Page 14 of The Summers of Us

“I will,” I said. I felt a sting where my eyes usually were.

Haven held out a curved pinky to me. “Pinky promise?”

I smiled and intertwined mine with hers. “Pinky promise.”

June 23

“You’re so fired,” Holden says.

“It’s midnight. Everyone’s sleeping. There aren’t even security cameras.” Mason fumbles with the waterpark keys. The chain-link fence doors creak open loudly in the tension of nightfall. Mason is way too relaxed to be breaking into his place of work with a crew of adventure-hungry friends.

We follow him into Pirate’s Bounty, relying only on the moon and the pool lights so we don’t draw attention to ourselves.

My eyes adjust in the pale moonlight. The usually bustling waterpark bleeds an eerie midnight gray. The usually haphazard chaises are in perfect lines Mason must have straightened out at the end of his shift earlier. The royal blue umbrellas have been wound down and tied with neat bows. The water in the kiddie pool is so still, the moon is a complete circle in its reflection. The racer slides have no line. The lonely mats wait for their victims at the bottom of the stairs. The only thing the same as its daytime state is the chlorine smell.

“This is a bad idea, I know it. I can feel it in my wrists.” Holden anxiously massages his wrist with his other hand.

“For the last time, fisherman wrists aren’t a thing,” Jorge says.

“Then why did I predict the hurricane wouldn’t hit us? And why do I know we’re all leaving here in a cop car tonight?”

“Youdon’t,” Haven says.

Mason slides open the concession stand and sits on the counter. “To be fair, hedidpredict he’d vomit up all those hot dogs last year.”

“We all predicted that,” Everett says, close enough to me that our shoulders battle for dominance.

“You whined about it enough,” I joke.

“You people have no sympathy, do you? First, you drag me out here for some sordid midnight affairs. Then, you make fun of me for the result ofyourprank? What’s next, you’re going to make me walk the plank?” Holden points to the pirate ship structure in the kiddie pool.

Mason rolls his eyes and puts a chip bag in Holden’s hand. He smirks and massages Holden’s shoulders. “Sordid midnight affairs? Youwish.”

“We have sympathy. Just not for you.” Haven taps her brother’s nose.

Holden pops open the chips, his paranoia seemingly gone.

Haven doesn’t seem worried either as she grabs a large cup and fills it to the brim with cherry slushy. Her face glows red from the neon sign on the machine that churns ice and syrup all summer long. She’s pleased with herself, since this adventure was her idea.

I’m with Holden. I don’t want the night to end with red and blue flashing lights, but Everett pinky promised me it would be fine. Plus, it’s better to busy myself at night. The demons pull harder when night falls. They’re strong enough when I’m alone, but unrelenting when it’s dark. Night demons projectwhat-ifs on the ceiling like glow-in-the-dark stars, ringing shrill telephones in my head when I shut my eyes.

“This place is so cool at night,” Everett says, eyeing the concessions.

There’s a lot to choose from: potato chips and candy bars shelved on the wall, ice cream asleep behind a sliding glass door, lollipops on a never-ending carousel ride. The bags of cotton candy have lost their fluff, but the popcorn bags are about to burst at the seams.

Mason grabs a bag of cheese puffs. “You know what’s even cooler?Swimmingat night.”

“I’ll drink to that!” Haven runs over to the poolside.

We follow her to the perfect lines of chaises. I ruin it and slide one to the edge of the pool, scratching it against the gritty concrete.

“Hey, watch it!” Mason says, then winks so I know he’s joking.

Jorge didn’t wear a shirt, so he’s the first to jump in. His splash refracts the pool lights into orange fireworks.

Mason and Holden jump in at the same time as Haven works out another slushy sip.

Everett unties his Converses. He looks at me and smiles meekly in the moonlight while he takeshis shirt off. His chest cuts into a bed of muscle sculpted by the shadows. My eyes wander to places I know they shouldn’t, just like they did last summer. It’s different now, so I look to the constellations instead, pinching my bottom lip between my teeth.

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