by Ariel Kaplan
“I never said that! I don’t think you’re less than me!”
“You sure act like it. You know what? Greg liked me before you ever got involved. And if you’d just kept your mouth to yourself, everything would have been fine. But you just couldn’t keep your hands off it. It’s like you had to feel like my relationship had your fucking fingerprints all over it.”
“That’s not why…”
“Not why what?”
“Why I was talking to him.” I pressed my hand over my eyes. “Bethany…”
“What.”
This was the part I didn’t like to admit even to myself. Because as much as I’d tried to convince myself I was doing this for Bethany, I hadn’t been noble or selfless. Not at all. “I wasn’t talking to Greg because I was trying to get him to like you. Or like you more than he already did.”
“So why were you doing it?”
“Because I liked him.” I let out a long breath. “Because I love him.”
She stopped short. “What?”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“You are not in love with him.”
I said nothing.
“You’re not, Aphra. I know you’re not.”
“I never tried to get him to like me instead,” I said. “I showed you the messages. You know that’s the truth. I just wanted…I wanted to feel like…like there was some universe where he could want me back. I wanted to feel that.”
“You wanted to feel…”
“Eros, I don’t know.”
“You wanted to feel eros.”
“Yeah.”
“With my boyfriend.”
“Well, he wasn’t your boyfriend when it started—”
“Do you not realize how gross that is?”
“I’m sorry!”
“That’s disgusting, Aphra! Like, Greg and I are people. We’re not just…like…psychological experiments for you to mess around with because you want to feel something.”
“I know that. Obviously I know that.”
She huffed out a breath. I felt…angry again, like my hurt had looped back around. Mostly I was mad at myself. But not entirely. “But, you know,” I said, “you could have done some things different, too.”
“Really, you’re going to act like any of this was my fault?”
“You know, you could…you could have set your sights on someone who wasn’t the only guy I’ve liked since eighth grade and then asked me to help you get him to fall for you. To rub sunscreen on you and type your texts for you and sit in fucking Cake Baby and have your conversation for you. How did you think that was going to make me feel?”
She blinked a few times. “When did you ever tell me that?”
“Tell you what?”
“That you were in love with him!”
“I told you.”
“Yeah, you told me you liked him in middle school. You didn’t tell me you still liked him!”
“Well, I didn’t realize it was incumbent on me to tell you I never stopped liking him!”
“But—”
“When did I ever talk about anyone else?”
“That was three years ago!”
“Yeah. It was.”
“So why didn’t you tell me back when I told you I was into him? Why not say something then?”
“What would the point have been? You obviously knew Greg and I were never going to happen.”
“Oh, right. Yeah. That’s why I did it. I deliberately stole the guy you liked because I’m such a bitch.” She scoffed. “You always underestimate me.”
“That isn’t fair.”
“It’s the truth. No matter how much you say you know I’m not some stupid airhead, whenever the chips are down you act like that’s exactly what you think. You act like I can’t get a guy on my own. Like I’d deliberately go after a guy you liked. You treat me like I’m the stupid princess and it’s on you to save me all the time because I can’t possibly function in this world without you.”
“Well, did you ever consider that’s how you act? You freaked when you found out about NOVA because you’d have to eat lunch by yourself! Like, I shouldn’t have to feel guilty about you having to find someone else to eat a sandwich with! You won’t do anything unless I’m there.”
“I got a job without you,” she said.
“Yeah, but apart from that. You only joined crew because I did. You wouldn’t even go trick-or-treating without me. That one year I got the flu? You just didn’t go out! It’s exhausting. Like, I have to be there for you all the time. Did you ever think that I’m tired of feeling guilty for wanting to do things on my own?”
“I never said you had to feel guilty! There’s no reason for you not to do things on your own!”
“Really.”
“Really. I am perfectly fine by myself. I don’t need you. At all. For anything.”
“Is that so? Well, then. I’m glad we figured that out.”
She turned sideways. “Sophie,” she said. “Switch seats with me.”
Sophie said, “Bethany…”
“Now. Please.”
They switched seats. My face was pressed against the window because I wished I were not on that bus. I hated everything. I hated Bethany for making me feel like crap. I hated being on a grungy bus that smelled like old socks. I hated the world.
Sophie said, “I thought the cheerleaders pushed the drama. Did you guys really have to do this now?”
