“I think you should tell him. It’s gross not to.”
“Telling him is a total AJ move,” Lex snorts, pausing to wave and greet the entire lacrosse team, who wave back and beeline to the grill in a carnivorous herd. “Anyway, don’t think he’s just some really nice dad trying to help his son become a defender of the environment or immigrants—he’s trying to send me to one of the most morally bankrupt litigators’ offices in Michigan. We learned about some local cases they handled in civics, and Petrolloni could barely give the lesson without popping a blood vessel. I’m doing a good thing by going to rock camp. This world doesn’t need me adding my shameless brilliance to the wrong side of the legal system.”
“But you think the world needs you to be a rock star?”
“I can’t play anything,” he says with a shrug. “And my voice is only okay. So I guess I need to go to this camp to unlock my hidden potential.” He croons the sentence, then wraps an arm around my waist and blows wet raspberries on my neck until I’m screaming with laughter and begging him to stop.
He does stop, but only long enough to scoop me into his arms and toss me into the pool. By the time I sputter to the surface, laughing and wiping my hair back, Lex has caught the DJ’s attention, and the hits of our junior year shake the speakers.
I forget about Marnie, sitting in the driveway pouting. I forget to constantly check to see if Lex is posing with me or just enjoying my company. Harper, wearing a giant inflatable cowboy hat, has captained a team of girls on swan floaties against the boys on pizza slices in what looks like a cross between chicken and water polo. I bask in the warmish Michigan sun, head tilted back, soaking in the sound of splashes and laughter.
When the sun sinks low, we all climb out of the pool and sprawl on the velvety grass, stuffing our faces with barbecue Mr. Henson dishes out like a grill king, and slurping down slushies that turn our lips neon blue, red, and purple. Tessa lies on her back, fanning herself with black-and-white photo-booth strips that feature us posing like it’s our job, wearing stick-on mustaches, feather boas, and giant sunglasses.
“I almost don’t want to leave for camp. Wouldn’t it be cool if this was summer? Our whole summer. Like, pool parties and hanging out together every day?” Tessa rolls over and cups her chin in her hands. She’s echoing what Lilli said in the car earlier, but I don’t think that’s too weird. It’s the time of year for everyone to be nostalgic and a little burned-out. “I mean, I love camp, but... I guess it’s just been getting old the last year or two. Maybe I’m just getting too old for the whole camp scene.”
Harper twirls her sunglasses and props herself up on her side, a lopsided mermaid crown from the photo booth still netted in her hair. “I hear you. Like, I love my family, I really, really do, but my mom hyperschedules our vacations, and it’s like, can we just chill? Yes, of course I’m happy I saw New Zealand last summer, but it’s more like I took some guided academic tour of New Zealand. My mom got this list of thirty-six must-see things, and we did all thirty-six! We didn’t have a single unstructured day.”
Lex stops gnawing on a rib bone and says, “You know what I dream about?”
We whip our heads around to gawk at him.
“Do sociopaths dream?” Tess asks, and Lex tosses a beach ball in a perfect arc that bounces off her forehead.
“Yes, princess, even those of us with reduced emotional receptors have dreams.”
I wiggle closer to him, intrigued. “I feel like I should have at least a basic idea of what you’re about to say, but I have no clue. Does that make me the world’s worst girlfriend?”
“Maybe.” He leans over to kiss me, a quick peck that’s definitely done for dramatic flair. “Prepare to get a rare look at the inner workings of Lex Henson’s brain.” He sweeps his arms wide, like he’s setting the stage. “In my dream world, I roll out of bed at noon, head to the kitchen, stuff my face with whatever Lita stocks the fridge with in the summer. I head out back and float in the pool, where I work on my tan and listen to my playlist loud enough to have the neighbors call in a noise complaint. I get out and shower around four or five, then head over to the burger joint or dive restaurant where I do some kind of menial labor for hours on end. Then I end the night dirty as fuck, stinking like the fryer, and head out for some late-night partying with the rest of the crew wherever we can find a deserted field to drink in until we pass out. Fin.”
“Isn’t that, like, the plot of five different teen movies?” Tessa asks, eyebrow popped. “’Cause it sounds like Fast Times at Ridgemont High meets Pretty in Pink with a twist of Say Anything.”
“I’ve seen exactly zero of those movies, but it does sound familiar,” Harper says with a frown. She holds up a finger. “Wait a second! Wait... I know where I’ve heard that exact description.” She narrows her eyes at Lex, and I feel his entire body tense next to me.
He looks spooked. What could possibly be making the unshakable Lex Henson look like all the blood’s been drained from his body?
Harper jabs her finger at him, a smug smile curling on her lips. “The story Hector Tonning told in civics, when Petrolloni was saying that we’re all a bunch of pampered babies who don’t know the meaning of hard work... Your big dream is the exact story Hector told about his summer working at that Mexican restaurant on East Main! Plagiarist.”
Lex’s blanched look is replaced by two red flags of hot shame unfurling up his neck and splotching over his cheeks. “I don’t remember that.”
It’s creepy how measured his voice is. If I wasn’t looking at his face—clearly stamped with guilt—I’d buy his lie. But I can tell Harper has hit a nerve, and it strikes me as weird that Lex—Lex with the perfect, pampered life—would dream about having the life of a totally average working teenager.
“Bullshit,” Harper sneers. “Everyone was talking about how cool it was that Hector blew up Petrolloni’s spot, and I remember you telling him how badass it was. Admit that you have a bro boner for Hector and his tough-guy lifestyle.”
“I have a boner?” Lex’s color evens out, and Harper’s triumphant look falters when she realizes she pushed him too far. “Look, maybe I was half listening to Tonning’s bragfest about his super macho, blue-collar life, but there was only one person hot and bothered that day, and it sure as shit wasn’t me, Harper.” He feigns shock when she blows air through her nostrils hard and fast, daring herself not to cry. “Oh, shit, did you think your little crush was a big secret? Look, sorry, Harpo, but your Greaser hero obviously loves to tell a tall tale, and the whole The Stuck-up Rich Girl Has a Thing for Me story made for some pretty hilarious locker-room talk.”
“Stop it, Lex,” I warn. I reach for Harper’s hand, but she snatches it away. I ignore how badly that stings because I know she’s about two seconds away from straight bawling, and my show of sympathy won’t help her bottle those tears up.