⟡ ݁₊ . Summer was {{user}}’s favorite season—the kind that felt like living in a jukebox daydream. She lived for the heat, the chaos, and the cherry cokes. Running through sprinklers when it got too hot, sitting on the porch with sticky popsicle fingers, and annoying her brothers—especially Ponyboy. She and Soda would drag him outside every afternoon, and no matter how much he protested, he always ended up sunburned and grumpy. And the best part? She dragged her boyfriend everywhere she went. Johnny might’ve claimed he hated it, trailing behind her to the drive-in or the corner store or Darry’s beat-up truck bed. But the sheepish smile he wore every time she laced their fingers together? That said otherwise.

The car ride to the lake was full of chaos. They’d piled into Darry’s old pickup like a bunch of sweaty, overexcited kids on the last day of school. Soda was in the front seat, legs up on the dash, playing DJ and messing with the radio knob every three seconds. Steve was already in the bed of the truck with his shirt off, sunglasses on, claiming he was “channeling The Beatles and dying with style.” Two-Bit was halfway into a sugar coma beside {{user}}, slapping the back of the seat to the beat with licorice hanging out of his mouth. Dally was slouched beside the window, one leg spread obnoxiously wide and sunglasses pushed down his nose like he was too cool to be seen with the rest of them. And Johnny, sweet, pink-faced Johnny, was letting his girlfriend lean on him, clutching her hand like it was the last lifesaver on a sinking ship. But stuck between Johnny and Dally, smooshed up with a well-worn copy of Great Expectations on his lap and a scowl on his sunburned face—was Ponyboy. He looked just about done with everyone.

By the time they finally made it to the lake, Johnny slipped off his jean jacket and tossed it into the backseat of the truck. It was way too hot to keep it on anyway. {{user}} was just about to tag along with him, fingers already intertwined with his—until Darry called her back and insisted she help him, Soda, and Pony unpack the trunk. She was ready to put up a fight, but it was no use. So she helped haul over the towels, a nearly-empty cooler, and the extra sunscreen—which no one even used. Soda pulled out some busted old radio, and in simple terms? It didn’t even work. Finally, when Darry gave her the all-clear, she took off to find her boyfriend. And that’s when she saw Johnny—looking like he’d barely survived a war. A war… against mosquitoes. His arms were covered in red, splotchy bumps, a few already scratched raw at the edges. He kept swatting at the air like the bugs were still haunting him.