In Connecticut, July begins the way June ends, with long days and low tides. With Zita Enos sitting at the edge of a dock scanning the opposite shores of Lake Pluto; with her brother Isaac skipping stones despite the wake. Isaac aims for the neon workers laboring around the manmade island in the middle of the manmade lake. There a house is being built. Its foundation is being laid.

Isaac’s stones don’t make it far. He wades outward in the direction of his targets and resumes his trying. Zita fears for Isaac. Not for his safety but for his esteem. She amends the landscape before them, envisioning the curvature of the valley before it was drowned by the current of a nearby river some hundred years ago. All for a little bit of electricity. All for a dam.

The rain begins. Fertilizer washes off the lawns and into the lake. The eelgrass grows. The sun sets and the mountains look like people. On their walk home, Isaac proposes taking a canoe out to the island.

“We can’t,” Zita says; “it’s not ours.”

Edna Enos installs herself on the living room couch. She awaits the start of her favorite competitive cooking program. Dinner has been served; the table set. The vegetable lasagna on the counter cools. The contestants are ready to compete.

Zita and Isaac take their seats. “Where’s dad?”

“Elliot’s at work.”

“Again?”

“Yup,” Edna says, nodding. It’s a lie she’s gotten used to telling.

Isaac raises his eyebrows to his older sister. “He’s not at work,” he mouths.

“No shit, Isaac.”

Edna pretends not to overhear. Zita and Isaac each eat two corners and retire to their bedrooms. Edna takes the borders. The show ends. Almost all of the contestants lose. Edna falls asleep on the couch next to their Labrador, Lucy. Three episodes later, the two of them wake up to an informercial promoting discounted air fryers. Edna orders one, then gives what is left of the vegetable lasagna to Lucy. “I love you, Lucy.” Lucy looks up at Edna from her bowl of cold lasagna and blinks.

Isaac is playing video games in his bedroom. He’s berating his friends through the microphone on his special headset, making it difficult for Zita to sleep. She crosses the bathroom they share and asks him to keep it down.

“Isaac, why are you screaming?”

“We’re losing the war.”

Zita heads to the kitchen for more lasagna. Her parents’ bedroom door is open. Their bed is empty. Their bed is made. She finds her mother snoring on the couch and Lucy dreaming on the carpet. The lasagna is gone. Zita considers the liquor in the cabinet, then settles for chocolate.

Zita wakes to doors slamming. Her bed trembles. She yawns. Her mother scolds her father. Her father scolds her mother. The sun fights its way through the blinds.

“The septic wasn’t made for four people, Elliott.”

“Yes, it was.”

Zita sandwiches her head between two pillows and dozes off, only to wake again twenty minutes later. She can hear her mother speaking from the next room over, mimicking a voice on the family computer. “I am at home in my body and all is well. I love every cell of my body. Every decision I make is the right one for me.”

When Zita wakes for good an hour later, it is to the sound of drilling on the island, carrying in all directions over the lake.

Downstairs, Elliot reads the morning paper. He is in the process of being let go by the water bottling company, which was recently sold for an undisclosed sum. Elliot’s proficiency in accounting presented the new parent company with a dilemma. They even told him so. But after discussing the matter, management decided it would be more prudent to hire a younger, cheaper replacement. Edna sits across from Elliot and scrolls through job postings on her phone. Disillusioned, she drifts through the internet. She winds up reading articles about her favorite celebrity chefs’ humble beginnings, their unlikely paths to stardom. Elliot calculates his severance. Edna estimates her worth. Lucy’s out on the front yard barking at the neighbors.

“Why is she barking?” asks Elliott.

“She’s a dog,” Edna says.

Zita microwaves four frozen waffles and joins her parents at the kitchen table. Elliot reminds his daughter of the offer he’d made to her weeks before. In the proposed arrangement, Elliot would give Zita ten dollars for every pound she lost. Zita’s tempted to let her father know that she’s aware of the fact that he’s unemployed. On one hand, her father might come undone. On the other hand, her father might come undone.

