John packed lightly, as always; everything he brought had to have a purpose, or else he would look in his suitcase when he returned home and feel wasteful. Still, everything he deemed valuable enough to bring added up to one bulging rolling suitcase, which he spun around in circles on his driveway like a top. Every crack in the pavement seemed a new plaything, a mountain ridge emerging from a plain or a ravine that coursed to the core of the Earth. Mr. Langley arrived driving the same van as last time, and Tom rode shotgun as usual.

"Are you excited, John?" Mr. Langley asked while checking the map to figure out where Juliet lived.

"I'm as excited as always, Steve," John responded perkily, and the two laughed as if this weren't the first time they'd seen each other in months. Tom rolled his eyes and took out his phone to text Regina. Juliet was next to enter, and her parents waved goodbye while she tried her hardest to maneuver to John's right smoothly, quickly giving up and sliding across his lap; she chuckled and smiled at John, who smiled despite not thinking it humorous.

"Lovely name," Mr. Langley remarked when Juliet introduced herself. Beth was next on the list, so they drove through the lilac trees to her door; a few flowers fell onto the car's windshield. Beth was delighted to see Juliet's face pressed against the glass, John's looming faintly next to hers, and nimbly moved to John's left. Juliet was extremely curious to learn what she had gotten herself into, and due to John's proximity saw him as the most reliable witness.

"So you're in the woods, right? Do you know that scene in Snow White where all the birds and rabbits come out of the bushes to help her do the dishes? I've always wanted to live in a tranquil little cabin like that, away from all the distractions of life. I hope that's what the house is like," Juliet bubbled, and John nodded his head in understanding.

"You just want to live like a princess, the nature's not part of it at all," Beth joked, and John glared at her while Juliet laughed it off—how dare she ruin her fantasy? John explained carefully to Juliet how while there were wild quail, deer, and raccoons, they were to be admired from a distance and not abducted as household pets.

"I'm just kidding, John, although it would be nice, raccoons are kind of adorable," Juliet reassured him, and just as Regina entered the car, John decided he had had enough socialization time and took out his book. Frank had made a summer reading list for the club while working with his teachers to get around the minor technicality that summer homework was prohibited; Frank added his favorite books and let others on the list without much argument. John, in a way, was admirably precocious in starting Catch-22 in the car; the others who cared (Tom's half-hearted participation had its limits, even though Regina expressed her desire to go with the majority and play along) were waiting to see Tom's promised mythical bookshelf.

"It isn't mine, really, it's more of a family collection. I never look at any myself," Tom claimed, which he rapidly amended to "rarely, sometimes, on occasion" when Regina looked at him shiftily. So far, all these descriptions were persuading Juliet that she was traveling to a fairytale castle. This was going to be the best trip ever, and she was about to share this insight with John when she saw him already enthralled in his book, eyes glazed over. She discreetly snuck a peek over his shoulder, seeing Beth was doing the same. Lots of violence, this must be a rousing read.

Juliet's preconception was not entirely disrupted when as they approached their destination, the air gradually became more misty, which made them shiver as they exited the van and hauled their suitcases up the path to the front porch.

"Looks like it might rain, I hope you brought umbrellas," Mr. Langley remarked after taking a heady whiff of the air. "There should be some firewood in the garage if you want to use the fireplace."

As the new visitor, Juliet was automatically granted seniority and given the master bedroom, and so the others returned to their usual positions. John found his little alcove just as inhospitable as before; a distinctive, lemony scent of cleaning supplies reassured him that at least it was sanitary.

"So what do you guys do for fun around here? We obviously can't swim when it's this cold out," Juliet asked Regina upstairs while they waited for Tom to leave the restroom.

"There are board games in that cabinet, I believe," Regina responded, and she walked over and opened the repurposed linen closet to see stacks upon stacks of jigsaw puzzles and board games, all somehow neatly partitioned. "You know, I never did any of these as a kid," she mused, and grabbed a jigsaw puzzle featuring one of Monet's Water Lilies and brought it downstairs, just in time to hear the doorbell ring. The Monroes proved charitable hosts as usual, and were joyous to see a new face. Tom by then had come down, and John and Beth heard the commotion upstairs and wished to investigate too, and so all five of them stood in a huddle.

