By the time the first bell rang at Westbrook Middle School, everyone in the eighth-grade hallway already knew two things:
One, it was Gretchen Maloney’s birthday.
Two, Jay Lawson was absolutely not ready for it.
He could see her from across the crowded hallway of the California public school—standing by her locker under the faded Stars and Stripes banner, sunlight from the courtyard glass catching the little rhinestones on her backpack. Someone had taped a cheap paper crown to the top of her curly hair. Her friends called her “birthday princess” every three seconds and she pretended to hate it, but the little smile dimpling her cheeks said otherwise.
Jay hid behind the door of his own locker and tried the line again under his breath.
“Hey Gretchen, I heard it was your birthday, so I got you a little someth—”
The words stuck in his throat. His palms were sweaty. It felt like the entire United States of America was tuned in live to watch him choke.
“You look like you’re about to throw up, not confess your love,” Jaden murmured beside him, stuffing a binder into the locker they shared due to “temporary overcrowding” and the district’s refusal to spend money on more metal boxes.
“I’m not confessing anything,” Jay muttered. “I’m just… acknowledging the anniversary of her birth.”
“Uh-huh,” Jaden said. “With what?”
Jay held up the small thing he’d been nervously palming all morning: a simple bracelet he’d woven out of red and black thread, her favorite colors. It wasn’t much, but it was honest. He’d looked up about thirteen tutorials and almost glued his fingers together making it.
“That’s actually kind of nice,” Jaden said, surprised. “Heartfelt. Personal.”
“Yeah?” Jay asked, a flicker of hope lighting in his chest.
“Yeah. Too bad you’re about to get absolutely destroyed.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Look,” Jaden said. He jerked his chin toward the hallway.
Jimmy Parker, star of every sport and future mayor of Locker Room Ego, was striding toward Gretchen with the confidence of someone who had never been told no in his life. His letterman jacket wasn’t technically regulation at a middle school, but the high school coach had already given him one “for the future,” and he wore it like armor.
“Hey, Gretchen,” Jimmy said, leaning casually against the locker next to hers.
Her friends giggled and melted out of the way, leaving the two of them in a little bubble.
“I heard it was your birthday,” Jimmy said—Jay’s exact line, stolen by the universe and upgraded by better hair. “So I got you a little something.”
He produced a bouquet of flowers from behind his back. Real ones. Wrapped in crinkly paper and tied with a ribbon.
Gretchen’s eyes widened. “Oh my gosh, that’s so nice of you.”
“A birthday princess like yourself deserves flowers,” Jimmy said smoothly. “And I’ve got a little something else.”
He snapped a small velvet box open one-handed. Inside, a delicate charm bracelet glittered under the fluorescent lights, probably bought at some fancy store in the mall where the employees actually wore suits.
Gretchen clapped a hand over her mouth. “No way!”
“Thought of you as soon as I saw it,” Jimmy said. “Because it’s the best. Just like you.”
From behind his locker door, Jay felt his woven string bracelet burn like a brand in his fist.
Jaden winced. “Oof. He went full Bachelor on her. You’re done.”
Out in the hallway, Jimmy took a step back, basking. “Anyway,” he said, glancing at the clock. “I gotta get to gym and totally dominate whatever game we’re playing, but I’ll see you later, birthday girl.”
He walked off to a chorus of sighs.
Gretchen turned to her friends, face lit up. “Did you see what he got me?” she asked, holding up her wrist. “Isn’t he so sweet?”
“Okay,” Jaden whispered. “So your little friendship bracelet? Not going to cut it now.”
Jay swallowed hard. No way could he hand her his piece of string after that. It would be like offering someone a paper airplane right after they stepped out of a private jet.
But if he walked away, he would hate himself all year.
Before he could think, his feet moved.
“Hey, Gretchen!” he called, stepping into the open. His voice cracked on her name. Great start.
She looked over, surprised. “Oh, hey, Jay.”
Her friends gave him synchronized once-overs. He pretended not to see.
“I, uh, heard it was your birthday,” he said. Original. Very smooth. “So I wanted to give you a little… something.”
Her eyes flicked down to his empty hands.
Panic flashed across his brain like a bright red error message. He could not hand her the bracelet now, not after that jewelry-store flex. It would look sad.
