Page 49 of That Summer Feeling

“Are you telling me that because you’re nearing hypothermia and my body heat will help regulate you?”

Stevie laughed. “Yes. Save me, Garland. I need you.”

She was joking, but it worked all the same. I took off my top layers of clothing one by one, folding each piece and making a neat pile beside Stevie’s hastily discarded sweater and shoes. When I stood at the edge of the dock in just my swimsuit, I hesitated, trying to decide if I was going to count to three or just jump.

“Never mind,” Stevie said, breaking my train of thought. She was treading water a ways out. And also staring at me. Grinning. “Stay right there.”

I instantly posed. “Why? Are you admiring me?”

“Of course I am,” she told me. “Have been since the moment you arrived.”

At that, I cannonballed into the lake. The plunge of cold didn’t feel like shock. It felt like relief because it meant I was on my way to her. No matter what my vision had shown me, I had always been on my way to her. And that was exactly where I wanted to be.

22

The referees started the daily color game by reminding us of the standings. With seventy points in total, Red Team held strong in first place. Blue Team was in second place with fifty points. Green and Yellow were tied for last at forty.

We weren’t underdogs. We were legitimate contenders.

The referees brought us back to the same starting spot as yesterday—the field beside the obstacle course, vast and previously wide-open. It had been altered. There were wooden crate stacks of various heights positioned throughout the field. The referees stood next to several buckets of what looked to be water balloons. There was a folding table beside them, with a pile of clear ponchos laid atop it.

“You can probably guess what we’ll be doing today,” one of the referees said.

Frank pounded his fists into his chest. “Water balloons!”

Everyone laughed.

“Close!” the other referee told him, quieting the amusement. “These balloons are filled with paint. Hence the ponchos. Every participating team member will receive one to wear over your body and hair. The paint’s washable, but we know you may want to protect yourself just in case.”

It was a small detail, thinking of whether people would want to be dirtied up by the challenge. Another mark of the level of care the twins had put into all this.

“Once everyone is appropriately dressed, we will move the buckets to the center of the field for a good old game of paint-balloon tag,” the referee continued. “When we blow the whistle, all teams are welcome to run and grab as many balloons as possible. This is an elimination game, though. If you get hit by a paint balloon, you’re out. There is no second life. The first team to lose all their members will come in last, and so on until only one person remains. The last one standing will clinch the victory for their team.”

“This is more about strategy than it is speed,” the first referee added. “Though you’re welcome to go about this in just about any way you want. You can hide behind the crates, stock up on supplies, ambush other teams. Anything goes, so long as there’s no physical violence involved. But if you drop your own balloon and it splatters on your foot, you’re out. If someone hits you with a balloon and it does not break, you’re safe. You have to remain completely paint-free to stay in the game.”

Once the rules were finished, Blue Team huddled together for a strategy session. “Anyone want to sit this one out?” Captain Aja asked.

All eight of us were silent. A rare first. Even Marge believed she could be an asset. “I’ve seen all those Hunger Games movies dozens of times,” she told us. “I know I don’t need to be fast to be clever.”

Aja nodded. “This might get messy. Literally, but also personally. Julianne? Garland? Stevie? Tommy? All four of you are personally connected to people on other color teams. When it comes down to it, will you be able to throw a paint balloon at your loved one?”

“Obviously,” Stevie said before the rest of us could gather together a case for our participation. “I will hit any of my brothers gladly. In fact, I want all of you to leave them alone so I can be the one to personally eliminate them.”

“Noted,” Aja said. “We’ve got Marge and Stevie on the field. As your captain, I would like to participate as well, if everyone agrees.”

“Of course,” we all told her in near-perfect unison. Aja had shown repeatedly that she had not just enthusiasm but skill.

“Then we need three more,” she told us. “Julianne, Garland, and Tommy, we still haven’t heard whether or not you think you can participate given the circumstances.”

“I’m on my husband’s team in life, but not when it comes to the color games,” Julianne offered.

Aja nodded.

It was down to Tommy and me to plead our cases. I looked over, fully expecting him to take the floor before I could find a way to articulate my Blue Team loyalty. Instead he stayed curiously silent, not at all like the Tommy of days prior. Seeing my opportunity, I cleared my throat. “Um, if it somehowcomes down to my sister and me, I won’t let her hit me with a paint balloon.”

“Will you throw one at her?”

It wasn’t Aja who asked me. It was Stevie. She had a hand on my forearm and all her sunshine spotlighting me. In truth, Ididn’twant to throw a paint balloon at Dara. Not that it was going to hurt her. I just knew she’d hate losing, and I didn’t want to be the one who provided that experience for her.