"Who's putting away the groceries?" Tom asked, hoping the answer wasn't him. John immediately volunteered, and Tom and Regina watched him from the table.

"Would you be so kind as to bring us two glasses of ice water?" Regina requested semi-politely, and when John did not respond quickly enough she reached around him to fill two glasses from the refrigerator with a noise that sounded like a woodchipper. Eventually, everyone assembled in the living room and looked at each other blankly: they did not think they would need to provide their own entertainment so soon. They had exhausted themselves of conversation on the ride there, and Juliet had already cooed appreciatively during the house tour, astonished that John and Beth slept in sleeping bags and not on the couches. Why didn't I think of that before, John thought to himself. Too late now, and this way, his space was entirely his own. He had named the taxidermied raven Edgar, thinking it clever if trite, and in this way Edgar became a guardian angel that protected him as he slept instead of a demon who would spontaneously animate and peck his brains out.

"Regina, you never played for us last year; care to give those keys a spin? Piano books are inside the bench if you need them," Tom suggested, and Regina regretted not doing this the previous year; John would have been so impressed! He still watched now with rapt attention as she worked through the highlights of her repertoire while simultaneously chatting with Tom, but it wasn't the same. After about an hour, she assumed her audience was losing interest, and so she delicately closed the piano and went back to join them.

"I used to play, long ago. I stopped though, never had the focus," John commented. That surprised Beth—John out of all people wasn't focused? "Give it a try, John, see what you still remember," she urged, and John reluctantly walked up to the piano and launched into a flawless performance of "The Entertainer," seemingly not remembering that he had ever stopped. Beth immediately turned to Regina for judgment, who smiled and gave a thumbs-up.

"I thought you stopped playing," Regina remarked pointedly, to which John only responded "Muscle memory." The piano most certainly having provided its maximum utility now proved a distraction, and everyone migrated downstairs before they would be tempted to do anything artistic. Tom took the armchair immediately, leaving the other four to squeeze together on the couch, which John found oddly comforting.

"What should we do now?" Tom asked brusquely after he decided sitting quietly was not what he had taken his friends on a six-hour journey for. Nobody suggested anything in the first thirty seconds, so he turned on the TV and they channel-surfed until they agreed upon Food Network; Tom ordinarily would avoid it like the plague, but he hoped it would tell him in no uncertain terms how he was supposed to cook his own dinner from the ingredients the Monroes provided.

They went to bed early that night, all exhausted from the car ride and uncertain if the fireplace would explode. Before John went to his nook, after Beth had poked her head out in her pajamas to say good night, he went to the sliding glass door in the family room, only fifteen paces from his sleeping bag, to stare outside. The mist and darkness challenged John's perception of distance, and it appeared that he were on a boat in the midst of the lake instead of firmly on land—he could tell no difference unless he saw the doormat below him. Every minute, the green light of the patrol boat would flash, which circuited the lake slowly enough to not make noise or disturb the wildlife just to make sure everyone was in order. Before the light could increase in size too much, like a train slowly chugging toward him, John went to his room and wished himself good night.

John dreamed the house was filled with mist, that overnight it had found a crack and forced itself in. He woke up, lost, not in the same room in which he had fallen asleep. It felt like hours he wandered through rooms and hallways that were close enough to reality to be believable, all without seeing another face. Eventually, his lucidity caught up with him just enough to make him think looking for family photos would reveal at least whose house he was in, or otherwise act as a focus for arcane energy that like a lighthouse beacon would attract his friends. But all the faces were blank, smooth globes of skin that perhaps from the outlines alone could be recognizable as his classmates, but otherwise resembled crash test dummies. John wanted to shout for help through the fog, but something in his throat stopped him from making any noise at all. John was cold, not having had the foresight to bundle up, and sometimes he thought he had woken up, only to still feel strapped in place and unable to see anything but his eyelids. Back and forth John shifted between endless snowy white and gray interludes, until he sensed a faint brightness climbing through his tiny window; his body felt refreshed, but his mind was tired. John left his room to see Beth staring out through the sliding door at the lake, which was still shrouded with mist as to be invisible, and the garden, where the flowers somehow in bloom gorged themselves on dew.

