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us.
    “Well, it depends,” he says, amused. “What sort of thing are you in the mood for? Creamy and sweet? Maybe something tart, like strawberry?”
    Cassie glances at me. We both smile. “I think I’ve had enough strawberry today.”
    “How about a Blue Lagoon, then?” he says, making Cassie blush for some reason. “It’s blue raspberry, coconut milk, and pineapple—very refreshing.”
    “That sounds perfect,” she says.
    We watch the pool while we wait for our drinks. It looks like Cassie and I are maybe the youngest people here, though I see a group of teenage boys pushing each other around in the deep end.
    “They are soooo cute,” Cassie says.
    I look again. They seem more like horsey goofballs to me, but if Cassie thinks they’re cute, then they must be, since she knows so much more about that kind of stuff than I do.
    “Let’s go closer when our drinks are ready and see if they talk to us,” she says.
    The Annoying Question comes out of my mouth before I can stop it: “But what about your boyfriend?”
    She blushes again, this time not as prettily as she didwhen she ordered her drink. “It’d just be talking. Don’t you think it’d be fun?”
    Mostly I want us to be together with no one else around, but it doesn’t seem Cassie’s so into that, and if she won’t let me ask her questions, I’m not sure how much talking can get done, anyway.
    So as the waiter delivers our drinks—Cassie’s is as blue as a Smurf and mine has a huge skewer of bananas and pineapple poking out the top, plus the tropical umbrellas as Grandpa Howe promised—I mask my disappointment and say, “Sure.” She positions us across from the boys, and we sit on the edge with our legs in the water.
    Cassie leans back on one hand and takes a sip from her drink. “So, who do you like back home?”
    I think of Tamika, and Grandpa Howe and Grandma Tess, of course, plus the grown-up friends I have because of Mom and Dad, but that isn’t what Cassie means.
    “Well, I have this friend Henry,” I try.
    Cassie’s eyes get curious for the first time on this trip. “What’s he like?”
    “Um, he’s got brown hair, and brown eyes. He likes mountain biking a lot. . . .”
    Suddenly she’s the one with Annoying Questions: “How do you know him? Do you see each other a lot? Is he cute?”
    I try to remember how Henry and I started being friends. “We have art class together. And sometimes we ride bikes on the weekend, around the park near where we live.” I avoid the cute question altogether.
    “So, like, a date?”
    I think about this. Henry lives on the other side of the park from me. Usually we meet in the middle and ride around whatever trails we feel like until we’re ready to go home. Sometimes we talk, but mostly to point out birds or people or interesting growths on trees. I like being with Henry because he’s someone my age but isn’t as busy and loud as Tamika and her brothers can be. There are never parents around when we go on our rides, but I don’t think anyone would consider them dates. With Cassie looking at me like that, though, I wonder if that’s what Henry thinks they are. I’m not sure I’d like it as much if he did.
    “No, they’re not dates,” I finally say.
    “Well, do you like him, though?”
    I picture Henry in my mind: his puzzled concentration when we stumble on a plant he hasn’t seen before. The way he can spot birds high up in trees that no one would ever notice. The navy-striped Keds he wears, and how good he is with watercolors. Probably somebody likes Henry in a crushing way, but it’s not me.
    “He’s my friend. It’s hard to see him in, you know, thatway.” I gesture faintly to the high school boys, then stop myself, remembering the No Pointing rule. They’ve gotten out of the water and are digging into a big plate of nachos their mom ordered, so they probably wouldn’t notice, but Cassie would.
    “Well, I bet he likes you, if he’s constantly asking you out for bike