Bev was perched on the warm rock, her legs dangling over the edge, a half-eaten apple in her hand. Her red hair was still damp from her own swim earlier, curling at the ends.

A ripple of laughter moved through the group scattered across the sun-bleached rocks. Ben was sitting closest to the water's edge, his sketchbook open on his knees. Mike had his radio on low, some song drifting out that no one really knew the words to. Eddie was complaining about the heat and the bugs and the possibility of getting some sort of waterborne parasite in equal measure.

Richie mimed being shot, clutching his chest and rolling dramatically off the rock. Eddie kicked him. Mike shook his head, smiling.

The water lapped gently against the rock. A dragonfly skimmed the surface a few feet away, its wings catching the light.