Scene 1: The First Floor

It had taken remarkably little effort on Tom's part to gather the five people he considered friends at Heller for one last shindig to make up for all the hard feelings they'd ever had before. The long drive to Lake Tahoe, taken this time without Mr. Langley, was full of conversations about happy feelings and marveling that Frank was showing some sort of warmth toward Juliet (still, far less than she showed him, but it was progress). There was some talk of the club, of course, as no old habit could truly die, and Frank promised everyone that while they were partying it up, the other club graduates were preparing for war. But that was another time in another place, and so they continued over the river and through the woods to their little slice of Utopia.

"Home sweet home!" Tom dramatically announced as he opened the front door. Already on the table were bags of groceries; the Monroes had been given a spare key by Mr. Langley solely to enable a moment of charity and remind the kids that they weren't truly off the leash.

"Someday we ought to redecorate this place. Maybe a portrait of me," Frank joked.

"And of me!" Juliet offered more sincerely, ignoring the others' glances.

"But anyway, what should we do now? Scrabble? TV? With this weather, I'd rather jump in an ice bath, but as the host I'll be gracious enough to bequeath the privilege to all of you."

"What a marvel of science that a place with snow in the winter could have such an awful heat wave," Frank continued. "We'd best get this ice cream in the fridge before it turns into milk soup."

"There's also a massive lake out past the backyard. You know, the one we came here to see. If you're inclined to break another tradition, you might actually go for a swim."

"What traditions have I broken? They exist for a reason: to provide order in an unstable society."

"You're holding Juliet's hand right now."

"Rules are meant to be broken."

Tradition dictated that everyone kept the same bedrooms as last year: Tom took his childhood room to squeeze his broad figure into a bed meant for a toddler, Regina took the room opposite his, and Frank kept rights to the master bedroom and his own private bathroom; the flipside of this was that these rooms trapped the most heat, and gusts of warm air greeted them all as they opened their doors. Juliet was still consigned to the living room, but this time had chosen to bring blankets instead of a sleeping bag, having not predicted the heat wave and also hoping she wouldn't accidentally roll into the coffee table again. Beth remained in control of the study, which was the coolest room in the house, and John had the dubious honor of being in the smallest, the computer room; at the very least, he had his old friend the raven for company.

Everyone but Frank and John left to go change for the lake, Juliet almost starting to undress in the living room before she realized two very confused boys were watching her with disappointed looks, leaving the two of them to stare at each other from a safe distance.

"How's Beth doing?" Frank began.

"I'm not sure. Why not ask her?"

"You know what I mean—OK, maybe you don't. You two are a couple, it's your obligation to have answers to these sorts of questions."

"I'm not sure, well, I don't know. She's typically the one who asks me how I'm doing. Always saying things like 'Hang in there' or, you know, other supportive things. It's like she's worried about me or something, but I don't get it. How's Juliet doing?"

"I'm not quite sure either, and I think I could go for a glass of ice water right about now."

"Do you think Beth and I should break up? We've graduated, maybe it's time for a change." Frank went to get two glasses of ice water and came back quickly, betraying no sign of concern.

"Of course not. What's the point? She likes you, you like her, is that not enough?"

"She's going to NYU, I'm going to Bowdoin. You can't get any schools more different than that. It's about the symbolism of it all: she wants a big city to lose herself and get away from everything, and I want to look at falling leaves and write poetry. Solitude is the ultimate goal of life, Frank: to be able to live a life well-examined not dependent on anyone else. You told me something like that, once, and now here I see you exchanging flirty glances with Juliet. Maybe you're right. I need to go out with a bang. One last rush of pleasure to rule them all, and then I can abandon it all for the monastic life and lobster bakes."

"Never change, John, never change."

Before John was able to launch into another tirade, Beth came upstairs to see what all the fuss was about, and Frank left hurriedly, leaving his glass a quarter-full.

"What were you two talking about? Something philosophical?"

"You only live once, and I'm wasting my one shot at it."

"I'll take that as a yes."

