“But you guys only have the reboot costumes.”
“Maybe we’ll make new ones,” he said, something suddenly ablaze in his eyes. “I have one more thing to show you, but we have to get over there to be able to see it.” Then he pointed downhill, toward a pool of water where the creek flattened out about thirty feet away.
“And we do that how?”
“We slide. I’ll show you.”
He took one careful step, then another, then lowered himself so he was sitting on the rock. He flashed me a devastating smile, then pushed off with both hands. The flow of water caught him and pulled him down the creek, away from me, faster and faster. He let out a whoop as he landed in the pool.
“So easy!” he shouted as he climbed up onto a rock. “So fun!”
“You’ve never gotten, like, a concussion doing that?” I shouted back.
“No.” He scratched his head. “Well, not a bad one. You gonna try it?”
I didn’t really want to try it. But also, I did. Badly.
“If you feel like you’re going to tip backward and crack open your skull, clasp your hands behind your head. That’s what Eliza does.”
“Thanks for the tip.”
I stood there. Afraid to take even a step, because it didn’t seem possible that my foot could find steady purchase on the rock face.
“I’ll catch you when you get here,” yelled Camden.
I flashed him a thumbs-up, then took a step onto the spot Camden had pushed off from. Sat down on the rock, the moss soft as fuzz. Why was I doing this? To save face, to look like a good sport, to please a boy? Because I’d probably regret it if I didn’t? That was all part of it. But I thought of Satina and how this kind of thing was nothing to her. She felt present here.
I pushed, and started moving, and continued moving. It was like the water was playing with me, tugging and nudging, tipping me off balance. I kept my hands firmly planted on the rock, felt its bumps and ridges painfully under my palms as I slid. Before I knew it, I was going feetfirst into the pool, closing my eyes just before I went under. When I came back up, the first thing I saw was Camden’s face.
“That was spectacular,” he said.
I swam to where he sat on the rock and he helped me up. The rock was barely big enough for him to leave a sliver of space between his body and mine.
We were silent as I took a few seconds to catch my breath. I remembered a scene with Atticus and Satina in the “Do No Good” episode. How Atticus had stumbled on his way across the river, and how Satina had caught him (and how my mother used to shout at the TV, “You go, Satina! Sometimes the men need saving, too!”). How, after Satina had grabbed his arm and pulled him close, they’d had one of those Almost-Something Moments.
Were Camden and I having this kind of moment? I felt like if I turned to look at him, I’d know.
Go ahead, you idiot. Turn to him. Know.
But then Camden pointed with his chin and said, “Look over there.”
We were sitting where the creek was about to make a hairpin turn to the right, and beyond that curve was an open expanse of water.
It was a lake.
Oh. Our lake.
In the distance, I could see the dock and the diving board, the red-and-white dots of the buoys. The beach and the colorful smudges of people on it.
We were looking at it all from the far side of the lake. I felt a strange rush of intimacy with it, a new understanding of its many dimensions.
“You’re in that forbidden zone beyond the rope,” said Camden.
I dared to turn to him now. “You remember that?”
“Yes.”
His eyes searched my face and there was no denying it. The Moment-ness of this moment.
I turned away quickly, all instinct, stared out at the scene before us, and asked, “What do you love about Silver Arrow?”
Camden took in a long, slow breath. “I like the idea of being on a ship, part of a crew. Part of a whole. Belonging to something.” He stopped abruptly and shook his head, as if trying to reset whatever his next thought was. “What about you, Ari? Why are you such a fan?”
He said my name. His mouth wrapped around the same vowel-consonant-vowel progression I’d heard ten thousand times before, but it had never shaken me like this.
“I’ve never really thought about it.”
“Think about it now.”
I glanced at him, his expression all serious and earnest. He made everything sound so simple.
“It’s the thing I shared with my mom,” I finally said.
Camden looked surprised. “You’re using the past tense. Why?”
It unhinged me a bit, that he wanted to hear the story. Where would I even start with the telling?
“We don’t share it anymore.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” He paused. “You can share it with me, now. I mean. All of us.”