Page 101 of Kickoff

“Easy. People who chew with their mouths open. You?”

“I can’t decide between oysters and snails. Equally disgusting.”

I grimaced. “I agree. Clams and caviar. Just thinking about them and I want to barf.”

“Favorite season?”

I didn’t have to think about it. “Summer. It feels like everything is possible when the weather is perfect.”

“True. Something from your childhood you miss?”

“Huh…That’s harder. I’d say feeling like you can achieve anything. Like no dream is impossible and summer lasts forever.”

“Oh, I like that. I was about to say, the ice cream truck. You know that creepy clown-like song that gave you the chills and brought excitement at the same time? There was one where I used to live in New Jersey that came every Tuesday night and Saturday morning. It was the highlight of my summers when I was little.”

“Craig was convinced ice cream truck drivers were serial killers targeting children because he watched some scary movie once. We never neared one after that.”

“No. Ohmygod, this is terrible. You missed out on all the fun.”

“For the longest time, I thought it was Dad who made him watch that movie so we would stop annoying him about letting us buy ice cream.”

She laughed. “That would have been a genius plan. Diabolic, but smart.”

“Only he saw it at one of his friends’ place, so my theory was proven false.”

“Who knows? It must have been their parents who put that movie on.”

I joined in on the laughter. “Yes. That makes perfect sense.” I lowered the teeter-totter so she could climb off and motioned to the swings. “Come on, I’ll push you. Maybe you can touch the sky with your toes.”

“Oh, I used to love doing that. With my friend Jolie, we tried countless times to go all the way around.”

“Craig broke his arm when he jumped from as high as he could get and landed badly. He was nine, I think.”

“Ouch.”

“He had the best-looking cast in all of Elk River. Let’s just say it was full of penis drawings and genital and sex words we thought were funny. Mom was so desperate that she painted over it at some point. Only, black marker bleeds through paint after a while—we learned it that day. There was no way out of it for the six weeks it lasted.”

“Boys are terrible. Nobody draws vaginas on girls’ casts.”

“I have nothing to say in my defense. We are indeed terrible.”

We both burst into contagious laughter once again.

I sat on the swing to her left and pulled at the chain to close the distance between us, using my legs to swing us back and forth. The sun was low on the horizon, the sky a fading mixture of pink and orange paint splatter. The wind picked up, and soon scattered snowflakes danced around us. They melted as soon as they touched the ground.

We both stared at the sky, the white specks of snow glistening against the darkness, thanks to the park’s lighting.

“It’s beautiful,” Melinda said with awe. “I love snow.”

“Me too.” A snowflake landed on the tip of her nose, and I captured it with a finger. “Make a wish.”

“Isn’t it something you’re supposed to do with eyelashes?”

“Yeah, but let’s pretend it is. C’mon, Shepard. Play along.”

She closed her eyes and breathed out before opening her eyes again. I presented her my digit, and she blew on the melted ice crystal.

We remained silent as we swung back and forth for a little while. The snow stopped, and it felt as if we had been the only witnesses to the very first flurry of the season.