On Saturday noon, Nate's pickup truck rolled in front of the house. Mom recited her speech about our belongings and taking care of ourselves once more before Clover and I kissed her goodbye and headed out the door.

My stomach flipped over when I saw a familiar person in the passenger seat. Evonne, the girl from the diner and Nate's older sister. She was checking out herself in the side mirror, and when she saw me approaching the truck, she nodded at me as a greeting. I tried to return a nice smile. I didn't know why she seemed like impending bad news, but I didn't want my day to be ruined, so I tried to brush off the negative feeling.

The rest of the group sat in the truck bed, not wanting to miss the view. Everything went great for the first hour of the trip. While Rose and Clover chattered, I busied myself watching the pine trees and tiny hills in the distance. They looked like charcoal sketches blending with the navy watercolor sky. I shut my eyes, relishing the wind in my hair and the sunlight on my face.

Of course, a road trip would never be perfect without music. We sang the songs while Michael strummed the guitar for us. The rhythmic clapping was uncoordinated, the voices were intentionally out of tune, and the lyrics were all jumbled and wrong, but we sang as if we just had our newfound freedom.

Several miles later, we finally reached Esterbridge—a much bigger place compared to where we lived—but our journey didn't end in the heart of the town. We headed to the south, driving past the pastures, and made a quick stop at the house of Nate and Evonne's relatives.

The place was loud and crazy. Five hyperactive, jumper-wearing kids. Hilarious aunt and uncle. Lots of organic snacks here and there. They talked about many things as we munched on the biscuits. I was silent but had a good time listening to their stories.

At one point, their uncle Chuck asked Evonne if she had brought her boyfriend along with us. The group knew this was a joke, but for one second, I deemed that every force of the universe was working against me when they pointed at the easiest and most obtainable target around: Michael.

Everybody cheered on him and Evonne as if they were newlyweds. I pretended like I wasn't bothered, but the truth was, I could have crushed the drinking glass in my hand if it had been made of brittle material.

"Enough of it, people," Clover said, glancing at me. "Someone's getting jea—"

I shoved a biscuit in her mouth and hissed, "Shut your trap, sister."

After we finished our meal and said our thanks, it was time for us to roll on to our final stop. We headed to the truck carrying plastic bags of fruits, which once again was an extremely generous portion. From a distance, Chuck shouted to Evonne, "Be sure not to lose your boyfriend, Eve! The young chap is worth keeping."

Evonne laughed like she was being tickled and, to obey her uncle's advice, happily linked her arm around Michael's, tugging him closer to her. Appall sunk into my eyes.

Get off him! My mind shrieked as I watched them with a murderous smile on my lips. And it shrieked even louder when Michael hovered his hand on her back as he ushered her to the car door. He was surely having a fun time.

The truck roared and the tires screeched as the road became rocky and full of potholes, but those noises were nothing compared to the ones in my head. I knew I shouldn't make it a big deal because it was just a joke, but I was bothered. I was jealous. And I hated that I didn't have the guts to do what Evonne could do with him. It was difficult to picture myself linking my arm around him and flirting with him without any reluctance.

Later on, we saw a wide stretch of water from a distance. Nate parked the truck under a tree next to a teal two-story house. As I studied its old-fashioned architecture, a familiar feeling came over me. I didn't know how or when, but I felt like I'd already seen that house from somewhere.

"Thank gosh, finally. I'm dying to swim!" Rose was shaking with excitement. She stretched her torso before climbing down the truck and grabbing her stuffed bag from the bed.

Clover coiled her hair into a bun and fanned herself using her hand. Sweat was running down her neck. "Me, too. I feel so sticky."

"That's what she said," Clint hooted. She was about to slap his arm, but he hopped off the truck and stuck out his tongue at her. As always, their method of flirting was via banters and playful assaults.

The first thing I did as soon as I got out of the truck was to stand before the lake and inhale the cold and salty air. It was hard to believe that a place like that existed. The lake was blue and calm, and the trees looked like blazing fires on the other side of it. It was beyond beautiful. A perfect postcard.