So his mouth did what it always did when his brain freaked out.
It lied.
“Actually,” he said quickly, shoving the bracelet into his pocket, “it’s, um, really big. I couldn’t bring it to school. So I’m going to give it to you later.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Really big?”
“Like… really big,” he said. “You’ll just have to wait and see. It’s, uh, kind of an event.”
“An event,” she repeated, amused.
Behind him, Jaden put his face in his hands.
“Well, I’m excited to see your surprise,” Gretchen said. “Can I see you later, then?”
“Yep,” Jay said. “Later. Definitely later.”
She smiled and turned away, the charm bracelet catching the light.
As soon as she was out of earshot, Jaden grabbed his shirt sleeve and yanked him back behind the locker. “What big plan?” he hissed. “What ‘really big’ present?”
“I don’t know,” Jay said, heart pounding. “I panicked!”
“You better figure it out fast,” Jaden said. “You just publicly promised something big to the birthday princess of Westbrook, in front of half the eighth grade.”
“We got this,” Jay said, because saying it out loud made it feel less impossible.
“We?” Jaden repeated.
“Yeah, we,” Jay said. “Now come on. I gotta go get a Band-Aid. I think I just ripped my pride open.”
At lunch, they spread Gretchen’s Instagram page out between them like a map.
“She likes hiking,” Jaden read, scrolling. “Look at these pics, bro. She’s always at Runyon Canyon or Griffith or whatever. You could take her on a birthday hike.”
Jay pictured dirt, sweat, and his own allergy to nature. “I hate bug bites,” he said. “And poison ivy. And uphill. That’s a no.”
“She also posts a lot of sushi,” Jaden said, flicking past a very aesthetic plate. “Take her to an all-you-can-eat place.”
“The only time I bite into raw seafood is when I forget to cook my fish sticks all the way,” Jay said. “Next.”
“There’s a picture of her with a circus filter,” Jaden said. “Something about loving the circus.”
“Nuh-uh,” Jay said instantly. “Buddy, this is a clown-free zone. I don’t do clowns.”
“Jay, I think you’re forgetting something,” Jaden said, dropping his phone to look at him. “You’re doing this for her. Not you.”
“I know,” Jay said. “But Gretchen won’t enjoy her surprise if I’m not having fun too. So it’s gotta be something we both like.”
“You,” Jaden said flatly, “are insane.”
“Keep scrolling,” Jay said. “There’s got to be something amazing in there, something better than a bracelet.”
“Better than jewelry and flowers?” Jaden muttered. “Good luck.”
After P.E., they ducked behind the bleachers to spy.
Gretchen strutted out of the gym, still in her athletic shorts and ponytail, cheeks flushed from annihilating the other team at dodgeball. She always looked like she’d just stepped out of a teen sports commercial, even when she was sweaty.
“I got the other team to forfeit in under two minutes,” she bragged to her friend. “Personal record.”
“Living your best life,” the friend said.
“It’d be even better if you were hanging with me later,” Jimmy said, appearing at her side like a human advertisement for sports drinks.
“I’d love to,” Gretchen said, “but I already have plans with Jay. He’s giving me my birthday present later.”
“This Jay kid,” Jimmy said, squinting. “He like your boyfriend or something?”
“No,” she said. Then, with the tiniest hint of a smile, “Not really. But… it’s getting there, I think.”
Jay almost fell off the bleacher.
“Bro,” Jaden whispered, eyes wide. “Did you hear that? ‘Getting there’?”
“I might pass out,” Jay whispered back.
“Not yet,” Jaden said. “We still don’t have a plan.”
Jimmy shrugged. “Well, he better come correct,” he said. “A queen like you deserves the best.”
He sauntered off toward the track. Gretchen watched him go for a second, then glanced down at her phone.
“Anything better than my gift so far?” Jaden asked under his breath.
“I’m not sure yet,” Jay said, staring.
Jaden’s thumb flicked his screen one more time. Then he froze. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Scroll back up, scroll back up.”
Jay leaned closer. It was a photo of Gretchen in a bright blue swimsuit, standing in front of towering water slides, sunlight bouncing off the chlorinated waves behind her. Her caption read: “Water parks are my favorite thing in the whole world.”