"We should probably go down to the lake where the others are. This day doesn't deserve to be wasted."

"You already changed?"

"Yes, I'm a new man now."

"I'm talking about your swimsuit."

"Oh, that. Maybe I should try skinny-dipping."

"Next year, John."

Frank had gone upstairs to avoid any controversy and instead had run into Regina, who gestured brusquely and asked to talk, and instead of waiting for Frank's response had followed him into his bedroom. She sat down in the armchair (he was inclined to think of it as his armchair, actually, and not something any guest could just declare as their own without his permission) and after marveling at the size of the room and what she was missing out on, addressed him assertively:

"Tom's a terrible person, isn't he? All of last year, while we were in our Epsilon phase, he would message me every night and just tell me what the other Epsilons were doing and how stupid they were. Every time he'd laugh like I was in on the joke, and I laughed too because I didn't know any better—I was an Epsilon too—and with that distance I could tell myself we were above it all. But now that I'm not defined by my student ID number, I have an opportunity for self-reflection, and I can see that Tom's still stuck in that rut. He's going to be one of those people who brings his kids, I certainly hope not my kids, to Heller and boasts how he went there and was the all-star of the lacrosse team."

"I think that's what we call a leading question," Frank responded, and Regina gave Frank a cutting look.

"Ever since you two made up, you've been pretending that you two have always been the best of buddies and there's never been anything wrong. Tom's been nice to you all this time out of fear: he knows, deep in his heart, that you're smarter than him, stronger, more cunning, and has convinced himself that he's acting out of charity and not self-preservation. He's such an ape. He even looks kind of like a Neanderthal. Thinks like one too."

"There's nothing forcing you to stay with him, especially now, beyond that he's the only one with car keys to get out of here. You might have needed him in high school as a trophy or status symbol, but now you have nothing to prove. If you don't break up with him by the end of the summer, have an affair with someone up in Seattle; he won't find out."

"You're wild, Frank, when you aren't acting as Big Brother. I'm going to head down now, but any time I need advice, I hope this armchair is always open." Regina waved coyly and left, giving Frank a wink. Frank had no intent on going swimming, despite the heat, and instead went back downstairs to the kitchen to figure out what they were having for dinner.

Inside one of the bags that nobody else had unpacked yet was a few bottles of Champagne, tied with a bow on top and a note from the Monroes congratulating them on graduation. Everyone else at the lake may have been intent on that sort of party, but Frank definitely wasn't, and when he heard the screen door downstairs close for the last time, he put on his shoes and went out to Whole Foods, coming back with a few missing ingredients and a few bottles of sparkling apple cider that looked the same color as the Champagne.

"I am that merry wanderer of the night..." Frank said to himself while pouring glasses of Champagne and stocking the table, putting cider in a slightly differently shaped glass just for himself and Juliet, and stowing the bottle in a cabinet to not be caught. Just as Frank prepared everything and moved to the couch to feign innocence, Tom and Juliet came up from downstairs, still wet and giggly.

"You never told me, Frank, that Juliet could tell such dirty jokes!" Tom roared.

"She can? Try me, Juliet. What's the best you can do?"

"I don't think I can repeat anything in polite company. What's up with the Champagne? You know we're under-age."

"Only purchasing alcohol is illegal, not consumption, and the Monroes gave us a graduation present. You know, like how all responsible adults give kids Dom Perignon. Let's wait for everyone to get back up and we can have a toast."

"Is this the legendary Franklin Barnes serving children alcohol?" Tom said mirthfully, before trying to reach past Frank to grab a glass; Frank reached out his arm and blocked him.

"Not yet, you drunkard!" Juliet interjected.

"I'm not a drunkard!"

"You sound like one!"

"Well," Tom said with the appearance of great thought, "you smell like one!"

"Be careful with your insults, Tom; the tartness of your face is going to sour our Champagne," Frank shot back. "The Comedy of Errors. Great play."

"Well, you're a comedy of errors!"

"Nice one, Tom!"

