by Beth Reekles
I allowed myself a smile and snickered as I remembered. Warren was shorter than Noah, a different build. The white trousers had hung a couple of inches above Noah’s ankles and the blue waistcoat with yellow trim had looked a little snug on him. I hadn’t even really been able to appreciate the sight of his bare chest, I’d been too angry at him when we’d finally been face to face. And the giant mushroom hat that had been secured to his helmet…
Lee was laughing so hard he was wheezing, and I leaned heavily on him, a stitch pulling tight at my side as I tried to sober up.
“How in the hell did he manage to look so mad dressed like that?” I asked breathlessly. “How? Nobody should be able to dress up like Toad and look so pissed.”
“Imagine how much better it would’ve been if he’d kept the helmet on to be mad.”
Picturing it, I started laughing all over again.
We’d just about managed to stop laughing and breathe again when Lee pulled me to a stop. Quickly, he covered my eyes.
“All right, Elle. Do you know where you are?”
“Uh, the boardwalk?”
“Elle.”
I huffed, but indulged him, turning my focus from the hands covering my face to the electronic pinging sound somewhere in front of me. A clattering noise like…like foosball. Something that sounded like the go-karts, along with a tinny voice that said, “Player One wins!” The plastic-y bang and slamming of air hockey.
I gasped, pulling Lee’s hands away and snapping my eyes open to stare in awe at the arcade in front of me. I turned to Lee to find his eyes glittering. He seemed to be shaking. So excited he could barely contain himself. Lights from the games flashed across the arcade and kids ran back and forth. A couple of preteens were trying to win something from the claw machine and a few parents hung around.
“Lee…this is the arcade.”
“Elle,” he said. “This is the arcade.”
Both of us holding our breath, we stepped across the threshold and into the arcade. It was like stepping back in time. Our moms used to bring us here when we were really small. Lee and I had come out to the arcade by ourselves during the summers when we were in middle school—and even played hooky one day to come here. (We got caught and were grounded for two weeks each, but it had felt so totally worth it at the time.)
I couldn’t remember the last time we’d come out here. I guessed, at some point, we’d just grown out of it.
But I could remember our favorite game: the Dance Dance Mania machine was sitting proudly in the center of the arcade. Its silver steel was flecked with rust and was a little misty-looking, but the blue and pink flashing arrows were bright as ever.
Wordlessly, Lee and I approached it.
I ran a hand over the handlebar at the back of the game. I could see Lee beaming at me, proud to share this.
“We came out here for the eighties mini golf,” he explained, “and walked right past this place. I’d forgotten all about it till then.”
“Oh my God” was all I could say. Because—oh my God. It was still here. How many hours had we devoted to DDM when we were kids? I wasn’t always especially coordinated, but this game had been one of my few strong suits in that area. We used to rule this game.
Lee fished in his shorts pocket for a bunch of quarters. He held them out to me, cradling them like diamonds. They even seemed to sparkle in the glare of all the flashing lights.
“Ready, Player Two?”
“Oh, you are so on.”
The two of us leaped up onto the machine, taking up our old spots. Lee fed the quarters in and the demo video on the screen switched to a list of songs. Lee paused on “All Summer Long” by Kid Rock.
“That’s it,” I told him. “That’s the one.”
He selected it and then gave me the biggest, most impish grin imaginable as he selected Difficulty level: Expert.
“You don’t think we’re a little rusty for expert, Lee?”
“Bwok-bwok-bwok-bwok-bwok,” he clucked, fanning his arms at his sides, elbows out. “Is that a chicken I hear?”
I narrowed my eyes, turning back to the screen. “Mind you don’t trip over those two left feet, Lee. I’ve got a game to win.”
The screen switched to the game.
THREE.
Chicken? I’d show him chicken. I’d crush this.
TWO.
There was no chance in hell of me winning. I bet Lee would suck, too. We were in an arcade surrounded by little kids half our age and we were about to make utter fools of ourselves, trying to play at expert level on DDM.
ONE.
I sucked in a breath, my hands clenching into fists. The blend of anticipation and pure, childish delight that was fizzing through me was intoxicating.
GO!
Arrows flew across the screen and my legs lurched into action. I could hear Lee thrashing about beside me, our feet stomping frantically as we did our damnedest to keep up with the game. I didn’t dare spare him a look. I was completely focused on the screen and I knew he would be, too.
It was a different version of the song from the one I was used to. It was more electronic and furiously fast.
And it was over too soon.
My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath. I definitely had a stitch now. I collapsed back against the metal bar, and Lee flopped right down on the floor of the machine, hand on his stomach and panting.
The screen racked up our score: 54%, it declared. NOT BAD!
“Not bad?” I wheezed. For Pete’s sake, when did I get so out of shape that I couldn’t keep up with a kids’ dancing game? I’d spent months on the track team! And Lee was a footballer. “Not bad?”
“Shelly,” Lee gasped, hand clutching my ankle. “I don’t think we were good.”
“We used to hold every spot on the leadership board of this game. Come on, get your ass up. We’ve got two more songs before those quarters run out. Not bad! Ha! We’re. Gonna. Kill this.”
