“Willa! Harlow! Meredith!” my mom yells up the steps. “You can’t hide inside all day!”
“We can, and we will,” Meredith says from where she lies on my floor making … well, floor angels.
“Come on.” I hold out a hand to haul her up. “If we don’t go out there, you know they’ll march up here and drag our asses down.”
“No,” she whines. “It’s too hot. Why do we need to celebrate the Fourth of July anyway?”
“I don’t know,” I hedge. “Maybe because it’s the day our country declared it’s independence.”
“Ugh. Fine.” She slaps her hand into mine and I haul her up.
Harlow stands from my mattress. “If we die out there I’m having Mom and Dad put ‘Here lies Harlow Jewel Hansen—she melted to death and we let her.’”
I snort. “That’s a good one. I’ll put on mine, ‘Here lies Willa Layne Hansen—she got a transplant, only to die of heatstroke.’”
Meredith snorts. “Funny, mine’s going to say, ‘Merebitch is here to haunt yo ass.’”
Harlow and I bust out laughing. “You win,” I concede.
The three of us reluctantly make our way downstairs.
On the kitchen island is a spread of food. Everything from finger food like chips and mini turkey sandwiches all the way up to hot dogs and burgers. There’s anything and everything.
We each grab a plate and pile some food on it before joining everyone outside.
Meredith’s parents mingle with mine and even more of their friends. Their friends have brought their children too, but most of them are either older or younger than us, therefore the three of us have always stuck together at these types of gatherings.
We step off the deck, right into the sand, and keep walking until we finally find a spot far enough away from the others to have our own conversation, but close enough that they can see us, lest they think we’ve snuck back into the house.
“It’s like they want us to melt to death or something,” Meredith whines. “Even the sand is too hot.” She squirms uncomfortably.
“I think it’s somewhere in the parenting handbook that it’s their job to make our lives miserable,” I joke, taking a bite of my burger.
Meredith gathers her hair up off her neck and twists it into a knot, securing it with a hair tie. You know Meredith is hot if she’s forsaking looking good for getting her hair out of her way.
We eat in silence, too hot to talk much. Meredith finishes her chips and hotdog and tosses her plate to me. I catch it, but glare at her, because she could’ve gotten ketchup all over me. I don’t know why she piles it on her hot dog like she does and then smears it all over the plate. Wouldn’t it be easier to put a normal amount on to begin with?
“Forget this,” she says, standing. She kicks off her shorts and removes her tank top, revealing her hot pink bikini beneath. “I have to get in the water before I die.”
I wish I could join her, but it’s too soon post-transplant to be safe. I’m just glad swimming in the ocean isn’t on the list of things I won’t be able to do, because that would suck. Lakes, however, are out of the question, too much bacteria. Same with public pools—however private ones are okay.
Harlow finishes and joins her. I gather our trash up and take it inside to dispose of it.
They’re still in the ocean when I return, and I stick my toes in the water.
I smile to myself as the crystal water swells around my feet. It sparkles as the hot sun shines down on it. The water, which is normally cool, even in the summer, is decent today.
Off in the distance, I see other families out enjoying the day, either on the sand or in the water. A group of three surfers sit in the distance, waiting and hoping for a decent wave that might never come.
The water tickles my toes, bringing me back to the here and now.
Meredith and Harlow wade out of the water, dripping wet and smiling.
“I feel so much better,” Meredith cries, plopping into the sand.
Harlow drops down beside her and I join them.
Behind us, the party rages on, music blasting out of speakers, kids shrieking and running around, adults standing around with beers in hand.