Cliché || H.S.

Chapter 27

The Fourth of July is shamefully one of my favorite days of the year. In college I advocated for my family to celebrate the anti-fourth, that way we could still spend a day on the boat, have parties, but not celebrate a country that steals land and systematically oppresses people. My mom didn't like that very much. She told me that if I was going to speak like that I could either move or keep myself inside for the day. My will power failed me and Jell-O shots and wakeboarding won out.

To this day I refuse to wear red, white and blue, more out of stubbornness towards my parents, but I still look forward to the holiday at the lake. When we were younger all of the kids would hop from house to house or swim in the lake while the adults drank on someone's patio. Once the day faded into night, the dads would set off fireworks at the end of the dock six houses down from ours. It was a day of fun where our parents cared significantly less about what we did.

We set out for the lake right after breakfast, eager to make the most of the day. Once we get far enough out on the water I head to the cooler and grab beers to hand out to everyone except for Harper and Lucia. "Can I have one?" Harper asks innocently. Everyone laughs at her naivety, and she looks around confused, her cheeks turning pink.

"Sorry kid," I tell her, "I'm afraid you have a few more years left in the juice box club." I pull out a Capri-sun just for her despite the disapproving look from Kelly. She's on the whole no sugar thing and is super strict about what the kids are allowed to eat, but she can't take it away now.

"Lily, do you really need to start drinking this early? Alcohol and water sports don't mix," my dad asks, setting his unopened beer back in the cooler.

"Water sports and alcohol mix very well. Don't be lame," I tell him, opening my can and taking a long drink, "Jared agrees." I point towards Jared who is taking a long swig of his own. Once he notices that we're talking about him he pulls the drink from his lips, wiping his chin.

"Who's going out first?" he asks, getting up and grabbing life jackets from a compartment under the bench. Lucia is out for obvious reasons, Kelly doesn't do dirty water, and Scott isn't much of an athlete, so I decide to put Harry on the spot.

"Harry will go," I volunteer. Harry's eyes shoot up in surprise.

"No, Harry will not," he responds, giving me the 'what are you doing' look.

"Oh come on! You can't be that bad," I grab his hands and try to pull him up, but he's dead weight, absolutely refusing.

"Lilian Jean, don't force the poor boy," my mom defends him. Jared tosses me a lifejacket instead, "I guess that means you're up."

Shoving my feet into the boots is harder than I remember, and I begin to panic that I'll be too out of practice. After all, I have a reputation to uphold and a boy to impress. Once my feet are strapped and my grip is good on the handle, I shoot my dad a thumbs up and the boat begins to pull me forward. Once I pull myself up, muscle memory takes over and I allow my legs to feel strong underneath me as the waves cut under me.

There's something freeing and rewarding about tagging along to the back of a boat. It's like my journey to relinquishing control. Like life, the moment that the boat starts to move your body fills with an excited nervousness. The thought of it is slightly daunting, no matter how ready you said you were. But once you get your balance it's pure adrenaline and excitement. And when you wipe out, you try again. That redemption is a reminder of how capable your body and your mind is. That's your reward.

I get some good runs in before I slip my feet out and swim up to the boat. Harry grabs my hand to help pull me up while Jared jumps in to take his turn. I wrap myself up in a towel and scoot close to Harry trying to warm up.