JULY 1998

Today is perfect. A clear blue sky extends to every horizon without a single cloud in sight. The late morning breeze is hotter than it's been in days. I kneel in the garden with my third basket, ready to fill it with strawberries, but a ripe one squishes under my knee, soaking into the knee of my overalls.

Old Aunt Marie's over-the-top, super-fake cough catches my attention. I look up at the old homestead's back deck, where Mom paces with a smile, cordless phone pressed to her ear. I tug my hat brim lower to block the sun. Aunt Marie sits in her lawn chair, lemonade in hand, her eyes meeting mine with a smile. She only does that when she's got something brewing.

I look back down and continue picking, filling little boxes for the berry stand for the next hour and a half or so, forgetting about her suspicious-looking smiles.

Lost in thought, I barely notice the shadow that settles beside me. "Hey, cuz," I say, not bothering to look over.

When I finally turn my head, I do a double take. It's not my cousin at all! It's her. She's smiling, those big green eyes staring directly into mine, her front teeth just starting to come in. I freeze. Butterflies hit me all at once. She looks beautiful in her red and white plaid gingham dress. How the heck didn't I see her sneaking up on me?

"Kayla Jay!" I practically scream.

I throw my arms around her so hard I knock her straight into the row of strawberries, smashing a bunch into her new outfit. Our laughter ripples all the way across the yard, which spans almost half an acre. Now I know why Aunt Marie coughed like that, and why Mom was smiling on the phone. She was talking to Kayla's mom!

I've known the game slapsies since kindergarten. My mom used to play it with me and laugh every time I flinched. But it's Kayla Jay's favorite now. I've never seen her play it with anyone else but me.

We put our hands out, palms down, with mine hovering just above hers. Then, in a flash, she flips her hands over and tries to slap mine. I have to be super fast to pull my hands away before she gets me. It's a challenge, and I'm ready for it.

I grit my teeth, focus, and... WHOOSH! Kayla's hands fly up, but I jerk mine back just in time. Yes! I avoid the slaps. Once again.

The best part of the game? Her expression. So intense. She stares at me, teeth clenched, nose wrinkled into that weird smile she always makes. There's a sparkle in her eyes, a kind of excitement that lights her up. Every time we play, it feels like I leave my body and go straight to heaven. When we're together, nothing, and no one else enters my mind. She's my sole focus.

After a few good minutes of laughing, playing, and getting reacquainted, Mom comes over with a great idea to outfit us with some old straw hats for one of those cutesy kids-in-a-berry-patch photo things. After adjusting our hats for a few seconds, Kayla sneaks another berry into her mouth, unaware that Mom is aiming the camera more at her than at me.

Click.

She gets the picture.

Kayla looks at me with her red-stained lips and belts out the loudest giggle, knowing she was caught.

🍓 🍓 🍓

We sit down on the old log along the edge of the bank, pick up my old stick, my makeshift fishing rod with a fake worm attached, and throw my line in.

"Great fishing pole," she says with a chuckle.

"Dad's getting me a real rod for my birthday. I can ask him to get you one too, if you want."

With looks over at me that infectious smile. "Sure. Can I try?"

I hand over the stick. She moves it in a jigging motion.

I chuckle at her technique.

She glances at me, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Sometimes it works because the fish think the worm is wiggling around and they want to chase it."

I wait for Kayla's theory to prove true as she continues lifting the stick up and down. Several moments pass.

She casts a glance in my direction. "Maybe they're not hungry?"

"My dad told me to leave the bait in one place and let the fish find it."

With a flick of her wrist, she pulls the line out and tosses it aside. Rising, she steps onto the first large stone protruding from the stream, then to the second, lifting her foot and balancing on the other.

"Whatcha doing?"

"Can you do this?" she asks as she starts to teeter a bit.

I jump up to join her on the first stone. "Hey, that's nothing," I say, lifting my foot.

I start to sway backward a little but regain my balance before she notices.

"See, no problem." I look over, smiling, and try my other foot, but just then I realize my balance is worse than I thought.

She reaches over and grabs my shirt, trying to steady me, but I tumble toward her.

"Aaaaaagh!" she screams as we both tumble into the water with a huge splash.

Her wet hair clings to her head, but her smile and twinkling eyes dare me to splash her again. I take the challenge, and we erupt into a fit of giggles and splashing.

"This is your fault!" she shouts, but I can't stop laughing.

As we walk up through the berry field, our shoes squish with each step. Kayla does a one-two-three stomp-stomp-stomp, making even louder squishing noises.

"Think your mom will be mad?" she asks.

"No. She never gets mad," I say, shrugging.

"We walk up onto the deck, dripping everywhere. Mom opens the sliding door, eyes wide with a partial smirk."

"Jake, you're going to get the poor girl in trouble one of these days. Come on, you two. Let's get you dried off."

Mom lends Kayla some of my clothes: a faded Ninja Turtles long-sleeved shirt, gray gym pants, and mismatched socks. I erupt in laughter the moment Kayla enters the living room. Her contagious smile and confident pose, leaning on one hip with her hand resting on the other, turn the oversized outfit into a fashion statement.

"It kinda fits," she says, raising her brows with a smirk.