They sat together like always, but there was no point. Sam and Justin were right beside them, and her mother and father, all of them crowded onto the dock. And even if they were alone, Ella wouldn’t risk it. She’d had her chances this week and done nothing, and still she felt cheated.
The thump of another rocket going off came across the lake as it traced its orange path upward, disappeared between the stars and opened in a green circle, a white flash at the center giving them a second to brace for the boom and then the echo rumbling over the hills. Beside her, Sarah leaned back on her elbows and tipped her chin up like she was sunbathing, waiting to be kissed.
Another thump, and another. Ella could read the colors on Sarah’s cheeks—a red one, an orange one that turned blue at the last second. She had to stop herself from watching her, but the fireworks were so not what she wanted right now, and she fought them, sharp-eyed, flattening them as they tried to jump out at her. In between she could hear clapping from the other docks. The embers fell in streaks, drifted with the wind.
“Whoa,” Sarah said at a double one, purple blooming through green.
A huge orange one like a sun that stayed together till it went dark.
“Oooo.”
A small white one that broke into pinwheels that squirted away.
“Those are the ones I like,” her mother said.
A red one and a flash and Justin stuck his fingers in his ears. It was like a giant drumbeat thumping her heart, impossible to ignore. She tried not to let it surprise her again, alert for the next flash, letting the rest of them break up and fade. Her neck hurt and she twisted it and resettled. On the blanket, Sarah’s hand was inches from hers.
She’d had this argument with herself so many times that she was sick of it, and out of anger more than any real hope, she turned her wrist and reached her pinkie toward Sarah, but still fell short. She left her hand there, waiting through two more rounds, aware of how close she was to touching her, tensing when a bomb went off.
It would have to be an accident, and it had to be now.
She didn’t even know why she was doing this. She should be happy that she was this close to her.
“Nice,” Sarah said, to a shower of twinkling silver stars.
The sky filled in again to scattered clapping, and as if this were her cue, Ella tucked her knuckles under and pushed the heel of her hand across the rough blanket so the side of hers rested against Sarah’s, the contact soft and incidental. She could say it was a mistake.
Sarah picked up her hand and shifted so they weren’t touching. Ella drew hers back. By the time she thought to say sorry, it was too late.
It didn’t mean anything. Sarah had barely noticed. Everything was okay.
The launchers thudded and thumped and they had to track all the different rockets.
“It’s not the finale,” her father said. “Not yet.”
“I should hope not,” Grandma said.
The colors exploded on top of each other, showing the puffs of smoke beginning to move away, ghosts gliding across the water. The waves turned red and blue and green, and the trees. Sarah’s face hadn’t changed, open to the glow. They were sending up more, their trails like comets.
“Wow,” Sarah said.
“Look at that one,” Sam said.
Whistling spinners and gold plumes, a low spray of Roman candles ending with a heavy barrage. The bombs came one after another, a clump flashing white and then the impact deafening them again and again. Ella sat there inside herself and followed a plane blinking high above it all, imagining how it looked from up there, wishing she were far, far away.