop on the back of the cart, and my stomach flips as we take off down to the waterfront, the wind whipping in my hair. I laugh hard as Imo throws an arm around my shoulder, her eyes bright and full of freedom.
This is it. What this whole summer is about. Feeling free.
When we get to the lake, we tumble out of the golf cart and devise a plan.
Our little group splits up to canvass the buildings and the trees, looking for the red blinking lights indicating that security footage is being recorded. Mellie and Stu installed the state-of-the-art system a few years back when they realized the old analog cameras did nothing to catch the counselors who took motorboats out for joyrides in the middle of the night. But now we all know how to get past their little booby traps. A simple reset will keep the cameras off for a few hours, then they’ll turn back on by themselves. It’s how we got away with all our after-hours swims last summer, too. Thankfully no one told Levin, and everyone assumed the cameras were sorta faulty. Unclear why they never replaced them, though no one wants to ask.
“Up there,” I say, spotting a few on the swim hut. “And over by the kayak stand.”
We spread out and hoist each other up to the cameras, tapping the reset buttons on the side while aiming our faces away from the lenses.
“They’re gonna figure this out one day,” Aaron Jacobson says. “But until then...” He drops his towel as a wide smile spreads on his face, free from any sign of embarrassment. “Guards assemble!”
Aaron takes off toward the water, his bare butt bright against the dark night. Everyone erupts in laughter and squeals, and soon I’m naked, too, running through the sand, splashing in the lake, the cold stinging my skin. I cut through the water and swim out to the far dock, where everyone’s treading, laughing and not bothering to hide their bodies, sparkling in the moonlight.
Imo cannonballs off the dock and another counselor wraps himself in the Alpine Lake flag Ava hung earlier today. We race each other back and forth from the shallow to the deep end and gaze up at the sky, counting stars.
I puff my belly out and float on my back, listening to the sounds of laughter, of joy. We’re only a few miles from Roxwood, but here in the lake, I feel so far away from the events of this year, as if they happened to someone else, not me. But I know if I flip over and take a peek toward town, reality will come crashing down. You can’t see the main drag from here, only a hint of it—the bright pink neon sign from Grandee’s, the glint of the drive-in movie theater—and for a second, I wonder what all those people are up to tonight, if they’re looking up at this same dark sky, the smattering of stars that never seem to end.
Something splashes behind me and I feel someone nudge a foam floatie around my back and under my arms.
“At your service.” I dip my head back to see Imo flutter kicking with a few red rescue tubes. I lean back against the one behind me and stick my legs out long. She comes in front of me and slides another one under my knees, then drapes her legs over it, too, sowe’re facing each other, creating a little circle of two. The gentle current pushes us, and we spin around slowly, creating gentle ripples in the water.
Our breasts peek out of the water as we look upward, quiet, our legs interlocked. I drag my hand through the lake, my skin bright in the darkness.
Imo clears her throat, breaking the silence. “What happened, Goldie?” I look to her and find Imo gazing at me with sad, understanding eyes. The parts of her hair that are dyed pink float in the water around her, expanding like lily pads.
“You seem older,” she says. “Changed.”
“We all do.”
“You more.” Imo presses her leg to mine. She opens her mouth like she wants to say something else.
I stop her before she can. “I’m okay, Imo.”
“Are you?”
I nod, but my head feels heavy, like it’s rejecting my movements.
“We don’t keep secrets from each other,” she says.
I nod again, lying like I did with Ava at dinner, and for a second, I wonder when we’ll admit the truth, that no one tells each other everything. That even the best, oldest friends keep some things buried beneath the surface. Things that are too dark, too broken to share.
Imo drags her foot in the water. “I want you to know I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”
For a second, I want to blurt out everything. I want to unload on Imo and let her carry this burden for a moment until I can catch my breath and think straight for the first time in half a year. I wonder how it would feel to spit out the words, how theywould sound coming out of my mouth and lingering in the air.
But I don’t. I press my lips together and watch Imo lean her head back, dipping her hair in the water as she arches her body toward the sky.