"You too?" Beth asked quietly, just in case John was sleepwalking. She had emerged just a few minutes before John, quietly hoping that after a few minutes of staring outside, her body would tell itself it could squeeze in a few more hours of sleep; it had not occurred to either of them that going to bed early would shift their sleep cycles.

"I thought I heard a voice cry, sleep no more!" John most certainly did not want to go back to sleep; since he thought the view outside too eerie for comfort, he went upstairs to get breakfast. Beth followed, and Juliet also came down the stairs bleary-eyed just as they were about to start eating.

"What are you guys doing up so early? It's 5:10 AM!" Juliet asked, looking around furtively to find some other clue.

"The same as you," Beth muttered, and Juliet sighed and sat down across from John.

"Do you think Tom and Regina will be coming down as well?" she asked, realizing that there were four seats and they could not possibly accommodate five, not unless they moved to the dining room, which would demand physical exertion.

"They tend not to be early risers," John explained between bites. "And what a shame it is, this is such a lovely morning. Say, how does some meditation sound? There's something about this weather that's very mystical, almost enough to be portentous."

"Where will we sit? Everything's going to be damp."

"Now don't be silly Beth, there's a remedy for everything excepting death," John said, unwilling to be stopped by anything as trivial as water. "If you're scared, you can bring a towel, but I think it's part of the experience, right?"

"Meditation is an extremely important part of yoga, you know," Juliet chimed in, and Beth decided that her other options for entertainment were so limited she really couldn't say no. There were three benches in the garden, and so they sat and cleared their minds, and John quickly discovered that unlike the others, he was incapable of sitting in full lotus for more than a few seconds. Breathe in, breathe out, John told himself; whenever a gust of cold wind blew and startled him, he told his mind he was on a boat racing through the ocean, or flying in the atmosphere where the winds were undoubtedly more turbulent. He had read a book once that told him to isolate any feelings of discomfort, remarking upon cold, for instance, as "wow, that feels weird," nothing more. Regina came downstairs, curious to see if the others were awake. She saw the three of them sitting in the cold outside, eyes closed, faces at peace, and thought them mad; most definitely unwilling to join them, she went back upstairs to her warm bed.

An hour passed, and a loud foghorn somewhere in the distance was enough to convince the three that their spiritual returns were rapidly dissipating. They stood up and stretched a bit; Beth showed them Tai Chi moves her grandfather had taught her and said something unconvincing about how the hand movements focused energy. The absurdity of the moment dawned on them, that it really was strange how it was barely past 6 and they were frolicking outside, and so they went back inside to the study. Juliet pulled her reading list out of her pocket and searched the shelf, both happy her options were extensive and also quite terrified. Her earlier reading binge had turned into a habit, but not one with any great frequency, and after asking John what he would recommend, she chose Don Quixote and weighed it in her palm.

"You really read something this long?" Beth rolled her eyes—"of course he did, he's John"—and Juliet laughed again: "You truly are an intellectual."

"I don't think I'm an intellectual; that flattery really is too much. There's nothing much in how I think. It's not important, it's a minor compulsion. I can deal with it if I want to. But anyway, Don Quixote. I promise it goes by quickly. Frank recommended it to me; that's even his copy of the book!" This proved convincing enough for Juliet, and they returned upstairs. John took the rocking chair as usual, and Beth and Juliet sat together directly across from him (both the rocking chair and the armchair downstairs were brought originally by Mr. Langley, who believed any house was incomplete without them).