The lake house was not luxurious, but it was cozy, spacious, and well-maintained. The two rooms on both sides of the stairs were for the boys, and another two rooms above were for the girls. What caught my eye when Clover and I entered our bedroom was the window seat, which offered an amazing view of the backyard.

We spent a couple of minutes unpacking our things, fixing the beds, and laughing at the candid pictures we had taken during the ride. From downstairs, Nate shouted that it was time for swimming and barbecue. While the other girls were rushing back and forth to get ready, I just sat there on the bed and re-checked the limited clothes I had brought.

"Why haven't you changed yet?" Clover asked, now dressed in a modest swimsuit.

"No swimming for me. I forgot to bring my suit."

"Didn't I remind you last night?"

"Guess I wasn't paying attention."

A minute later, Evonne appeared at the door, and I was shortly taken aback. She had stripped down to a yellow bikini, and the suit hugged her body in all of the right places.

She studied me. "No plans to swim?"

"I forgot to bring my suit," I repeated. "But it's not a problem. I'll just take pictures of you guys and barbecue some chicken."

"Nope. You're not gonna stay on the dock while everyone else is out on the water. This day and tomorrow, your goal is to have fun and nothing else," Clover said sharply.

"Totally." Evonne bobbed her head. "Oh, I have a spare swimsuit in my bag. It's brand-new. I'm sure it'll look amazing on you."

"Thank you, Eve. You are so nice that you make the Care Bears look selfish," Clover said, sarcasm oozing off her words.

Left with no choice, I puffed out air and nodded. "Just no string bikini, please."

──────

A moment later, I found myself standing in front of the mirror.

"Oh, God."

My voice must have been loud because Clover knocked on the door and asked, "You done? They're in the lake now."

I grabbed the towel and wrapped myself with it before I stepped out of the bathroom. Clover frowned and forced me to take off the towel. When I complied reluctantly, her mouth twisted into an expression that made me think I looked worse than I thought.

I covered my exposed stomach with my arms. "I can't believe I'm wearing this," I grumbled and tried to pull down my swim skirt. Evonne liked to wear small and skintight outfits, so I should've known her swimsuit would be like one.

"Jeez, stop freaking out. It's not bad. Here." Clover went behind me and began knotting up my hair. "That beach bunny outside is getting in your way, you know?"

I only looked at my slippers, feeling insecure about the freckles on my back.

"Michael might actually fall in love with you if you quit sulking around and start being confident in your skin." She brushed my bangs to the side and let some hair fall on either side of my face. "There. You're all set. See? You look cute."

I turned to her. "You act so much like Mom."

"Genetics can be a wonderful thing. Now, go and make their jaw drop."

"The towel, please?"

"Didn't I just say you make their jaw drop? Stop slouching."

I did the opposite. I sunk my shoulders and followed her outside, keeping my head down and my arms around my belly. Splashes of water, hearty laughs and shrieks, and Rose calling our names rang in my ears. Squealing in delight, Clover ran ahead of me, and a loud splash followed.

I raised my head, and the very first person my eyes set on was Michael, who was wearing nothing but board shorts. I had to admire his pale and well-defined back that gleamed under the sun and his wildly raked wet hair. He didn't look like the boys who practically lived at the gym, but he wasn't scrawny either.

I knew I ought to take my eyes off him, but it was like watching a painting and wondering how the artist had created such a masterpiece. When I finally managed to do so, I lowered my head again and hoped he hadn't noticed me staring.

I was about to dip my feet into the water when Clint shouted, "You gotta dive, Autumn!"

"I-I don't know how to dive," I said. I could only achieve an embarrassing belly flop.

"But it would be unfair if you didn't dive while everyone else did."

"Didn't know we're playing follow the leader here," I replied.

"Just jump, Autumn!" Clover was giving me an encouraging look while the rest was silently anticipating me to do it.

Don't chicken out, I told myself. You're here for an adventure.

Taking in a mouthful of air, I took a step back. Then, I leaped from the dock. A surge of exhilaration surged through me as I plunged deep into the water. For a moment, I was scared I might drown. Once I scrambled up to the surface for air, I realized everyone was cheering for me. Everyone—except for Evonne. She was just leisurely floating on her back, looking like a Malibu beach girl.

