We kept walking, Grant still leading the way. The path opened onto a lake glimmering with faint white slivers. A chorus of frogs joined the cicadas’ call, singing in their own asynchronous rhythm.
“I think boys aren’t taught that smart’s the same as scared sometimes,” I said.
“You may be right.” He pointed the flashlight up. “We’re here.” A tilted wooden platform nestled atop three thick tree branches. Clumsy, mismatched boards nailed into the trunk below served as a ladder.
“Where is here?” I asked. He looked sheepish.
“You’ll see.” He climbed up onto the platform and shone the flashlight down. I blinked. “Do you trust me?” He reached down and offered me his hand.
“Did you just quote Aladdin?” I took his hand and he easily hoisted me up.
I crawled over to the edge of the platform. From above, the lake reflected the moon clearly, a perfect white circle against its shimmering surface. I took a deep breath and turned to find Grant sitting with his back against the tree trunk.
“Thanks for coming out here with me,” he said.
“Thanks for bringing me.” I breathed in the cool lake air and sighed. “Do you live near here or something?”
“No,” Grant said, looking suddenly cagey. “I, uh, used to. This was Tommy’s old hideaway.”
“Your friend?”
“Yeah. We used to come out here, when his folks fought or somebody screwed with him at school.”
“What really happened to him?”
Grant rubbed his thumb over his fingertips. “He died.”
I nodded silently. “Did he do it himself, or did somebody do it to him?”
“If people drive you to something,” Grant whispered, his voice quaking slightly, “then it’s their responsibility.”
I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to let him know how much it meant to have found someone out here, in this place, who would stand up for someone like Tommy, who would stand up for someone like the boy I used to be. I leaned forward, searching with my fingertips, and slid my hand into his.
“You were a good friend,” I said.
He squeezed my hand and for a long moment we listened to the wind on the lake and the frantic buzz of cicadas as life prepared for its long, cold sleep.
“Thanks,” he said after a while. He put the flashlight down and lay on his belly, his upper body disappearing over the edge. “You know how to swim, right?”
“Yes,” I said. Swimming had been the only exercise I liked after puberty turned my body against me. Floating and darting through the water, I escaped the horrible tethers of my physical body. “I don’t have a suit, though.”
“Don’t worry,” he said, scampering down and out of sight. There was a momentary rustling and then his white undershirt soared over the tree house and landed at my feet. I stripped to my underwear quickly and pulled his shirt over my head—Grant wasn’t that much taller than me, but boy clothes were so loose and baggy that the shirt came down low enough to cover everything.
“Don’t lose that dress,” I said as Grant climbed back up. “It’s my favorite.”
“It looks good on you,” he replied. I fell silent as he hoisted himself back onto the platform and stood to his full, lean, shirtless height. He caught me staring and blushed. The tension broke as he exploded into motion, leaping off the edge. He hung suspended for a moment, arms spinning wildly, before straightening out and piercing the water’s surface with a whisper.
I held my breath for a few tense seconds before he surfaced, laughing.
“You could’ve broken your neck!” I cried, putting my hands on my hips. “Do you know how many people get spinal injuries from bad dives every year?”
He wiped his eyes and slicked his hair back, treading water gracefully. “No,” he said, catching his breath. “How many?”
“Well,” I said as I stood, “I don’t know either. But I bet it’s a lot.”
He laughed as I walked back toward the tree.
“I’m going to jump,” I announced.
“I don’t think—” he began, but I started running before he could finish. I reached the edge and took off. For one joyous moment, I felt weightless and free. And then came the burning slap as I hit the lake flat on my back.
“Ow,” I croaked, floating to the surface.
“I tried to warn you,” Grant said, swimming over.
“It’s fine,” I said, closing my eyes and feeling the pain radiate through my body. I didn’t mind it; pain reminded me I was alive. For years I had been so numb, desperate to feel anything at all.
I opened my eyes and stared up, watching the stars turn overhead. A firefly buzzed urgently above my forehead, pulsing brightly to attract a mate. I sighed and gently paddled my feet, all my fear from earlier melting away.
Finally, after what could have been minutes or hours, Grant paddled toward the shore. He strode smoothly out of the water, not showing any sign of fatigue, and stared at me as I emerged.
“What?” I asked, looking down and panicking when I saw the thin white T-shirt sticking to my black bra. I crossed my arms over my chest and felt my face color.
“You’re beautiful.”