by Alexa Woods
line of trees a few feet away from the bleachers had other ideas. It snapped
like a firecracker going off in the dead of night. Arabella froze as June and
Sarah broke apart. June scrambled away while Sarah grabbed for
something, anything, to shield them. She came up with her jacket and thrust
it over her head. As if that was going to hide anything.
June’s dark eyes locked with Arabella’s. June stared fearlessly, her lips
swollen from Sarah’s kisses, her pupils still dilated. She was still breathing
hard too. And then, as Arabella just stood there, June lifted one shoulder in
challenge, as if to say that she didn’t care if Arabella would tell the whole
school. She did glance worriedly in Sarah’s direction though, and it was
clear Sarah did care. That she didn’t want people to know. It was probably
why they were hiding out under the privacy of the bleachers.
Arabella felt something in her stomach that she’d never felt before. No,
she’d felt it, but she’d never really admitted to herself what it was. Staring
at June, with her mussed hair and huge pupils and heaving chest, Arabella
felt desire. It wasn’t the first time she’d been turned on by a woman, but it
was the first time she’d felt that prickling awareness when it came to June.
Arabella knew all about herself. She knew she wasn’t truly into guys.
That was the real reason why she didn’t want to do anything else with Joe.
And she’d called enough girls sluts before that she didn’t want to be one
herself. She always made it seem like her parents had a curfew for dates.
That they were strict. In fact, they didn’t care who she dated or where she
went. They did, but not anywhere near the extent she made people believe.
She’d known for a few years that she was probably never going to be into
guys, but that wasn’t something she could risk anyone else finding out. Joe
was a good cover, even if he was annoying. She just wanted to make it
through the hell that was high school, graduate, and leave Cincinnati
behind, and then, she promised herself, she’d be brave enough to admit the
truth to herself and her family.
June’s black gaze bored through her until Arabella felt hollowed out. She
cleared her throat, squared her shoulders like June had done, because
Arabella Ferguson didn’t get intimidated by anyone, and she never got
bossed around. She shored up all her mean-girl courage, but when June just
stared back at her, ever defiant, Arabella let it go. She held her breath,
turned on her heel, and stalked away.
She hadn’t given a single reassurance that she wouldn’t tell anyone about
what she’d seen, but she also hadn’t fired off a cheap shot at June. Her
silence, more than anything, would have come as a shock. It shocked her.
She hadn’t been able to think of a single mean thing to say. She hadn’t even
wanted to be mean. Honestly, as she walked quickly away from the
bleachers to get her stupid sweater, she knew she couldn’t make fun of June
for this. She couldn’t, because that would be wrong on every level. Arabella
couldn’t betray June like that because it would be a betrayal of herself.
So, it looked like Sarah’s secret, and the possible secret that June didn’t
look like she minded people knowing, was safe. Not only did she not say
anything, she wasn’t going to use it as ammunition in the future either. That
would be unforgivable.
Arabella snatched up her sweater, finding it exactly where she’d left it,
and hurried in the other direction. It meant taking the long way around the
school parking lot, but she was overwarm, flushed actually. She could use
the cold wind to take the heat out of her skin and the long walk to blame on
her pounding heart.
She could think of something else to be mean about. She focused her
racing thoughts on that. Just because June had gotten a pass from her today
didn’t mean she was going to get one in the future about anything else. She
couldn’t think of any justification for it, but she didn’t need to.
She’d keep doing what she always did. Being mean was like a drug. It
entrenched her position in the school, in the world, solidified her popularity,
and strengthened the bonds of whatever passed as loyalty between her and
the girls she called friends. Her world was right when she was at the top and
she had no intention of falling off her throne.
If only the next eight months until graduation didn’t feel so impossible to
get through.
Chapter 9
June
June was exhausted the next morning. Summer, who’d slept peacefully in
the hot, sluggish night, was up early, chipper and excited for a day of lake
activities. She’d tried to rouse June at six, but June had thrown a pillow at
her, then stuffed the other one over her head. Surprisingly, Summer left her
alone. She went off to do her morning swim or run or whatever it was that
she was so jazzed about all alone.
June didn’t go back to sleep. She laid in bed, her eyes squeezed tightly
shut against the sting of the morning sun already invading the room. An
hour after Summer left, she could hear their moms moving around. The
dark, burnt scent of fresh coffee and the smell of sizzling bacon proved their
presence in the kitchen.
After struggling with the heat in the room and with what she’d learned
about Arabella all night, June was too tired to even think about getting
motivated to get up for breakfast. The coffee would still be there when she
did roll out and she could take or leave the bacon. She’d been so fired up
the night before, so stunned, so amazed, that she couldn’t even think about
sleep.