“The whole world,” Jaden echoed. “Bro. That’s your in.”
Jay’s heart kicked. “That,” he said, “is where I’m taking her for her birthday.”
He jumped to his feet.
“Wait,” Jaden said, grabbing his sleeve. “This idea is not going to work.”
“Why wouldn’t it?” Jay said. “It’s perfect.”
“Because of Jimmy,” Jaden said. “He’ll just invite himself along and make you the third wheel in your own date.”
“I’ll find a way to get rid of him,” Jay said. “Trust.”
Jaden stared at him. “I hate when you say ‘trust.’ It means you’re about to do something dumb.”
Three minutes later, a voice boomed over the school intercom.
“Attention all students,” the front office secretary read. “We need Jimmy—uh—Jimmy P. Jimmy Parker? Please report to the front office immediately. Jimmy Parker to the front office.”
The entire lunchroom turned to look at Jimmy, who sat mid-bite into a slice of pizza.
“I guess that’s me,” he said, standing.
“I guess it is,” said his friend, clapping him on the back. “Probably to congratulate you on being the most athletic person in America.”
“I do what I can,” Jimmy said. He jogged toward the office, ego leading the way.
At the back of the cafeteria, Jay slipped the school phone onto the receiver, grinning.
“Was that your handiwork?” Gretchen asked a minute later, catching him in the hallway.
“What?” he said, trying to look innocent. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She gave him a skeptical look. “Pretty good, though.”
“So,” she said, “are you going to tell me what you’re giving me for my birthday?”
“Like I said,” he replied, heart pounding, “it’s a surprise. But I guarantee you it’s a lot better than a bunch of lame flowers. Not that I’m comparing or anything.”
“Of course not,” she said, amused. “Can you at least tell me what I need to wear?”
“Bring a bathing suit,” he said, trying to sound confident.
“A bathing suit,” she repeated slowly. “In December.”
“In California,” he reminded her. “We’re basically tropical. It’s going to be the best day ever.”
She laughed. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
When she walked away, Jaden emerged from behind a pillar. “You told her bathing suit?” he groaned. “In winter?”
“Trust,” Jay said again, visions of slides and splashdowns filling his brain. “Tomorrow, I redeem myself.”
Tomorrow came cold and gray.
“I’m ready, I’m ready,” Jay said, hopping from foot to foot in the parking lot of the Westland Water Park, a chain he’d seen advertised on TV with glossy commercials and smiling all-American families. He had layered his hoodie over his T-shirt, his teeth chattering. The palm trees around the empty parking lot rattled in the chilly breeze.
“Wait,” Jaden said, hugging himself. “Why aren’t you dressed? It’s freezing. Thank God you didn’t make her wear flip-flops.”
“She’s got her suit under her clothes, probably,” Jay said. “It’ll be fine.”
Jaden squinted at the towering slides visible from the highway, their loops and turns stark against the cloudy sky. “Bro,” he said. “Why is there no one here?”
“Because we’re early,” Jay said confidently.
Jaden pointed to the giant sign bolted across the locked iron gate.
CLOSED FOR THE SEASON, it read. SEE YOU IN SPRING!
The words hit Jay like a bucket of ice water.
“No,” he said. “No, no, no, no, no.”
Metal chains bound the gate, a heavy padlock glinting in the morning light. The ticket booths were dark.
“You didn’t think to check if the park was open before dragging me all the way down here?” Jaden asked. “Or, I don’t know, before inviting your almost-girlfriend?”
“Don’t say ‘almost-girlfriend’ when I’m in crisis,” Jay whispered, pacing. “I can fix this. I can—”
A rideshare car pulled into the lot and parked a few spaces away. Gretchen climbed out, wrapped in a jacket, hair loose around her shoulders. She looked between the two boys and the locked gate.
“Are you serious right now?” she asked.
Jay laughed weakly. “Funny story—”
“The water park is closed,” she said. “In December. Who could have seen that coming?”
“I just… didn’t think about the season thing,” he said. “But we can still hang out, right? We could go get hot chocolate. Or drive by and look at the slides from a distance. Romantic.”