Zita finishes her last waffle and thanks her father for his support. She decides she’ll follow him when he pretends to leave for work.

Zita convinces Edna to lend her the minivan, supposedly to jog a couple of miles around the high school track. Zita and Elliot leave home at the same time. Elliot is pleased with his fathering. He considers Zita’s willingness to improve a small victory in their relationship. Zita trails her father’s car at a careful distance. His first stop is at the local credit union. Zita parks across the street and watches him withdraw what seems to be a hefty sum from the ATM. Zita considers how easy it is to follow.

Their next stop is The New Colony Diner. There, Elliot occupies a booth by the window with a view of the parking lot and the freeway behind it. Zita tries to do the math, but all she has to work with is her father’s withdrawal, his second breakfast, and a cognitive soup of true crime shows that she’s recently grown accustomed to binging. She pictures herself being interviewed for a two-hour special in which she, the decent daughter, successfully uncovers her plain suburban father’s plot to have his wife killed. Alone in her mother’s car, Zita laughs. She wonders how many others fantasize about starring in a true crime show, and how many of those fantasies have relatively happy endings where no one has to die. Zita thinks she might be onto something. Not about her father, but about the natural evolution of the true crime drama. Maybe she has invented a new genre. Probably not, but maybe.

Zita recognizes the waitress. It’s Jewel Fee, a very pretty classmate who on several occasions charmed Zita into sharing her final answers for algebra exams, as well as the work she’d shown. Jewel refills Elliot’s coffee. She touches her hand to his small shoulder. He touches his hand to her wrist. She looks at him when he talks. She laughs at his jokes.

Elliot makes his way to his car. Shortly after, Jewel Fee crosses the lot to her hatchback. Zita follows as the two cars ride toward the lake. Zita catches sight of her father’s negative in his sideview mirror. His face is backwards. It’s as if he’s happy.

Zita’s targets pull into the parking lot behind the hotel. Zita continues. She circles the lake, passing the public beaches, the private beaches, the marina, the mansions, and the lakeside bars. Before returning home, she stops at a drive-through. She helps herself to a fried chicken sandwich with a side of fried chicken tenders.

A few blocks from home, Zita spots Isaac walking along the road with two of the neighbor boys. They’re carrying a duffel bag and a set of oars. Zita slows and asks Isaac what he’s doing.

“I’m going to the island.”

“What for?”

“For treasure.” The neighbor boys laugh.

“What’s in the bag, Isaac?”

“Hard drugs.”

“That’s not funny, Isaac.”

“It is.”

Zita’s napping. Elliot’s thrusting. Edna’s baking sourdough bread. Isaac unpacks his duffel. He lays out its contents: gasoline and a dozen aerosol cans. He surveys the island. Stacked slabs of perfect lumber. Pine cones for kindling. The concrete foundation, an ideal pit.

Jewel Fee heads out onto the balcony to watch the sunset. Elliot follows. They notice smoke rising from one of the islands in the distance. With help from Jewel Fee, Elliot locates the fire. Together they watch it flicker and grow. There’s an explosion, and then another. The sounds of Isaac’s bombs reach the motel in delays.

“It’s a sign,” Elliot says.

“No,” Jewel Fee says, “it’s not.”

When Zita wakes, she tries to find a good reason to emerge from bed. She doesn’t try very hard. She pulls the blanket up to her neck and reaches between her legs. She thinks of Jewel Fee.

Elliot’s passing through the hallway on his way to the master bathroom for a warm shower. He hears what he believes to be crying from behind Zita’s closed door. He opens it and finds his daughter lying up to her neck in blanket, red-faced. He sits beside her and tries for a hug. Zita can’t come up with a thing to say. Elliot doesn’t ask Zita what’s wrong. He tells her everything’s going to be okay.

The television’s on. Elliot’s in the shower. Isaac’s rowing from one shore to another. Edna’s loading the dish washer. Zita’s biting into a loaf of warm bread. Her mother begins to speak, then stops. Then she begins again.

“I’m going to be famous.”

“You’re going to be famous?” Zita asks.

“I’m going to be famous.”

