Page 34 of Here for a Good Time

“I wanted to check out one more book than the library allowed and started crying because the librarian wouldn’t let me,” I say.

Despite myself, I smile and steal another peek at Zwe.

The knot in my stomach loosens ever so slightly when I catch a flash of dimples.

“So Zwe came over and offered to borrow it under his name.”

“Stop!” As if commanding herself, Leila stops in her tracks, and puts a hand to her chest. “That is the fucking cutest thing I’ve ever heard!”

“It was a Betty and Veronica comic,” Zwe says.

Now it’s my turn to come to an abrupt halt. “You remember?” The words fly out before I can consider that Zwe still loathes me.

He stops walking too, completing our awkward triangle. “Of course I remember,” he says.

Oh, I think.

Because I thought I was the only one who remembered.

One Christmas when I was shopping for Zwe’s present, I tried to track down a copy of that exact comic.

I found one approximately a month later, too, thanks to my eBay alert.

I didn’t buy it, though. I put it in my cart, went to check out, and then thought, What the fuck, Poe, this isn’t a present that Zwe would like .

Because he’s not the nostalgic type. I am.

Because he would open it and wonder what the punchline was but be too polite to ask outright.

But he remembered, I silently think as I study the dirt under my feet.

Without warning, the backs of my eyes start to prickle at the thought that we might die on this fucking island and I will never get to go Christmas shopping for him again.

And at the thought that even if we do get out alive, I might have so irreparably damaged our friendship that even if that comic was still available in Dominik from Budapest’s store, there would be no point in getting it now.

“And you’ve been friends ever since?” Leila asks.

Unthinkably, that sounds like such a loaded question. I look back at Zwe, and find that his brown eyes are still fixed on me. It feels like there are so many things bubbling under the surface all at once, but I’m too scared to dive down and look.

Are we still friends? I ask, searching his face for the truth while praying that the truth is what I want it to be, what I need it to be.

“Yeah,” Zwe says, looking away on the hoarse word as though he knows what I was up to, and is doing me the favor of not letting me find what I was looking for.

In a scene right out of a movie, the first droplets start to fall right as we reach the zip-lining tower’s base. It’s a high but pretty bare setup: wooden stairs that make a zigzag pattern to the platform at the top, which, thankfully, has a roof.

“So, not to be that person,” I say with my most apologetic smile, “but is there a toilet nearby?”

Leila laughs and points at a narrow, unmarked path winding away from the tower. “It’s not far, just a few feet away,” she says. “Believe it or not, you’re not the first person to need to use the bathroom after seeing this tower.”

I thank her and power walk, almost bursting with relief when the wooden shack comes into view. I was preparing myself for a hole-in-the-ground situation, but to my surprise, there’s a proper toilet inside, and even a small window with mosquito netting above the door for ventilation.

When I come back, I’m half expecting Leila and Zwe to have already started climbing, but they’re still waiting where I left them.

“Since we might be here a while, I might as well go, too. Do you want to go first or should I?” she asks Zwe.

He gestures at the path with an open palm. “Ladies first.”

After anywhere from five seconds to five minutes of torturous silence, my flight response kicks in, and I begin to craft some pathetic statement like “Maybe I should get started on the climb first, so I’m not holding you two back.”

“We were saying that we should take off our socks and shoes when we reach the top. So that we don’t get trench foot,” Zwe says first. It’s the “we” that catches me off guard. They’re a “we” now?

“I don’t hate her, you know.”

He pivots his attention from some faraway treetop to my face, and as much as I want to turn away from his sudden scrutiny, I force myself to maintain eye contact.

“Don’t lie to me. Genuine question, why do you dislike her so much?” he asks, sounding like he’s done with all of this.

“No, I actually really like her,” I protest, aware that that’s exactly what you say when you dislike someone. “I think she’s funny and smart and thanks to her, we’re not getting trench foot.”

“So then what is it? What—” He tugs at his hair in frustration. “What is your complaint about her?”

I wonder how honest of an answer he’s asking for. How honest of an answer I’m willing to give him. “I think—”

“Because all she’s done so far is keep us alive. Hell, she was even asking questions about your stupid fucking book!”

It comes out of left field, almost knocking me out. “What does that mean?” I ask, feeling my defenses raise. Turns out I’m not as solidly a flight person as I thought. Turns out that sometimes, I pick fight .

