The sun creeps like a little brother over the field where we are sleeping. We lay in tents: combatants at rest. We won the firefight with boredom last night the way only high school seniors truly can—with underage drinking in the woods. It’s silly, I know. The woods are a temporary break from our tiny houses where we are trapped, by love, in our tiny town that no one in the whole world cares about, but is our whole world. It is for one more month anyway.
It’s warm. My sleeping bag is slowly baking my body while I watch a guppy of dew swim to the rivulet at the seam of our nylon roof. I’m pretty physically uncomfortable right now. There’s a jagged rock digging into my side through the tent floor and it’s really starting to heat up in here.
Do you ever notice how you never notice things until you suddenly can’t stand them for even one more second? I may suffocate if I don’t get out of here. Matt looks at me with glassy eyes, but I know he can’t really see me yet. He puts his glasses on and I kick my sleeping bag off. I hate the heat. It’s 7:00 a.m. and the dust is rising from the ground to be burnt into the air, so we get up too.
Matt kisses my cheek and walks out of the tent without speaking. I can smell the embers from the campfire and his cottony laundry detergent. He walks away to the woods—probably to pee. Who can blame him? There were a lot of shots fired last night, most of them into our mouths. It’s a necessary evil when your enemy is August.
August is such a strange month—it’s almost sinister. Have you ever seen that French movie where for some inexplicable reason nobody can leave the dinner party? The heat clobbers our ambitions and lulls us into some kind of mass stagnation. Summer is over, but fall has not begun. We’re airplanes circling the hangar. August is a Sunday night when you’re eleven and you know you have school in the morning and nothing is on television.
“Can you die from listlessness?” I ask Sam as she walks out of her tent. “You mean like a lack of lists?” She asks. I shake my head. “Yeah, can you die from being the Anti-Santa?” She shoots me a look. “It’s early.” She kisses my cheek and walks off in the direction of her car. I can smell the wet grass and her apricot bodywash.
“People are saying she hooked up with Ryan last night.” Matt says as he walks out from between the tents. I look up at him, “People? What, did you catch the results of a Gallup poll on your way to the grove? Do you think we’re in front of a studio audience right now?” Matt sits down. “I saw Adam and Dan on the way to their car. They caught me up on what I missed.” “You mean after you passed out at 8:30?” I ask him. Matt shoots me a look. “It’s early.”
I need a peach Snapple, like bad. I am aware of science. I am aware that scientifically speaking, a peach Snapple cannot rehydrate me with the same efficiency as some other more appropriate liquids. I’ve heard of water. I’ve seen Gatorade commercials. I know what I’m supposed to want right now. But I want that goddamn artificially-flavored iced tea.
“Just park anywhere!” I groan at Matt. He winds the wheel with his palm as he performs a surgically precise k-turn. “You know once I see the spot I have to go for it.” The spot is the parking space right in front of the bagel shop doors. It is as legendary as that one time when we were freshman and the seniors burnt 96’ into the football field. It is almost as legendary as when the class after them attempted something similar and they accidentally ignited part of the equipment shed. They also blew up Rick Sandarino’s entire Nissan Sentra. The car’s charred remains stood in the middle of the girls’ soccer field for a week as a solemn reminder: no one will ever be as cool as the Class of ‘96.
Matt pays for our bagels and within seconds I am face-first into a Snapple. “Hey guys!” Kate and Nikki waved at us from their table. “Jules, have you talked to Sam yet?” I am too busy chugging to respond. “She hooked up with Ryan last night.” Matt shoots me a triumphant look. “I knew it!” Matt cries. “Well, I saw her this morning and she didn’t mention anything. I think it’s just one of those stupid campout rumors.” I say. Nikki crosses her arms. “Well, Dan and Adam were here earlier and they said they saw Ryan go off with Sam into the woods.”
God, I could actually drink another entire Snapple. My thirst renders this conversation even more annoying than I would normally find it. And I would normally find it very annoying. “Are Dan and Adam starting a newspaper? How are they sure it was her, they were both pretty wasted.” I ask. Nikki rolls her eyes and responds “It’s true. I saw him walking away and I thought it was with Steph because they just broke up, but then I realized it was Sam because of her purple sweatshirt.” Matt dances around and hugs me in victory. “Okay, fine whatever. Who cares? I hate this town.”
I love this town. Matt and I are driving around listening to Belle and Sebastian. The roads are like a rocking chair and everything here looks better through a passenger car window. We pass the old Town Hall. “It’s kind of nice that they want to renovate it. I don’t know why people are fighting them—that roof has seen better days.” I tell Matt. “Nothing will ever change here.” Matt replies. “That’s kind of a reassuring idea I guess, but it won’t fix the roof.” I say, but he doesn’t hear me over the music.
This song is sad. I’m glad Matt’s here; I can’t listen to music this sad by myself. He smiles at me. “Get me away from here, I’m dying.” Matt sings along to the radio, grinning. Matt loves singing and he loves grinning. He was in a band for a while called “Happy-Go-Lucky”, but they broke up when the drummer graduated. It must be hard to be so happy at eighteen, while most of us are at the height of our whiny angst. All we want is for things to change and all he wants if for them to stay the same.
We pull up in Matt’s car to Adam’s house. Adam has a pool and his parents are either defiantly attracting a lawsuit or aggressively apathetic because they let us drink. And swim. They let us drink and swim and be eighteen all at the same time.
