He and Sheila Burns were walking towards Tucker's General Store. Joey wanted to check out the latest selection of comic books. The new issue of The X-Men was due any day now. Sheila wanted a bottle of Coppertone. At least, that's what she'd said she wanted when they started out on this errand.

      Sheila carried an enormous cassette player in one hand. The boom box actually belonged to an older sibling, but Sheila had appropriated it for the summer. Her selection of tapes left something to be desired, but she seemed happy playing "Regatta de Blanc" by The Police, Billy Joel's "Glass Houses" and "Chicago's Greatest Hits" over and over again.

      Now, with Tucker's in sight, she turned to Joey and said, grinning mischievously, "You ever been shit-faced, Joey?"

      He had once swiped some of his father's Glenfiddich and puked prodigiously afterwards. He didn't know whether that qualified or not, but he said, "Sure. Lots of times."

      She smiled wider, revealing pearly white teeth just crooked enough to be sexy. "What do you say we pick something up at Tucker's and have ourself a little party?"

      The thought of getting plastered on this muggy July afternoon was not particularly appealing to Joey. But if that's what Sheila had her heart set on, he certainly wasn't going to demur. "OK. But how are we going to get something to drink?"

      "You just leave that to me."

      They found Bart Webber leaning against the railing of Tucker's porch. A year-round resident of Brown's Pond, Bart was a tall, thin twenty-year-old with a remarkably flat face, as if someone had slapped him with a shovel during his formative years. His daddy ran Webber's Boat-A-Rama over on the south side of the pond. Today Bart was sipping at a bottle of Coke and keeping an eye on his pickup truck, lest someone steal the rusty boat parts out of its bed.

      Leaving the boom box with Joey, Sheila scampered up the rickety steps of the porch and approached Bart, putting an extra bit of wiggle in her walk. "Hi, Bart!" she said brightly. "How's it going?"

      Bart set his Coke down, belched loudly and said, "Hey there, Sheila. What're you up to today?" Joey watched his eyes track quickly from Sheila's face, to the front of her halter top, down to her silk shorts and back up.

      "Joey and I have some shopping to do."

      Bart noticed Joey for the first time and grimaced, as if he had stepped in something unpleasant. "Uhh," he said by way of greeting.

      Sheila sidled closer to Bart and, without asking, took a sip from his Coke. Handing back the bottle, she licked her lips and said, "Bart, there's something on our list we might have a problem with, though."

      "Oh, yeah?"

      "See, Joey and I were thinking about how nice a couple gin and tonics would taste today. Mr. Tucker'll sell us the ice, the glasses and the tonic, but I've got a feeling he won't hand over any gin to us. Think you can help us out?"

      Bart let his gaze crawl all over Sheila one more time before answering. "Sure, why not. You got some money?"

      Sheila came up with a ten and handed it to Bart. "Bombay, if they've got it. We'll go in first. Meet you in the parking lot in ten minutes."

      In the store, Sheila sent Joey after the ice and tonic, while she tried on sunglasses from a revolving rack at the back. Bart came in after a few minutes and purchased a small bottle of gin. Joey located the other items necessary for their G&Ts but failed to find the X-Men issue he wanted.

      Sheila joined him at the checkout and indicated that it was up to him to pay for everything, including her bottle of Coppertone and a new pair of sunglasses. Joey reluctantly ponied up the cash.

      In the parking lot, behind the pickup and out of sight from Tucker's, Bart handed over the bottle of Bombay Gin, without relinquishing any of the change from the ten. "There you go, Sheila."

      She accepted the brown paper bag and gave Bart a wide, gorgeous smile. "I really appreciate this, Bart. I owe you one."

      "Any time, Sheila." With a dismissive nod towards Joey, Bart said, "Why don't the two of us go for a ride in my truck? We could drive over to Winnipesaukee, go swimming in a real lake."

      "Maybe some other time, Bart. Thanks again!"

      Bart scowled at Joey and shook his head. "Yeah, whatever."

      Heading back toward their cabins, Joey said, "Where are we going to drink this stuff?"

      "Anyone at your place?"

      "Mom and Dad are around."

      "Where're your brothers?"

      Joey suddenly felt panicky. Now that he had them, he had no intention of sharing either the gin or Sheila's company with the twins. Luckily, Tom and Jeff were off on dates with two girls from across the pond. "They're with Deanna and Colleen this afternoon."

      Sheila made no attempt to hide her displeasure. "Well, then we'll have a party without them. And I know the perfect place. You ever been over to Henderson's Island?"

      Henderson's Island lay five hundred yards from the western shore of the pond, a two-acre clump of land owned by a prominent Concord physician. Last year, during the course of a bitter malpractice suit, Doc Henderson had been discovered to be a raving cocaine addict. Now his summer place was deserted and up for sale.

      From the shore, the house on the island looked quite impressive, by far the most expensive abode on the pond. Long before the drug scandal, Henderson had been rumored to be quite the party guy, notorious for loud, late-night festivities involving gangs of exceptionally good-looking and scantily clad men and women. The more staid summer people clucked their tongues and secretly wished they could see for themselves what kind of set-up Henderson had arranged for himself on his choice piece of real estate.

