I kept passing by West Lake during the winter months, waiting for it to turn into something magical. But it was alwaystherewith its dingy neon sign and a fogged-up window decorated with paper cutouts of stars.
And yet... it was still an oasis for Alpine Lake counselors on our nights off.
Tonight, walking into West Lake is like walking into prom. There’s a sign on the door that saysCLOSED FOR PRIVATE PARTY. The overhead bulbs are off, but string lights hang from the walls and a disco ball is suspended from the ceiling, reflecting light all over the room. Five round tables, each with ten banquet chairs, are set up throughout the space. The room smells like rubbing alcohol and beer.
I roll my shoulders back and feel a calm settle over me. It’s just us. Just the counselors.
Ava grabs our hands and leads us to a table in the middle of the room with Aaron Jacobson and his two buddies Craig Rosen and James Wood. They’re a year older than us, all known for being perfect gentleman in the middle of their Ivy League careers. Craig, the one with sandy hair and kind eyes, was my first kiss back whenI was twelve. It happened at the DJ social that year, and the day after, he sent me a Charleston Chew from his canteen haul. The next week, he told me he thought he was gay and asked me not to tell while he figured it out. He came out to everyone last year, though, right here at West Lake. Stood up on a chair and announced it to the whole room. Aaron and James, his best friends since forever, sprayed him down with champagne and carried him around the room like he was a prince.
“These seats taken?” Ava asks.
“Oh hell yeah, now the party’s here!” James says, rubbing his hands together. Ava drops her purse into a chair, then walks right over to Lisa. She gives her a hug and hands her a shiny black credit card. “Those two over there,” she says, pointing to Imogen and me. “Whatever they want, okay?”
“You got it, darling,” Lisa says with a wink. Then she clinks a fork against her glass and clears her throat. “You know the drill,” she says, loud and long. “Twenty bucks gets each of you four rolls, a side of tempura, edamame, and a round of sake bombs. Everything else you pay à la carte. Capisce?”
“Capisce!” we all yell. Imogen nearly bounces out of her seat.
I tried to tell Heller about this place once, back in the fall, but he didn’t believe me. Lisa never let any of the kids in Roxwood come here. She thought it was too dangerous, that they would spill the beans and get her liquor license revoked. They never got to take advantage of the Alpine Lake special.
By the time Ava’s back in her chair, we each have a shot of sake and a pint of cold beer in front of us. Craig clears his throat and climbs up onto his chair, one drink in each hand.
He’s wearing a loose white T-shirt and crisp jeans, his face tanfrom working on the baseball field. I try not to ogle his biceps when he holds his arms up in the air.
“There are good ships and wood ships,” he says loudly, his voice echoing throughout the room. “Ships that sail the sea...” Then he pauses and sticks his neck out like he’s waiting for everyone else to join in.
James groans but stands on his chair, too.
“Isn’t it time to drink?” Aaron shouts, which makes everyone laugh. But it’s tradition. Soon we’re all standing, either on our seats or on the floor, ready to scream the words as loud as we can.
“But the best ships are friendships, may they always be!”
“Bombs away!” Craig says.
I drop the shot into my beer and bring the glass to my lips, sipping and then chugging. I close my eyes and fight the burn in my throat. Imogen grips my arm and we both urge each other to keep going. Ava finishes first and wipes her arm across her mouth. “Another round?”
That’s all it takes for the party to explode. Someone hooks their phone up to the stereo and presses play on an old Spice Girls song, and the back of the restaurant becomes a dance floor. Lisa brings us bright blue drinks with orange slices and winks as we grab them and head toward the music.
Ava shakes her hair out so it falls in waves, and I swing my hips a bit, sipping my punch through a neon straw. I look around, at these people I’ve known forever, and wonder how we all ended up here at this crappy restaurant on the outskirts of this crappy town. But there’s no time to think too hard because soon we’re surrounded, swallowed up by the yelps and the hooting and the glow sticks that seem to appear out of thin air.
Tommy pulls up behind Imogen and begins grinding on her like we’re at a club. Imogen spins around and presses her mouth to his, all tongue. She balls his shirt in her fist and it takes all my willpower to not twist my face up in disgust.
Ava throws her head back and laughs, resting one manicured hand on my shoulder. “This girl, I cannot,” she says, waving in Imogen’s direction. Imo holds one middle finger up at us while still sucking face.
I crack up and hold on to Ava’s wrist, trying to stay upright. She leans into me and laughs, too. I try to look at her clearly then, and when the light hits her she’s an angel, a mermaid, a goddess. Affection bubbles up in my throat, and Ava must sense it because she pulls me to her.
“I love you, Goldie girl,” she says. “No matter what, I love you. I love you. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I whisper, meaning it more than I’ve ever meant anything in my whole life.
I spend the next hour alternating between dancing in the middle of the dark room and wolfing down terrible avocado cucumber rolls—no one dares eat the fish—and laughing as Imogen yells at us to “line your stomachs, ladies!” At some point the front windows begin to fog up from all the fun, the sweat, thebelongingthat is happening in here and I start to think we’re not in Roxwood anymore. We’re in New York or California or Aruba. Anywhere but here.
Craig lifts me up from my middle and spins me around. “I’m gonna get some air,” he shouts. “Come with?”
I follow him out into the night and am greeted with a breeze, cool against my neck, damp with sweat. Craig motions for me tofollow him to the alley and he pulls out a vape, inhaling from it and then coughing.
He passes it to me and I do the same.
Craig looks at me and starts laughing. “Man, I can’t believe we’re here,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s like you wait ten months to get back to this place and then once you’re here you spend the whole time trying to remember every second, make time slow down. You know?”