▲

June was a difficult month for the Fee family. Jewel’s father, Bruce, was charged with first-degree larceny in a case that authorities say saw half a million dollars taken from Pluto Public School District’s cafeterias. Said front-page charges coincided with a front-page announcement of his dismissal from his long-held position as Director of Food Services. Jewel’s mother, Heather, declined to post her husband’s $25,000 bail. She left town shortly after his arrest to stay with her parents in Salem. Jewel refused to follow her mother, opting instead to see out her senior year of high school in Pluto. Eighteen as of June, she lives alone in the lakeside condo the three once shared.

Despite the headlines, Jewel’s been invited to Dale Devine’s house party. The Devine and Fee families had been friends prior to the births of Dale and Jewel, their respective first and only children, in the same month, in the same winter, in the same hospital. Dale and Jewel attended the same schools and summer camps. Prior to Bruce’s arrest, the family shared dinner monthly. They had even vacationed together, once spending two entire weeks at the Devines’ beach house on the coast of Maine. None of this stopped Jewel’s parents from talking all kinds of shit about the Devines’ tackiness; nor did it stop the Devines from making all sorts of comments about the Fees’ mediocrity.

In a hot bath at the motel, Jewel decides to attend Dale’s party out of a strange sense of loyalty and a great sense of boredom. On her way to pick up her boyfriend, she looks out over the lake. The island is still burning.

Enzo Palma Reyes plans to drink at the party. Jewel plans to drink less, and so she drives. She has no qualms. Enzo is good. He’s tall, stoned, and lenient. He works for his father, a contractor. He plays soccer. He’s a state champion.

Jewel parks in Enzo’s driveway and kindly honks her car horn. Through the kitchen window she sees Enzo hug his father goodbye. On the way to the party, Enzo asks Jewel how her own father’s doing.

“He’s in jail,” she says.

The Devine clan is at the peak of its powers. Diana’s the town mayor. Arthur recently sold his water bottling company for a healthy profit. Dale was elected class president as a junior, and he’s the favorite to win reelection come fall.

For now, however, Dale’s focus is on the party his parents have finally allowed him to throw, and, more importantly, his lifelong designs on Jewel Fee.

Dale’s sends a mass text instructing his guests to enter the house through the front door and surrender their car keys to his parents. Diana and Arthur station themselves on the couch with mojitos and a retired fishbowl. A docuseries about Prohibition plays on the television. Their golden retriever, Kennedy, waits anxiously by the front door. Fewer guests arrive than expected. The first is Chuck Patch, the sheriff’s son, followed by Dirk and Ed Fish, two of the strongest high school swimmers in the state. Brianna Puglisi and Mabel O’Hale, Dale’s treasurer and secretary, arrive a short while later.

Jewel and Enzo are the last to arrive. It’s the first time Jewel has seen the Devines since her father’s arrest. Arthur’s glued to the television. Diana comes to the door. She asks about Jewel’s mother. She asks about Jewel’s father.

“He’s in jail,” Jewel says.

It’s Enzo’s first time meeting the mayor. Diana welcomes him to their home, congratulates him on his state championship, and asks him where he’s from.

“I’m from here. Pluto.”

“And your parents?”

“Mexico.”

“Oh, I love Mexico. The cities. The beaches. The food. The people. Don’t you?”

“I’ve never been,” answers Enzo.

“You must go.”

The basement’s a finished basement, complete with a ping-pong table the Fish brothers can’t help but hog. The guests stand around and watch the brothers compete. They sip on the light beers Dale’s parents have allotted them. The French doors to the patio are open. The pool glows. When Dale sees Jewel descend the basement stairs, he rushes to greet her. He thinks of something clever to say. Something cool. Something sweet.

“Hey Dale,” Jewel says.

Dale tries not to smile. “Welcome.”

Enzo unpacks his bag. A big water bottle full of dark liquor. An eighth of marijuana. Jewel scolds him. “Read the room,” she says.

“I just did.”

Dale beholds the bottle. “What kind of whiskey is this?” he asks.

Enzo laughs. He puts his arm around Dale. “Rum, Dale. Rum.”