It had never occurred to John until a particularly lascivious passage in Catch-22 that he was sitting across from two cute girls who were there because of him. Regina didn't count, as she was out of his line of sight, and she generally waited until Tom descended to have her breakfast. John did not know if only two days were sufficient for a routine, but he was enthused regardless: their bodies all somehow shifted to wake at dawn, their morning routine remained identical the following day, and even Regina was so impressed by their devotion that she too read quietly with them. John assumed that had he not planted the seed of literacy in them, they'd be in their rooms painting their nails or having pillow fights or something else altogether boorish and unsightly. He at some point too would have engaged in similar activities, but he was a better person now. He had standards to uphold, an appearance to maintain, and as much as it pained him to cut himself off cold turkey from video games, he could not take away their John. It was simply not right, it was simply not chivalrous.

John ordinarily would have considered it socially unacceptable to have any non-school-related thoughts about his classmates, but by being with them outside of school, he had made that difficult. John considered them friends, having weathered a full year of Mr. T with them, and felt just as privy to their eccentricities as he was sure they were to his. Indeed, it was then inevitable that they liked him as much as he liked them! But, of course, neither of them knew the other held any designs, as that would be all too much like Pride and Prejudice. No, novels did not govern the real world, John knew that as fact! Truth was much more ordinary than fiction, which meant that both most likely were trying as hard as possible to focus on their books—almost like they were meditating—and maybe, just maybe, reminding themselves occasionally who sat across from them.

John was nobler than they were, however; he suppressed any feelings as soon as they could surface. How lucky was he compared to his classmates to have such unfettered and intimate access to the two of them, as cherubic as they could ever be? John's initial astonishment at his revelation faded to guilt, and then to pride: was he not a better person for his denial of temptation? His denial was made easier in that he never actually had to deny anything, perhaps excluding his own curiosity. If his initial theory were correct, their demeanor would turn flirty and seductive after some sufficient time had passed, and while they did seem a bit close for any ordinary classmates, John observed no marked change. This drove his mind in opposite directions, his expression occasionally turning frantic: what if he was missing signals? Were they waiting for some catalyst? Who would break first? He wondered if he, instead of sitting in the rocking chair, sat on the couch, if the others would still sit in their usual positions, with him comfortably squashed in the middle. Or, would one of them take his position, rendering him the person watched and not the watcher? Maybe it was the other way around: John, ringed in sunlight, was like a marble sculpture, or a model for portrait artists at work. How could he know for certain that as he read, they did not briefly pause their reading on occasion to stare at him, just as he was sometimes prone to lapses of concentration himself? As much as he wanted to try this experiment, if only in the spirit of scientific inquiry, he could not bear the potential awkwardness of them looking at him strangely and shifting in their seats. So, failing that, he could only imagine what they thought of their peculiar daily routine.

Juliet found herself increasingly disappointed in Beth for picking favorites. She had not realized that Beth and John had already developed a fair rapport, one which never seemed evident at school; they finished each other's sentences at times, had an inside joke revolving around chickens, and had a chemistry that while not exceptional, irritated her because she had never noticed it before. John's pithy one-liners amused Beth, who also seemed prone to cynical moods; they had nothing to feel sorry for, they were on vacation! "Those who do not complain are never pitied," John dryly remarked when he and Beth were commiserating over some prior shared misery. Tom and Regina were another case altogether: they finished each other's sentences frequently, far more cutely at that; had multiple inside jokes and pet names that made them seem like schoolchildren instead of mature teenagers; and functioned too cohesively. Regina made Tom breakfast, which certainly was adorable at first, but Juliet began to worry Tom was somehow coercing her. There was nothing wrong with a little authority in her mind, but she did not appreciate anything that could possibly hint that the three early birds were not living their best lives. If John and Beth were most comfortable together, and Tim and Regina (Beth once called Tom that by accident, having learned the habit from Behrooz; Tom's exasperation was somehow inherently comic, and everyone else in the house but Regina now knew how to push his buttons whenever they needed a laugh) were most certainly comfortable together—but where did that leave her?

