“I have an idea,” Thomas said. “There are three boys and three tents, if we put one boy in each tent, that wouldn’t be a problem would it? Just to talk.”
“Wait, I’ll ask, “ Lisa said, walking back toward the tents.
“Nice thinking,” Jerry said, jabbing an elbow into his ribs.
“I’ve got Lisa’s tent no matter who else is in there,” I said.
“How do you figure that?” Thomas asked.
“My parent’s party, my boat, my lake knowledge, my pick,” as the snob in me woke up for a late night stroll.
“Oh what an ass, “ Thomas said. “Let’s shot rock, scissors, paper.”
“You and Jerry are free to play for the last two tent, but Lisa’s is mine,” I reiterated. “Since you have no idea who she invited, what’s there to fight over?
Lisa’s flashlight came back in graceful motions its owner displayed, seemingly at all times.
“OK we’re agreed you can stay, but no monkey business with my friends,” she said. I grabbed at her hand, she pulled it away, but I followed closely to her tent where Susan and Melissa were giddy with anticipation, or so it seemed to me. She re-zipped the tent, hung a flashlight by a cleverly constructed intertwine of bungie cords.