fwriction

Today’s story comes from Zoetrope and a fantastic young writer, Julie Orringer. Her debut short story collection, How to Breathe Underwater, is one of my favorites of the last five years. This story is taken from that collection:

“We aren’t supposed to be swimming at all. It is Friday afternoon, and we’re supposed to be bringing groceries home to Esty’s mother so she can prepare Shabbos dinner. But it’s the middle of July, and heat radiates from every leaf and blade of grass along the lake road, from the tar-papered sides of the lake cottages, from the dust that hangs in the air like sheer curtains. We throw our bikes into the shade behind the Perelmans’ shed, take off our socks and shoes, and run through warm grass down to their slip of private beach, trespassing, unafraid of getting caught, because old Mr. and Mrs. Perelman won’t arrive at their cottage until August, according to my cousin. Esty and I stand at the edge of the lake in our long skirts and long-sleeved shirts, and when the water surrounds our ankles it is sweetly cold.”