“Nothing,” he says quickly. His expression is one of regret, but it’s not because he regrets what he said. It’s that he regrets saying it to me .

“No, what did you mean by my—”

In yet another act of great fucking timing, the universe intervenes and sends Leila back at this precise moment.

Judging by the fact that she loudly clears her throat from far away, it’s obvious that she heard us arguing. “All yours,” she says to Zwe, who gives a curt nod before marching away.

“So, um, do you think the rain will get worse?” I mumble. I hold out an open palm, but my hand stays dry. “Oh, it’s stopped?”

Leila imitates my gesture. “Seems like it. But that’s the weather on this island. Likes to tease.”

“Is there a chance the storm won’t come either?”

She grimaces at my obvious hopefulness. Instead of answering, she indicates upward as though to say, Look for yourself, what would you say?

I let out an embarrassed laugh when I see that the dark clouds that rolled in while we were on the beach are still there, and still very dark. “Actually, never mind.”

“We’ll be okay, though,” she says. She knocks on one of the wooden beams. “This thing was built to withstand anything.”

“Even, like—” I search my brain for an objectively-ridiculous-yet-at-this-point-possible scenario. “A raccoon attack?”

“There aren’t raccoons around here,” she snorts.

“Here as in in this area—” I make a circling motion with one finger. “—or on this island? Because if it’s the former, hey, maybe they know it’s anarchy now and they’ve decided to strike.”

Leila shakes her head and laughs. “On this island,” she says. “You make it sound like we’ve been transported into Jumanji . This place is my home, and trust me when I tell you I’ve never seen a raccoon on these shores. Now, a few dozen varieties of snakes, on the other hand—”

“Stop!” I say as I reflexively break out into a shiver. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“Hey, this is what you wanted, right?” She winks. “The full remote island experience? Think you’ll sign up for it again?”

“Sign up for what?” Zwe asks.

“The rugged remote island experience,” Leila says, to which Zwe gives a short, amused Hmph . “Maybe this can be inspiration for Poe’s next book?”

The air goes still around us. My face burns hot.

Zwe mutters, “Let’s get going.” If Leila realizes she misspoke, she plays it off.

We revert back to silent mode as we climb the steps, me sandwiched between Leila at the front and Zwe in the back, all three of us making sure to crouch and stay low the whole way up.

“Hey, silly question, but do we run the risk of being struck by lightning at this height?” I ask.

Leila shoots me a reassuring smile over her shoulder. “The trees are still taller, and there’s also a lightning rod at the top, so we’re good,” she says, and I give her a thumbs-up.

“Now what do we do?” I ask through my wheezing pants when we arrive at the top.

Of course, the two of them are breathing as regularly as though we took a leisurely sunset stroll along the beach.

“Guess we sit and wait,” Leila says. There are several small wooden stools lined up along one wall, and she drags three of them toward the center.

She takes a seat, and gestures at us to join her.

Zwe and I angle our bodies so that we’re not directly facing each other.

“Did Zwe tell you about trench foot?” she asks as she takes off her sneakers and socks. “I apologize in advance for my odors.”

“I don’t think any of us have a right to complain about anyone’s odors,” Zwe says as he removes his own footwear.

“How are we going to run if we’re barefoot?” I ask, trying not to gag as I remove one sock. No amount of detergent is going to save these babies.

Leila leans over and peers down at the ground. “If they corner us up here, I don’t think ‘running’ is going to be a viable escape plan.”

“Fair,” I say.

“Are you guys hungry?” Barefoot, she walks over to a small plain cabinet in one corner and reaches inside.

“We don’t have the breakfast buffet spread, I’m afraid, but we do have—” She waves three rectangular pieces of foil with a triumphant look as she makes her way back to us.

“—the finest granola bars this side of the island. We’ve got mixed berry, coconut macadamia, and vanilla almond. Any preferences?”

I make eye contact with Zwe, who gives a nod. “Ladies first.”

“Coconut macadamia, please,” I say.

“Excellent choice,” Leila says. “Zwe?”

“Like I said, ladies first.”

“Vanilla almond for you, it is,” she says as she hands it over.

Open granola bar in hand, Zwe takes out a folded piece of paper from his back pocket and places it on the floor beside him.

“Is that the map?” Leila nods over at it. “You kept it?”