A Season for Fireflies by Rebecca Maizel Page B

leaving Panda in the parking lot. That made sense, as I am sure he was driving Panda to rehearsal, but I don’t know what could have made him scream at Panda so violently. The Mercedes tires screeched as he sped off. I was all out of breath and flushed when I turned to Panda. He nodded without making eye contact with me. His eyelashes were thick with tears.
    â€œPanda,” I croaked.
    â€œYou’re a good egg, Berne,” he said. “You’re good.”
    And he walked up the hill toward school without ever bringing it up again—until now.
    Kylie’s laughter rises over the music, bringing me back to the kitchen at Tank’s house. She says something to Tank and presses her hand against his chest. I would like to ask Panda what part he thinks he wants in Midsummer— but I don’t. I never did find out what his dad was yelling at him about that day.
    â€œThat’s a serious shirt for a night such as this,” I say, gesturing to Panda’s T-shirt.
    â€œDon’t fuck with the wolf,” Panda replies, and sips on his Coke. “I miss you, Berne,” he says.
    I want to ask Panda why I haven’t seen him at parties since last spring, and why he skipped being in an Ocean State Theater Company play this past summer. I follow the play schedule andprivately scrutinize who is starring in the summer productions. I didn’t see his name once and I know he’s been in OSTC since he was eight. Just like May and me.
    â€œHow come I didn’t see you in any of my classes?” I ask. We were in three together last year.
    Panda sips on his Coke. “I’m not in senior classes this year.”
    That doesn’t make sense. “Why not? You were in both my AP classes last year.”
    He doesn’t answer because the bass bumps up a bit and members of the basketball team come into the kitchen. Tank leads the way. We both know that the guys on the basketball team can pick on Panda, but they never let it go too far. He gets the good weed and can fix their computers better than any tech guys at school. He scoots out undetected and I get why he wants out of the room. Kylie comes back by my side at the sight of Tank. I don’t know how to be when she needs me to be the one in the spotlight.
    â€œWe heard a girl in here makes a really good screw,” Tank says with his familiar booming voice. I cannot understand why guys have to make fun of a girl in order to interact with her.
    â€œYes, I will make you a drink,” I say with a roll of my eyes. “Hand me your cup.”
    Tank hugs me to him with a shoulder squeeze.
    I make some drinks for Tank and the guys and pass them out—the vodka bottle is nearly empty. It doesn’t matter how many anyone thinks I had, even though I hardly ever drink.
    â€œTo Penny!” Tank cries. Seven players on the basketball team stand around me and raise up their red cups.
    â€œTo Penny!” they echo.
    I curtsy.
    â€œTank looks so good,” Kylie whispers in my ear. I nudge her with my elbow.
    She bites at her nails.
    â€œWhat if it’s just a hookup?” she says.
    Beyond Kylie, out in the living room, I see Wes pass by. I miss my friend so much, it nearly physically aches.
    I angle my body to lean against the wall for a better view. My heart pounds in my throat. I can’t help it—it’s like a magnetic pull now that Wes is in the room. Wes pushes his blond hair out of his eyes and readjusts his knit beanie. A thin leather strap wraps tight around his neck. That’s new. He finally catches me watching him. My stomach dips. He’s in a formfitting gray T-shirt. Sparks erupt in me, deep in the center of my belly—not butterflies, but a fire. I want to touch him, even just to see what his skin feels like now. But I pushed him away, and I can never have him back. That part of my life is over.
    â€œHow do I look?” Kylie flattens out the front of her dress and applies more red