Wettmelons

Selene looked around. At Maya, who was locked in an epic inflatable orca joust with a kid in a pirate ship. At the elderly woman doing gentle backstrokes, singing show tunes. At the chaos, the joy, the complete and utter weirdness.

“WETTMELONS!” she shrieked, the sound gurgling out of her. WettMelons

“You’re the WettMelons girl,” he said. Not a question. Selene looked around

And there, under the lantern-lit sky, on a beat-up float shaped like a fruit, two teenagers who’d been too afraid to jump in finally started to swim. At the chaos, the joy, the complete and utter weirdness

Taking a breath that felt like borrowing courage from a future, braver version of herself, Selene lowered into the water. The cold was a shock, a baptism. She pushed off the wall, elbows flailing like a wounded duck.

“It’s legendary ,” Maya corrected, grinning. “Think of the lore.”