by Amanda Grace
“I mean, I get that people have said some pretty shitty things about you, but—”
“But what?”
“But why’d you do it?” I blurt.
She sneers, and I want to close my eyes against the sight of it. “Do it ? Are we in third grade? Your friend has no problem saying it—why can’t you?”
“Why’d you sleep with Zach? Everyone knew he was dating Ava.”
The sneer turns even harder, and though I can’t see every detail, when she looks over at me, her eyes meeting mine, there’s enough fury that I half expect her to shove me out of the boat and row away.
“I didn’t even know he was her boyfriend,” she says. “I’d only been at Annie Wright for, like, a week, and obviously he didn’t go there. I had no reason to connect him with Ava.”
The water laps against the boat and I strain to hear her quiet voice.
“I really thought Annie Wright was my chance,” she says. “We all had uniforms and I thought I could fit in, you know? Be one of the cool kids for once. So I heard about the party, and I wore my best clothes, and I went. God, I was so nervous. You have no idea.”
“Why?”
“Because you and Ava were so cool, you know? I thought I could make a good impression.”
I chew on my lip, staring down at where my paddle is making small ripples as the boat bobs along. “So what went wrong?”
“You guys weren’t there at first. I was nervous, so I had a couple of drinks, and this guy starts talking to me. Like really noticing me and flirting with me, and it was the most empowering, intoxicating feeling. I’d felt like nobody ever saw me, but this guy, who was so well dressed and so cute, noticed me.”
“Ava’s boyfriend,” I mutter.
“Yeah. If I’d known, I would’ve blown him off. But he was so smooth, you know? Made me feel like I was so one of a kind, so special. And so he tells me there’s a ping-pong table in the garage, but then the next thing I know, we’re in some random bedroom completely making out. I hardly even noticed when he took my shirt off.”
“And then Ava—”
“Ava was looking for him, and she found him. With me, in my bra and jeans. And she blamed me for everything. Because, of course, her boyfriend was perfect, and I was the slut who went after him. That’s all she could see.”
Somewhere out on the lake, a fish jumps. The splash is all I can hear.
“You know what’s truly fucked up?” she says.
“Everything?”
“All I wanted was for her, for you, for half the school to like me. The whole summer leading up to the start of school, I’d had this image in my head. I was going to be someone else inside that school. I was going to fit in and make friends, and somehow that was going to make everything better. Annie Wright was going to be my path out of the shitty life I had. I was so certain of it.”
She sighs. “It’s never been easy. But I thought if I could pull it off, things would get easier. And I did the one thing to ensure that it never would. I was stupid. I fell for a pretty smile and a few compliments.”
Her words are heavy, and I’m almost certain I can hear them falling into the water around us, creating ripples. Just like that party.
“I’ve spent the last three years just trying to get through. I thought she’d get tired of it. She has a new boyfriend now. But she hates me so much she just keeps bringing it up—telling people about how I’m such a slut, that I sleep with everyone, saying they shouldn’t let their boyfriends anywhere near me.”
And I’d believed it all. I never doubted Ava’s claim that Zoey had known who Zach was, that she’d gone after him even though Ava was his girlfriend.
“I’m sorry.”
“Then prove it, Olivia,” Zoey says. “Tell Ava she’s wrong. See if she apologizes, and then show me where your loyalty is.”
“She’s her own person. I can’t make her do anything,” I mumble.
“If she won’t stop running my name through the mud, but you still call her a friend, then you’re not who I thought you were.”
“Maybe if you’d just told her you didn’t know, that he was the one pursuing—”
“Yeah, she’d totally believe me, wouldn’t she?”
I want to say she’s wrong. I want to argue it. I want it to be simple.
I find her hand in the darkness and squeeze it. She intertwines her fingers with mine, and we sit there in silence, watching Liam’s shadow as he gets up and walks away from the campfire. Zoey leans against me, resting her temple on my shoulder.
“Everything got really screwed up,” she says, her voice hardly more than a whisper. “People started writing stuff on my locker, and whispering stuff, and asking me if I was going to steal their boyfriends, too. I don’t even know how I would’ve handled it if there were guys at school thinking I was a sure thing. I guess I should be grateful for that.”
“I remember some of that.”
“I deleted my Facebook page because I kept getting all these mean messages.”
“People can be bitches,” I say, and she laughs softly at my horrible attempt at a joke.
“I got really depressed for a while. Like, really bad.”
“You didn’t—”
“No, I would never kill myself. Carolyn needs me. I knew I’d claw my way out of it somehow.”
“I never even questioned it,” I say. “I had no idea.”
“It’s not like I walk around telling everyone this stuff. No one at school cares about me. I’m the poor little scholarship student.”
I squeeze her shoulder and relish the feeling of her curled into me, the weight of her head on my shoulder. It feels … right. Comfortable. Like I’ve waited my whole life to just be sitting here in the darkness with her, listening to her secrets.
I turn and kiss the top of her head. “You can trust me, you know that, right?” I say, my lips still against her hair.
“I told you the truth, didn’t I?”
I turn back to the shore and rest my cheek against the top of her head.