"You two need to get a room," Frank grumbled. Before Juliet could stick her tongue out or blow a raspberry or do something similarly juvenile (and before Tom could goad her into doing any of those things), the others came up and saw the display on hand.

"This is one of your best ideas, Frank. I love drinking Champagne in my swimsuit," Beth said dryly. "Well, what are we waiting for? Who wants to toast first?" John raised his hand.

"There's a certain passage from As You Like It that comes to mind, about the world being a stage. And that's really what life is. Eventually, we'll take our last exit, and then, you know, that means we die."

"Great toast, John. Any other takers?"

"Can we just drink the Champagne, Frank?"

"Sounds like a plan. To death!"

"To death!"

"Hey, Frank, is Champagne supposed to taste like apples?" Juliet asked after taking a long sip. Frank took her glass and a sip.

"Tastes fine to me. Here, let me get you a refill," Frank said, and he took their glasses into the kitchen and came back with the appropriate elixirs. They went on for a bit, everyone trying to outdo each other with increasingly elaborate toasts to love, vitality, good fortune, the laughter crescendoing as Frank kept everyone's glasses topped up. Nobody could tell if their faces were flushed due to the alcohol or the heat, but they didn't care; they snacked, bickered, competed to balance on one foot and almost went crashing into the fireplace, played Scrabble against Frank (nobody could find "joxquiz" in the dictionary, but Frank insisted it was a word, and accused their drunkenness of working against them), and ended up in a quivering pile on the couch.

"Being drunk is fun!" Juliet gaily announced. "I should do this more often. I look so indecent sitting around here in a swimsuit though. I should go change."

"Need help taking that off?" Tom asked with a wink.

"Tom!" Regina and Beth shouted in unison.

"What's the matter? He's just being a gentleman," Juliet said. "Is there something you want to say, Regina? That's such a fun name to say, you know. Regina, Regina, Regina, Regina—"

Tom pinched Juliet lightly on the side, and she cried out in feigned pain. "You gave me an ouchie, you brute, you ape!"

"Hey, only I get to call him an ape!" Regina shouted.

"You call me an ape?"

"As a mark of affection, Thomas-dear. It's a pet name."

"Do you go around telling everyone that I'm awful, how you're envious of everyone else, how you go around being catty and saying you're only after me because of my money? You would be sleeping outside if I didn't love you, my precious."

"My precious? You aren't Gollum. Am I a ring you can slip on your finger or stick in a glass case somewhere? I hope you never give me a ring that I have to wear and think of you every time I see it!" Regina stormed upstairs, and Tom ran after her, calling out "My precious!" a few more times until he realized that it didn't quite have the effect he was going for.

"Nobody wants to help me with my swimsuit," Juliet pouted.

"If you can get into UCLA, you can figure out how to do something you've done hundreds of times before," Frank admonished her. "Come back soon. Drink some water—I think the alcohol's getting to you."

"Are you sure you don't want to help me, Frank?"

"I believe in you."

"I can help you, Juliet," John offered.

"John!" Frank and Beth shouted in unison.

"What? I'm a gentleman, she's a gentlewoman, she needs a favor, I can help, and what else are my fingers good for?"

"Don't make an ass of yourself," Beth warned.

"Or you're going to wake up with an asses' head!" Frank shouted.

"If I'm Bottom, who's on top?"

"My name does mean 'queen' after all, and I played the Sugarplum Fairy once," Regina shouted as she came down the steps. "We should all sleep in the woods tonight to make this more authentic."

"Next year, Regina," John said. "But we shouldn't do it without some practice first. We can go out tonight to scout it out, just the two of us, look at the stars, you know..."

"I should go back upstairs." Regina turned around and did as she promised, and John went to follow, shouting something about pine needles and the forest air. Juliet took the hint and realized nobody was going to help her with her swimsuit, so she went downstairs, and Beth looked at Frank, shrugged, and went off as well. If Frank were thinking rationally, he might have wondered if four irate and drunk kids plus one not drunk, but unusually uninhibited, Juliet were bound to cause any more problems unsupervised, or if enabling all this was really the best way to start their vacation on the right foot, but instead he chose to pick a new goal: dinner.

