Page 6 of The Summers of Us

He laughs along with me, then lets the locusts fill the silence. “What else has made you happy?” he asks, serious again.

“The sound of locusts,” I say with a mystical smirk. Ever since he taught me the difference between the sounds of different bugs, I would lie in my bed on lonely nights in Raleigh and listen to the locusts, thinking of the bike trail, his front porch, and other conflicting times. But I haven’t heard the sounds as one again until now, this moment, where the cicadas, katydids, and locusts act as background noise to something bigger, but manage to symbolize the entire memory.

“Cicadas are my favorite.”

“You know, we’ve never given the crickets enough attention.”

“They get enough. What else?”

There’s no need to light a fire when both of us are content in darkness, so I look at him even though I know he can’t see me. The stars can, and Sagittarius probably twinkles in anticipation. “Seeing you. Thank you for helping me clean.”

Thank you for being there.

Thank you for knowing I needed it.

Thank you for being you.

“You know I only came over for s’mores.”

“Of course. I only let you in for the s’mores.”

“Obviously.”

We laugh, no fire, marshmallows, or chocolate in sight.

Jorge kills nine matchesand an entire bottle of lighter fluid before the fire takes hold. It lights our faces orange. Embers fly around his face like a sparkler on July Fourth.

Fire crackles. Smoke douses the air. Stars blanket the skies above us.

Jorge leans back in his chair, wearing pride on his face, now glowing in the firelight.

Haven rests her head on his shoulder, burrowing into his black hair chopped at his shoulders. She already told me they started dating in April, but seeing it in person brings a new perspective. Haven wouldn’t have dated him when he first joined the friend group—she was too hung up on a guy who threw beer bottles on the dunes, and Jorge has always been more sensitive. He hasn’t bought a new pair of shoes since his feet stopped growing and he picks up trash from the beach while he’s looking for shark teeth.

Haven, like me, has changed like the sand around a coursing river. That change is a welcome one.

She smiles at me across the fire, her black hair glowing orange in the bonfire light. We already exchanged official hellos when she got here, falling to the grass when she burst from her family’s golf cart and ran into my arms.

The six of us ease into the fire’s calming warmth.

It invites Everett next to me, moving his beach chair closer than it was in the darkness. I fall into a trance on Everett glowing in the flames. His hair is the color of dying embers.

He notices my stares and meets my gaze, his brown eyes marshmallow soft. He pulls a leaf from my hair and tosses it into the fire.

I don’t feel guilty about my smile. “Thanks.”

“This thing is a beast!” Holden screams from the side yard. He wrestles the water hose from its winter hibernation in a game of schoolyard tug-of-war. He untangles it enough to reach the fire, then sits in his rocking chair with a huff. “You’re welcome.”

Haven performs a slow clap, earning a middle finger from Holden.

I play along. I missed him enough to please him just this once. “Thanks, Holden. You’re so strong.”

“I know.” He flexes his biceps, flashing the smile three years of braces gave him. “It’s all those marlins I’ve been reeling in.”

“Youwishyou’d ever caught a marlin,” Haven says, rolling her eyes.

“How dare you say that.” He points to Haven, then to me. “And how dareyoube gone so long.”

“Guilty.”

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