She’s sweet 15 and has never been kissed. But what else is the end-of-summer pool party for? Girls eating bing cherries in lavender Tommy Bahamas. Boys slurping strawberry Icees through red Twizzler straws. The smell of a far-off grill. Maple-slathered meat in the burgeoning dusk. Blackberry jack-knives in the fresh and glimmering water. And an honest-to-goodness rose gold glow around Joey Matthew’s head. You might not have planned to share an Adirondack around the fire, but here you are, and he’s finally stopped hitting his friends with foam noodles, and the night is still young.