Should she tell Summer? It made so much sense now. Why Arabella had
never told anyone about seeing her and Sarah. She’d always wondered why
her enemy, a person who took such delight in poking any and all pins into
her that she could, had given her a pass. Not just any pass. A life-changing
pass.
Arabella could have gotten miles and miles out of what she’d seen. Those
seconds could have turned into painful days, weeks, and months of torture.
At the very least, she could have resorted to bribery and gotten June or
Sarah, who were both known as nerds, to write some papers for her, but she
hadn’t even done that.
She’d never breathed a word.
June remembered how shocked she and Sarah were when nothing
happened. They’d waited, barely daring to breathe. Eventually they’d
decided not to tempt fate. Sarah had very religious parents, and for that and
other reasons, she wasn’t ready for people to know. June, on the other hand,
decided to take any power that she could away from Arabella. She’d never
cared if people knew she was a lesbian. She’d finally told Summer about
what happened.
June had worked her butt off to get that scholarship but she actually
didn’t care much about her school experience. It was unpleasant, being
bothered constantly by Arabella. The things she said stung and burned like
hot metal biting into her skin. They chaffed and festered, but they never
reached beyond
the surface. It was the same thing when June came out.
People talked for a week and then they just moved on to something else
when it was obvious June didn’t give two flying shits what they were going
to say or do.
“June!” Summer stuck her head in the room, scaring the shit out of June.
She realized that she’d lost herself again, as she’d done all night. She
couldn’t turn off her brain and she was exhausted from more than just not
sleeping.
June groaned. She still had the pillow tucked loosely over her face.
Summer’s footsteps were heavy on the wood plank floor. She grabbed the
pillow and tore it away, letting all the bright light spill in. “Come on! Even
Arabella is up. You can’t let Miss Citified City Girl beat you to getting
outside.”
Should I tell her about Arabella?
There were very few things June didn’t share with Summer, but this was
going to be one of those things she kept to herself. Arabella hadn’t come
forward with the information, but it also didn’t sound like much of a secret.
It wasn’t just because all those years ago she’d kept June’s secret. June
didn’t really believe in giving away information that wasn’t hers to give.
Life was a lot simpler if one kept the wild gossip to a minimum. She’d
always ascribed to that, and she wasn’t about to do anything differently.
Even if Summer was Summer.
“Okay, okay,” June muttered. “I’m up.” She swung her feet over onto the
floor. It was approximately six thousand degrees, and she was sure it wasn’t
past eight in the morning.
“Good! I want to take the boat out. We can go swimming again. Our
moms said they’d come. Then there’s the market at one that we love, and
we could get the bikes out of the shed and go for a ride, and…”
June didn’t mean to tune out, but as Summer rattled off her list she was
so tired she kind of checked out. She agreed to something, maybe a lot of
things, and got up and got dressed after Summer left.
She didn’t know how she’d have the energy to get through a jam-packed
day. Wasn’t lake life supposed to be about taking it easy? What did people
say about needing a holiday from their holiday? Whatever it was, she
figured she needed it. Very. Badly.
***
After a day jammed so full of activities that even Summer was worn out,
June thought she’d be able to fall asleep as soon as she turned out the light.
Instead, she stayed in bed, her sheets kicked off against the wet heat
saturating the cabin like a sodden blanket. She stared up at the roof,
watching shadows and listening to night sounds until she couldn’t take it
anymore.
Wild animals or not, she was going outside to escape the heat.
When June tried her flashlight, she found that the batteries were dead.
She thought about taking her phone but didn’t want to risk dropping it and
breaking it. She decided on the beach, since she didn’t have to be wary
about any wild animals there. Or, at least, she hoped she didn’t. It was
probably safer than climbing the tree or sitting underneath it and waiting for
something to fall on her head.
Since she was so tired and so annoyed that she couldn’t sleep even
though she was exhausted and had been all day, June missed the strange
shadow on the beach until she was almost there and the shadow turned into
a living, breathing person with a rush of blonde hair and eyes that looked
like black onyx in the dark.
Arabella.
June wanted to turn around and head back to the cabin, but it was too
late. She’d already been seen. She could tell, because Arabella smiled and
the sliver of moonlight up in the sky reflected off her teeth. Her eyes shone
too, wet and glistening. She looked almost ethereal like that, in the
moonlight and the shadows, some kind of silver dust fairy that worked their
magic in the secret hours of the night.
