The Voting Booth

by Brandy Colbert

  Ida and I went to talk to a therapist once a week. I liked Dr. Darby, but I could only go so deep with her. It wasn’t easy to sit across from a strange woman and pour my guts out about my dead brother.

  I was messing around online one night when I found the forum. I was thinking about Julian, which I guess made me type in:

  What to do when your brother dies

  I didn’t expect anything helpful to pop up. The internet can be a trash pit, which I’m reminded of every time a Black person died in some public way. Even the articles about Julian, who had a good rep in the community, were filled with nasty reader comments at the bottom. People said things like he must have been a thug, and wasn’t it ironic that the guy who was so concerned about gun violence got killed by Black-on-Black crime, and more bullshit that made me feel like my eyes would bleed.

  But page after page came up on my search. Some of them were articles posted on medical and psychology websites. General advice about how to handle grief. I kept scrolling until I got to the forums, where it was real people like me posting about what it felt like.

  I couldn’t relate to the first forum I found. Most of it was about losing spouses or parents. And when it was about siblings, they were grieving over a brother or sister who’d died when they were in their forties or fifties. Most of them had had almost a lifetime with the person; I only had Julian for sixteen years.

  But then I came across a link to a forum for teens, and the more I read, the more I started nodding, agreeing with everything they said. Like how it was hard to concentrate at school now, and how people did fucked-up things like compare your sibling’s death to their grandparents who had passed away from natural causes in their eighties. I read as much as I could until my eyes started drooping. Then, for the first time since Julian died, I slept through the night.

  I started going on the forums every night before bed. Not just because it seemed like some sort of sleeping pill, but also because it made me feel better. When things started getting too cluttered in my head, it cleared my mind to scroll through the forum and read about people who were feeling the exact same way for the exact same reason.

  I talked to everybody at first, then realized I was replying more to only certain people. Especially one person. She called herself Mz K, and her avatar was a dumb-looking purple unicorn, which made me laugh every time I logged on. Once, we were posting so much back and forth in the same forum that she finally DMed me.

  Figured we should take this offline to spare everyone

  I dug her dry sense of humor and how she knew the director, screenwriter, and lead actors from every single rom-com made from the 1960s on, and how she was just so real. Her brother had also been shot, but he’d been in a gang and they knew who killed him. Sometimes I felt guilty for getting as angry as I did—I was still alive—but Mz K never did. She’d start out messages some days by saying I woke up so fucking pissed today. And I got it. Every time.

  We started texting after about a month of talking online, and that’s when she told me her name. Kendall Ford from Flores Hills. I looked her up. Not a lot came up except little profile pictures I could barely see, since her social media was private. So I was glad when she sent me a picture of herself a couple of days after we’d been texting.

  I looked at it off and on for hours. She was pretty: light brown skin and black hair with bangs that swooped across her forehead, and braces she said were going to be taken off in three weeks. I hadn’t ever been on a date. Not even a school dance, because I got shy around girls and I’d always felt too stupid to ask Julian for advice.

  I spent way too long taking a selfie good enough to send her, then fired it off before I could change my mind. She wrote back right away: You’re cute

  I couldn’t stop smiling as I typed back: So are you

  We texted constantly, sometimes until one or two in the morning. I felt like there was nothing I couldn’t tell her.

  So when Ma and Dad said we were moving a couple of hours away, to Flores Hills, I freaked out. I’d be going to the same high school as Kendall. We were in the same grade. This girl, who knew everything about me, was going to be so close. Close enough to see all the time.

  I guess I messed up from the start with Kendall because I didn’t tell her I was moving. I don’t know why. We’d never even had an argument, but I felt weird about moving into her space. What if she didn’t want me there? I was just this strange guy who lived in her phone.

  I saw her almost as soon as I got to FHH that first day, which was weird. It’s a big school. But there she was, at her locker, laughing with her girls. My heart started beating fast as soon as I recognized her. Her braces were off and she had pretty teeth, too. I told myself to go over and say something, but instead I went to find my locker before the first bell.

  She was in my English class. I was already sitting at the back of the room when she walked in. I watched her find a seat near the window, up front. She didn’t glance back once, and I should have said something, but I didn’t.

  I cringed my way through the first few names of roll call and tried to make myself as small as possible when Mr. Johnson called out, “Duke Crenshaw?”

  Her head was down as she doodled in her journal, but as soon as I said “Here,” my name must have worked itself up into her brain. Even though it was out of place here. Even though what were the chances of there being a Duke Crenshaw in her English class at Flores Hills that she actually knew?

  She set her pencil down and her head came up. She turned slowly in her seat to look in the direction of my voice. We locked eyes. Her lips parted and she stared at me for several seconds, until Mr. Johnson got to the F part of the alphabet and called her name.

  Kendall kept sneaking looks at me, and I kept looking back at her. Finally, she mouthed, “Is it you?”

  I nodded. She turned around to face the front. I saw her hand shaking when she picked up her pencil again.