“Wow,” she said. “You really put a lot of thought into my birthday gift.”
“I did!” he protested. “Do you know how much water park tickets cost? I was ready to spend my entire allowance. If it was open, I would have bought them. It’s not about money, you know. It’s the thought that counts.”
“Exactly,” she said. “And clearly, you didn’t put any thought into it. At all.”
The words stung more than the December wind.
“I think I’m going to go hang out with Jimmy,” she added. “Someone who actually cares about my birthday.”
“No, no, no,” Jay said, panicking. “We could go to the zoo! Or I’ll try sushi! Raw fish, I’ll do it. Just—”
“Happy birthday to me,” she said, turning away.
For the first time all morning, Jay had no joke left.
He sulked all the way back to Jaden’s house, where the older boy’s backyard pool sparkled unused behind a row of neatly trimmed hedges in their American suburb. The sky stayed stubbornly gray.
“I messed everything up,” Jay groaned, flopping into a patio chair. “For the record, water parks should be open year-round. It’s unpatriotic that they’re not.”
“You’re dramatic,” Jaden said, sipping soda. “But yeah, you blew it.”
Jay stared at the side yard, where a couple of construction workers in reflective vests were hauling long sections of plastic tubing and metal supports onto a truck. Jaden’s mom had mentioned over dinner weeks ago that the HOA was forcing them to remove the old slide attached to their pool because it wasn’t up to code.
“Hey,” Jay said slowly. “Where are they taking that?”
“Dump,” one of the guys grunted.
“You’re trashing it?” Jay asked. “To make room for a new slide?”
“Yup,” the man said. “Boss wants a nicer one installed.”
“So,” Jay said casually, swallowing a spark of insane inspiration, “if I were to give you some cash, could you… take it somewhere else instead of the junkyard?”
The worker squinted at him. “Kid, absolutely not. Liability. We can’t drop half a slide at some random house.”
Jay’s shoulders slumped.
“Even if we had the parts,” Jaden said, “we still don’t have a pool big enough for it.”
Jay turned slowly toward the sparkling rectangle of water behind them.
“You’re right,” he said. “I don’t have a pool.”
Jaden stared back, horrified. “No,” he said. “No, bro. Absolutely not.”
“It’s a good thing you do,” Jay said, grinning.
“You can hide a skate ramp in a garage,” Jaden said. “You can’t hide a water slide in a backyard. We’ll get caught for sure.”
“Have a little faith in a brother,” Jay said. “This is me we’re talking about.”
“That’s exactly why I’m worried,” Jaden said. “Because it’s you.”
They stared at each other for a long moment.
“Fine,” Jaden groaned. “We’ll do it. I’m going to die, but we’ll do it.”
“Awesome,” Jay said, slapping his back. “Also, uh, I’m going to need to borrow some money.”
It turned out the men in vests weren’t construction workers. They were junk haulers.
“We move stuff,” one of them said. “We don’t build it.”
By the time they left, the slide lay in mismatched sections on the lawn, looking less like a fun attraction and more like a lawsuit waiting to happen.
“Great,” Jaden said. “So now we have a pile of plastic and no idea what to do with it. This is how every bad American reality show starts.”
“So it’s not perfect yet,” Jay said. “We just need someone who knows what they’re doing.”
He pulled out his mom’s old contact list on Jaden’s house phone and found the one person he knew who could build almost anything out of almost nothing.
“Yo, Frankie,” he said when the man picked up. “I need a favor. A big one. And before you say no, just remember how I helped carry that couch for you that one time—”
“Jay,” Frank sighed on the other end. “What did you do now?”
“Nothing illegal,” Jay said quickly. “Probably. Can you come over?”
Four hours, several power tools, and one very questionable set of instructions later, they had something that actually looked like a water slide attached to Jaden’s pool.
“Bro,” Jaden said, staring up at the towering structure. “I am not going on that thing.”
“It’s beautiful,” Jay said reverently. “Like the Statue of Liberty, but fun.”
“Does it pass safety inspection?” Jaden asked.
“I’m safety inspection,” Jay said.
“Exactly,” Jaden muttered.
Frank tightened one more bolt and stepped back. “It might actually hold,” he said. “But if your mama finds out I had any part in this, I’m disappearing to Mexico.”
