Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Their dreams of nationals come crashing down in spectacular fashion. They lose at states and badly so. It's a massive gut punch, one that makes the end of the year tedious. Makes the whole team feel as though branded as losers. Some of them blame each other, some of them blame higher powers, Lottie blames her own rotten luck. She's downtrodden as summer comes riding in on that wave of despair, weighed down by her dad's deep, disapproving frown, her mom's sad eyes. She tries to find joy where she can, but her plans keep falling through. Graduation comes and goes with little fanfare. The Yellowjackets split up, fleeing the heat wave however they can. Some of the girls have jobs, some are spending time with family, some are seeking adventure. Lottie watches them all leave and tries not to make a big deal about it. Sure, she feels cheated - of victory, of freedom, of love - but she's not gonna go and complain about it. That would be, as her dad always says, unbecoming.
She quickly realizes she's not the only one who has yet to skip town. Laura Lee's still here, too, her family vacation canceled because of a sick grandparent. With her folks busy and Lottie's parents consumed, as always, by the never-ending grab for money, the two find themselves spending long, hot days side by side. Treading water in the pool at the Wiskayok community center, watching movies with the lights off in Lottie's living room while no one else is home, recklessly riding their bikes through the park. It's all aimless, but at the same time, it's not. It makes Lottie feel alive, instead of like a ghost haunting a big empty house, a gothic novel cliche. It makes her feel wanted.
When the sun burns at its peak in late June, the pair of them head to the beach. It's early morning on the summer solstice, and Lottie's driving her dad's car. She took it without asking, she tells Laura Lee with an uncharacteristically wild grin, after she picks the blonde and her daisy-printed tote bag up and guns for the highway. Better to ask forgiveness and permission and all. (Lottie doesn't know if she actually believes the old saying, but it's nice to act like she does. It's nice to pretend she's that kind of carefree.)
They drive the hour to the coast with the windows rolled down, and Laura Lee keeps sticking her fingers out into the open air, trying to catch the wind in her hand. She laughs when she realizes they're speeding. It takes Lottie by surprise, but she answers Laura Lee's daring smile by pressing down on the gas pedal even harder. Maybe, she thinks, if they go fast enough, they'll lose all their troubles for good.
After they park, Laura Lee grabs Lottie's hand, as if its the easiest thing in the world, as if the action doesn't make Lottie feel as though her heart's on the verge of shattering like the porcelain plate she dropped on the floor back in middle school, the first thing her dad ever grounded her for. They run to the sand, Laura Lee whooping and hollering, her joy so infectious that it gets Lottie cheering too.
