"Dad? I was thinking of having some people over to swim Friday evening. You and Pop okay with that? Yea or nay?" Ruthie put her arms around her dad's neck as he sat at the computer in the den, working on a brief.

"Hold on, sweetie, lemme look at the chart," Todd answered, pulling up the family calendar.

"I already did, and I didn't see anything," Ruthie supplied.

"Yes, but did you check Saturday morning?" Todd asked with a chuckle. "Being free Friday night is important, but what if Pop has some important thing going on Saturday morning, hm? He can't show up looking like five kinds of shit because you and your awful friends kept him up all night with your music and shrieking, right?"

Ruthie laughed and gave him a little shake, knowing he was teasing her. He was right, though, about Pop needing sleep if he had something important happening on Saturday morning.

"And Saturday looks wide open as well," her father informed her. "Looks like your party is a go, Rosebud. Is this going to be a small, private affair, or a COMA party?"

"COMA, I think. There are lots of people I didn't see over the summer, and it's already starting to get cold at night, so this might be the last pool party until next year," she told him. COMA was their family acronym for "Come One, Come All," which obviously meant it would be casual and open to pretty much anyone, as opposed to a small, private party with just a few, carefully chosen guests. "I'll probably send out a group text to a bunch of people if you guys don't care about the noise?"

"We're good. Just give me a number so I know how much crap to buy, okay?"

"Okay. And thank you, Dad. I love you." Ruthie hugged her father, hard, and kissed the top of his head.

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"You know how lucky you are?" Linda asked rhetorically.

She was sitting on Ruthie's bed, waiting as Ruthie changed her clothes for the pool party. It was Friday afternoon, and people were going to start arriving pretty soon.

"Hmm? Oh, for sure. It was supposed to be, like one fifty, but it was half off, then half off that, so I got it for, like forty dollars," Ruthie said, looking at herself in the mirror and adjusting the straps of her red polka dotted bikini. It was very retro, covered with ruffles, and in the words of Pop, "super cute."

"No, not the suit, Miss perfect bikini body I hate your guts," Linda responded, throwing a pillow at Ruthie.

"You know, you call me stuff like that all the time, but I don't notice you having a lot of issues in the body department, Miss Pedretti," Ruthie retorted as she caught the pillow and threw it back.

"Please, I have an ass the size of Texas," Linda said, looking glumly at her bottom for a moment. "Anyway, as I was saying, you're lucky that you have the parents you have, and the house that you have, you know? How your dads are always up for entertaining, how they don't care if you have people over, how they're always willing to buy the food and drinks and stuff for your impromptu get togethers? Your house is always spotless, your backyard lawn is always cut, your pool house is always clean and full of guest towels."

"Are you saying I'm lucky my parents are gay?" Ruthie asked with a grin. "Because that's kinda what it sounds like, you know."

"No!" Linda answered, shocked. "Craig and Cynthia Halvorsen have parents like that, and they're not gay. I'm just saying that some people live like that, and some don't.

"I mean, we have a house the size of yours, with a pool and everything. We even have a pool house. But our backyard lawn is never cut unless someone's coming, and then only because my dad yells at my brother until he does it, right before they get there. And the pool house never has clean towels unless we get in there and put them in, again, right before the guests arrive. And the pool is only clean when people are coming, just like the downstairs bathroom. In fact, that's usually how we know people are coming." Linda sat up, sounding indignant.

"You know, when we were younger, my mom would clean the bathroom, put fresh flowers in it, then she'd put that yellow caution tape, like you see at crime scenes? Yeah that kind, in a huge "X" on the door, so my brothers and I would know we weren't allowed to even use it until our company arrived." Linda's father was a sheriff's deputy, so they had that tape at their house.

Even though she'd heard the story before, Ruthie couldn't help but laugh.

"I love you, Lin, and I love your family." She kissed her friend on the forehead. "And I know you do too." She pulled on a flowered romper over her bathing suit. "And you're just talking about the difference between a house with one child that's a girl and a house with four children, three of whom are boys, I think.

"Let's go," she said to her friend.

"So, how many are coming?" Linda asked as they descended the stairs?"

"Um, I think about twenty RSVPed, and usually a few more come who didn't, so probably between twenty-five and thirty," Ruthie answered.

They helped her dad set out the drinks, snacks, recycling bins and garbage cans, and opened the gate to the street, so no one would have to go through the house, and they were set.

People began arriving soon after, and they turned on the music, which was in the house, so no one could mess with the volume, and people began swimming and shouting. Everyone had been to the Grimaldi house often enough to know the rules without reading the sign, which read:

No running on the deck
No dunking anyone
No diving except off diving board
If you pretend to be drowning, you'll be asked to leave, and never invited back

There were similar signs at homes all over Warren, and everyone took them seriously. A few parents even came with their kids, just to visit for a few minutes, but none of them stayed. They understood that this was for the kids.