“You’re still getting paid, right?” one of the junk guys asked hopefully.
“Yes, yes,” Jay said, handing over a wad of crumpled bills. His entire savings, gone. “Now go before my mom comes home.”
An hour later, as the sun dipped low over their American suburb, the slide actually worked.
They tested it themselves, of course. They weren’t suicidal. Well, not entirely.
Water roared down the curved plastic. Jay launched himself from the top, screamed, and hit the pool with a splash big enough to drench half the yard.
He came up laughing. “I am limitless!” he shouted, water streaming from his hair. “This is my destiny!”
“That was actually… kind of incredible,” Jaden admitted after his own turn, clutching the side of the pool, eyes wide. “This might be the greatest deathtrap ever built in the United States.”
“Okay,” Jay said, standing at the edge, chest heaving. “Now we just need the birthday girl.”
He pulled out his phone. Still no response from Gretchen. No texts. No likes. No little green dots showing she was “typing.”
“Nothing?” Jaden asked.
“Nothing,” Jay said, the high fading. “I think I lost her.”
“Don’t give up yet,” Jaden said. “Once she sees this, she’ll understand. You built an entire water park in a backyard.”
“That’s the thing,” Jay said quietly. “I don’t know how to get through to her. She won’t respond to anything.”
Jaden hesitated. “There is another option,” he said.
Normally, Jay would rather be swallowed by the school cafeteria trash can than record a heartfelt video message. But desperate times.
He found Gretchen after last period, leaning against the fence near the soccer field while Jimmy told some story involving three different coaches and the phrase “winning season” at least six times.
“My parents are like, ‘Jimmy, you gotta pick one sport to focus on,’” he was saying. “Like I’m not already crushing it at everything.”
“Must be tough being you,” Gretchen said, though her eyes looked tired.
When Jimmy spotted the cross-country coach, he excused himself gracefully. “Duty calls,” he said, jogging off.
Gretchen exhaled like someone had turned down the volume.
Jay stepped forward, phone in hand. “Hey, Gretchen,” he said. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
“I’ve kind of heard enough from you,” she said. “No offense.”
“I know,” he said. “That’s why I sent you a DM. I know you probably didn’t watch it. But… could you?”
She frowned, checked her phone, and saw the little video message request. “I don’t usually watch these,” she said.
“Just this once,” he said. “Please.”
She hesitated. Then, with a sigh, she hit play.
On the screen, Jay’s nervous face filled the frame. Behind him was Jaden’s backyard fence and just the faint hint of blue plastic towering above it.
“Hey, Gretchen,” video-Jay said. “Uh, normally I don’t do this. And normally I don’t meet girls like you. That sounded smoother in my head. Anyway. I’m… crazy about you. Ever since you pulled me into the girls’ bathroom in sixth grade to help you with your science project, I’ve wanted to be around you all the time. I’m so sorry about your birthday. I messed up. But I promise, I’m going to make it up to you big time.”
He stepped aside in the frame, and for half a second, she saw the top of a slide.
“I’ve got an epic surprise waiting for you,” he said. “Right here. Just come over to Jaden’s house and I promise you’re going to love it. Okay. Hope to see you here.”
The video ended.
Gretchen stared at him.
“Please,” he said. “Give me one more chance.”
She said nothing.
Hours later, just when Jay was about to give up hope, his phone buzzed.
She’d posted a story.
On it, three words: “Everyone’s invited. 😈”
And a little location tag: Jaden’s house.
“Everyone?” Jaden said, peering over his shoulder.
“Everyone,” Jay said weakly, as the sound of approaching footsteps and chatter drifted in from the front yard.
Fifteen minutes later, Jaden’s backyard looked like a scene from an American summer movie, except it was December and everyone wore hoodies over their swimsuits.
Kids from school poured through the side gate, phones out, eyes huge at the sight of the makeshift water slide. “No way,” someone shouted. “He really did it.”
Gretchen walked in at the center of the crowd. She stopped at the edge of the pool, hand over her mouth.
“Oh my gosh,” she breathed. “You… totally outdid yourself.”
“Happy birthday,” Jay said, trying to play it cool while his heart did parkour in his chest. “Since the water park didn’t work out, I went bigger. Why share with a hundred strangers when you can have a private park?”
