The Fourth of July Festival, falling almost exactly halfway through summer break, was where you’d reconnect with the kids from school you weren’t friends enough with to see without forced proximity.
These are the kids who grow up to be the coworkers you talk to in the hallway but don’t see on weekends or holidays. Your coworkers never show up suddenly taller though or tanner and with sun-bleached hair. The boy who shows up with the girl you don’t dare talk to usually isn’t the one who’s been sporadically beating you up for years.
You see him smirking and he socks you in the gut without a touch.
Years later you still don’t know what the feeling is when you watch them start to argue. When you watch her push him away with pre-adolescent finality. When you see him sit alone, staring at the ground while the fireworks explode overhead.
