The cool water sparkles like a blaring invitation. I wipe my forehead with the back of my wrist, glancing momentarily up at the gorgeous blue sky from where I sit at my and August’s favorite place on the dock—the one we’ve nicknamed our “office.” We’ve planned all our best stuff from this location, including the not-so-inspired idea of digging an underground tunnel from his house to mine when we were nine, before we hit a pipe and nearly gave my dad a heart attack, that is. I kick at the water with bare toes and stare jealously at Bentley and his little brother and sister, who have been competing for best dive, farthest jump, and biggest splash for the past twenty minutes. But I’m already in my party-ready clothes, and I don’t have time for a swim.
Also, I don’t want to go back in my house. My parents are in there, cooking and dancing. While that’s not super unusual, they seem to have kicked up their romance as of late. I’m happy for them, but I just don’t need to witness it.
Instead, I flip through Ella’s and Justin’s social media profiles. Usually this is the bit I look forward to most, the angling for clues and sussing out information that the parents don’t know. But right now, Justin is making my stomach drop in a bad way. I knew I was missing something important, but I didn’t imagine in a million years that it’d be his eerie similarities with Kyle, who luckily has been away at college and has yet to return, even during summer breaks. It’s not that Justin looks like him, ’cause he doesn’t; it’s the way he captivates an audience. It’s the sense that he’s selling you something too good to be true.
Bentley pops out of the water near my feet, and I’m so startled I nearly drop my phone on his head. He grins.
“Well played, Bentley,” I say, placing my phone face down on the wood in case he splashes me.
He crosses his wet arms and leans on the dock, resting his chin on them, but he doesn’t reply.
After a long second I laugh. “Are you going to say something?”
He shakes his head, sending a couple of water droplets into the air.
“So you’re just going to lounge there silently?” I ask, and when he nods, I add, “Suit yourself.” I pick my phone back up, but it’s impossible to concentrate with him staring. “Okay. I’ll bite. What’s with the silent routine?”
He shrugs.
“Please tell me you didn’t google reverse psychology,” I say, but he only shrugs again. “Oh my god. I swear if I wasn’t worried about falling in the water, I’d push you.”
I place my hands on the wood on either side of my knees, and my pinkie grazes his elbow. We both notice. And for whatever reason, the silence makes it seem like a big deal. He smiles mischievously.
“Don’t think . . . that wasn’t me touching you,” I say, which also sounds really weird and loud considering I’m the only one speaking.
His grin only grows, and he presses his palm over his heart, doing an exaggerated sigh. I try to squash my smile, but my cheeks are refusing to cooperate.
The moment is short lived, however, because August’s mom’s car pulls into their driveway. August is driving, which means he was probably helping her apply for jobs again, not that he really talks about it, but everyone knows. His mom’s struggle with work isn’t a topic that lives behind The Wall, but it’s one that puts him in a bad mood, especially when someone at school brings it up.
When I look back at Bentley, he nods like he accepts that our nonconversation is over and pushes off the dock.