She laughed, eyes shining. “Thank you,” she said. “Seriously.”
“You’re forgetting about one small thing,” Jaden whispered in his ear.
“What?”
“My mom is inside,” Jaden hissed. “Exactly ten feet and one glass sliding door away from discovering she has an illegal water slide in her backyard.”
“Right,” Jay said. “Which is why it’s your job to keep her inside.”
“Why is it my job?” Jaden demanded. “You built the thing.”
“Because you live here,” Jay said. “And because the girls are going to think it’s pretty cool you have your own water slide. Do it for your reputation.”
Jaden looked at the throng of kids and sighed. “Fine,” he said. “But you owe me. Forever.”
Inside, Jaden’s mom had just walked through the front door, juggling keys and a grocery bag.
“Jaden, I’m home!” she called. “I thought I was working all weekend, but they changed the project deadline. So now I get two whole days off. I am going to relax and kick back by the pool—”
Jaden popped up in the hallway like a jack-in-the-box. “Hi Mom!” he said too loudly. “A movie! We should watch a movie. In your room. With the door closed. Where there are no windows facing the backyard.”
She blinked. “Hi to you too. Aren’t you supposed to be doing homework?”
“We are,” Jaden said. “Huge assignment, keeping us really busy. But we thought we’d take a quick break. For a movie. Maybe something long. Like… Lord of the Rings. Extended edition. Twelve hours of cinematic excellence. I heard it’s life-changing.”
She frowned. “That sounds like a bit much.”
“With the lights off,” he continued desperately, “and the shades down. And these top-of-the-line noise-canceling headphones I just remembered we have. You’ll feel like you’ve been transported to Middle-earth. No distractions. No… yard noises.”
She hesitated. “You’re sure you’re not going to join me?”
“I’d love to,” he said. “But you know how seriously I take my studies now. If I’m going to get into Harvard—”
“Harvard?” she repeated, suspicious.
“He’s a better influence than Mikey,” Jaden’s dad called from the kitchen. “Let him study.”
“Fine,” she said slowly. “You put way too much effort into this pitch for me to say no. Go on. Set it up.”
“And just so you don’t get interrupted,” Jaden added, already backing down the hall, “I’ll turn off the surveillance system. So the blinking lights don’t distract you.”
He flicked the switch on the security monitor, heart pounding.
“Hobbiton, here I come,” she said, settling into her bed with popcorn as the opening credits rolled, headphones on.
Jaden sagged against the wall in relief.
Outside, kids lined up at the top of the slide. The December air nipped at their skin, but the pool heater roared.
“You ready?” Jay shouted.
“Bring it in!” someone yelled.
One by one, they launched themselves down the slick plastic, shrieking, splashing into the pool in chaotic joy. Someone filmed from the side, already editing it in their head for TikTok with the perfect audio.
“This is insane!” a girl shouted, water dripping from her eyelashes. “Best birthday ever!”
Jay stood next to Gretchen at the pool’s edge, watching.
“So,” he said, bumping her shoulder lightly with his. “Do you think we should order pizza and make the delivery guy go down the slide?”
She grinned. “We are so on the same wavelength,” she said.
For a moment, everything was perfect. No principals, no suspensions, no closed gates. Just water, music from someone’s Bluetooth speaker, and the girl he liked smiling at him like he’d just handed her the moon.
Then Jaden burst through the sliding door, eyes wild.
“Uh-oh,” he said. “My mom paused the movie to get more popcorn. We have approximately thirty seconds before she looks out the kitchen window.”
“What?” Jay yelped.
“And—” Jaden added, glancing through the fence, “—neighbors. A lot of neighbors. Some of them are filming. Some of them look like they’re dialing.”
Sirens wailed in the distance.
“Oh no,” Jay said. “This water’s about to get a lot colder.”
The police cruiser rolled up silently, lights flashing blue and red against the white stucco of suburban America. Two officers stepped out, hands on their belts, eyes taking in the scene: the towering slide, the mass of damp teenagers, the pool, the hoses, the extension cords.
Every phone came up at once.
