Reunited by Hilary Weisman Graham Page B

you’d been born in.
    “Water’s nice and warm tonight,” a completely nude man called out from a rock in the middle of the pond. He was in his sixties, white hair, full white beard, and a twinkle in his eye. It was Naked Santa Claus, and his stocking was most definitely hung. Well, that just ruined Christmas forever, Alice thought to herself as Naked Santa did a swan dive into the water.
    Alice looked at Tiernan and Summer. Must flee now , she said telepathically. She was pretty sure they’d understood her message but she kept her eyes on theirs, the one view in the entire place guaranteed to be free of saggy man butt.
    Michael didn’t seem to notice or care that it appeared to be Senior’s Day at the swimming hole, happily undressing not two feet from them, without even the slightest bit of self-consciousness.
    Alice pretended to pick at a hangnail as she listened to the clink of his belt buckle, then his jeans crumpling to the grass. She didn’t dare look up again until she heard the sloshing noise of Michael’s legs hitting the water.
    “Water’s nice and warm, ladies,” Michael called out when he was up to his knees (it was just a quick peek, but the guy was definitely no Santa). Then he was gone.
    “Let’s get out of here,” Summer whispered, turning back toward the van.
    “Wait.” Alice pulled Summer’s arm. “What about Phred and Toad?”
    “They’re way over there.” Tiernan pointed to the opposite side of the pond. “By the time we go get them, Michael could come back.”
    Summer nodded. “I say we bolt without them. They’re big boys.”
    “And personally”—Tiernan leveled Alice with a look—“I think you can do better.”
    “What are you talking about?” Alice asked. “Phred and I are only friends, and we—”
    Alice was about to list the many reasons why saving Toad and Phred was the right thing to do (none of which had anything to do with the fact that Phred had been hanging all over her) when Michael emerged from underwater, howling like a coyote and pounding his chest. That was all the convincing it took for her to turn tail and run—across the wet spongy grass, through the low brush, then back inside the dark cover of the woods. Man, was she out of shape. But she kept on running, even as Summer and Tiernan overtook her, trying her best to ignore the burning feeling in her hamstrings and focus on the noise of her shoes against the slippery gravel, the rhythm of her own labored breath, the blood whooshing through her veins. And then the one sound she was hoping never to hear again.
    “Wait up!” Michael called out. Or was she imagining it? There was no way Alice could have heard him from all the way back at the water. But that would mean—could it even be possible?—that Michael the Archangel was chasing them through the woods. Naked?
    Alice’s heart pounded in her chest, in her throat. Don’t turn around. You’re just imagining it. Why were Summer and Tiernan so much faster than she was? She did power yoga three times a week. Okay, maybe two. Don’t think about that. Just concentrate on running . Alice reached into her pocket, digging her keys into the palm of her hand.
    The Pea Pod was finally in sight. Alice’s lungs were on fire, her eyes blurry with sweat. They were so close she could almost touch it.
    Summer got there first, opening the back door and flinging herself inside in one seamless motion. Tiernan was right behind her. Alice ran around the front of the Pea Pod—straight through the pricker bush, again, duh —scrambling in through the driver’s side door. She was breathing too hard to speak.
    “Headlights!” Summer shouted as Alice threw the Pea Pod in reverse.
    When she turned on the lights, Alice half expected to see Michael in front of them, wild-eyed and naked and holding a bloody butcher knife. But the woods were empty and still. She could kill MJ for dragging her to all those stupid horror flicks. Not that she ever watched the really scary