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like I was an idiot. “Um, hello, the tan?” She had moved out to Vegas last fall—visions of showgirl fame dancing in her head—but I guess that hadn’t panned out like she had hoped.
    As if on cue, she entered in a sea of perfume. “Hey, girl!” She hugged me. “You look good, Ruthie! Like a model!”
    Kevin shuffled in behind her, offering Jason a complicated bro-handshake that involved a forearm bump and a hand clasp.
    â€œSo, losers, welcome back,” said Jason. “A summer of bratty kids, poops in the pool, and absent parents awaits you. The good news is, we’re all getting a twenty-five-cent raise on the hour. The bad news is . . . well, look around you. That’s the bad news.”
    It was sort of a sad little spot, as far as neighborhood pools went. Weeds poked their heads through the cracks in the concrete deck, and half of the picnic tables in the snack bar area wobbled precariously. The blue carpeting on the starting blocks was worn thin, the white plastic deck chairs were all in various stages of disrepair, and the lifeguard stand’s coat of electric blue paint was peeling off in ribbons. There was a basketball court behind the pool, but the blacktop was more like a graytop, and the hoops had no nets.
    The pool wasn’t completely devoid of charm, though. The surrounding yard was lush and green, and noble oak trees lined the fence. It was a very basic place, but it really belonged to its members in a sweet, kind of old-fashioned way. The no-frills element gave it character that a lot of the flashier pool clubs lacked. At least that’s what I thought.
    â€œC’mon, Jay, you love this place,” I said.
    â€œYeah, yeah.” He pulled some papers out of his backpack. “Okay, here’s the schedule. I think I’ve worked it out pretty fairly.” I quickly scanned the page. I wasn’t working with David at all. Not a single shift. I wondered if he had asked Jason to draft it that way.
    â€œAll right?” We all nodded. “Tomorrow we open this puppy. I’ve loaded up the concession stand, and the price list is in the back. No fireballs this year.”
    â€œGood,” said Dana. A kid had almost choked on one the summer before.
    â€œAll right, see y’all,” said Jason. I looked over at David, wondering if he would head out with me or stay behind. He made no moves to get up.
    Dana and I walked out together. “You want a ride, babe?” she asked.
    I pointed to my bike.
    â€œYou’re still ridin’ that thing? When are you gonna get a car?”
    â€œDana, I live down the street.”
    â€œFine, fine. See ya later, hippie.”
    I wheeled it up the hill. The five o’clock summer twilight felt like honey on my shoulders. I hopped on and took off.

5
    â€œH ey, Mom.”
    She was lying on the hammock in the backyard, a book splayed open across her chest. She was wearing her favorite paint-splattered gray T-shirt and a pair of purple sweatpants that had been cut off into shorts.
    â€œIt’s too hot to read, Ruthie,” she whimpered.
    â€œScoot over.”
    She opened her eyes in surprise. “Okay.”
    She clutched the rope tightly and attempted to swing her ample bottom to the left. Although her body made no progress, the hammock flailed like a hooked fish. She began to laugh hysterically.
    â€œRuth!” she wailed. “This is not happening. You’re going to have to ease on in.”
    I eyed her warily. “Never mind.”
    â€œOh no, you’re not backing out now! We’re getting in this hammock together come hell or high water, missy. Let’s go!”
    I sighed deeply. “Fine.” Sliding over the edge, I felt my mother roll toward me—her warm, soft stomach pressing against my back. She began to laugh again.
    â€œMom!” Her laughter was contagious, despite my best efforts to be too cool for the absurdity of our predicament,