"Is salmon fine with everyone?" Frank shouted upstairs and downstairs, and when he received no response, he shrugged and decided to take it as a yes.

Scene 2: The Master Bedroom

Only one filet of salmon had been thrown at another during dinner, which was fewer than expected, and everyone collectively decided an early bedtime was their punishment for their debauchery. And so they went off to their rooms, alcohol and hormones coursing through their veins, ready to act on wild whims and suppressed desires and faulty moral compasses.

Frank woke up sometime dark not wanting to check his watch to a few faint knocks, a door opening, and someone sitting down in the armchair.

"Are you awake, Frank? It's me, Regina."

"I'm awake now. What the heavens is going on at this hour?"

"Tom's snoring and I can hear it from my room. Can you make him stop?"

"He's asleep, how can I make him stop snoring?"

"You can get a pillow or a blanket and hold it over his mouth. Then he stops snoring."

"That's called murder and isn't something we can treat lightly. Imagine how disappointed Mr. Langley would be."

"Well when I say I can hear him snoring from my room, it's also because he's in my room. He couldn't sleep in his bed because it was too small and he was snoring too much, so then he came to my room, where now he's snoring and now I can't fit in my own bed."

"So do you have anything I can help you with besides murder?"

"I could sleep in your bed."

"With me in it?"

"Depends."

"How about you go sleep in Tom's bedroom? You're smaller than he is. That way we can all get a good night's sleep."

"That's a great idea, Frank. Thanks. Have a good night."

"You too. Don't forget, murder is bad."

Frank woke up a short bit later to another set of knocks, his door opening, and someone sitting down in his armchair (it really was his, and this violation of personal property was bothering him).

"Frank, it's Beth. John just went outside carrying a speaker and the ladder from the garage. I'm not sure why I'm telling you this, but it seemed important."

"You're having problems sleeping too? Regina came in here just a bit ago."

"I don't think the Champagne helped. Are you having trouble sleeping too?"

"Yeah, I am. People keep knocking on my door and coming into my room."

"I understand. That must be so annoying."

"Well, I'm not going to go outside to find him, but how about you wait in here while I go downstairs to look. Make yourself at home."

Frank tiptoed downstairs more gingerly than usual, not wishing to wake Juliet, and went to John's room which was indeed empty and dark except for the PC's screen and its reflection in Edgar's eyes. John had opened what seemed like twenty or thirty tabs with such evocative titles as "how to serenade someone" and "how to be romantic". While he scrolled through, trying to procrastinate actually searching for John, Juliet came in to see him browsing those same evocative titles.

"You don't need the help, Frank. Tom might though; his jokes weren't nearly as funny as he thought they were. What are you doing in here?"

"Beth told me John went somewhere, so I came down here, and this is what he's been looking at."

"Oh, I know where John is. He's on the roof. Outside Regina's window. I was just out there wondering what he was doing outside with a ladder."

"That simpleton's going to slip and fall. I'll go get him."

"What's the rush? Worst thing that happens is he breaks his back. This room is so small. Let's go to your bedroom. I can barely sleep on that couch."

"Whatever gets me to bed quicker."

"And me."

"Juliet!"

Tom was having enough problems sleeping as is, and that rapping on the window and someone whispering "Regina, open up" wasn't helping. Now that Tom thought about it, he'd never been on the roof before. The window was big enough for him to fit through, and now seemed like as good of a time as any. The violin music was also new, but Tom figured he'd never been awake at the right time to hear it before. And so Tom crawled out of the window and moved around the corner, out of sight, to watch the moon and enjoy the entertainment.

John turned around to see the window open—it was a sign! He crawled inside and closed the window, not seeing Regina, but that was no issue—she was getting a surprise for him! He wasn't sure where to hide to best surprise her: under the covers seemed too cliché, so maybe behind the door? Or on the opposite side of the bed, blocked from view so he could jump out and ambush her?

