I head over to her and flop down in the empty seat, our legs intertwined.
“Man, remember how obsessed we were with these things?” she asks, surveying the kids as they gear up for a round of freeze dance.
Imogen giggles so hard she snorts and I swivel my head.
“Oh my god, Imo, you didn’t.”
She starts laughing again, until she has to put her head between her knees to stop. “It’s...” She laughs. “Your head is enormous.”
I tilt my head back toward Tommy, who’s sitting a row behind us. “Gummies?” I ask.
He nods, having his own laughing fit. “James picked them up at the dispensary. Want in?” Tommy opens his palm to reveal a piece of candy that looks like a watermelon slice. “It’s a baby one, you should be fine.”
Why not?Another distraction from theRoxwood Readarticle can’t hurt. I take it and stuff it in my mouth in time for Imo to nuzzle her head toward me. “Oh man, your sweatshirt is so soft.”
I swat at her cheek and turn to Ava. “You, too?” I ask, nudging her shoulder.
Ava wrinkles her nose and shakes her head. “You know THC messes with my stomach. I prefer my own form of recreational medication.” She shoves her water bottle under my nose and I’m assaulted by the smell of vodka.
“Geezus, at least cut it with something.”
Ava laughs and takes a sip before wincing. “Definitely would have been a good idea.”
We spend the next hour laughing at the kids who are either onone of two levels: grinding like there’s no tomorrow or glued to the wall, looking bored or terrified.
Tommy bounds over to the DJ stand and grabs a bunch of glow sticks that are definitely reserved for the kids, and we all start to assemble them into bracelets and crowns, until we look like motivators at a tristate bar mitzvah. It takes a little while for the gummy to kick in but pretty soon I’m lost in my own giggle fit, blowing raspberries on Imo’s back and trying to remember if my mouth was this dry an hour before.
The social winds down and Meg comes up to us, shouldering her backpack. “Ready?” she asks. But as soon as I break into giggles, her face falls, a frown forming on her lips. “Oh no. Not you, too?”
I nod. “Oops.” Imogen cracks up next to me.
“It’s like a freaking circus in here these days.”
“I’m sorry!” But I hinge at my waist, laughing between my legs.
Meg sighs like she doesn’t have time to deal with this mess and then she points to Imo and me. “You two, get your shit together and come back in a few, okay?”
We both nod, grasping each other in a fit.
“You owe me,” she says. “Levin’s taking me to dinner on our night off and I’m totally leaving you with the kids until sunrise!”
“Anything for you, Meg!” I say.
She shakes her head and mutters under her breath, “Dummies.” Meg starts herding the girls, hyper with that after-social glow, out the door and back to the cabins.
“Ooh, let’s go raid the cookie patrol shed,” Imogen says, holding both my wrists.
Suddenly I’m famished and that sounds like the best ideain the world. We grab Ava and stumble up the hill toward the small red building, which is used to house industrial-size boxes of individually wrapped bags of snacks like Kit Kats and Goldfish. Lorna Doones, too, but everyone knows those are the worst.
When we reach the shed Ava twirls around, tossing her water bottle high over her head, trying to reach the stars. She’s singing something but I can’t make out the words.
“Ava, you keep watch, okay?” Imo says, even though we both know we’d never get in trouble for taking from cookie patrol. The special events team gives the code to lifeguards on an honor system, but when you’re a camper, coming into this shed was like being given a golden key.
Ava nods and continues sipping her water bottle. “Grab me some Swedish Fish, okay?”
Imogen keys in the code, pushes the door open gently, and steps inside. She turns around and presses a finger to her lips in a shushing motion before breaking into another fit of giggles.
My stomach hurts from laughing but I double over, too, steadying myself against a stack of cardboard boxes stuffed with bags of salt and vinegar chips.