“It’s gonna kill me first,” Lee muttered, but he hauled himself up, shaking it off. “I don’t remember it being this much exercise, Shelly.”
“I guess this explains why we used to eat, like, three hot dogs a day.”
Twelve dollars and nine songs saw us both drenched in sweat, but finally, finally, back on the leaderboard.
Even the game screen was proud of us: 92%! WOW!
A celebration video rolled across the screen, and I let myself sit down at last.
“That song…” Lee puffed. He shook his head, bending over his knees while he caught his breath. He tried again: “That song is going to be stuck in my head for weeks.”
“Hey, it can join your one other brain cell, keep it company for the summer.”
Lee groaned, swiping blindly at me. “Don’t make me laugh. I don’t have the energy to laugh right now. Oh man. How did we do this all day long as kids?”
“Get it together, old man.” I picked my phone up from where I’d left it on the floor next to Lee’s wallet and cap and my sunglasses and took a picture of our score and spot on the leaderboard.
It had taken the second round of songs for us to get back in the groove. The muscle memory for DDM must have been in there somewhere because Lee and I had found our rhythm again. We even pulled a couple of tricks as we got more and more into the game. Nothing as great as we used to do, of course, but nothing too shabby either.
Ninety-two percent expert.
I’d take that.
“I know you kids,” a voice said. We both turned to see an old guy standing nearby wearing a red cap and a red polo shirt with the arcade’s name in swirly writing on the pocket. “Don’t I know you?”
We both looked at him for a minute before Lee said, “Wait…Harvey? Oh man! We almost didn’t recognize you! It’s us—Elle and Lee. We used to be here all the time.”
; He squinted back at us. “Didn’t you get your arm stuck in the claw machine?”
Lee blushed, but he was grinning. I climbed to my feet as he proudly confirmed, “Yup! That was me!”
“Back for one last round on this thing, huh?” Harvey fondly patted the side of Dance Dance Mania.
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Lee laughed, saying exactly what I was thinking. “We’ll probably be back here all summer, taking over that leaderboard again.”
Harvey’s wrinkled face pulled into an apologetic smile. “Well, good luck with that. This old gal’s going out to pasture in a couple of weeks. Retirement date’s set for sixth of July.”
The words punched the air out of my lungs in a way that none of the dancing had.
“What?” I demanded. “But…but why? This machine’s been here for years! We’ve practically been dancing on this thing since we could walk!” With the exception of the last few years. “You can’t get rid of it!”
He sighed heavily, full of sympathy. “There’s not much I can do about it. This thing’s starting to fall apart. Costs more to repair than it makes.” He tapped at the edge of the screen, where there was a fuzzy black spot in the corner that I hadn’t noticed until now. Then I saw the duct tape slapped across the metal panels on the sides of the machine. The lights in one of Lee’s arrows were out completely and two of mine were flickering. Lee seemed to be noticing all of this, too; he wiggled the metal handlebar behind us. It was a little loose and it creaked. I bet with any amount of force, you could’ve pulled it right off.
But still!
The DDM machine had been the staple of the arcade for us for so many summers. The last forty minutes or so with Lee had been pure joy and had wiped my mind of the stress of the future, of college, of the fight with Noah and his attitude toward Levi.
Lee’s face had fallen, too, but there was so much more than simple disappointment in it.
“Sorry, kids,” Harvey told us with a shrug.
I did my best to give him a polite smile and sound upbeat. “That’s okay. Guess we’ll just have to come back to take over that leaderboard before you get rid of it!”
As Harvey walked off, Lee muttered under his breath and kicked at the machine. The screen fizzled out and back on and off again, then started showing the demo video again. Lee stepped off completely, huffing, and hunched over the handlebar.
I knew that look all too well. I’d seen it plenty of times this summer. His eyes shone wet and he clenched his jaw tight. His lip wobbled just a little.
“I don’t believe this,” he bit out. “First the beach house. Then you and Harvard. And now this? Is nothing sacred?”
Melodrama was one of Lee’s strong suits, but I didn’t think he was being melodramatic right now. Not in the slightest.
I put a hand on his back, leaning next to him. “Tell me about it.”
It didn’t matter that we’d forgotten all about the arcade and Dance Dance Mania. What mattered was that we’d shown up here to relive a golden hour of our childhood, just to find it was falling to pieces and being scrapped.
Which, honestly, felt like a way-too-accurate metaphor for everything else that was going on. It hurt. It wasn’t about the machine. There would be other DDM machines, other arcades.
It was about us.
It was about the future.
It was about this being a summer of lasts.
Lee sniffled next to me, and I wished there was something I could do. A huge part of the melancholy hanging over us all summer, however distantly, was because of me, because of my decision to not go to Berkeley. I wished I could stop him hurting like this.
I wished—
It hit me like lightning. I stifled a gasp to tell Lee, “Stay here. I’ll be back in a sec,” before running off to find Harvey, who was exchanging a kid’s tokens for a baseball mitt.