Regina, having heard the violin music outside and windows open and close too much for her liking, assumed there was a problem that Frank would be able to fix. A few knocks later, she let herself in again, and said Frank's name a few times. She got no response, but saw that someone was lying on top of his covers, which made sense: he had obviously changed into a nightgown and chosen to sleep on top of the covers to escape the heat. She shook the figure a few times.

"Sorry, Frank, I was tired. Did you find John? I heard violin music outside Regina's window, so he's probably trying to get with her. And that tramp's going to fall for it," Beth mumbled with her eyes closed. Regina slapped Beth's face, and Beth opened her eyes and realized that something was very wrong.

"What the Bosnia-Herzegovina, Beth! This is ridiculous. Why are you in Frank's bed, and where did he go? I bet he's in the bathroom," Regina said quietly but angrily, and went in the bathroom and slammed the door. A few seconds later, Beth heard Regina shout "Why is Tom on the roof?," so she went in the bathroom too; if Regina couldn't tell her and Frank apart, it made sense she thought it was Tom out there and not John.

In the span of time Frank had spent convincing Juliet to go back to the couch and not follow him upstairs, he had heard far too much violin music and door-slamming (maybe a window in there too?) to not be concerned. But there was a more important priority, namely the girl tugging on his arm and whispering nonsensical pleas.

"Wait here a moment, Juliet. I promise I'll be back," Frank said with no intents of keeping his promise, and snuck back into his room. The thought suddenly occurred to him that the light in the master bathroom was on, and that it was most certainly off before, and he went inside to see Beth and Regina standing in the bathtub staring out the window.

"Was there a party I wasn't invited to? Is there a reason why everyone wants to go in my room, in my bathroom, sit in my armchair, look through my belongings, and all at this ungodly hour?"

"Well, Tom's sitting outside staring at the moon," Beth explained.

"OK, he's a werewolf. Good to know. Now that we've all established this fact, could all of you leave and let me get some rest?"

"Fine. We're going to have some ice cream downstairs if you want to join us, or you can just sleep like a boring guy."

"I'm boring. Thanks for pointing it out. Bye!"

Frank woke up a bit later to a few more knocks and someone sitting on his bed.

"Who is it now?"

"It's me, Juliet. Have a lot of people been waking you up?"

"For crying out loud. What is it now?"

"The couch is really uncomfortable. Can I sleep in here? Beth and Regina also wanted me to ask you if you wanted ice cream again. They know you said no, but they thought that you were only saying no because you were annoyed that they were standing in your bathtub."

"Fine, let's go get ice cream. It's your lucky day. Or night."

"Yay!"

Beth and Regina had already prepared ice cream sundaes for the two of them, and they sat around the kitchen table trying their hardest to be quiet, which took the form of complete silence in conversation punctuated by making silly faces at each other and a lot of giggles. After a few minutes, Regina thought to speak:

"You know, I've been hearing a bunch of noises coming from my room, and I thought earlier I saw someone out in the front yard. There might be a burglar."

"It's not going to be a burglar. It's probably John making noises outside," Beth explained.

"So John's been trying to serenade me? That's cute, I think."

"He tried serenading me the same way a few months ago. It's unoriginal."

"When Frank serenaded me, he had Alan actually play the violin. He brought me flowers too, like the vase here. Was this here before?"

"Tom never did anything like that. The serenading or the flowers. Let's go upstairs and get to the bottom of this mess."

John had been posing shirtless with a trimmed rose in his mouth for the last few minutes and was starting to grow impatient, but the footsteps coming closer made his heart flutter and his mind tell himself that this was all worth it. She'd open the door, smile, and leap onto the bed without any hesitation, apologizing for having made him wait so long since freshman year and for wasting time with that ugly hunk of a boyfriend all those years. And more importantly, she'd thank him for the vase of roses he had put out in the kitchen earlier and the carpet of petals on the bed. He was not expecting the lights to be turned on suddenly with four people standing in the doorway. Before anyone could say anything, they heard a banging on the window and Tom shout "Regina, you asshole! You locked me out!"