There was a kind of lull when Elliott appeared. People looked over, including Pepsi and Linda.

"Did you invite him?" Pepsi asked Ruthie.

"Yes, I did," Ruthie said firmly. "No shit, you guys, okay?" She looked between her friends. "Please spread the word? He's really nice, and he's been through a lot." She left to go and greet him after a few of them nodded.

"Hi," she said, leaning to hug him casually with one arm.

He didn't hug her back, so she stepped closer and put the other arm around him, waiting until he put his arms around her.

She let go of him and stepped back, giving him a knowing smile.

"Thanks for the heartfelt hug," she said. "Glad you could make it.

"I nearly didn't come," he admitted, releasing her.

"I know," Ruthie answered shaking her head and leaning in to him. She reached for his hand. "Jesus, Elliott, can you act a little happy to be here?"

She dragged him behind her as she returned to her group of friends.

"Let's see," she began. "I don't know whom you've met, so I'll just introduce everyone. That's Pepsi, and Linda, and Craig, and Hank, and Gordon, Sarah, Mitchell, and Patricia." She gestured toward the pool and the rest of the yard. "I'll try to get to the rest before the evening's over, okay?"

Elliott nodded.

"Come on, I'll show you where the drinks and food are," Ruthie continued, tugging at his hand once more.

"I didn't know there would be this many people here," Elliott commented as she handed him a can of soda and pointed out the fruit and chips.

"Yeah, when I send out a mass text, this is what happens," Ruthie answered.

"And there will be pizza in a bit," Ruthie added.

"Oh, I brought a bottle of wine," Elliott said, pulling a bottle out of his bag.

"Elliott, we can't have alcohol, we're under age," Ruthie reminded him.

"But didn't you say you had wine with dinner?" Elliott asked, confused.

"Yeah, but not like this, at a public occasion," Ruthie said with a smile. "I'm sure my dad would love to have it, though." They went in the house, where Todd was cutting up more fruit.

"Wow, thanks!" Todd exclaimed. "You have stellar taste, Elliott! And I'm not even going to ask how you got it, since I'm an officer of the court, and you're still of a tender age and all that, I'm just going to say thank you, very very much."

Ruthie and Elliott were still laughing when they went back outside.

"So, are we going to swim or what?" Gordon asked loudly.

"Sounds good, actually," Ruthie answered. It was hot, and she was sweaty.

People who were still wearing clothes began pulling them off, and soon, everyone was in the pool, splashing and shouting. And somehow, the pool worked its magic, and Elliott was accepted as a member of the group.

"Ruthie! Ruthie, do that thing you can do with your hair!" Pepsi entreated.

Ruthie grinned and did a surface dive, making sure her hair was good and soaked. Then she got out and walked to the end of the diving board.

"Ready?" she called. Then she shook her head violently, in all directions, making the diving board wobble as she gyrated.

Water flew in all directions, like a 3-D sprinkler, and when she was finished, her hair, which was crazy curly under normal circumstances, was huge, at least twice its normal size, and she looked like a life-sized Troll doll, her hair wild and going in all directions.

She bowed at the end of the diving board and got a huge round of applause.

She then dove into the pool and surfaced, her hair looking normal once again.

Elliott, who was treading water, smiled at her, and she smiled back.

"Having fun?" she asked.

"Yeah, I reckon," he answered with a nod.

"Good," she answered.

"You look, erm, very, very pretty in that thinbummybob you're wearing, by the way," he added with a smile.

"Thingummybob?" Ruthie repeated with a smile. "My bathing suit?"

"Yeah," he agreed. "But it's not a regular costume, you know?"

"Well, here in America it's not a costume at all, Elliott," she replied. She swam a few strokes closer to him, and grasped the bull-nosed brick at the side of the pool. "Over here a costume is something you dress up in, like for a party or for Halloween," she explained.

Elliott, too, grasped the brick, steadying himself. "Like fancy dress?" he asked.

"Yes, fancy dress," Ruthie agreed. "That is what it's called over there, I remember."

Elliott considered for a moment. "So, then, erm, your bathing suit is very pretty, and you look very pretty in it," he finally said, his voice getting quiet.

He raised the hand that wasn't holding the brick, and he slid a finger under the polka-dotted strap, untwisting it where it had folded on her freckled shoulder.

"Thank you," Ruthie said, looking over at his hand.

"You're very welcome," he answered, looking at her eyes like opals.

A beach ball bounced off Ruthie's head, drawing a loud "Ouch!" from her.

"Ruthie! Play, please?" Gordon called. "We need more players!"

"Okay!" she responded without looking away from Elliott.

"You want to play?" she asked him, nodding toward whatever game they were playing.

"After you," he murmured.

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"So, uh, I heard something, and I don't know if I should tell you or not," Pepsi began, turning a can of Pepsi in her hands, looking nervously at Ruthie.

"Oh god, Pepsi, just spit it out, please, I hate it when you do that," Ruthie said. "You always end up telling me anyway, so the only thing that comes of your words are that I feel sick for about five minutes."

