Ben, Hutch, and Evan saw small groups heading into the woods on a path that started opposite the chapel. The three of them didn’t speak as they stepped from the grass of the chapel lawn onto the white-pine needles carpeting the path, each with a towel over his shoulder.

Ben felt the beauty of the forest—shifting coins of light over the rocks and tree trunks, air fragrant with pine sap and the slight cooking smell of leaf cover in the hot sun—but he was a little worried about what it would be like out on the docks, how he was going to get his work done, and something else further out, harder to name. He was having to put effort into feeling how beautiful it was. Was this beauty the way he thought it would be? Hutch and Evan did not seem to be expending this kind of effort.

The boys kept walking for what seemed like a long time, and just as Ben wondered if they had overshot, the woods yielded up the back of the boathouse: green clapboard with crumbly yellow catkins clinging to the eaves and small windows. They could hear girl-laughter on its far side, and then the light fizz of conversation, and finally the dock itself creaking up and down with the miniature pond waves. The path passed behind the boathouse and then alongside it, allowing no view of the people sitting out there, until two stone steps led directly up onto the main platform.

As Ben climbed the steps, he had a brief vision of catching the toe of his flip-flop on the edge of the deck and sprawling out in front of everyone, slapping his face down against the pressure-treated wood. Ben startled himself; he hadn’t expected these scenarios to play out in his mind at St. James.

But he placed each foot surely and took his first step onto the dock, and instead of all the conversations zipping closed and every face turning toward them, a few people looked over but mostly kept talking or lazily looking down at textbooks. Ben saw two people smoking and just made out the high burning smell. Three groups of guys sat against the front wall of the boathouse, and other groups of threes and fours had established encampments farther down the dock. It was pretty crowded, but with no threats that Ben could see right away.

The pond was tea-black against the corrugated band of trees around it. The sun was just hot enough to make Ben’s skin tighten. Evan, Ben, and Hutch headed for an open spot on the dock right out in the sun and spread out their towels.