The bottle makes its way around the party. Mabel takes a couple of swigs as Enzo cheers her on. The others follow suit. There’s an atmosphere of victory.

Even Dale partakes. He waits to approach Jewel until Enzo is distracted. He clears his rum-scorched throat. “If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here. I mean it.” he says.

“Aw. Thanks, Dale.”

The guests sit cross-legged in a circle by the open French doors. A spliff makes its way around. They laugh. They cough. They laugh some more.

Chuck Patch holds the spliff up at eye level. “What’s this?” he asks.

“Tobacco.”

“Marijuana.”

“Good crops.”

“Cash crops.”

Chuck Patch nods. Sweet, uncontrollable laughter.

Upstairs, Diana and Arthur overhear. The smoke rises.

“Smell that?”

“Smells good.”

Arthur encounters thoughts of his childhood. He thinks of his first high. He thinks of his first drink. He thinks of home runs and double plays. He thinks of Heather Fee.

“Are you okay, Arthur?”

“I think I’m drunk.”

“Is that a yes?”

Arthur shrugs. He retreats to the kitchen. He plucks the mint leaves. He pours white rum.

Downstairs, Brianna urges everyone to close their eyes. She pulls a can of Coca Cola from her bag and places it in the middle of the circle. “When you open your eyes,” Brianna says, “I want you all to say the first word that comes to mind.”

“Sugar.”

“Happiness.”

“Globalism.”

“Red.”

“Coca Cola.”

Another spliff. More coughing. More laughter. Ed Fish asks, “Is the glass half empty or half full?”

“Half empty.”

“Half full.”

“Depends. What’s in the glass?”

“Rum.”

A few of the party guests grow a bit paranoid. Enzo proposes they all go for a swim. “The water will help,” he says.

Dale agonizes. “I don’t know,” he says. “My parents.”

“It’s your pool, too, Dale.”

Dale thinks for a moment, then laughs. “It’s my pool now.”

Diana and Arthur watch the pool through the living room window. Diana fixes her gaze on Enzo. His back. His stomach. His legs. Arthur can’t help but do the same.

Kennedy, the dog, finds his way to the basement and onto the patio. The swimmers, overjoyed, invite the pup to join them. “Jump,” they say, “jump.” Kennedy paces around the pool’s perimeter, barking.

“Can he swim, Dale?”

“I’m not sure.”

“All dogs can swim,” says Enzo.

“Enzo,” says Jewel.

Enzo smiles and lowers Kennedy into the shallow end of the pool. Kennedy kicks around successfully. Once tired, Kennedy swims into Dale’s waiting arms. Dale holds his dog close. He congratulates Kennedy with a loud kiss and places him back on the patio, setting the scene for a trick.

Dale stretches his arm away from his body in a Nazi salute. “Heil, Kennedy!” Kennedy salutes accordingly. Everyone laughs, except for Enzo and Jewel. “Good boy, Kennedy. Good boy.”

Dirk and Ed Fish fetch two guitars from the backseat of their car. Dirk wants to experiment. Ed prefers the hits. They take turns. Dirk begins to get carried away. Enzo prepares two new spliffs. There’s a third of the rum left. Soon it will be gone. Brianna lays her head in Chuck’s lap. He makes a great effort to remain still, to pretend not to care. When Dale isn’t looking, Enzo blows smoke in Kennedy’s face.

Dale asks Jewel to accompany him to the kitchen to fetch some snacks. They pass through the living room on the way. Diana’s half asleep on the couch. Al Capone’s holding a press conference on the television. Arthur’s sitting upright in his lounge chair, crying. Dale and Jewel fail to notice. It’s for the best. He’s crying for his company. He’s saying goodbye.

In the kitchen, Dale tries again. “Jewel,” he says.

“Dale,” she says, patting him on the shoulder.

Dale holds his hands open at his sides, gesturing sloppily to his family’s wealth. “Someday, this could all be yours.” He loses his balance and regains it by clutching the granite kitchen counter.

“I know, Dale.” Pity, Jewel finds, is just about the most difficult sentiment to communicate.