      Joey, too, was interested in checking the place out. But the bold NO TRESPASSING signs that dotted the island's shore gave him pause. He asked Sheila, "Have you ever been over there?"

      "Sure. Plenty of times."

      Joey wondered about that. It didn't seem the smartest thing for two underage kids to do in broad daylight with a bottle of gin in their possession.

      "I don't know," he said. "Maybe we ought to go someplace else. The caretaker might be there. Or someone could see us from a boat or something."

      Sheila rolled her lovely green eyes. "You are such a worry-wart." Joey was afraid she was going to make the trip without him, but the girl finally just shrugged and said, "OK, I've got another idea. Follow me."

      Carrying both the grocery bag and the cassette player, Joey tagged after Sheila as she left the road and headed into the woods. The pine needles were slick underfoot, and he almost fell a couple times in trying to keep up with her. Sweat ran in rivulets from his hairline, tickling the tip of his nose, stinging the still-healing lacerations on his forehead.

      He desperately wanted a drink, his misgivings about this outing nearly forgotten.

      Sheila, barely perspiring, eventually led him to a shaded clearing. She was obviously not the first person to select the spot as a good place for an illicit drink. Beer cans and a whiskey bottle littered the ground, not to mention a pair of condom wrappers.

      Setting the boom box on a flat rock, Sheila popped a fresh cassette into the machine and pressed the PLAY button. Sting and the boys launched into "Message in a Bottle."

      Sheila found a relatively clean area beneath a tall pine and sat down, Indian-fashion. "This ought to do the trick. Now hand me the fixings for the drinks."

      Joey sat down across from her and filled two plastic cups with some of the mostly melted ice. Sheila measured out two generous helpings of gin and then added a miserly amount of tonic. She muttered, "Damn it, we should've bought a lime. Oh, well."

      Joey took his drink. Sheila tapped his cup with hers and said, "Cheers." They drank.

      Joey nearly choked on the first swallow. The drink was far stronger than he had expected, and he almost coughed the fiery liquid up into his nose. He managed to gulp the alcohol down. When it hit his stomach, his eyes watered uncontrollably.

      Sheila didn't laugh at him, but her eyes betrayed her amusement. "Hits the spot, doesn't it?" she said, knocking back a third of her glass and not even flinching.

      "Real...smooth."

      "My sister Laurie turned me on to these," Sheila said. "She drinks them all the time when she's away at UNH."

      Tom and Jeff never shared anything with Joey, not drinks, not records, not the time of day. As much as they could get away with it, the twins pretended that Joey didn't even exist.

      With a toss of her golden hair, Sheila stretched out her long brown legs and leaned back on one elbow. Over the rim of her plastic cup, she said, "Do you like it much up here, Joey?"

      Trying not to stare at her breasts, he sipped carefully at his drink and said, "It's OK, I guess."

      "But you like it better back in California."

      "Well, sure. This sun and pine needles stuff is all right for a while, but there's not much else to do in New Hampshire. The nearest movie theater is twenty miles away, and it's still going to be playing The Empire Strikes Back when we leave at the end of the month. TV reception out here is crappy. There's not even a Burger King to hang out in."

      "Your brothers seem pretty happy here."

      "Yeah, well, they're not too difficult to please."

      Sheila took a big gulp of her drink. "I guess not, seeing how they're spending their time these days with Deanna and Colleen."

      Joey didn't quite know what to say to that. He watched as Sheila poured herself another strong gin and tonic. He already felt the effects of his first. Lunch today had consisted of an olive loaf sandwich, two Swiss Creme Rolls and a can of Hawaiian Punch, apparently not enough to sop up the alcohol in his stomach.

      He felt flushed and slightly lightheaded. It was a pleasant enough sensation, and he decided not to worry about the consequences just yet.

      "You know," said Sheila, "Tom and Jeff are real cute. But sometimes I don't think they're all that bright."

      The proper response to that was "No shit, Sherlock," but he didn't want to offend Sheila. Instead, he said, "They're pretty sharp as functional illiterates go."

      Sheila laughed, and Joey detected in her giggle a harsh, shrill quality he'd never noticed before. He watched her suck back half her gin and tonic.

      Sheila set her cup down and reached out unsteadily to touch the bump on Joey's head. Her fingers landed with greater force than she probably had intended. Joey winced and pulled away.

      "Sorry." She studied Joey's face, as if seeing it for the first time, "Boy, that oar really did a job on you. It's a miracle you didn't get a concussion."

      "It's a miracle I didn't drown."

      "Yeah, I guess you're right. Tom pulled you out just in time." All of a sudden, her expression became very sad, the pert mouth turning down in a frown. "Your brothers don't treat you very well, do they?"

      Her genuine concern made him uncomfortable. He tried to shrug it off. "Well, you must know how sibling rivalries are."

      "No, it's more than that between you and the twins. They're downright mean to you sometimes." She picked up her glass and drained it.