"Well, since clearly everyone's here, John, care to explain what's going on here?" Frank began, too tired to sound annoyed.

"Love looks not with the eyes, but the mind."

"Wrong play, John."

"Could someone let me in!" Tom shouted again, banging loudly on the window. Frank reached over to open it, and Tom tumbled inside onto the bed of roses to see John, that usurper, on his girl's bed with roses and all the romantic things he'd never done for her. Tom grabbed a pillow and swung it at John, but not before John could block with one of his own.

"I'm sorry to raise my voice, and I did not think I'd ever have to say this, but could you two please stop your pillow fight!" Frank yelled. "Ahem. I'm not going to go into a long speech or anything, but clearly this Champagne was a big mistake. We're all going at each other over, what, a drunken love feud? We've been able to come here for years now without any issues. We still scheduled a week of vacation—how are we going to make it through the rest of this, sober and hungover, if we hate each other? Let's chalk this up to a dream gone awry, some classic misplaced teen judgment. In wine there is truth, and perhaps that truth is how we secretly hate each other, but there's no time to unpack that now. Everyone, back to their rooms."

Frank woke up at his usual time with nobody else in the room and the first rays of dawn streaking through his closed window. He did not typically have to think of those things, but the previous night had made him count his blessings and appreciate what a privilege it was to have nobody else in his armchair. He even checked his bathroom, and nobody was there—what a miracle!

He went downstairs to get himself breakfast, and it seemed Juliet had had the same idea, and so they sat together at the table that still had ice cream drippings on it trying to recollect all that happened the previous night.

"You know, Frank, I thought I would have a hangover right now, but besides being a bit tired, I feel completely fine. Maybe alcohol isn't that bad after all. That Champagne tastes exactly like that apple cider we always bought at Heller. Can we try tequila next?" Juliet asked sweetly.

"I'm sorry to admit this, but that was apple cider. That's all we had yesterday. Everything, the way we acted, the way we talked, was just us. It's funny thinking about how different people can be when they're truly free to behave as they want. You learn a lot about them when there's no barrier."

"Everyone was just drinking cider?"

"No, no, no. They had Champagne. That's why I never poured anything at the table, I didn't want people to see we were having different drinks."

"Thank you, by the way—if this is what I'm like when I'm not drunk but I think I'm drunk, imagine when I have the real stuff. But why me? You're right: you learn a lot about someone when there's no barrier, and I think we've learned a lot about each other from yesterday. If we're going to be a couple forever and ever like we think we will be, like you said we would be, we need to be comfortable with each other in our own skins. To our own selves be true, as you always say. And yes, this is a decision you made for me instead of offering me the choice, but maybe that's what a good boyfriend does, being protective and understanding that I would be suffering right now if I had a hangover, but instead we can sit here and drink coffee and smile sweetly at each other. And ooh, we can pretend like we had the real stuff when the others come down, and keep playing tricks on them!" This seemed to amuse Juliet greatly, and she laughed a few times before squeezing Frank's hand again.

It was beyond his knowledge to know all that happened that night, or remember every wild thing people said at the dinner table; Frank did not even want to remember, because remembering that wildness came with wrestling with uncomfortable truths, like how John had some untamed impulses or that the pretty girl sitting across from him was only as demure as she could get away with, or that Regina was doomed to a life of disappointment with Tom that in all likelihood her poor judgment would destine herself to. And what about him? There was nothing unethical about giving everyone Champagne that he hadn't purchased, and the alternative to his stratagem with the cider would have been everyone drunk and most likely in fisticuffs. Maybe he had done something noble, maybe he hadn't, but that wasn't his place to decide. All he could do is take his friends' hands, and Frank would restore amends.

Discussion Questions:

This story is our missing fourth lake trip after graduation; what narrative comparisons are there between this and our previous three visits?

Do you think Frank was justified in playing his little prank? What does it say about his character?

Does Juliet's behavior here indicate compatibility with Frank? If you were Frank, what red flags, if any, might you see?