Man: Who was it you were following? Von Hessen? （Something like that.）
Mr. Horne: Yes.
Man: I don’t think they ever found him, did they?
Mr. Horne: I thought they found his body eventually.
Man: No. They never found him.
Mr. Horne: You keep up with this.
Man: Yes.
Mr. Horne: Once I was out, I didn’t want to look back.
Man: That surprises me.
Mr. Horne: Why?
Man: You were always so . . . well, it was long ago.
Then Patty came home and interrupted them. Mr. Horne asked the man to come back in the evening around seven, and he’d grill some steaks. The man said he would. Mr. Horne asked where he was staying, and the man said the Holiday House Motel.
We were still stuck inside the stupid cabana. It was getting really hot. I don’t know what was wrong with me—I guess I was hot, nervous, kind of giddy. We could hear Mr. Horne telling Patty that she would be allowed to go to the Stones concert in New York, and she started screaming. Greg got close to me and we were listening, and before I knew what was happening, we were making out. I don’t even know how it started, and it wasn’t all him. I did it too.
Then I panicked. I was totally freaked out. He calmed me down and said it was fine, that he and Patty both made out with other people. This seemed . . . not in keeping with their constant sucking-face policy, but okay? I asked why we were hiding if it was all okay, and he said that while it was fine, at her house it might be awkward.
We managed to get out of the cabana at some point, and over the fence, and home. I’d temporarily forgotten about the weird conversation I’d heard, but sitting here tonight, it keeps playing in my head.
What the hell even happened today?
JUNE 9, 1978
Okay. Even writing this down makes me feel weird.
I went to Patty’s again today for the normal pool party. I was nervous, for a lot of reasons. In terms of Greg and Patty, everything was totally normal. Same as ever. He whispered to me that he’d told her, and it was all cool. But he said maybe don’t mention it, because that would make it weird. This felt strange to me, but I wasn’t totally paying attention.
The pool furniture was rearranged. Not completely, but several of the chairs, which have always been in the same spots, had been moved. And there was change at the bottom of the pool—a few pennies, three nickels, a dime, and a quarter. It was for sure not there yesterday. It wasn’t in the shallow end, either. It was in the deep end, and kind of in the middle of the pool.
I was staring at it, and Mr. Horne noticed. He asked me what I was looking at, and I blurted out something about the change. Patty started going on about how I’m the smartest person at Liberty, etc. Which was stupid, because you don’t have to be smart to notice change at the bottom of a pool.
Mr. Horne stared at me for a moment and said, “I’m going to have to watch out for you.”
Then he said to everyone, “So, who can get that change out for me? There’s a beer in it for you!”
At which point, everyone but me dove in headfirst to get the change. Then I looked up at Mr. Horne, who was smiling. By this point, everyone was splashing and flailing and dunking each other and trying to beat everyone else to the bottom to get the change.
Mr. Horne said, “It’s a tie! Beers for all!”
He brought beers from the garage fridge and everyone took one. I took one as well, even though I don’t like beer. Then he started up the grill and made hot dogs. After that it felt like a normal pool party, with the smell of the grill and the hot dogs.
But something was wrong. I have no idea what.