The two girls were sitting in the tree house that her dads had built for her when Ruthie was little. She still sat in it from time to time, and loved the memories she had, of playing pirates with her fathers.

"Okay, well, I heard from--do you care who I heard it from?" Pepsi asked.

Ruthie shook her head.

"Okay, well then, I heard that Brett told his friends to spread the word that no one was supposed to ask you to the Harvest Dance--or else!" Pepsi stopped dramatically before popping the tab on her drink and taking a few swallows.

"What?"

Pepsi nodded vigorously.

"Yeah, Brooke said that Craig told her that Andy said that word came straight from Brett that no one better ask you," Pepsi repeated, brown eyes as huge as marbles as she spoke.

It was nearly dark, though the evening was still pleasantly warm. There were about twenty people in Ruthie's backyard, splashing in the pool, or sitting at the tables eating pizza and talking.

It was a typical, end of summer party.

"But why?" Ruthie was mystified. "He broke up with me. He doesn't want to date me anymore, so why does he care who does?"

Pepsi shrugged her narrow shoulders. "I don't know. Maybe he wants to get back together with you?"

"And he thinks that keeping me lonely and dateless is the way to do that?" Ruthie asked, her voice filled with sarcasm.

"Um, I don't know, why don't you ask him?" Pepsi said, nodding her head toward the gate.

Ruthie turned her head.

Brett, Amelia, and a few of Brett's usual posse were entering at the gate, dressed for swimming.

Oh my god.

"Did you send them the text?"

Ruthie shook her head.

"I didn't tell anyone specifically not to tell them about it, but--" Ruthie stopped. Surely she didn't have to? No one would be that stupid?

"No one would be dumb enough to tell them bout this, would they?" Pepsi was echoing Ruthie's thoughts.

"I don't know," Ruthie said. "But I don't want them here, and I'm telling them to leave."

"Ruthie you aren't!"

"Of course I am, Pepsi! He treated me like shit, and so did she--"

Ruthie's friends knew exactly what was going down as soon as they saw Ruthie descending from her tree house, and Gordon was off into the house after Todd and Phil immediately.

"Hi, Ruthie!" Amelia chirped as Ruthie approached. "So sorry we're late, but all these guys had football practice, they just finished, can you believe it?"

"What are you doing here?" Ruthie asked.

Elliott stepped up to Ruthie's side, as Linda and Pepsi also stepped closer. Behind them, the patio doors opened, and Ruthie's dads stepped out with Gordon hovering behind them.

"What do you mean?" Brett asked. He looked behind him at his buddies. Ruthie could see Leroy, Shane, and Andy, along with their girlfriends. "Isn't this an open invite party? What did you used to call them? A COMA party?" He laughed and reached for Ruthie's hand.

She pulled it away.

"You look incredible, by the way, baby," he added, looking her up and down in her bikini.

Ruthie made a face.

Was he crazy? In front of Amelia?

She looked over at her former best friend, who continued to smile brightly, as if she hadn't heard a thing.

"Is that a new bikini?" He went on. "Really hot, Ruthie."

WTF?

She shook her head.

"Okay, you guys need to leave," she said. "If I'd known someone was going to extend the invitation to you, I would've told everyone in advance that they weren't supposed to."

Behind Brett, one of the other girls, possibly Shane's girlfriend Brenna, said, "See? I told you! Now can we go? Amelia has a pool, Paige has a pool, I mean, Christ, I have a pool, we didn't have to do this, you guys!"

"No, you didn't, and I'm sorry to be so rude," Ruthie said, raising her voice to the people standing behind Brett. "But I'm not up for social interaction with people whom I feel have treated me so badly. So please leave, okay?"

"No problem, honey," Brenna assured her. "We'll be at the truck, you guys."

Brett put a meaty hand on Ruthie's shoulder, the same shoulder Elliott had put his hand on earlier.

"Are you serious, girl?" he asked, his voice soft and intimate, which gave Ruthie the creeps. "You're going to do this to me in front of everyone?"

Ruthie shook his hand off her shoulder. "You did this to yourself, Brett, when you showed up here, knowing this would happen. Please leave."

"You heard her." Pop spoke for the first time, stepping closer to his daughter. "She's already asked you twice, very politely. Don't make us have to call the police, Mr. Carmichael."

"No need to get hostile," Brett said. "Come on," he said to Amelia. He turned and left without waiting for her.

Amelia gave everyone an uncertain smile before she, too, turned and left.

Ruthie turned and faced her guests.

"Wow, guys, I'm so sorry--"

"Not your fault," Gordon assured her.

Everyone made sounds of agreement.

Ruthie took a deep breath.

"Okay, okay, awkward, dramatic moment is over, everyone, let's keep swimming and eating and all that, please?" And with those words, Ruthie jumped in the pool.

And everyone, of course, followed her.