They giggle at her mischievously, but they don’t argue.
Once they’re gone, I take a few more shots and then show her. “There are a bunch of kids in the background.”
She looks at the phone and then hands it back to me. “I don’t care about that. But can you, like, angle it so my double chin isn’t showing?”
I try not to groan, but I can’t help it. First of all, she doesn’t have a double chin. And I wish she wouldn’t say that stuff around Mila. The kid is completely confident and sure of herself, and I want her to stay that way. “It’s hot out here, Sammie,” I grumble. “I just want to go in the water.”
“Just a few more shots. Please?”
“Can I try?” Mila asks. “I have a really good eye for pictures. I watch TV, like, all day.”
“It’s sad but true,” I say. “Both that she watches TV all day and that she’s a much better photographer than me.” When I was Mila’s age, my parents were on me to spend all my extra time reading, but Mila gets to do whatever she wants in a way I never did.
“Sure,” Sammie says. “Go for it.”
I hand Mila the phone, and she gets this very adult look on her face. She’s focused and determined, full of intent. She chooses one angle, then shakes her head and tries another one. She takes about ten photos.
“Employing children now?” Evan yells from his perch. “Aren’t there laws against that?”
My stomach goes hollow with the sight of him, but thankfully he doesn’t look at me.
“Very funny,” Sammie says, and she flips her hair.
Mila hands Sammie her phone. “These should be good,” she says.
Sammie scrolls through the photos and laughs. “These are perfect, Mila. Thank you! I’m going to hire you as my official photographer.”
Mila’s beaming with the compliment.
“Can we go in now?” I ask.
“Yes, you can go in now,” Sammie says before she heads back to the office to put her phone away.
Mila and I jump in, finally. It feels perfect. Cold. Fresh. Mila swims over to me and wraps her arms around my shoulders. “Give me a ride!” she yells.
I laugh and pretend to be a magical dolphin for her. She even makes me squeal.
This is exactly what I needed. To be laughing. To be submerged and silly and separated from the incessant reminders of the past six months, how everything’s changed. I’m here with Mila, and she hasn’t changed. Not yet. She still loves me as much as she did before I messed everything up.
I’m having so much fun, I’m able to wipe it all from my mind.
Mila jumps off my back and splashes me in the face. I splash her back.
“Hey, you guys, watch out!” Sammie has returned and is now planted on the edge of the pool again, this time closer to the lifeguard chair. There’s no camera, but she’s still mimicking Marilyn Monroe.
“Aren’t you coming in?” Mila asks.
“Maybe,” she says, and then she slides her hair over her shoulder. “In a little bit.”
She’s posing for Evan, trying to get his eyes back on her.
I turn to Mila. “Race?”
She nods and dashes out toward the shallow end. I leave Sammie to play her flirting game with Evan. I follow Mila, pretending to swim at full power, even though, of course, I’m going to let her win.
We get to the rope of the shallow end, and Mila announces her victory.
I laugh and hug her tight.
And then I can’t help it. I glance up at the chair. The pool is packed with kids—with school out, summer is finally in full swing—and Evan’s not paying attention to Sammie. Not at all.
He’s in work mode, scanning the pool back and forth to make sure everyone’s safe.
He stops and lifts his sunglasses. He looks straight at me. And he smiles.
I dive under the water and stay there as long as I can so that Sammie doesn’t see, before Mila pulls me up, only to splash water right in my face.
Tic-tac-toe.
Hit me high.
Hit me low.
Hit me three in a row.
Gonna get hit by a UFO!
Gonna get hit by a UFO!
Gonna get hit by a UFO!
Rock, paper, scissors.
I win, you lose.
Now you get a big bruise.
You win, fair and square.
Now I get to pull your hair.
“Wait, so whoever loses has to get punched, and whoever wins has to get their hair pulled? Where did you learn this awful game, Mila?” We just got out of the water after a good three hours, and we’re sitting on some lounge chairs near the office. Mila’s teaching Sammie and me these clapping games that are much darker than I ever remember.
“What happened to Miss Suzie and her steamboat?”
Sammie laughs. “That one was pretty dark, if I remember correctly. ‘Her steamboat went to hell, ding, ding’?”
“Oh yeah,” I say. “And then didn’t Miss Suzie sit upon a piece of glass—”
Sammie continues: “And broke her little ass—”
“Ask me no more questions—”
“I’ll tell you no more lies.”
“The boys are in the bathroom, and they’re pulling up their flies—” We sing this in unison.
“Ew!” Mila screams. “That’s disgusting! At least mine’s not disgusting!”
“But yours is mean, Mila,” I say. “You and your friends hit each other?”
Mila nods. “On the back.”
“Hard?”