      Joey did not wish to spend any more time discussing Tom and Jeff. He decided to change the subject. "Do you like it up here, Sheila? You certainly seem to. I mean, you're always swimming or water skiing or sunbathing."

      "It's all right, I guess. I miss my friends from home, though." Was she slurring her words, or was it simply Joey's hearing that was out of whack? "My dad can be a real hard-ass. He'd go nuts if he knew I was getting drunk right now." She flashed that wicked grin again. "'Course, he'd go nuts if he knew half of the stuff I do." She snorted and filled her cup with gin again, this time forgetting to add any tonic.

      On the tape player, The Police began to sound very distorted and sluggish, as if they were playing underwater on quaaludes. Sheila jumped up and stumbled over to the boom box. Punching the OFF button, she said, "I knew we should've picked up some new batteries."

      Joey took the gin bottle and splashed some of the liquor into his glass. He was careful to pour in a healthy dollop of tonic. The stuff was going down a lot more smoothly, but he didn't want to overdo it. At the back of his mind, he wondered how to the two of them were going to find their ways back to camp and what kind of shape they were going to be in when they met their parents.

      Sheila didn't appear concerned. Sitting back down, she giggled and raised an eyebrow at Joey. "You want to know some of the things I do that would drive my old man nuts?"

      Joey had a pretty good idea what they might be, but he said, "Go ahead. Tell me."

      "Well, as you've probably guessed, I like to drink. Man, you should see some of the parties we have in Portsmouth. They're wicked! Lotsa beer and grass. I wish we had some grass right now, you know?"

      "So do I."

      Sheila leaned back and almost spilled her drink. Her face was red, and her eyes didn't seem to be focusing properly. To Joey, she looked incredibly beautiful.

      What would she do if he kissed her? Throw her drink in his face? Run screaming into the forest?

      She polished off her drink, burped delicately and said, "Tom and Jeff are going to be real pissed off when they find out they missed such a great party."

      She snagged the gin bottle and poured herself another drink. She saw that Joey's glass needed freshening and leaned over to give him more gin. And there it was, his perfect chance.

      The gin helped him not think about what he was doing. Without analyzing the possibly humiliating consequences, he grabbed Sheila by her tan shoulders and kissed her juniper-scented mouth.

      He was sure she would pull away, laugh in his pasty, pimply face. But she returned his kiss with equal passion, pulling herself closer until her breasts brushed lightly against his chest. He touched her lips tentatively with his tongue, and she accepted it readily. Before Joey quite knew what was happening, he and Sheila Burns were rolling around on the ground, tugging at each other's clothes.

      Things became confused. They kissed some more and drank some more. Joey felt Sheila lick his ear as he cupped one breast in his hand. He ran his tongue up and down her bare arm. Her skin didn't taste like butterscotch at all, but he found its sweet saltiness tantalizing.

      Joey wasn't sure whether it was the alcohol or the torrent of hormones dumped in his bloodstream, but he felt incredibly self-confident, no longer the weird little creep his older brothers held in such contempt. If only they could see him now, one sweaty hand down the back of Sheila Burns' shorts!

      Sheila suddenly gave a soft little moan and went limp in Joey's arms. Too limp. Surprised, Joey moved aside, and Sheila toppled over onto the ground, passed out cold.

      He couldn't believe it. His disappointment was a physical ache, a sickening weight in his gut and groin that made his knees shake. They'd been so close, so goddamned close! A few more minutes of tongue-wrestling and they'd have gone all the way. He was sure of it.

      Amid the fallen pine needles, Sheila snored and curled into a semi-fetal position.

      A change in the light finally registered on his gin-fogged brain. Joey turned his attention from the unconscious girl to the sky. The air tasted of ozone. A clammy breeze whistled through the trees. Ominous, jet-black thunderheads loomed overhead.

      It looked like one mother of a storm. Joey shook Sheila's shoulder, gently at first but then more roughly. "Sheila, wake up! C'mon. We've got to get out of here!"

      Nothing he did roused her. Sheila was down and out for the count.

      Thunder boomed and echoed through the woods. Lightning flashed through the mass of clouds.

      Joey could barely think coherently, but he knew they couldn't remain where they were until Sheila sobered up. Unfortunately, he had no idea in which direction lay the road or their families' cabins. Without Sheila's guidance, he was lost.

      The heavens split open, and the downpour commenced. The torrent was enough to bring Sheila out of her funk. Spluttering, she lurched to her feet. Joey caught her before she could fall down again.

      The wind was so strong, Joey had to shout to be heard. "How do we get out of here?" he screamed. "We've got to find shelter!"

      "Huh? I -- what?"

      Joey felt the lightning coming before it struck. Every hair on his body stood at attention, and the atmosphere seemed alive with electricity. Then the biggest flashbulb in the universe went off in his face, and he felt himself being lifted through the air.

      The next thing he knew, he was flat on his back in the dirt. He tried to get up, but he was still too stunned. He lifted his head and saw the lightning-blasted tree, only a few feet from where he and Sheila had been standing seconds ago.

      He called Sheila's name. No answer came. Too tired to try again, Joey lay back and let the rain pound down on his face.