"Eleven out of ten for that jump!" Clint shouted.

I laughed and swam toward them. The time passed by in a blur of pranks, sodas, and chicken barbecue. Soon, we started a water fight, yelling at each other and laughing.

A hand clasped my ankle and yanked me down in one swift move. I yelped, struggling to free myself until I turned around and discovered that the culprit was no other than Michael. Throaty chuckles escaped his lips. With a quick hand movement, I splashed water on him as revenge. He wiped his face with his hand and smiled wickedly.

"You're up for a challenge, Marmalade? Take this."

I hurried to swim away, but he moved fast near me and overpowered me with a great deal of water. Determined to win, I attacked him back as much as I could, my stomach aching from laughter.

To my surprise, between the crazy water fight and all, he held my hand. Underwater. And it was tighter than the last time. The world seemed to slow down as I stared at every inch of him. The droplets rolling down his cheeks and nose. The red rims of his eyes. The tiny scar above his left eyebrow. The tiny mole on the side of his neck. The quaver of his lips as he tried not to smile.

I breathed deeply. Taking the moment in. Appreciating the subtleties of each passing second.

When I blinked, Michael let go of my hand and swam toward the others. He didn't say anything at all. I didn't know what had just happened. Perhaps he had done that only to stop me from defeating him. But I liked it anyway.

I really liked it.

──────

Everyone fell asleep early because of exhaustion. In the wee hours of the morning, I woke up with a jerk. Groaning, I rolled on the bed and saw Clover across the room; her one hand was dangling off the side of her bed. I wished I had a healthy sleeping pattern like hers.

The full moon was peeking through the window, shedding a bit of light into the room so I could look for my sweater and tiptoe outside. When I was done in the bathroom, I heard a faint clattering and noticed a small orange light downstairs. I went there and discovered that the light was coming from the fireplace.

When the clattering noise was there again, I followed it until I reached the kitchen where I found Michael standing at the counter, pouring hot water into a mug. Surprise appeared on his face when he saw me.

"Did you get that from the kid's section?" He motioned at my colorful pajamas.

"Did a crazy tornado do your hair?" I shot back.

Smiling, he grabbed a spoon from the counter and stirred his drink. "It's three in the morning. Why are you up? Am I making a lot of noise?"

"No. It's just me waking up at ungodly hours without apparent reason."

"I heard that when you wake up at around this hour with no reason at all, there's an eighty percent chance that someone is staring at you." He gave me a serious look. "It must be the whistling man in your window."

A cold shiver ran down my spine, but I pretended I wasn't spooked. "Halloween is over, Michael. It's time for Christmas carols, not ghost stories."

"Huh, tough girl. Want hot cocoa? Or should you have baby milk instead?" He laughed, but not loud enough to wake up the entire house.

Clenching my teeth, I marched next to him and pushed him away from the counter. "Move, you big walking stick. I'm going to make my own beverage."

"Aw, you insulted me back. You're such a great friend."

The last sentence circled my mind over and over until it tormented me inside. I smiled at him, not even a bit amused. "Yeah, I am," I muttered.

Silence dawned on the place as I worked on my cocoa. Michael held his mug and started to walk out of the kitchen. "I'll be by the fireplace, okay?"

When he disappeared, I let out a big sigh. It was always difficult to breathe when we were close. I stirred the spoon in my mug and made my way to the fireplace. He was sitting on the couch, head bent down like he was busy doing something. I sat on the other end of the couch, craning my neck to peek at his drawing, but before I could see a thing, he snapped the notebook shut.

"What? I want to see it," I said.

"Not a chance, Marmalade. It's private."

I frowned and sipped on my drink.

We spent the next few minutes watching the shadows on the walls and listening to the wood snapping as the flames consumed them. Soaking in the warm atmosphere was comforting, and it made my eyelids a little heavy.

I placed my mug on the coffee table and announced, "I learned a new phrase yesterday."

