She shifted her feet on the pile of sleeping bags and stretched her arms. I
watched her lips move to the words they formed about poetry, the night, and
the trees. It was so good to be out of civilization for a while, wrapped up
in a world of lakes and laughter and pancake sacrifices to the gods of
fire. There were eight of us that night, sitting in the tent trying to ward
off the heat and the bugs. We were making too much noise; I thought for
sure we were going to wake up my mother, but no sound came down from the
tent she was in about a hundred yards away. From the dim light of the
lantern-flashlight, I could just barely make out the shapes of Erik, Grant,
and Steve at the far end of our tent. Cat’s lips were still moving, and I
watched the tip of her nose move ever-so-slightly to each word that she
spoke. The waves of her hair fell softly in a halo around her head, save
the few strands that strayed down across the sides of her face. She was
saying she wanted to go swimming, and we were all agreeing with her. It was
nearly 11:00, and the air was still and warm. I made a comment about not
waking my mother; they nodded and tiptoed out of the tent.

Stumbling through the doorway, I slid my feet into my sandals and padded
over to the line where my towel hung, drying in the night air from the swim
earlier that day. Cat touched my arm gently, and the eight of us made our
way, almost noiselessly, up the path to the end of our campground. The
moonlight streamed down bright and full through the trees, casting long
shadows across the pavement, tossing some light into the shadows on the
other side of the drive. We walked down the gently sloping road to the
roadblock, which we carefully ducked under, and we continued walking down
towards the lake. Weeds and scraggly wild flowers poked their stalks out
from between cracks in the pavement, and crickets scattered away from our
feet as we trod onward. Our tone was mild, and the conversation murmured
and rumbled over itself, fading off into the dense trees to either side of
us.

The road fed into a parking lot that hadn't felt the grip of tires in
nearly a decade; white directional arrows were barely visible from years of
rain and sun and snow. On the other side of the lot, a narrow opening in
the trees exposed to us a winding dirt path leading directly down to the
water. I shuffled my feet down the hill, bracing myself against gravity,
kicking up a cloud of dust behind me. I was first to break through the
trees and walk through the tall grass to the concrete ledge where I set
down my towel and turned around to wait for everyone else. Rachel came down
next followed by Jessi, then the rest of the group. They set down their
towels near mine and got ready to step into the lake.

Cat headed to the water first, and the rest of us followed. Our bodies
shone in the moonlight as we stepped into the water that was still warm
from the hot July sun. At our backs was the looming hill which we had just
descended, and just barely above it was the fully round, bright moon. Stars
were strewn across the dark velvet sky in patterns that we pointed to and
tried to identify. We waded out to the island of concrete slabs and stood
there talking, laughing, listening. A quarter of a mile away on the other
side of the lake we saw the headlights of cars quietly round the curve and
disappear into the trees. A slight breeze stirred the night air and put
goosebumps on my arms as I shivered unknowingly.

I watched her glide away from the group and float a few yards away, looking
up into the starry sky. I longed to join her; I longed to touch her smooth
cheeks and ask her what was going on behind those intense eyes. Instead, I
too drifted away from the others and swam until I was in water where
tendrils of lake plants reached up and stroked my bare legs. There I
stayed, treading water and listening to the night. Somewhere off in the
distance a coyote howled to the moon, and in the other direction, the call
was answered. They spoke back and forth for a number of minutes and then
were silent, only to start again a little while later. My eyes darted
towards the sky as a small dark shape flew low overhead, and was followed
by a second bat, and a third. The night mystified me; waves of calm and
sobriety washed over me, driving back all other thoughts of obligation and
responsibility. I was free. Just at that moment, as if solely to spite me,
the low piercing beam of a flashlight from the top of the hill broke my
peace. It swept across us once, then twice, then back again. It hovered for
a moment on the group gathered at the rocks, then it vanished. My eyes
stayed fixed on that spot for a minute, then I began swimming back to the
group.

After an hour or two, our thirsts for late night swimming were quenched; we
began to head back to shore. I shivered again as the cool air hit my body,
and I rushed back to the ledge to wrap myself in my towel. There I sat
while I waited for my friends to dry off and dress. My gaze wandered and
came to rest on her as she raised her arms and pulled her shirt down over
her shoulders. She looked up and saw me watching her, and she smiled, then
walked towards me. Offering her hand to help me up, we made our way back to
the tent as quietly as we had come.