Barely a minute later, I was back with Lee, who hadn’t budged from his despairing stance at Dance Dance Mania. He eyed me curiously as I grabbed his wallet off the floor and riffled through receipts and dollar bills and—
I held up a condom. “Seriously? You’re so classy.”
“Put that away!” he hissed. “There are kids around!”
I shoved it back into his wallet, only for him to murmur, “It never hurts to be prepared, Shelly. I bet Noah keeps one in his wallet.”
“I will neither confirm nor deny this.”
I could totally, absolutely confirm this.
I pulled out the sheet of paper I was looking for. We’d been carrying the bucket list about all summer, folding and refolding it a hundred and one times. It hadn’t been in the most pristine condition when we’d found it; by the end of this summer, I got the feeling it’d be falling apart.
“What’re you doing?” he asked, straightening up. I took a seat under the handlebar. Lee sat with me, hitting his head and muttering, “Ouch.”
Lee and Elle’s Epic Summer Bucket List
27. Take a hot air balloon ride—NO PARENTS ALLOWED!
28. Turn Noah into a human ice-cream sundae
29. Go to Berkeley together for college!
30. One last dance on our DDM machine at the arcade
“New item,” I told him. “One final dance on this old gal—July fifth.”
“Hmm,” he murmured approvingly. And then, “You sure you got the time for it?”
I glanced at number twenty-three, the mini-golf night I’d missed yesterday. Lee had crossed it through lightly in pencil. Half done. Kind of done. Not done enough.
“Absolutely,” I told him, reaching up to chuck a finger under his chin. “Now get that mopey look off your face, okay? I know I’ve been crazy busy the last couple of weeks—working, looking after Brad, spending time with Noah as well as doing all the bucket-list stuff, but this is important to me, too, Lee. And I promise you, I’ll be here for one last dance, no matter what. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Lee gave me a soft smile, his head tipping onto my shoulder. “You’re such a mushy loser sometimes, Elle, but I love you.”
“I love you, too, buddy.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
It was dark out by the time Lee and I got back to the beach house. We had the next couple of days all planned out. Race day may have been the biggest thing on the list (and the biggest coup to pull off), but it was by no means the end of it. We’d managed to plan our weekend at Berkeley, too.
Indoors, the lights were on in the rumpus room and laughter filtered out from that direction.
“Who’s that?” Amanda sang down the hallway.
“Tweedledum and Tweedledumber,” Rachel replied, followed by a giddy laugh.
“I resent that!” Lee and I called back in unison, which only made her laugh more.
In the rumpus room we found them watching their way through a bunch of old home movies. A mostly empty box of chocolates sat between them and—
“Where did you guys even get wine from?” I asked. Jealousy tinged my voice to see them hanging out, having a girly night in together. I knew I’d have been welcome if I’d been around, but even so.
“I went to see my parents,” Amanda said. “Picked up some more clothes and stole some wine from them. They’re not gonna miss it. Just like they’re not gonna miss their only daughter when they’re too busy fighting. Ha-ha!”
I exchanged a glance with Lee, not really sure how to react.
Amanda topped their glasses off. “To self-involved parents and their stashes of wine!”
Rachel laughed again, swatting at Amanda’s knee like she’d said something truly hilarious. “Where’ve you guys been?” she asked us.
“Was it a bucket-list thing?” Amanda wanted to know.
Lee and I exchanged a look and nodded. I didn’t think either of us was about to explain how our old favorite arcade game
was being retired soon, and what a big deal that was. Although in fairness, they’d probably take us more seriously while they were tipsy than any other time.
“We saved you guys some dinner,” Amanda told us. “Mac and cheese.”
“We grabbed some burgers on the way home,” Lee said. He glanced at me. “But I’m gonna heat up some mac and cheese. You want some?”
I smiled. “Nah, I’m good. So, uh, did Noah join you guys for dinner?”
Both the girls shook their heads. Amanda said, “Haven’t seen him. I tried calling him, but he sent me to voice mail, like a tool.”
Rachel scoffed. “Toad the tool.”
They both dissolved into giggles again.
“Aww, but he doesn’t look like a tool here.” Amanda gestured at the home movie. It was Fourth of July, judging by the fireworks and the flags. On the screen, Noah was holding a toddler Brad on his shoulders. She wriggled around to peer over the back of the sofa at me. “Was it about Levi?”
I caught my breath and let out a sharp laugh. “Oh my God, seriously?”
“It was probably about Levi,” Rachel agreed seriously, sipping her wine.
“You too? This is crazy. Noah’s got no reason to be jealous of Levi.”
They both pulled a face and then tried to go back to not pulling a face, but it was too late by then. Rachel was helpful enough to point out, “But you did kiss him.”
“He did kind of have a look,” Amanda added with a sympathetic expression.
“What look? What are you talking about?”
“You know, that…” Amanda’s head wobbled and her eyes drifting side to side as she looked up at the ceiling, her lips pursed lightly and her eyelashes fluttering. There was something dreamy and wistful about it.
I snorted. “Okay, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but that is not a look I’ve ever seen on Levi’s face.”
“Looks pretty accurate to me,” Rachel mumbled into her wine.
