The summer of 1995 was a fever.
In August the temperature went up to 100 degrees and the humidity blanketed your body so that you sweated while sitting in the shade. Micah arrived on a Monday. I saw her take a pink suitcase and backpack into the house next door. I was under the tree in the yard reading about vampires. I knew she was a popular girl in school. All popular girls held themselves in a certain way. Like they were a fragile egg. She had blonde streaky hair and amber eyes.
The day after she arrived she was sitting on the porch with her turquoise colored small radio. The Cranberries were playing. She lowered the volume when I leaned over the picket fence.
“Did you move in?” I asked.
“Only for three weeks. I’m visiting my grandmother.” Her voice was melodic like a bell.
“Oh.” I kicked a rock. “Want to get some ice cream?”
We walked three-quarters of a mile to Moo Cow Dairy off the interstate. I got a strawberry swirled ice cream and Micah got the chocolate. A van of nuns pulled up. Micah and I watched them as we sat on the bench licking our cones. They all ordered green swirls. Pistachio. I wondered what made each of them choose to be a nun.
“I have a cousin,” Micah said. “He has friends. Where can we go?”
“The lake,” I said. The popular kids went to the north of the lake. I wasn’t popular. I didn’t want Micah to find out she was hanging with a loser. I would take them to the south of the lake.
Robbie, Mike, and Felix arrived at the lake with beer. I had made ham sandwiches. Micah had the radio. Every day for two weeks we went to the lake. The water was cool. I kept the sandwiches in an ice chest. I never drank more than three beers.
One day it rained. We ran under a tree and laughed. Micah held the radio close. The station wavered so she changed it. Credence Clearwater Revival. Rain is hard. Sun is cold. I kissed Robbie. His lips tasted like mustard and root beer.
The summer of 1995 was a fever.
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