One afternoon, Juliet proposed they take a family walk—she immediately corrected this to a "friendly walk"—to get some fresh air and convince Tom and Regina the mist wouldn't hurt them. The weather had not shown any signs of clearing, but by then the early birds were used to it and found it a welcome reprieve from the summer heat that undoubtedly awaited them at home.

"It's too cold," Tom declared assertively, and tried to convince Regina of the same.

"This is nothing, Tom—imagine when it snows," she responded with a mild trace of condescension, and Tom helpfully reminded them that he had no need to imagine when it snowed, as he came here in the winter too. Beth was convinced by Tom's reasoning, intent on finishing the jigsaw puzzle they had started the previous night, and the others put on their warmest clothing and walked outside. Mr. Langley had been partially correct: precipitation was on the horizon, and as soon as they had walked far enough away to not see the house, it started hailing. John marveled at seeing ice in June, and thought it cataclysmic; what sort of world did they live in where there was ice in June? Juliet took out her umbrella and used it to shield her phone, and then took a picture of the three of them trying their best to smile.

"With weather like this, when will we ever swim?" Regina asked in exasperation, looking back at John and Juliet, who walked next to each other.

"Who cares about swimming? This is so cool! This must be so rare, and it's not like you can't swim anywhere else. There's nothing wrong with a little cold when we have our friends," Juliet declared, not wishing to say that she was going swimming in Singapore anyway, so missing out on this was no big loss.

"The cold never bothered me anyway," John said deadpan, and this inspired yet another peal of laughter to break their silence. In the moment, John could think of nothing but their proximity and intimacy. The scenery was beautiful, the trees, the lake, all of it—but when at home could he ever do something like this? When would Alan or Frank ever know anything like this? The universe was clearly rewarding John for his faithful devotion.

"I have a genius idea: we should watch Frozen," Regina exclaimed, and they looked at John to see if he would flinch.

"If we want to watch a movie, Frank loaned me what he said was the absolute best movie of all time. I trust his judgment." Regina was skeptical, not wanting to spoil a good vacation with something most likely bourgeois, but Juliet seconded John's opinion: "I have never known Frank, or you, to lie. And oh, how about we all bake cookies! We can make ice cream too! Girls' movie night, let's do it!" Juliet looked at John, who could not decide if this was nirvana or hell on earth, and less excitedly declared: "Oh, you're an honorary girl. Tom can stay downstairs and watch football." A trail marker reminded them that they had walked a few miles out, and they turned back, vigorously debating if snickerdoodles or classic chocolate chip would be better. They settled their deadlock by having Juliet text Frank, who suggested they compromise by making snickerdoodles and chocolate ice cream; he sent a recipe for a dark chocolate gingerbread ice cream that apparently was divine, and Beth confirmed from home base, happy to know that they were surviving the hail, that the ingredients were all available.

Tom was somewhat annoyed to be kicked out of the kitchen, where he had the puzzle set up on the small table, and begrudgingly moved downstairs. Beth had taken the initiative to start measuring out all the ingredients, and she assigned everyone their tasks.

"Your family owns restaurants, this should be easy for you," John commented as he tried his hardest to crack eggs and measure flour without slipping and spilling everything.

"I rarely cook; my parents insist on doing everything, so I'm out of practice. But it looks like you're handling everything well—girls love it when guys know how to cook," Juliet responded with a smile, and John was too confused to respond. Regina seconded Juliet's opinion, then looked downstairs, where Tom was completely enthralled in his jigsaw puzzle, not even bothering to turn on the TV. John smudged his sleeve with butter, and he rubbed the stain with flour-dusted hands, muttering to himself quietly "Out, damned spot!"; everything was going so perfectly now, and he could not afford a single blemish. Before they were about to put the cookies in the oven, they realized that in their spurt of giddiness, they had radically misjudged how long ice cream took to make compared to the cookies; the appeal of fresh-baked cookies diminished when they sat on the counter for five hours. As the ice cream churned and all of them remained in a culinary mood, John's thoughts immediately drifted to dinner: that was the missing piece of the equation! They could light candles, Tom could keep sitting downstairs, Regina could go eat potato chips on the couch with him, and it would become a scene out of one of those movies John never could watch. Beth, whose hands were the cleanest out of all of them, looked through Mrs. Monroe's meal plan and suggested leg of lamb, and they went through their culinary ritual once more to fill up the time. John still was bothered by his butter stain, and kept muttering to himself until he thought one of the others noticed.