“Yeah. You did.”
Zoey
I awake the next morning to the sounds of pots and pans banging around on the other side of the wall.
The kitchen.
Liam’s arm is heavy around my waist, but we’re both still fully clothed. By the time I got back last night with Olivia, he was asleep or passed out or something—his snoring didn’t stop when I slid under the covers. It still took me a while to fall asleep because I kept half expecting him to wake up and want to hook up, but he was out cold.
I don’t know what might happen tonight, but I’m sort of hoping it’ll be the same. Before anything gets more serious … more physical, I need some time to figure out how I really feel about him.
All night, my head kept spinning and spinning and spinning as I thought about how Olivia had acted in the boat. As I thought about the way she’d wrapped her arm around me and just … listened.
I’m afraid to get up and go into the kitchen and have it be weird, but I’m more afraid to go in there and have it be like our conversation last night never happened.
I slide out of bed, the floor cold on my bare feet, feeling both nervous and strangely at peace. I leave the bedroom behind, pausing at the big mirror on the wall in the living room. I quickly smooth out my hair, tucking it behind my ear, and wiping away the smudged eye liner under my eyes.
Then I walk into the kitchen, where Olivia is pouring batter onto a flat grill. She beams when she looks up at me. “Hey. So, you can choose between Mickey with one-and-a-half ears, or a smiley face pancake that looks like a guy who got hit in the head a few too many times.” She nods at the platter next to the grill.
I want to stare, because she’s in a pink tank top and pajama pants, her hair in a low pony tail and her face make-up free. She looks prettier than I’ve ever seen her,
in the tiny kitchen with a little blue apron tied around her slim waist.
“Nice.” I grab one of the clean plates next to the platter, stab the crooked smiley-face-shaped pancake, and squeeze a liberal amount of syrup on top. I’m all too aware of the way she’s watching me, and heat creeps up my neck. Unlike her, I don’t look cute in the mornings, and my pajamas are mismatched. “I didn’t know you can cook.”
“Ah, yes. And clearly I’ve really been holding out on you,” she says, gesturing to the pancake on the grill.
I laugh and go to the table at the end of the kitchen,
sitting down in one of the ’70s style vinyl seats. I’m not sure how we’re supposed to act, but when Olivia looks up a moment later, she gazes at me intently, searching my eyes.
It’s enough acknowledgement. I nod, and she smiles back, and it has nothing to do with the lake or the pancakes. It’s about us. It’s about last night.
It’s weird to think I ever hated her, ever thought she was just like Ava.
It brings me back to that first night at the condo, when I told her I was waiting to see the substance behind her pretty façade.
I see it now.
“So, I was thinking more about our project,” she says, turning back to the grill.
“Yeah?” I take my first bite of pancake. I can tell it’s just box mix, but it’s delicious and warm and I want a hundred more.
“Yeah. I was thinking we should work together more. At my house again. It’s due soon, so we need to finish it up.”
“Oh. Yeah. That could work,” I say. “I only have a couple of shifts at work this week.”
Liam comes out of the bedroom then, and as soon as I glance over at him, I feel my cheeks warm. Not because he looks good—he does, with his hair kind of tousled and his pajama pants sitting low on his hips—but because I feel like he just caught me and Olivia in the midst of … something.
But we’re just talking.
“Coffee,” he mumbles, clearly oblivious to the shift in my relationship with Olivia.
Olivia points to the coffeemaker at the end of the counter. “Already got you covered.”
He focuses on pouring himself a tall mug, and Olivia steps back to make a funny face at me behind his back.
I’m grinning from ear to ear when Liam turns and leans back against the counter, glancing over at me. I drop the smile, trying to act casual.
“You guys want to swim today?” he asks.
“Definitely,” Olivia says.
He walks to the table, smelling of coffee, and kisses my temple. “Sleep well?”
“Yep. Like a rock.”
Seemingly satisfied, he turns away and grabs a plate. “Hope you’re planning to make a dozen more of these, because I’m starving.”
“You got it, bro,” Olivia says. “I’ll make so many you can eat until you explode.”
By noon, it’s warmed up enough for us to go down to the dock in our swimwear. I’ve got a towel wrapped around me, and I’m feeling a little self-conscious and a lot excited to swim. I haven’t actually swum in years, since our middle school PE class did a unit on it and we went to the local pool.
There’s a big table at the end of the dock and I follow Olivia’s lead, kicking off my flip-flops and tossing my towel onto the glass surface, which exposes me in all my pale, gangly
glory. Ignoring the warmth of Liam’s eyes on my skin, I stride to the end of the dock and, without hesitation, leap.
It’s an ugly, half-assed cannonball, and as the water swallows me up, covers my head, I don’t even care. The lake feels glorious on my skin.
I break the surface, grinning as I tread water. I never want to leave. I just want to float around and enjoy the slippery, soothing feeling.
I twist around, looking back up at the dock to see if they’re coming too, but no one’s there. I narrow my eyes, and I’m about to call out when the sound of heavy footsteps on wooden boards breaks the silence.