They return to the basement with three bags of chips and two kinds of dip. Brianna’s asleep. Mabel’s getting there. Enzo and Chuck pass a spliff back and forth. They do the same with the bottle. The Fish brothers are busy with their music. Ed says the smartest thing he’ll ever say. “Play a fucking singalong,” he pleads, “play a fucking singalong.”

Jewel helps Enzo up the stairs and into the living room. Arthur snores in his chair. Diana asks to smell Jewel’s breath, then returns her car keys. She gives Jewel a warm, sorry hug. She gives Enzo a wet, sloppy kiss.

“Goodbye, Enzo,” she says, drunk and blushing.

“Goodbye, Mayor.”

Halfway home, Enzo turns to Jewel. “I hate these people,” he says.

She removes one hand from the wheel and touches it to the back of Enzo’s neck. “They hate you, too.”

On the other side of Pluto, the Enos family sits down for a late dinner. Whole wheat spaghetti. Baked chicken breast. Spinach salad. Sourdough bread. Isaac leads them in prayer. Elliott douses his dish in hot sauce before taking a bite.

“How was work, dad?” asks Zita.

“Good. How was your run?”

“Great.”

Edna’s phone rings. She answers from her seat at the head of the kitchen table. It’s the neighbor boy’s mother. She’s screaming something about Isaac, something about a fire. Edna keeps her voice calm. “Uh huh,” she says, “Uh huh.” Everyone turns to Isaac, who’s taking his first bite from the biggest piece of chicken at the table.

Edna and Isaac walk to the shore, to a view of his crime. There, the neighbor boys and their mothers wait to get the story straight. The neighbor boys blame Isaac, as do their mothers.

“Why?” one mother asks Isaac.

“How?” the other mother asks Edna.

Isaac stands close to his mother. He shrugs. Edna places her hand on the back of Isaac’s head. “What matters most is that the boys are okay,” she says.

“But they aren’t okay,” one of the mothers says.

“They’re boys. This is normal,” Edna says, confused.

“And that’s the problem,” says the other mother.

After dinner, Elliott calls Zita to the master bathroom for her weigh-in. He stands smiling next to the glass scale with a strap of twenty-dollar bills in one hand and his phone in the other. Zita removes a bracelet and a pair of rings. She kicks off her shoes and peels off her socks. Elliott zeroes the scale. With his money, he gestures for her to proceed. She’s lost two and a half pounds. Elliott hands her twenty dollars. She takes the bill without lifting her eyes. “Be happy,” he says, “be proud.” He gives her another twenty. Zita forces her gratitude. “Don’t thank me,” Elliott says. “You earned it.”

▲

Jewel wakes alone in Enzo’s bed to the smell of fried eggs. Enzo’s at the kitchen table. His father’s at the stove, already in his work jeans. “Good morning, Jewel,” he says.

“Good morning, Miguel.”

“Please,” he laughs, “call me Mr. Reyes.”

Over breakfast, the couple recount the details of the previous night. The Fish boys. Dale’s advances. Kennedy’s Nazi salute. Mayor Diana’s kiss. Mr. Reyes laughs and laughs. He shakes his head. “My God,” he says.

Enzo and his father head to their construction site, to the island in the middle of the lake. A few innocent clouds hang in the sky. There’s a slight breeze and the water is calm. As they approach the island, they begin to process the damage. They rush to drop the anchor. The pine trees have burned and fallen. The concrete is charred and cracked. The foundation’s been destroyed. Enzo watches as his father paces around the island, cursing his luck.

Enzo takes a seat on a dead log and starts a game of billiards on his phone. Mr. Reyes calls his construction team and tells them they have the day off. He calls his client, the owner of the island, to tell her the bad news. She doesn’t answer. He leaves a message. Mr. Reyes then calls the insurance company, tells the automated operator his information and reason for calling, and gets put on hold. He puts the call on speaker and sits on the other end of the dead log, next to Enzo. The on-hold music resembles jazz.

“I hate these people,” Miguel says.

“They hate you more.”