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She hands over the plate and a plastic fork, and we walk through the grass and behind the fenced-in pool.
The crickets sing. Fireflies blink. We find a large slab of stone to sit on. We watch an egret wade her long legs through the tall grass at the edge of the water.
All of this nighttime peace is interrupted only by the true wildlife of Hannsett Island: the Healing Touch is booming tonight, blaring loud pop music.
Jason King and his merry band of popular kids never quit.
“Wanna play a game?” Kenzi asks as we pick at the cake.
“Sure.”
“Truth or dare?”
“Dare.”
“I dare you to catch a firefly.”
“Hold this.” I hand her the plate, and she takes it. I get up and move just a little ways into the long cattail bushes. There’s a bunch of small lights, blinking on and off. Fireflies are pretty, but dumb and slow. I cup one in both my hands, then come back over to Kenzi.
“Check it out.” I open my hands, just a little. She leans over, her head nearly bumping mine. Inside my curved fingers, the trapped firefly glows, illuminating my palms.
“Nice,” Kenzi murmurs. Her breath warms my hands.
“You want to glow?” I ask her.
She narrows her eyes at me. “What, like rip his butt off and rub it on our faces?”
“Well—”
“Psychopath. Let it go.”
“Your lucky day, little guy,” I tell him. I open my hands, and the firefly flies out, waving drunkenly through the sky.
“Your turn,” I tell Kenzi as we sit back down on the stone. “Truth or dare?”
“Truth,” she says, which I think is brave.
“What’s the one thing you want to do now that you’re eighteen?”
She lets out a small laugh and rubs the back of her neck. “Honestly?”
“That’s why it’s called truth.”
“Okay. I want to lose my virginity.” She shrugs. “I know that’s like…pedestrian.”
“It’s not.”
“And I know it’s a big deal for some people. But I don’t know…I just sort of want to rip off the Band-Aid. You know?”
“Quick and fast?”
“Okay, maybe not that much like ripping off a Band-Aid. But just…simple. No complications. With someone I trust, ideally. And then it’ll be over with, and I can go about my life without this thing hanging over my head.” Her emerald eyes blink at me. “Do you think I’m cold?”
“No,” I tell her. “It’s your body. You should do whatever you want with it.”
She points her fork at me. “Thank you. You get me.”
And I get it: I’m her gay best friend who she can open up to about things like this. Her blossoming sexuality. Her slutty summer plans. I am a man she can talk to fearlessly, without worrying that I’ll turn around and try to kiss her.