  She packed up her things right away after class and headed out of the room without even looking my way. Great. I’d already fucked up and it was only my first day here. I wondered when I would see her again, but as I stepped out of the classroom, someone said, “Hey.” I looked over to my left and she was there.

  Looking confused and hurt, but there. Her eyebrows went up and down as she said, “Duke, what are you doing here?”

  “We moved.”

  She pursed her lips at me. “Obviously.”

  “My parents wanted us to come down here for a fresh start.” I didn’t mention that they’d been fighting more than ever, and I was pretty sure Dad had been sleeping in the guest room ever since we got to the new house.

  “But you knew you were moving to Flores Hills and didn’t say anything?” She shook her head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  It was weird being next to her in the flesh. As much as we talked, it was never over the phone. Just DMs and then texts. Every time she’d suggested we actually talk so we could hear each other’s voices, I said I hated being on the phone. I didn’t tell her it made me nervous. That I worried she wouldn’t like me if she got to know all of me.

  “I don’t know. Because I’m a jerk? I’m sorry, Kendall.”

  She sighed and blinked at me. She smelled good. Like flowers. And her hair was so shiny up close. I was trying not to stare at her too hard, but it’s like I couldn’t believe she was an actual living, breathing person. Over the next few days, I caught her looking at me the same way.

  She forgave me. And we slowly became friends in real life, too. Texting still, but now we ate lunch together and stopped by each other’s locker, and sometimes I gave her a ride home from school because I already had my license.

  Then, once we started up Drugstore Sorrow, Kendall started coming to practices every once in a while. Even when we were real bad, she supported us. I think Svetlana was the one who suggested Kendall be our manager, and we were all on board.

  But that’s when I started to feel a little funny about things. We weren’t dating, but
we hung out so much that I think some people wondered if we were. Even in the band. And now we’d be together even more than we already were.

  I knew Kendall liked me, but I couldn’t go there. I guess it would look to some people like I was leading her on, but I needed her to be my friend. If we went further, I would mess things up. I knew it. And I didn’t want to lose her, too.

  Not after I’d already lost someone so important to me.

  But now it looks like I’ve lost her anyway. She still hasn’t texted back—not to me or the group chat.

  I glance down the beach at the spot where we all were a couple weeks ago, then look at Marva. “You go to bonfires?”

  She shrugs. “No…not really.”

  “What do you do for fun?”

  She pauses. “I’m with Alec a lot. And our friends. I volunteer. I’ve been doing a lot of campaigning the past two years. I study.”

  I laugh. “Studying isn’t something you do for fun.”

  “Speak for yourself.” Marva chews her lip, trying not to smile.

  I take off my socks and shoes, chuck them behind me, and walk into the rolling tide, forgetting too late that I didn’t hike up the bottom of my jeans. Oh, well. Water dries.

  “Feels good,” I say, turning to look at Marva.

  “I’ll take your word for it.” She stands stick-straight back by my shoes.

  I turn to the ocean and stand there. Just listening. Taking in everything. The seagulls cawing as they swoop down and try to eat up everybody’s food. Little kids with plastic beach toys building sandcastles and tunnels. Tourists soaking up every ounce of sun they can get.

  “What time do you think we should head back?” Marva’s standing a few feet behind me now, just at the water’s edge.

  “Are you for real? We just got here. School’s out, so you don’t need to be there. Can’t you just relax?” I thought coming here would be good for her. Maybe help her chill a little. I’m starting to wonder if that’s actually possible.

  “Ugh,” she says under her breath.

  “What?”

  “It’s just…Do you really live like this?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like, everything’s just sooo chill allllll the time,” she says in this lazy stoner voice that makes me laugh.

  “Is that what you really think?”

  “How could I not? Honestly, it’s like nothing ever bothers you.”

  “Lots of stuff bothers me,” I say. “But maybe not as much as it bothers you.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” she mutters.

  “Or maybe I just deal with it differently. Like, it sounds corny as hell, but my happy place is the beach. I feel better here than just about anywhere else, you know?”

  She’s quiet.

  “Do you have somewhere that makes you feel like that?”

  “I…I don’t know,” she says, looking down at the sand.

  “Well, just try to chill. Enjoy where you are. Stop worrying for a second that everything isn’t going to work out, and put your damn toes in the water.”

  She opens her mouth like she’s about to object, but then closes it. And bends down to untie her combat boots. Marva looks at me for a moment, then throws her boots and socks back by mine and walks up to stand next to me.

  She lets out what sounds like something close to a happy sigh.

  “Worth it?” I ask, glancing over.

  “Shut up and let me enjoy where I am,” she replies, her face tipped toward the sky.

  I WOULD NEVER ADMIT THIS OUT LOUD, BUT DEEP down, a part of me does feel good that I skipped school today.

  It feels like maybe, if one thing gets off track, my whole life won’t fall apart. Of course Selma is still missing, and I feel sick wondering if those ballots will ever show up at the church, and Alec and I are not in a good place.

  But it is kind of impossible to resist the sun, the waves, the salty air. Duke is right. When I just close my eyes and breathe, I feel a little calmer. My head feels clearer.

