Boys of West Denton ✓

chapter twenty-eight

sebastian

The quarry is as vibrant as it always is, its practically tropical cerulean waters out of place next to the forest green foliage surrounding it. There's not a cloud in the sky today, so there's no avoiding the harsh summer sun. The warning sign has been knocked down on its front side, probably by last night's storm, but it's not as if you can forget the warnings that are currently laying face down against the earth.

Unless you're Harris, that is.

"Okay, I wanna go swim in there so bad," he says, peering down over the cliff's edge. It's a little more of a drop than the Lake Franz edge, but it's not any more intimidating than a public pool high dive.

Still, diving into toxic waters is an absolute no.

"Harris."

"What?"

"Absolutely not."

He's still shirtless, his red-and-white-striped towel draped over his shoulders. His hair is pushed up against his forehead, and his cheekbones have turned red in the summer sun. With his skin all tan and glistening like that—not to mention some tan and glistening abs, oh lord—I'm caught a little speechless for a second.

Harris notices. Because, of course he does. "What?" he asks, his smile lopsided.

"Nothing." I want to date this boy. I hate myself.

"Sure." He stretches, flexing his arms above his head. Fuck. He knows what he's doing. He's actually the worst. "You scared to go for a little dip in Wetspring Quarry?"

I'm sorry, but he's standing right next to the overturned sign. Has he seriously forgotten the potential consequences of a little dip in Wetspring? Stupid debate team juniors are one thing. Elana Doorsey is one thing. Harris? Harris should know better.

"Harris, absolutely not," I tell him, hoping I sound a little more self-assured than I feel. There's this niggling idea that somehow, it could be fun. But it's got to be too dangerous for us to actually do it. There is a sign for a reason. "You know what could happen. Can you imagine explaining to your mom that you caught some kind of infection thing from the lake?"

Harris shrugs it off. "I'll work it out. C'mon. C'mon, it looks so nice and cool and fuuun. Other people have done it." He looks legitimately excited, but I don't care. I am not going swimming in this god-forsaken quarry. What if I die? What if I jump in and die?

"Besides," Harris continues, "if it's soooo toxic, then what are we going to catch from it?"

"What?"

"Like, if it's too toxic, then how can any kind of bacteria thing survive in there?"

"Harris. No. What? No. That is so inherently flawed. Like, I think that might be the stupidest argument I've ever heard. Ever. And not just on one level, on multiple." Honestly, I cannot believe that he thinks that this would be a good idea. What on earth has gotten into him?

Harris pouts. "But it looks so summer."

"'It looks so summer' is not reason enough for me to go in."

"People go in all the time, and no one has died," he argues. "Some of the track guys went after graduation. A few of them even skinny-dipped. Look at us! We're fully clothed. We're even better off than they are, and they were fine!"

The debate kids from last night. The smiles in their videos. The laughter. The sheer enjoyment. But no. Nope. I can't let myself get caught up in the aesthetics of jumping into a gorgeous yet disgusting pit of standing water. "Harris. It feels kinda stupid."