Chapter 1: The Scoreboard Summer Begins
The pool water had gone warm hours ago, skin-temperature and slick with sunscreen, and Savannah Mitchell floated on her back with her eyes closed, listening to the cicadas scream their end-of-summer hymn. The sky above her had melted into that particular shade of orange that only happened in late August, the kind of sky that made you feel like something was ending even while it was still happening.
She could hear Dee's laugh from somewhere near the ladder—that full-bodied cackle that had gotten them kicked out of the Waffle House twice last month—and Priya's camcorder whirring its soft mechanical whine, and Hannah's gentle splash as she kicked her feet in the shallow end.
This was it. Three weeks until they scattered like dandelion seeds across the map.
"Okay, bitches," Savannah announced, flipping upright and slicking her hair back. Water streamed down her shoulders. "I have something to show you."
Dee was already climbing out of the pool, her dark skin gleaming under the dying sun, water beading on the close-cropped hair she'd dyed platinum last week. She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her waist like a skirt. "If this is another one of your vision boards, I swear to God—"
"It's not a vision board."
"It's totally a vision board," Priya said, not looking up from her camcorder. She was perched on the edge of the pool, feet dangling in the water, her long black hair pulled into a knot that had mostly fallen apart. The camera was aimed at Savannah, red record light blinking.
Savannah reached under her lounge chair and produced the journal. It was leather-bound, dark brown, the kind of thing you'd find at a flea market and pay too much for because it looked like it held secrets. She'd bought it three weeks ago and spent two hours on the first page alone, drawing and redrawing the grid until it was perfect.
Hannah paddled over to the ladder, freckled shoulders pink from the sun. She'd been quiet all afternoon, which wasn't unusual, but Savannah had noticed the way she kept checking her phone. "What is that?"
Savannah held it up like a trophy. "Our summer scoreboard."
Dee dropped onto the deck chair beside her, water pooling beneath her. "Oh, this is gonna be good. Let me see."
Savannah opened the journal and turned it so they could all see. The page was divided into four columns, one for each of them, and across the top she'd written in careful block letters: FLASHING CONTEST — SUMMER 2004. Underneath, a list of rules in smaller script.
"Flashing contest?" Priya lowered the camcorder, her eyebrows climbing.
"Flashing contest," Savannah confirmed. "But not like—not just pulling up your shirt at a frat party. That's boring. Anyone can do that."
Dee was already grinning, that dangerous grin that meant she was in. "What are the rules?"
Savannah flipped the journal around and pointed to the list. "Each of us picks targets. People who deserve it, people who don't expect it, people who—" She paused, considering. "People who need to see something real."
"That's vague," Priya said.
"It's supposed to be vague. It's art."
Hannah pulled herself out of the pool and sat on the edge, water dripping from her ponytail. "I don't understand. We just... flash people? Random people?"
"Not random," Savannah said. "Specific. Think of someone who's wronged you, or someone who's underestimated you, or someone who just—" She made a vague gesture with her hands. "Someone who needs to be reminded that you exist. You get points for audacity, style, and impact. I keep score."
Dee snatched the journal from her and started flipping through the pages. "This is insane. I love it."
"I don't know," Hannah said quietly.
Priya was watching Savannah with that particular expression she got when she was thinking something she wasn't ready to say. The camcorder was still recording. "Why are you doing this, Sav?"
Savannah could have said something honest. She could have said that she was terrified of being forgotten, that in three weeks they would all leave and she would stay here in this town that had never been big enough for her, that she needed this summer to mean something. She could have said that she was afraid of disappearing.
Instead, she grinned. "Because it's fun. And because we only have three weeks left before we're all miserable college freshmen who have to pretend to be adults. This is our last chance to be reckless."
Dee was already nodding. "I'm in. Obviously. Who goes first?"
Savannah took the journal back and opened it to the first scorekeeping page. "We draw names. Whoever's name comes out first picks the first target."
She tore a page from the back of the journal, scribbled each of their names on scraps, folded them, and dropped them into an empty red Solo cup she'd been using as a water cup. She swished them around and held the cup out to Priya.
"You pull first."
Priya hesitated, then set down the camcorder and reached in. She unfolded the paper. "Hannah."
Hannah's face went pale under her freckles. "Oh no."
Dee laughed, that full-bodied cackle. "Oh yes."
"This is a sign," Savannah said, leaning forward. "Hannah's been too quiet all summer. This is the universe telling you to do something terrifying."
Hannah looked like she wanted to argue. She looked like she wanted to crawl back into the pool and float away. Instead, she said, "I don't even know who I'd pick. I don't hate anyone."
"You don't have to hate them," Savannah said. "You just have to want them to see you. Really see you. Someone who looks right through you."
The silence stretched. Priya's camcorder kept recording, capturing the way Hannah's fingers twisted in her lap, the way her breath caught, the way her eyes drifted somewhere far away.
Then Hannah said, very quietly, "Michael."
Dee's eyebrows shot up. "Your best friend's brother, Michael? The one who's about to be a senior at State?"
"That Michael," Hannah said.
Savannah leaned back in her chair, a slow smile spreading across her face. She'd known Hannah had something in her, something hidden under all that gentleness. This was going to be interesting.
"Okay," Savannah said, picking up a pen. "Hannah's target is Michael Chen. Now we need to talk strategy."
Dee pulled her knees up to her chest, eyes bright. "We need recon. Does he still work at that sandwich shop on Main?"
"He works at the library," Hannah said. "Summers. In the basement. Archives or something."
"Even better," Savannah said. "Libraries are quiet. No one expects anything in a library."
Priya finally turned off the camcorder and set it aside. "You're really going to do this."
It wasn't a question. It was something else, something heavier.
"I'm really going to do this," Hannah said, and for the first time all summer, her voice didn't shake.
The cicadas kept screaming. The pool water stilled. And Savannah wrote Hannah's name next to her target in the journal, the pen scratching against the paper as if it were sealing something irreversible.
Dee was already planning out loud, talking about outfits and angles and perfect timing, and Priya had picked up the camcorder again, aiming it at the sunset, capturing the last golden light before the sky went dark.
Hannah sat on the edge of the pool, wet and freckled and terrified, and Savannah watched her and thought: This is what I wanted. This is what I wanted for all of us.
The first night of the rest of their lives was already fading into dusk, and none of them knew it yet, but the summer was about to get very complicated, very fast. None of them knew about the things that would break, or the secrets that would spill out, or the way that everything would change between them.
For now, there was only the journal, and the rules, and the four of them beneath the last light of a dying August sun.
Dee grabbed Savannah's arm. "I want to go next. I already know who I'm picking."
"Who?"
The grin that spread across Dee's face made Savannah feel like they were all in trouble. "That's for me to know and you to find out."
Savannah flipped to a fresh page in the journal and began drawing the next grid, the pen moving in steady lines, and somewhere above them the sky turned from orange to purple to something like ink, and the cicadas finally went quiet.