  “When was the last time you were at the beach?” Duke asks, squinting at me to keep the sun out of his eyes.

  I think. And think. And keep thinking. “I actually can’t remember. Maybe a year or two ago?”

  The last time was probably when my aunt and uncle came to visit.

  “Years?” Duke’s mouth hangs open in absolute horror. “You gotta be kidding me. It’s only a half hour away. Do you swim?”

  “I can,” I say. “My parents had me in swimming lessons as a baby. Said it wasn’t right to live this near the ocean and not know how to swim. I guess I loved it as a kid, but it’s not my favorite or anything. I’m better on dry land.”

  “Well, I’ve lived near enough the water my whole life, too, but I can’t swim for shit.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, I took lessons, but they never stuck.”

  “Doesn’t the ocean scare you? It’s so big.”

  “That’s why I love it,” Duke says. “I mean, we only have a tiny idea of what the hell is living down there. That’s pretty badass.”

  I shake my head. “No, thank you.”

  Then I close my eyes and breathe in, because even if the ocean scares me, I like being on this side of it. Shoes at the ready, sand beneath my toes. I flex them under the ripples of water, inhaling again, and—

  Suddenly I’m cold. And wet.

  “Oh my god!” I shriek, eyes flying open. “What are you doing?”

  Water is dripping down my face. Trailing down my neck and into my bra, and Duke is doubled over laughing at his successful splash attack.

  I wipe my face with the backs of my hands, trying to remind myself it’s just water. It will dry. But I don’t like being wet when I’m not supposed to be. Sticking my toes in was more than I even wanted to do, really—

  A second blast of water hits me and I scream again. “What is your problem?” I splutter. “Are you twelve?”

  “Your face,” Duke says, laughing so hard he can barely speak.

  My murder face, I’m sure. Alec likes to comment on it when he does something that gets on my nerves. If looks could kill and all. Usually, getting splashed in the face with what feels like actual waves not once but twice would cause me to stomp away. And I think about it—leaving him stranded on the beach with no way to get home or back to his dead car in the church parking lot.

  But—ugh. There’s something about his face. It’s the opposite of a murder face. It’s joyous, like he’s been transformed back into an actual twelve-year-old. And it’s contagious. Because as salt water drips down my neck in rivulets, I start laughing. And before I know it, I’m bending down, scooping water into my hands, and splashing Duke—twice as hard as he splashed me.

  Our water fight is short but intense as we dance around each other, ducking and dodging like we’re in a beach ballet. Finally, when we’re both out of breath from laughing and running, we stop, palms held up in a truce.

  Duke moves his hands to the tops of his knees, chest heaving as he looks at me. “I thought you were going to kill me for a minute.”

  I smile sweetly at him. “I thought about it.”

  I’m glad I decided to stash my phone with my boots so it’s not soaked. Mom is always saying how I need to leave my phone alone more, get out and enjoy the world and all it has to offer. But between my campaigning and maintaining Selma’s social media account, I can’t go too long without it. And I’m especially glad to have it on a day like today, so I can check the exit polls later. With our luck, who knows if I’ll even be able to watch the results on TV?

  “You feel better, right?” he says, finally catching his breath. “This place is magic.”

  I don’t know about magic, but he’s right. I feel better than when I came. Like maybe there’s still some space for the hope I was filled with when I woke up this morning. And it’s hard not to feel better when I look at him—his face is so open and happy right now, it’s practically contagious.

  “Yeah,” I say w
ith a small smile. “I feel better. Thanks.”

  We sit on the sand for a while, just watching the ocean and the people around it running, walking, sunbathing, surfing, playing Frisbee…Whatever I think about the beach, a lot of people seem to think it’s magic, just like Duke. I look around and I don’t see one frown. It’s like time has stopped here and no one is worried about how the election is going to turn out or what that means for them and their friends and family and people around the world. Normally that would infuriate me, but I don’t know. Maybe a little magic never hurt anyone.

  But we have to leave eventually, and even I’m a little sad when the time comes.

  “There might still be a long line,” I finally say. “Probably better to head back to the church and make sure they don’t run out of ballots again.”

  But I notice how slow our footsteps are on the way back to the car. And how wistful Duke looks before we’ve even made it all the way up the stairs to the parking lot.

  “Thanks for letting me bring you here,” he says, his eyes meeting mine briefly before he looks away. Shyly.

  “Thanks for bringing me,” I say as we near the Volvo. “I—”

  At first I think I must be imagining this. Maybe I got too much sun. Because I recognize the car idling behind mine. The sleek gray Audi with tinted windows that I’ve sat in probably hundreds of times. But it couldn’t be, right? It’s probably just the same car as his. It has to be.

  Except the passenger window rolls down and Alec is leaning over, looking at me from behind his Ray-Bans. “Hi.”

  I forgot that we have our phones linked so we can always track where the other one is. It was his idea, and I didn’t think much about it, since we’d been together a year when he suggested it. I trusted him wholeheartedly. Plus, some of his friends had linked their accounts with their girlfriends’ and boyfriends’, so it didn’t seem strange to me.