Page 23 of The Summer List

“It was probably the time I spent my birthday participating in an ecstasy-fuelled orgy inside a government building me and my friends broke into as part of a political protest,” I answer, tacking on a wistful sigh at the end. “What a way to ring in my sweet sixteen.”

Naomi makes a sound like she might have just choked on air. I glance over and find her eyes are bulging out of her head.

“Sixteen?” Priya squeaks, the bag sliding off her fingertips to land with a plop on the floor of the van.

Even Shal has gone silent, her mouth opening and closing like she’s trying to talk herself into calling my bluff.

I can only keep a straight face for another couple seconds before I burst out laughing. “Oh my god, you guys, I’m kidding.”

I wait for them all to let out nervous laughs of their own before I add, “Or am I?”

I manage to catch Naomi’s eye again, and I can’t resist the urge to wag my eyebrows at her. She’s still laughing, reaching up to cover her mouth as her cheeks flush pink.

“What made you all want to try weed anyway?” I ask, settling farther into my seat and stretching my legs out.

They all get quiet, darting looks between each other as we turn off the parkway and onto a residential street.

“Well…” Priya begins. “We have this, um, list that—”

“Priya.” Naomi grinds her friend’s name out through clenched teeth. I look over to see her shooting a pleading look at her friend, but Priya is still staring out the windshield.

“Is it a…secret list?” I ask, directing the question at Naomi.

She looks like she’d rather jump out of the van than answer, but after a moment, she sighs.

“It’s not a secret,” she says. “It’s just our…summer bucket list…thing.”

Her face is shifting from a glowing, timid pink to a blazing, embarrassed red, and I can’t tell which colour is cuter on her.

“Well…” I can’t stop myself from leaning a little closer to her. “If item number one is smoking a joint, it sounds like you’re in for a pretty fun summer.”

“Actually, it’s item number three,” Shal says. “We’re not really going in order.”

“So what are one and two?” I ask. “And how long is this list? Now you’ve got me curious.”

“It’s, uh, just ten things,” Naomi answers.

“And those things are…?”

She twines her fingers together in her lap and stares down at them as she speaks.

“Well, number one is, uh…” She stops and coughs. “I think number one is skinny dipping.”

I feel that tightening low in my stomach again, the sensation sharper this time.

I can’t stop staring at her as I answer, “This is sounding like a very fun list.”

We turn onto my dad’s street, and the process of getting through the gate and out of the car keeps me from asking anything else until we’re in the house.

“Do you have this summer list written down somewhere?” I ask once we’re gathered around the kitchen island, the dispensary bag resting in the middle of the marble slab like an autopsy subject.

Once again, they all share a few glances, like they’re having a silent debate about whether or not they should be embarrassed.

“Oh, come on,” I urge. “I bought you weed. The least you can do is let me know exactly what I’ve enabled.”

Nobody moves.

“Or not,” I add, lifting my hands in surrender. “If it’s some kind of secret BFF pact, I—”

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