Cassey lets me in her house and I hand her a big square of brownies.

“What time should we go?” She asks

I shrug, “It's still too hot.”

We stay on their porch, lounging on two emerald sofa chairs. I asked about her school applications, she asked about mine. It’s a timely topic, senior high school is scary and exciting. Summer seemed to be shorter when we talked about what’s next. We’ll start the next school year separately. Newness is new to us.

I whisk off the puddle water from my sandals. The rain seemed to calm down, sunshine broke through some dark cloud masses. There is a festival in the heavens.

“No one's going to steal our bikes,” I say matter of factly, and the wind chimes notified the store owners of our entry.