“C’mon, let’s go dive in the lake,” cried Mel upon looking at the thermostat. The mercury had risen to (apparently) record levels.
Theo was sitting in the shade of the oak tree in the yard, with his feet in the stream. His floppy hair concealed an unwilling expression. He was busy sketching, he said, and did not feel like diving in the lake with Mel.
“Mom? Can I go to the lake?”
Mel’s mother didn’t look up from her computer. “Ask your father, dear,” she replied.
“Daddy? Can I go to the lake, please?” Mel hopped impatiently.
Mel’s father was lazing on the porch with a beer, and waved his hand. “Ask your mother,” he said.
“Well fine,” Mel huffed, “I’ll just go by myself then.”
When they found her body, drowned, the next day, her parents blamed Theo for not going with her.