Page 63 of Cuts like a Knife
It was the last summer we ever went up there as a big group. Diana and Claire were grown up, and Bex and I were practically there. We were all getting more than a little too old for campfires and s’mores. But for some reason, we’d decided to play Sardines211.
Drew was chosen to be the hider and he’d picked an absolutely idiotic spot — under the overturned dinghy on the wet and sandy flat of the main beach. Three people could fit under there comfortably, maybe, so the rest of us had been searching for a solid half-an-hour before I managed to find him. Some of us were getting bored. Diana and Lou had already disappeared, giving up and borrowing Dad’s car to disappear off into town. Adam and Claire were ostensibly still searching, but I’d already seen them sitting at the end of the long dock, with their feet in the lake. They’d be making out soon.
The Sprague cousins, as well as Bex, Gray and I, had split up. I’d passed the dinghy at least four times without bothering to check underneath it — the spot was just too small — before I finally found him.
Or rather, he found me.
As I stood next to the dinghy on the little beach, looking out over the calm, dark water and wondering where Drew could be, suddenly his hand shot out from under the boat and grabbed my ankle. I almost screamed.
“Psst! Lex. I’m right here,” he’d hissed.
“Well that’s a stupid place,” I’d hissed back.
“Stupid, or genius? None of you have found me. You wouldn’t have found me if I hadn’t helped you,” he said.
He pushed up the dinghy and made space for me to slide under it, before letting it gently down over our heads.
For awhile, we just lay side by side in the damp sand, the only light coming in under the slight gap at our sides, where the boat didn’t quite make contact with the ground.
It was very warm and I started to feel sleepy right away.
“I’m going to fall asleep,” I remember saying. “This is a terrible spot.”
“Don’t fall asleep,” Drew said. Then he’d propped himself up on one elbow and produced a tiny figure — a plastic SpongeBob toy, like the sort of thing you’d get with a kid’s meal at a fast food restaurant.
“SpongeBob has been helping me stay awake,” he said.
“SpongeBob has?”
“Yup.” He moved the little figure around in the air, making little hopping motions. “Hoppin' clams! And jumpin’ jellyfish! May I take your order,” he said, in a stupid voice.
“That sounds nothing like SpongeBob,” I said. “Besides, aren’t you a little old for this?”
Through the gloom, I could see his face, hovering over my own. As our eyes met, I felt a sort of electricity pass through the air between us. I didn’t understand it.
“Can I kiss you?” He’d asked, finally.
“What? No! Obviously.”
He’d flopped back down next to me, staring up at the bottom of the little metal boat.
“Oh. Okay. Sorry.” After a beat, he’s spoken again. “Why not? Are you worried about people finding out? I won’t tell anyone. Not even Gray.”
“Um, lots of reasons. You’re a kid, for one thing.”
“So are you. We’re almost the same age. ”
“Not really,” I said.
“Really,” he’d argued, but then seemed to think better of it. “Besides, you just said I was too old. For SpongeBob.” He waited a beat, then changed tacks.“Sorry. I just really want to kiss you.”
I couldn’t help it. I’d laughed.
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I think about it all the time. I think about you all the time.”
“Oh please,” I said, “You’re just a flirt. A baby flirt. You do it with all of us. You know what my mom calls you? A Lothario-in-training.”
