Before the Nevers, summer had felt like a far-off place, surrounded by swamps of boredom that he’d have to lug his way through. But now it felt more like a pleasant hike, with plenty of pretty views and maybe some hot springs along the way. Okay, it was a little early in the morning for similes, but Dave was now looking forward to the last couple months of high school. The Nevers would be fun to complete, especially if he didn’t have to worry about how things went with Julia. Who knew how things would play out with Gretchen, but there were possibilities there, more than he’d ever really had. In the fall he’d be at UCLA and Julia would be nearby in Santa Barbara and maybe by then his life would be entirely different. He’d be dating Gretchen, or would have at least experienced love firsthand. Or maybe nothing would happen with Gretchen and his life would be exactly the same, just unburdened by unrequited love. Maybe that was enough.
He arrived to homeroom almost at the same time as Julia, right before the bell went off. He accepted one of her earphones as they took a seat together and waited for her to be awake enough for conversation. When she paused the music, he told her about the idea he’d had to break the first Never on the list: Never be recognized by your lunch spot.
o o o
They met Sunday night at school, Brett driving his pickup truck straight onto the blacktop where Julia was already waiting, early for once. In the darkening light of the evening, Dave could barely see her silhouette leaning against the tree that they’d be, according to Brett, “pimping out.” Brett had brought work gloves and goggles for everyone, along with all the supplies: planks of wood, and two-by-fours, and even a generator with some work lights. He claimed to have borrowed it all with permission, which Dave found highly unlikely, although he couldn’t help but feel flattered by his brother’s efforts. Brett had even drawn up some plans after talking with Dave and Julia on Friday about how they envisioned the project. Before they started work, Brett pulled out his camera and started recording.
“Why are you filming this?”
“Because,” Brett said, “this is how you get voted onto the prom king ballot.” He got some shots of the tree where the seniors gathered for lunch, which, over the weekend, would become the tree house known as Dave and Julia’s lunch spot. He zoomed in on the plans he had drawn out, then set up a tripod on the hill by the soccer field for a time-lapse video.
“You’re being strangely helpful,” Julia said, putting on her gloves and eyeing Brett. “I didn’t know you could be...”
“A nice person?” Brett said. “I’m a little hurt by that.”
“I wasn’t trying to insinuate anything, I was actually struggling for a way to complete the thought. But, yeah, ‘nice person’ works. I thought you were just going to be critical of the plan. Like with the explosions.”
“Truth be told, I’ve been waiting for years for you guys to come out of your shells. I wanted to be around to watch it happen.”
“Shells? What shells? I’m not shy.”
“It has nothing to do with shyness. The little tortoise shell the two of you live in without letting the rest of the world in,” Brett said, turning on the generator, the whirring cutting off Julia’s chance to retort. She looked over at Dave, who could only shrug. There was probably some truth in what he’d said.
At first it didn’t seem like they were accomplishing much. Dave and Julia stacked piles of wood around the tree. Brett would hand Dave a few pencil-marked boards and tell him where to hammer in nails, which Dave would do it slowly, careful not to miss the neat little Xs. Music playing from Brett’s truck filled the night, though it was often drowned out by sawing, drilling, and Julia making fun of Brett’s taste in music.