“I hope you kids realize the danger you put yourselves in by doing this,” the older officer said. “You can’t just build structures like that without permits and safety checks. It’s for your own well-being, and it’s the law.”
“When we realized it wasn’t safe, we switched to an inflatable slide instead,” Jay said weakly, gesturing to the last-minute compromise they’d strapped to the main frame.
“And you think that sounds better?” the officer asked.
“I mean, softer landing,” Jay tried.
“And how come you didn’t know what was going on out here?” the officer asked, turning to Jaden’s mom, who’d come running as soon as she’d seen the patrol lights reflecting off her TV.
“They were very sneaky,” she said, arms crossed. “The only plot I saw unfolding was some fellowship bringing a ring to a volcano. They turned off the surveillance and everything.”
The officers exchanged a look.
“Since you didn’t know any better,” the younger one said finally, “and since no one was hurt, we’re going to let you off with a warning. But you better get this slide taken down. And don’t try anything like this again. Ever.”
“Oh, they won’t,” Jaden’s mom said, shooting a look sharp enough to cut through plastic. “I’ll make sure of it.”
As the officers left, she turned to Jay.
“I hope you’re satisfied,” she said. “Your little stunt nearly got you in serious trouble. Again. Now you’re going to help Jaden take everything down. And you’re going to do it safely.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, shoulders slumping.
He turned to find Gretchen among the dispersing crowd. She stood by the fence, dripping, hair plastered to her cheeks like a mermaid caught in a storm.
“Hey, Gretchen,” he said quietly. “I’m… sorry about everything. I just wanted to make things right for your birthday and I didn’t think about the legal consequences and—”
“Jay,” she said.
He shut up.
“You don’t have to apologize,” she said. “I loved what you did.”
“What?” he said. “But the cops came. The party got shut down. The whole thing was a disaster.”
“That’s not what matters,” she said. “What matters is how much thought you put into it. You listened to me. You knew I loved water parks, and when that didn’t work out, you built one from scratch. You went through all this trouble for me.”
“Well, not so much thought on the permits,” he admitted.
“Yeah, we’ll work on that,” she said, smiling. “But now that I know you really care about me… I wanted to tell you something.”
His heart stopped. “What?”
“I really care about you too,” she said.
He forgot how to breathe for a second.
“Do you want to be my boyfriend?” she asked, like she was asking if he wanted a slice of pizza in the cafeteria.
“Really?” he blurted.
“Really,” she said.
“Yes,” he said. “Yes. I—yeah.”
“Good,” she said. “I know you’ve got a lot of work to do taking this down, and I should go home before my mom starts sending an Amber Alert, but… I’ll see you soon, okay?”
“See you soon,” he echoed.
She walked away, looking back once over her shoulder.
Jay watched her go, soaked, exhausted, half-grounded—and happier than he’d been in his entire life.
Two days later, the slide was still in the yard.
“I said take it down soon,” Jaden’s mom reminded them, lounging in a deck chair with sunglasses on. “I didn’t say immediately.”
Jay squinted, holding a tray of tiny sandwiches he’d been ordered to replenish. “You know I could really use some help over here,” he muttered to Jaden.
“Oh, our pool boy can handle that,” Jaden’s mom said, sipping lemonade. She winked at her friend, who had joined her for the afternoon. “Pool boy! We need more finger sandwiches.”
Jaden lay on a second chair, face turned up to the sun, streaks of sunscreen on his nose. “I got my hands full,” he said. “Literally. I’m working on my tan. Very important work.”
“Jaden,” Jay hissed. “Please.”
“And when you bring the sunscreen back,” Jaden’s mom added, “make sure you give me an even coat. No streaks.”
Jay stared at the bottle in his hand. “What did we do to deserve this?” he asked.
“You built a water park without a permit,” Jaden said philosophically.
Jay sighed, then grinned despite himself.
He set the sandwiches down, picked up the foam water blaster they’d rescued from the party, and cocked it.
“Say hello to my little friend,” he said.
The shriek that followed echoed all the way down their American street, past the neat lawns and U.S. flags on front porches, past the neighbors who shook their heads at “kids these days” and past the ones who smiled secretly, remembering what it felt like to be fourteen and stupid and unstoppable for one perfect afternoon by the pool.
