“Where do you just hang out?” I tip my head, trying to see what she does in the photo.

“Anywhere. There’s a ton of space.” She smiles and puts her phone away. “I’ll have everyone over once it’s done.”

Beth tells me her parents have rented a little plot of land near her college, and how it will save her so much money in housing costs and student loans. “I’ll just sell it when I graduate,” she adds.

I’m not usually jealous of dads—maybe because I’ve never had one and I don’t know what I’m missing—but I’m jealous of Beth’s dad. I don’t even want a tiny house—with their weird little composting toilets and each space repurposed for four different things—but I wish someone wanted to build one with me.

Ellis said we were going to River Depot’s new building—the one they’re all referring to as the Annex, since it doesn’t have an official name yet. It won’t open until next summer. When we get to the right spot along the river, Ellis and Aiden start piling sticks up in a sandy spot away from the frame of the building.

“I thought this was going to be a river boat,” I say to Ellis, who has an armful of sticks. “Where’s the boat?”

Ellis opens his mouth, but it’s Aiden who speaks. “It needs a lot of work, it’s getting rehabbed at one of the marinas. They’ve got it indoors until it’s ready to go.”

I have more questions, but not for Aiden. “Ah” is all that comes out of my mouth.

Aiden’s face drops and I turn to the river, where Beth and Jaz are already sitting on weathered wooden benches. There are two—one on either side of the charred circle of ground—and on either side of those is an old canoe. They’re the kind so skinny they seem unlikely to fit an actual person in them. Not like the wide boats the tourists use that seem almost impossible to tip. I sit on the overturned boat and cross my legs in front of me. Ellis is dropping a few larger branches onto the pile, and using a lighter to start tiny fires on the ends of sticks. Some of them don’t take off, but others do, and it’s sort of magical looking from a distance, all of these tiny sparks of flame suspended in the air, slowly growing and bleeding into one another until they consume the sticks and fill the air with heat and warm light. I’m staring into the fire, letting the dancing light lull me into a daze, when my view is obstructed by the outline of a very annoying boy.