Michael turned to me, confused. "New phrase? What do you mean?"

"My secret language. I learned a new phrase from it. Wanna hear what it is?"

"I'm all ears."

"bangwl' SoH," I said. It's incredible how sleepiness can make people say crazy and honest things—especially during late night or early morning talks.

He gave me a weird look. "That sounds very foreign. What does it mean?"

"Oh. But knowing can sometimes be dangerous—it kills your wonder," I quoted what he had said before, an impish smile on my lips.

He tossed his hand up in mock surrender. "Okay, but could you at least tell me what language that was?"

"Try to guess."

"Was that... Polish, Korean, Swedish, Greek, Latin...?"

I laughed. "No. None of those is close. Think outside the box."

He thought it over for a moment. "An alien language?"

"Bull's-eye!"

"Come on." He chuckled. He must be thinking I was going nuts for learning an extraterrestrial language.

"It's Klingon," I clarified, "a fictional language."

"Wait, from Stark Trek? You mentioned that before."

I nodded.

"Wow. Can't believe I missed that," he said.

I covered my mouth as I laughed. "Don't you watch movies or TV shows? Or surf the web?"

"I don't."

"Really? Oh, right. You watch only those orchestral shows."

He took the last drop of his drink and placed the mug down. "Yesterday was fun, wasn't it?"

"Oh, so fun."

"I never knew I wanted to do something like this until now. Road trip with friends. Swimming in the lake... You looked—you looked nice back there, by the way." Michael slid me a sideways glance, which made me tense up. "I thought I should let you know that."

I tried to hide how much I liked hearing that compliment by curling my knees up to my chest, coughing awkwardly, and mumbling, "You're joking, right?"

"No."

"Oh. Um... well, thanks," I said, shifting a little in my seat. "So, I think this lake house counts as a good part of the world for you?"

His wistful eyes stared at the fireplace. At that moment, I saw the unchanging old soul waking up inside of him. "Yes. And you were right. The world has some good parts in it. I'd like to see more of it soon and experience new things. See different cultures, art, music, everything."

"Yes. I'd like to do that someday, too," I said.

"Be anonymous in a place and leave all the memories behind. It's liberating," he finished.

A memory knocked on my mind's door. Claire had said that he wanted to find his real home, wherever that was. My pulse banged in my ears at the possibility of him going so far away someday.

I rested my head on the couch, my eyelids beginning to drop. "Why? Are we bad memories to you, Michael?"

"No. Not the memories of my friends. I can never find a way to forget all of you."

I was not a big fan of promises, especially after my father had broken his by never going back home, but I supposed this time, with Michael, would be different.

"Promise?" I asked.

"Promise," he said.

"Even if we might drift apart and never talk again?"

He frowned. "Why would you say that?"

"Well... I'm just anticipating the worse. Friendships tend to die when people don't see each other or don't talk for a long time. Even best friends can turn into strangers in a blink of an eye."

"What a strange belief coming from an optimistic person like you."

I smiled lazily at him. He was wrong—I was not as optimistic as he thought I was. I was just good at masking my deepest, darkest doubts.

Questions floated in my head, but I was too sleepy to think about where to start asking. Closing my eyes, I tilted my head to the side and decided to nap. Before I knew it, I had fallen sideways, and my head had settled on his shoulder.

I jolted up, my cheeks warming. "Oh, I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

"Lay your head down, be my guest. I'll stay here."

"You're not going back to sleep?"

He shook his head. "It's hard for me to find sleep again when I wake up around this time."

My anxious longing to be close to him had built up to the point where I could no longer hold myself back. I grabbed the chance to lay my head on his shoulder for the first time, knowing that the little sphere we shared would only be temporary.

"bangwl' SoH, Michael," I said, adoring the way his shoulders rose and fell with each breath and the heat radiating from his skin. I wanted to cling to his shirt, bury my face in the curve of his neck, and never let go.

"Would you tell me what that means, Autumn?"

"You are my greatest friend."

It was the biggest lie I had made that time.

The last thing I felt before my mind drifted into unconsciousness was the strange little pressure planted on the top of my head.