Sugar Summer by Hannah Moskowitz

Author:Hannah Moskowitz [Moskowitz, Hannah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-04-11T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Mara drives us back to Sideling while I do all sorts of contortionist tricks in the backseat to get out of my suit and back into my sundress. We're playing music too loudly to have a real conversation but it's not stopping us from trying. We both keep just laughing.

“I can't believe we're going to get away with this,” she says.

“You really think we did okay?”

“They had no idea. It went great. God, this stupid fucking plan and it worked!”

“What if someone complains to the manager that I didn't do the lift?”

“Then we tell them I had a sprained ankle and couldn't do the lift and they need to find a real problem in their life. You good back there?”

“Uh huh.”

“I can't wait to tell Tris how well it went,” she says.

“Is he gonna be back by now?”

“Yeah, he should have gotten home about half an hour after we left.”

“Can I come with you to tell him?”

“Yeah, sure,” she says, like it's obvious. I feel vibrate-y. She shakes her head and laughs. “I can't believe it,” she says. “Who would have fucking thought, me and you. Biggest pair of misfits I've ever seen.”

“Okay, I can't do this,” I say. “Forget it. It'll be dark in the parking lot, I'll just change there.”

“Fine by me.”

I squish myself over the front seat and back down next to her. She looks at me and gives me this small smile.

“There you are,” she says.

I nod a little.

She hands me a tissue. “Here, get your beard off.”

“Ha, right.” I fold down the mirror and get to work scrubbing.

“You did good tonight, kid,” she says. “You were real good.”

“Do you think I have a future as a dancer?”

“Ha, maybe not.”

“I could throw out this whole playwriting thing,” I say. “Be a salsa dancer.”

“Playwriting, huh?”

“No, I'm going to be a lawyer. That's just the minor. 'Cause see I'm not like a regular lawyer. I'm a creative lawyer.”

“Y'know where I come from, creative is code for something.”

“I know,” I say.

We pull into Sideling Springs and towards the parking lot. It's past midnight now and the resort looks dark and quiet. Mara squints as we swing around the corner. “Why's someone just standing in the parking lot?” she says.

“I haven't changed my clothes yet...”

The figure waves his arms up and down like it's trying to land a plane.

“Oh hey, it's Oscar,” Mara says. She parks.

“What's his deal?”

“Hell if I know.” By the time she has the car door open he's right there. “What's wrong?”

“Tristan, come on.”

We run after him up the hill and the next hill and the next hill. “What happened?” Mara says.

“I don't know, everything was fine when he got back and now he's throwing up and he's really pale...”

We follow him to Tristan's room at the end of one of the staff cabins. It doesn't look anything like our room from the inside---it's all personalized, posters and rugs and plants everywhere, and right now a shit ton of the entertainment staff crowded around.

Tristan is in pajamas, curled up on himself on the bed.

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