I don’t know why I remember this one summer night more than all the others. It’s pretty typical of the summer I’ve had so far—all of us kids meeting up in the parking lot behind the tennis courts. It’s the park where me and a guy came years ago to escape parental restraints. Over there, by the chain-link baseball backing we got close to kissing but never did. Tonight, though, Daniel and Andrew are tossing a Frisbee back and forth. I’m leaning on the trunk of Andrew’s car, the cigarette smoke wafting its way up to my eye no matter how many times I try to match the direction of the wind. Andrew’s just caught the Frisbee perfectly, and his eyes blink over in my direction. He looks back to Daniel and thinks I didn’t see him. I gaze past him too, not wanting to admit I’d been watching him either. The sky is a shit brown behind the clip-art perfect skyline the woods make, and I don’t care that it’s pollution from the power plant across the lake that clouds our view of the stars. The Frisbee hits the pavement and makes a god-awful scraping sound. Daniel grins none-too-innocently up at me as he brings the Frisbee off the pavement, but I know he’s playing the part of a lady killer with only two goes at sex under the belt. I raise an eyebrow and a corner of the mouth back at him, continuing our little game of false seduction. I toss the cigarette butt behind me. My hand feels empty and restless. I focus on Andrew in front of me. He’s talking something about what to do tonight. Like every other night this summer.
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