Everyone from the campout is here, except Sam. I’ve been with Matt all day, so I don’t know if she’s coming. “Do you want a beer?” Matt asks me. “Sure.” He kisses me and jumps out of the pool.
The water feels so good even though there are like twenty-five people with me in this pool. Half of them are just sitting on the wall—I don’t know how they can do that. I hate the heat. It’s starting to get dark and it’s still like 97 degrees. Matt is caught up in a game of laser tag and now I know, for sure, that my beer is never coming.
“I’m never going to the mall again.” Sam says as she leans against the side of the pool. “Hey, I didn’t see you get here.” I tell her. “Didn’t you hear everyone get all quiet and awkward for a second?” She says.
“Sam, I’m sorry I tried to call your house, but I was at Matt’s all day.” I tell her. “Well, I’ve been searching for extra-long twin sheets with Debbie all day.” She says. Debbie is Sam’s mother, a shopping phenomenon. She once had enough double coupons that Shoprite actually had to pay her for the groceries she was getting.
“I have to hear it from Kathy Cartwright in Filene’s Basement that I hooked up with Ryan last night.” Suddenly, the funniest thing happens. Teenagers start fleeing from the yard—I swear one of them is actually running in slow-mo. Matt puts his hands in the air and drops his laser tag gun.
“Oh yeah, I called the cops. That’s the last time Adam Dwyer spreads a rumor about me.” Sam says defiantly as she thumbs her chest. “You called the cops on yourself too, you know that, idiot?” Sam nods and raises her can of beer to toast me. “Punishment fits the crime.” She says.
I jump out of the pool, a difficult feat for an aboveground. Why are there never any towels? How are we all supposed to go off and live on our own and be adults and have philosophical epiphanies if not one of us can bring a towel to a pool party? I run to Matt’s car and grab a sweatshirt from the backseat to dry myself. “Don’t leave.” Officer Tarnin says, shining his flashlight on me. “I’m not leaving.”
We all sit on the lawn—roughly fifteen kids—the unlucky fifteen who didn’t, or couldn’t, flee. The police stand over us. “Who the hell called the cops?” Adam grumbles. “I did, jackass.” says Sam as she takes a swig of Jack Daniels that she produced, seemingly by magic.
“Tarnin, can you get on top of this? You need to focus.” Officer Franks tells the rookie and takes Sam’s whisky from her hands, pouring it on the ground. Officer Tarnin walks over to Adam and leans over him, imposingly. “Son, I’m only going to ask you this once, so shoot straight with me. Is that laser tag?”
The cops have now been playing laser tag for thirty minutes. “This is like that French movie you made us watch the other night.” Matt jokes to me. We sit on the lawn in silence, unable to leave the party. Meanwhile, another squad car rolls up and those officers joined the game, a little too quickly. “I know they said they’re waiting for another car to transport us into town, but if I don’t think it’s coming.” Matt tells me.
“Look who’s focused now, Franks, like a laser!” yelled Officer Tarnin, firing at no one in particular. Officer Davis and McCoy have cornered Officer Franks near the pool. “Tarnin, you’re on my team, asshole!” Tarnin leaps from the deck firing at Davis and McCoy, missing both men but hitting the pool wall—which was weakened possibly from the fourteen kids who were sitting on it an hour ago. A wall of water pours out onto Adam’s backyard toppling any lawn furniture in its path.
So this is what a legend looks like.
“All right, we have another call to get to.” Officer Franks slams the door of his cruiser. “Hey man, what about my pool?” Adam yells. Franks rolls down his window. “Underage possession of alcohol is punishable by up to 60 days in jail. I’m sure a broken pool will get you a lighter sentence from your parents. But hey, the choice is yours buddy. What’ll it be?”
Adam walks towards his house. “You have a goodnight, officers.” Franks looks at us and puts his car in reverse. “You kids stay safe.” The police cars roll out and speed off.
“I can’t believe you called the cops, Sam. What the hell?” Adam yells. Everyone’s eyes turn to the ultimate showdown. “I love a good old fashioned crazy-off.” Matt whispers to me. “I can’t believe you lied to everyone about me!” Sam says, as she kicks dirt at Adam.
“It wasn’t a lie! Jamie saw you walk off with him and Ryan told Dan he hooked up last night!” Adam argues. Sam shoots me a look. “She saw me? That’s pretty amazing.” Nikki chimes in, “Sam, it was you, I saw your purple sweatshirt.” “I hate this place!” Sam shouts as she walks off, luckily she only lives two houses away. Sometimes a small town has its benefits.
We’re walking back to Matt’s car. “Jules, can I ask you something?” I hate when people ask permission to ask a question. It’s like people who say “bemused” when they mean “amused”. And they never even wait for you to say “yes” before they ask anyway.
“Why didn’t you tell Adam it was you, Jules, not Sam?” I shoot Matt a look. “What? Matt, what are you talking about?” I look down and realize I am wearing a purple sweatshirt. The one I got from Matt’s car. The one I borrowed from Sam last night. The one I wore when I cheated on my boyfriend. Why the fuck don’t people bring towels to pool parties?
“I thought if I stayed with you I could keep a piece of this place with me. But it turns out I don’t want to keep it with me. I want it to stay here and I want me to go. I didn’t know how to leave and I did something stupid. I’m so sorry, Matt.”
I kiss his cheek and walk toward Sam’s house without speaking. Do you ever notice how you never notice things until you suddenly can’t stand them for even one more second? I may suffocate if I don’t get out of here. Matt looks at me with glassy eyes, but I know he can’t really see me yet.