After a few hours, Tom smelled rosemary and garlic and wondered exactly what sort of cookies and ice cream they were making upstairs. He followed the smell upstairs to see the four of them all somehow working simultaneously among pots and pans, helping each other with motivational phrases, and chose to keep a safe distance as they worked.

"I see you all really enjoyed watching Iron Chef yesterday," Tom laughed, and the others mimicked his gesture in a stifled manner. "Great work, Regina," he concluded, disappointed that they were too absorbed in their work to appreciate how he climbed all the way up the stairs to say hello. "I guess I'll set the table," he said to himself, and went to the dining room and made sure he did everything, even folding the napkins, perfectly; he would not let himself be upstaged, this was his house. Dinner was ready not long after, and their concentrated drive manifested itself in superb execution, a fact John credited to them following the recipes precisely:

"I remember Ms. Denham once described cooking as applied chemistry: if you can do a lab, you can cook." The others nodded in agreement, still in disbelief that the lamb was a perfect medium-rare and the asparagus was crisp. Tom finished eating first and immediately went to start cleaning up in the kitchen while the others bantered until their stomachs were full. The cookies came out of the oven just when the rest of the kitchen was spotless and the ice cream machine's thrum began to slow.

"So John, what's this 'greatest movie of all time' that we're watching tonight?"

"Well, unless Tom would like to watch Frozen instead (Tom immediately shook his head; his father had forced him to watch Frozen as punishment once, and Tom could not look at snowmen anymore without a feeling of disgust), we're going to watch Casablanca. 1940-something, black-and-white, romantic, classy, or so I'm told."

"Sounds exotic," Beth remarked, and after they portioned out a serving of ice cream and a few cookies for everyone, they went downstairs and Tom set up the movie. The fireplace was upstairs and it was still a bit cold, so Juliet went to her room and brought back a small blanket for the four of them on the couch; Regina sat on the side closest to Tom's chair, and John sat sandwiched between the other two. This was already the best movie ever, he thought. The narration began, and John felt himself transported to a land before time, back when people still talked with funny accents and "the war" was a state of mind instead of a historical event.

"What's so romantic about World War II?" Juliet whispered to John with a nudge, hoping he would have an answer. "Love and war are the same thing," he explained. In what was a rare occurrence for shows they watched as a group, they did not narrate or commentate; they watched with their eyes and ears first, their minds playing catch-up as they went along. Tom laughed at the witty double-talk, vowing to imitate Rick's brusqueness later; Regina, Juliet, and John shed tears when Rick and Ilsa shed tears; everyone felt their hearts sink when Michael Curtiz intended their hearts to sink; and everyone finished their cookies and ice cream.

"That may have been the best movie I've ever seen," John proclaimed after a moment of silence, and then turned to the girls flanking him hoping for their opinions. Tom, seeing no reason for counter-argument, expressed the same; something about watching the movie from the armchair made him feel thirty years older, like he should have had a fine cigar or a brandy. Framed from that point of view, he could not say no to any movie in black-or-white, and the pathos of the moment aside, he really could find no flaw.

"It was very intellectual," Regina offered in an enthusiastic tone, and John could not tell if she was being sarcastic or if "intellectual" was the highest praise she could offer, and both Beth and Juliet expressed that it was certainly a fine movie. It seemed as if decades of critics weren't wrong. It was rapidly approaching their new bed time, and they rapidly returned to their rooms and prepared for sleep. John stared out the sliding door again, counting the pulses of the hypnotic green light as it slowly brightened.