“This is becoming a ritual,” Arabella said softly. She crossed her legs on
the beach. She was wearing her bikini, June realized. She very quickly
focused on Arabella’s face instead of considering the yellow swimsuit. Or
more like the assets that it displayed.
“Were you going to go for a swim?” Right, just point out what you’re
trying to ignore. That’s wonderful. Very subtle.
“I’m not sure yet.” Arabella’s eyes raked down June’s t-shirt and her
pajama shorts. “You?”
“No. I was just…it was hot in the cabin. I couldn’t sleep.”
“Me neither.” Arabella turned her head, her eyes sliding away, giving
June a small reprieve from the gaze she probably didn’t realize was burning
in its intensity. “I thought a midnight swim would be fun, though. The water
is probably nice at night. Actually, it was the only thing I could think of to
cool down. It’s not much cooler out here now than it was during the day.”
“Y-yeah. I mean no.”
Arabella gathered up her blonde mane and twirled it over one shoulder.
She wound it around her hand, the muscles in her arm flexing. Bathed in the
dark, she was the kind of pretty that again reminded June of something
otherworldly. It didn’t matter that she was watching Arabella’s hands or
keeping her eyes on her face. Her mind filled in the rest of the information
for her, including the lush curves and that small yellow bikini that defined
them. The bikini was just a bikini. It wasn’t more or less revealing than any
other bathing suit, but it didn’t matter. On Arabella, it turned into something
extraordinary and apparently the images were burned into June’s mind.
Her mouth went dry, and heat shot from her belly straight to her upper
thighs.
“You didn’t tell Summer,” Arabella said.
“N-no,” June whispered, a little too huskily. She didn’t like what that
note meant in her voice. Her tongue felt heavy and ungainly in her mouth,
which was so, so dry.
“It would have been okay if you did.” Arabella laughed, mistaking that
tremble in June’s voice for a sort of awkwardness. “It’s not a secret. But
thanks.”
“I…” June wasn’t usually one with nothing to say. Even in high school,
when Arabella and her crew were at their worst, she’d always had some
comeback, or when she’d chosen to stay silent, it was because she wanted
to.
“You could stay.” Arabella patted the sand. “There’s plenty of room here
for two. Or did I take your spot again?”
“No. That’s alright. I mean, I wasn’t coming to…I was just going for a
walk.”
“Well, since you’re out here now, we could just relax. Or is it too weird?
I could move down the beach if you want. Leave you alone.”
A strange sensation thundered in June’s thighs. She felt heavy there, like
her legs would be a thousand pounds if she tried to lift them. Her whole
body might as well have been cement. She felt like she was frozen to the
ground, rooted with a marble base that she couldn’t break free of.
She thought that maybe it was best if she kept walking, or if she returned
to the cabin, but her manners c
ompelled her to walk towards the beach, her
plastic flip flops, a fancy set from her own beach line, of course, clacked
with every step. They might have been lightweight, but they would outlast
an apocalypse, provided it wasn’t too hard core, and they were fully made
out of recycled materials.
She let her clip clopping shoes take her to the small strip of sand, then
she plopped down totally ungracefully. They just sat there, a good three feet
between them, staring out at the moonlight reflected on the purple-black
surface of the water.
“The night is almost prettier than the day,” Arabella breathed. “Not that
it’s not pretty during the day, but it’s not so hot right now. I think the
sunrises out here would be amazing. The sunsets are pretty spectacular. I
can’t remember the last time I watched one before last night.”
“Yeah,” June croaked. Further down the shoreline, a real frog croaked,
long and low, and the response didn’t sound that much different.
“Where did you go to college?” Arabella asked suddenly, the question
taking June off guard.
“Uh, here. Cincinnati. I lived at home. It was cheaper.”
“I went down to LA. Wanted to do the whole California kid thing. I was
spoiled. Right from the get-go. My parents paid for the whole thing, no
questions asked. I wasn’t even that smart. Didn’t stand a chance at getting a
scholarship. I wanted to take drama, which I probably would have been
good at, but my dad talked sense into me and said I should make business
my major and do theatre or other arts as a minor. I’m glad he did, because
my God, you should have seen how many people were majoring in theatre.
I mean, it was LA after all.”
“I’m sure a lot of people go down there for that.” June really had no idea,
but it sounded like the right thing to say. Just to agree.
“I would have made a terrible actress, but I found that I had a passion for
marketing. It took me until my second year to figure that out. I had to take a
few marketing classes my first year, just introductory stuff and it was, I
don’t know, I just really liked them. And I was good at them. I’ve always
been artsy. I know no one knew that because I kind of never pursued
anything but cheer, hair, makeup, clothes, and being a total bitch in high