When a shy girl from Figure Eight suddenly gets whisked into a dangerous treasure hunt involving four pogues known for their knack for trouble, she finds herself navigating not only the troubled waters of adventure but also the complexities of frien...
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The late-afternoon sun draped everything in a golden haze, stretching long over the grass and casting soft, dappled shadows beneath the scattered picnic blankets and foldable chairs. The breeze carried the familiar mix of salt and sunscreen, tangled with the buttery scent of popcorn drifting from the nearby food stand. Laughter and the murmur of easy conversation rippled through the growing crowd as families and friend groups settled in, claiming their spots before the movie began.
Sydney moved through it all at an unhurried pace, adjusting the strap of her white tote bag as she took it in. The worn fabric of her faded blue sundress skimmed against her legs, brushing against sun-warmed skin with each step. The breeze toyed with her wavy brown hair, lifting strands and letting them fall against her shoulders as she exhaled, steadying herself against the feeling of unfamiliarity.
This was the kind of thing she'd only ever seen from a distance—something meant for Kooks and tourists, the ones who had their plans set weeks in advance, who showed up in coordinated groups with coolers full of overpriced drinks. It was an annual summer tradition, one she had never been part of.
Most summers, she barely thought about it—until the night arrived, and she'd hear it through her bedroom window. The distant murmur of the crowd from a few blocks away. The faint echo of whatever movie was playing. The sound of a world she wasn't part of. She would stay curled up in bed, the glow of her laptop screen illuminating her room, Sunny curled up at her feet as she pressed play on whatever Netflix recommended that night. It was easier that way.
Sydney never had a reason to come before, but this summer was different.
She stepped aside as a group of kids tore past her, barefoot and sticky with melted popsicles, their laughter sharp and unrestrained. Nearby, parents unfurled blankets, adjusted foldable chairs, and unpacked coolers with the ease of people who had done this a hundred times before. She could already picture how this night would go for them: half-watching the movie, sipping overpriced seltzers, trading updates on summer camps, boat repairs, and whatever gossip had trickled down from the country club.
She exhaled, shifting the weight of her bag on her shoulder. The Pogues were here somewhere, waiting for her.
It felt strange, standing here now, surrounded by something so familiar yet so foreign, when just hours ago, her day had started with a fight and her sneaking out to try and find the gold with the Pogues which had not gone to plan at all.
But what she hadn't expected—what still caught her off guard—was how easy it had been sneaking back in.
Her dad barely even looked at her when she walked through the door, a shopping bag hooked over her arm, the dress she had picked for Midsummers tucked neatly inside. He glanced up, eyes flickering over her like she was just another piece of furniture in the house—an object that existed, but not one worth paying attention to. He didn't ask where she had been. Didn't demand answers. Didn't scold her for disappearing like she had expected.