John slept restlessly that night, still processing the flurry of emotions and experiences from that day; every detail would be etched in his mind that even months afterward, he could recall every step and every feeling as if he were still there. What had he done to deserve such reward? Nothing at all: he had merely said yes to Tom, and thus had been whisked away to a world of pure imagination. During the course of his normal life, John lived a solitary life, content with simple pleasures and self-motivation the sixteen hours of the day he was not at school. What were the odds that while he was doing that, others were having their own perfect days, but in much greater quantity? Maybe it did not take a hailstorm to stir the mind and bring such epiphanies as how cute scarves were or how warm other people's bodies could be under a blanket. No fireplace or sunshine was needed for warmth, but John had always thought some outside energy was needed to kickstart life—was that not how physics worked? For a while these reveries provided an outlet for his imagination; they were a satisfactory hint of the unreality of reality, a promise that the rock of the world was founded securely on a fairy's wing, and these thoughts kept John going through the following morning's meditation, still just the three of them; the end of Catch-22; and their last dinner of the trip.

As John and the others enjoyed the baked salmon that by some miracle, they had cooked quite well, he looked around the dinner table and almost shed a tear for the family he would be ripped away from in just a few hours. They could squeeze in a game of Monopoly in one last outburst of final exertion, but once they woke up the following morning and meditated on the things they would lose, they knew Mr. Langley planned on joining them for breakfast and would then take them home. John did not seem to think the others appreciated the gravity of the moment, but he was too scared to bring it up because it would disturb the fragile magic present. Even if the previous day were the only one fully demarcated in John's mind with picture-perfect recollection, he still incorporated this meal into the pantheon, knowing that it would not last. The exact chronology of their vacation did not matter, and he started to wonder just how important factual accuracy really was. This process of chronicling drew out the minutes in slow-motion, such that even though they ate no more slowly than usual, the conversation felt like hours to John.

It also occurred to him then that he really did not talk to any of these people in his spare time. He would be alone when he returned home, waking up in the morning to his computer and little else. That would be worst of all, not seeing friendly faces like Beth, Juliet, and even Regina (who never stopped being friendly), just his lost expression in the bathroom mirror.

Tom was rapidly coming to the same conclusion as John, albeit from a different perspective. Regina was a fact: there was always his daily dose of Regina, taken at least once a day, if not twice. But who else did Tom interact with to such a degree? Ted was a loyal friend, but Ted was of the belief that friendship did not necessitate constant conversation simply for its own sake, even if he saw the pictures of meals Tom sent and Juliet posted on social media and knew that if only he had not messed up with Beth, he'd be sharing in the fruits of their labor. Alan was a good friend too, but life was tough for him, and Alan did not want to talk about his recent woes; Tom thought he knew what was wrong, but any emotional support he directed to him would be diverted from the great fun he was having with his other friends. As for the others, a week of time over the summer ought to be enough to keep him going through the rest of the season.

Mr. Langley's old boss and his wife had control of the house next, and they arrived just as the others were about to leave. John marshaled the clean-up effort that morning, and together they scrubbed and dusted with the same zeal they had applied to their cooking. The new guests were delighted not only to see that, but also gourmet leftovers in the fridge, and they were even more impressed that they were the works of teenagers.

"You and your friends, Tom, certainly run a tight ship," they remarked, and in a rare occurrence, Tom was modest enough to candidly admit it was mostly the others who were responsible. On the car ride home, they sat in the same seating arrangement as they did before, and Mr. Langley pointed out in the rear-view mirror that the mist seemed to be disappearing.

"A shame you didn't get to go swimming at all, but you have plenty of time. It sounds like you found ways to keep yourselves occupied," he commented.

"We certainly did," Tom laughed.

Discussion Questions:

Building on Chapter 10's references to wealth, we see another reference in the green light from The Great Gatsby. How does this detail, and other thematic references, differentiate the lake from other settings?

What character growth does John experience over this chapter? He seemingly had a pretty fun time, didn't he?

What do we learn about Juliet here, and how does this connect to her previous behavior?