And then Liam and Olivia appear simultaneously, racing to the edge of the dock and leaping, flying, over my head, synchronized in their motions. For a moment I can picture them as kids practicing their jumps, doing it again and again and again.
I close my eyes against the splash, and then wipe the water from my face.
Olivia’s head appears first, and I wait, poised, for Liam.
One … Two …
But he doesn’t appear.
And then something’s grabbing my leg, yanking me under, and I take a quick gulp before the water swallows me again. When I sputter to the surface, I’m laughing and shaking off Liam’s hands, kicking away from him.
“Jerk!” I say, grinning from ear to ear as I try to splash him back.
He swings his hand, and a great big wave of water monsoons toward me.
“HELP! Olivia!” I scream, pleading for assistance as her brother overwhelms me.
She swims closer and skims her hand across the water, cascading the droplets right at Liam’s face.
“HEY!” he sputters, and for a moment he stops splashing me. I take my opportunity to swim closer, grabbing his shoulders and shoving him under before swimming as fast as I can to the ladder on the dock.
Olivia follows, and we make it to the steps in seconds. I get one foot onto the iron before someone’s grabbing me. I turn to yell at Liam, but it’s Olivia.
“Me first! He’ll spare you!” she yanks me off the ladder and I fall backward, trying to squelch the laughter so I can close my mouth and not inhale the lake.
I sputter to the surface and see Olivia, halfway up the ladder, her hand outstretched. I accept it and she yanks me over, and then we’re both scrambling out just as Liam reaches us.
I climb the last couple of rungs and then half fall, half roll across the wooden planks, landing on my back and staring up at the cloudless sky. My chest heaves; my body and hair are soaked. I’m blissfully happy and out of breath.
“You guys cheat,” Liam calls out.
“You’re the one who stealth-dunked me,” I say. “So I had to get a little revenge.”
Liam’s coming up the ladder, so it’s safe enough to go toward the end of the dock and dip my toes in the water without worrying about him popping up below me. I scoot down a few boards, then let my feet dangle below me.
Olivia follows suit, scooting over and leaving enough space between us for Liam.
He drops down between us, tossing his arm around my shoulders and dripping water down my back. “I’m going to get you for that, you know.”
I lean back on my hand, turning to look him in the eyes.
“I’m kind of counting on that,” I say. “But you’ll never win.”
I feel something over my hand and flick a glance down, realizing it’s Olivia’s fingers covering mine. I lean back a tiny bit more and meet her eyes. They’re sparkling with amusement, like she’s trying to convey something.
And then I recognize the mischievous look she’s giving me. I blink twice, as if to say Yes, and then sit up again. I stare out at the water, leaning into Liam’s body.
“So, about getting me back,” I say, slowly turning my hand to interlace my fingers with Olivia’s.
“Yeah?”
“Good luck with that.”
Then we yank our arms forward, like a snapped rubber band, and shove him off the end of the dock.
Olivia
Monday afternoon, I wander the mall after school, unable to stop thinking about the weekend. Something between Zoey and me has changed, evolved. On Saturday night, after Liam started yawning and stretching and finally went to bed, we sat on opposite twin beds in the basement and talked until two o’clock in the morning before finally drifting off.
I slide my phone out of my pocket and glance at the text icon. Still no reply from Ava. The two of us need to have a serious chat, and it’s not something we can do over th
e lunch table at school.
My hands are sore from a brutal day at gymnastics and my nose kinda hurts from when I missed on the uneven bars and slammed into the ground, but I don’t really feel like going home. So instead I schlep from store to store, laden with bags, waiting for the moment the shopping high kicks in.
I’m at one of the little boutiques that has dark, angsty stuff in the window—graffiti art and face-piercing jewelry and black T-shirts—and I turn the spinning rack to look over the earrings.
I’d never wear this stuff, but it reminds me of Zoey, and suddenly I want to buy her a gift. I want to hand her something and see her eyes light up, and I want her to know that I thought of her.
My eyes rove the rack, taking in the earrings that resemble pearls—except they’re iridescent black. They’re perfect.
I grab them off the shelf and check the price: twenty-eight dollars. Just right for a random, no-occasion gift. I take them to the front register but there’s no cashier there.
“I’ll be there in just a moment,” a voice calls out.
I nod and study the items in the case in front of me.
Temporary tattoos. Except these look fancier than the sort I used to put on as a little kid. In place of the colorful cartoon characters, most of these are plain black and resemble real tattoos, with great details and shading.
“Sorry about that,” the cashier says. “Just these earrings?”
I shake my head. “No, uh, I’ll take two of those, too.” I point to a tattoo in the corner of the case.
“Alrighty,” the girl says, sliding two of the five dollar tattoos out and adding it to my total. “That’ll be $41.42.”
I hand her my plastic, and a moment later I’m carrying the little bag out of the shop.
I get my phone out and text Zoey, grinning the whole time.
That night I wait in my car outside of Burgerville, watching the green digits on the dash march toward ten thirty. I know I should be tired by now, but I’m totally tuned up instead.
Inside the restaurant, lights flick off and the place falls into darkness. A moment later, the door swings open. Zoey turns back to lock up, and then she glances my way, her lips curling into a smile.