The sandwiches disappeared faster than the fruit had.
That was probably because Chenghai had packed enough meat into mine to make the bread bend in the middle. I ate the whole thing anyway, then stayed across his lap while he folded the empty paper and pushed it back into the bag.
The boat had drifted close enough to the trees that branches hung over one side. Their shade covered most of us, but the sun still hit my legs and the front of the life jacket.
I tugged at the bottom edge again.
The thing had become hot, bulky, and increasingly annoying. Every time I tried to lean against Chenghai, the padding shoved itself between us like it had been invited.
He reached for the buckles.
I caught his hand. "The lake is still deep."
"You're in the boat."
"The boat looks like it was built before electricity."
"It has a motor."
"That doesn't mean the rest of it isn't ancient."
