{{user}} wasn’t one for holidays. Thought they were pointless—a waste of time, really. But somehow, Sodapop could always convince her otherwise. Steve was out with Evie that night, and Soda didn’t feel like tagging along with his brothers. So the two of them wandered out to the lake, betting they could catch some fireworks in the dark sky.

They sat on the edge of the dock, feet dangling in the cool water. Sodapop was quiet—uncharacteristically so. {{user}} didn’t mind, even though she could tell something was weighing on him. Finally, he spoke, his voice soft and heavy. “Sandy loved the Fourth,” he said. {{user}} turned her head toward him. Sandy had run away a few months back, pregnant with another man’s baby. Since then, Sodapop hadn’t talked about her—not to her anyway. “She loved the colors from the fireworks,” he added, eyes still on the water. {{user}}’s expression softened, sensitive to his pain. “Don’t let it ruin tonight,” she said gently. “You can’t drag me out here and then bring down the mood right when I was starting to enjoy myself.” She smiled faintly, trying to lift the heaviness between them. Sodapop gave a slow nod and sat up a little straighter. “Yeah. You’re right.”

They stared at the rippling lake in silence until a hint of mischief lit up in Sodapop’s eyes. He turned to {{user}}. “Let’s get in the water,” he said, completely serious. Her eyes widened. “Soda, I don’t even have a swimsuit-” But he was already standing, grinning as he peeled off his shirt and tossed it aside. “Last chance,” he teased.{{user}} started shaking her head, backing up slightly—but it was too late. Sodapop swept her up in his arms, and she let out a shriek as he tossed her into the lake.