In the summer of '07, Pony had beautiful plans. They were shot to pieces when her boyfriend went on tour for the entire holiday break. The scenario was push/pull: if Pony had been impressed by Jeschke's music or star power, he would never have been interested in her, or in the challenge of winning her; but because she didn't much like his music or friends or lifestyle, she didn't want to tour with him. So the holidays had hot phone calls and hot days at the beach, but no summer lovin'.

Pony and Emil kept in touch and she was spooked by their bond. To begin with, she knew that he was missing his brother very much, and that she was like a representative of Jeschke, and he was, likewise, to her. It was acceptable. Emil invited her to hockey matches and rowboat races. She would be introduced to Emil's friends on the riverbank, and he'd place his stripy school scarf around her neck, like a good luck muse, before re-joining his rowing team. She'd converse with his parents on the sideline of a hockey field, and while Emil was waiting for play to resume, he'd get Pony's attention and do something to make her laugh.

Their everyday experiences were so polar, they could serve as impartial analysts for each other. Emil would receive advice on trouble with girls ("say, 'I don't feel the same way'"), suggestions on what to be at his friend's future-themed fifteenth birthday (an android), help with math homework (algebra), and pep talks when he compared himself unfavourably to Jeschke. Pony would receive advice about Jeschke ("he's a jerk if he doesn't appreciate you"), suggestions on what to wear to her friend's sea-themed twenty-fifth birthday (a bikini and all-over blue body paint - she actually did it), help with job blues ("take a sick day and consider it preventative"), and pep talks when she compared herself unfavourably to Jeschke.

Emil began writing, for real, this summer, and Pony felt his first drafts in her hands and knew that she was privileged, touching something that would become fantastic. Pony allowed herself the peculiar dream of going back to school, for a different degree this time; a day-dream for when she catalogued records at the store on weekends, making the same small talk with the same old record lovers. On Saturday afternoons, Emil would sometimes appear. He'd strut in, fresh from his morning practice and a twenty minute train ride to the record store. They'd play their favourite music on the store's stereo system, and if anyone unpleasant asked, "What's this playing?", they'd question each other and say, "I'm not sure, I'm not sure, they must be Derek's MP3s, he owns the store."

When Derek rocked up at six, Emil would put away his homework and Pony would reset the stereo with Derek's playlists. She'd drive Emil straight home, or they'd drive to the beach near his house and feel some sand and salt water before separating.

There was a week where Pony's rotating shift days started on a Sunday, so the following Saturday was her one day off. She cheered Emil at beach volleyball in the morning, then they decided to get lost. Pony drove in random directions until they didn't recognize the street names. They accidentally merged into some traffic that was heading out to a highway and Pony had to drive like a hummingbird, pause dart, pause dart, to escape onto the next exit. The exit ramp was extraterrestrial, in a recurring loop that seemed to go neither up nor down, for at least eight spirals. Pony pulled over when they reached normal road again.
"No one would believe us if we described that exit," said Pony.
"The most cool things happen to you," said Emil. "It's so cool."
"Pick on someone your own size," said Pony. And she thought about that phrase for the next while, as they changed their game from "get lost" to "find icecream". They parked directly outside a gelati shop and Emil was elated.
"Right outside!" he shouted.
They stood in the sun on the sidewalk with one-scoop icecreams, both raspberry gelati, and Pony said, "I think I'm stopping you from developing your friendships with your friends like they would be otherwise. Stopping lots of things from developing like they should. Do you know what I mean?"
"I get it," said Emil. "But there can be like, a balance, right?"
"I don't know," said Pony. "Think about it for a bit."

Emil wasn't so elated on the ride home.
"Do you want dinner with us? The oldies have been asking about you. They love you loads."
"Not tonight," said Pony.
She parked opposite his house. Emil didn't leave.
"You're getting distanced, aren't you," he said. "Already. I hate it."
"I have to," said Pony. "Imagine if you go back to school after summer and you don't know half the things that people are talking about. Or your friends are mad 'cause you ditched them."
"I can have it both ways," said Emil.
Pony avoided his stare.
"We can email, still, though, right?"
"Yes," said Pony.