The sky is darkening and the sun has slipped behind the dunes, out of sight, leaving a warm glow over the crest of sand. The river narrows, and the two other boats aren’t far ahead of us. It feels like everyone is charging forward, faster and faster, and I’m not sure if we’re racing one another, or something else, but then I see it. The dunes slope down, down, down, fading back into dune grass and then to sand. We come through a last bend, and the sky opens up. The sun is just creeping down below the water, and it looks like there’s a fire burning below the blue expanse of the lake.

“Holy crap,” I say.

“Aren’t you glad you’re a boater now?”

The way the river is angled, cutting into beach, running parallel to the lake shore, it feels like we’re paddling right into the blaze. It’s nothing like seeing the sun set from on land. “How have I never seen this before?”

“Hanging around with the wrong people, I guess.”

I laugh, because he’s right. “What beach is this?”

“I’m not sure what it’s called. It doesn’t have public access, you have to hike through the state park to get to it.”

“Ah.”

“I’m guessing you don’t hike either?”

“Not unless you count the summer after sixth grade, when my Oma made us trek around her subdivision every morning with a bunch of other grandmothers.”

Aiden laughs. “I don’t.”

“If I’d known this is what I was missing, maybe I would have.” The earlier parts of the river were full of rocky shores and little crops of dune grass spreading down into the water, but now the river is cutting through nothing but sand, the water getting deeper and darker. Ahead of us, I can see the mouth of Lake Michigan, and beyond it a curved bay, with giant dunes at the peak.

“Now we both get a rest.” Having Aiden behind me is like having an invisible narrator the whole trip.

Tonight was the first thing I officially put in the hands of fate, and I can’t wait to use this in my essay. I’m making a mental note of the colors and the way it feels to be this close to everything.

I peek back at Aiden, careful not to tip myself like last time, and his paddle is across his lap. We’re still moving—picking up speed, actually. It’s sort of soothing moving along like this with no effort. But it also makes me just a little nervous. It must show on my face, because Aiden smiles and tips his head up ahead. “The current’s going to pick up until we’re sucked out.”