I didn’t answer.
“Oh, now you’re quiet.”
“Please just leave me alone.”
“Well, that’s a problem because you aren’t alone. There are eight other girls on our boat depending on you to get it together. So get it together.”
“I know,” I said. “I will.”
* * *
—
I was not getting it together.
We set up our team tent, and the parents, who had carpooled in together, fired up the grill and set up a table for pasta salad and bananas and chips. My parents were home with Kit, and I was actually kind of glad. No one was expecting me to smile or act excited. I checked the time; in six hours, I could go home. Then there was only one more day of the regatta, and then I could breathe.
The boys’ team had come on a separate bus, and it was only after the tent was set up that I saw Greg was with them; either they’d made him an alternate or he was just there to watch. He glanced at me and then away. I went and got a banana and ate it sitting in a lawn chair by myself.
The thing about regattas is they consist of about 10% racing and 90% waiting. In the past this hasn’t bothered me, because during the 90% downtime I get to hang out with my friends and cheer on other boats. But today, that wasn’t happening. Everybody’d heard the fight on the bus—which meant nobody wanted to be within five feet of me.
It seemed like nobody wanted to be within five feet of Bethany, either, so at least they weren’t picking sides.
After a while, I went to throw out my slimy banana peel. Of course this happened to be at the exact second that Greg decided to throw out the wrapper from his breakfast burrito.
I decided the best course of action would be to look at my feet and go the other way, but Greg had other ideas. “Aphra,” he said.
“Hello,” I told my feet.
“Really?”
I looked up. He looked bad. Like maybe he hadn’t slept all that well. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m so sorry, I just, I don’t know what else to say.”
“Really. You don’t know what to say.”
“Is there…is there something you want me to say?”
“I want you to tell me the truth!”
“The truth?”
“I think you owe me that. Were you guys just messing with me? Was this just fun for you, jerking me around?�
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“No,” I said. “It was never that. I’m sorry, but it wasn’t that.”
“Then what was it?”
I huffed out my breath and closed my eyes. “The Deanna app was busted and I didn’t want to flunk, so I took over and started writing the responses myself. I didn’t know who you were. At first.”
“But you figured it out.”
“Yeah. Eventually.”
“And when I asked who you were…”
“I—I freaked out. I thought…it would be awkward.”
“Awkward why?”
“Because…because I liked you so much. Because…because I didn’t think you could like me back.”
He stared at me for a good long second, his face all contorted with whatever he was feeling. “So you lied to me? Jesus Christ, do you really think I’m that shallow?”
“No,” I said. “No. I don’t think you’re shallow at all. I actually don’t think it’s shallow to want to be attracted to the person you’re with.”
“Oh, I get it,” he said. “So it’s not that you think I’m shallow. It’s that you’re shallow.”
There was some cheering from down by the river, which meant that the race had ended. It was one of the fours, I think. I wasn’t paying that much attention.
“I was going to tell you,” I said. “The next day, after you asked, I decided to tell you anyway, but then you saw Bethany with my code, and…and you were so happy.” I screwed my eyes shut. “You were so happy it was her. She didn’t know. She didn’t know we’d been talking.”
“You didn’t tell her?”
“Not then. You guys were both so happy, and I—I know this doesn’t make sense to you, but I thought I was doing the right thing, I swear.”
“Because we were happy. Bethany and me.”
“Yeah, because of that.”
“And what about you?”
“I…was happy that you guys were happy.”
“That’s bullshit, Aphra.”
“That’s the truth.” I drew in a shaky breath. “I knew you weren’t going to like me. Not that way.”
He said nothing for a while. Then: “But you were still talking to me online. And you knew I thought you were Bethany.”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“I…It was a mistake.”
“You thought…what? You could pretend to be with me?”
“Something like that. I’m sorry.”
“And Bethany found out?”
“Yeah, and she wanted to tell you, but I wouldn’t let her, because none of this was her fault. It was all mine.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets; unlike me, he wasn’t wearing a uniform. Why was he even there? He wasn’t going to be rowing that day. He exhaled loud enough that I could hear it over the hundreds of people around us. “You’re right,” he said. “It was. It was sick and awful and your fault.”
I nodded. I couldn’t quite look at him. Then, because I was already being more honest than I’d ever been, I said, “Я вас любил безмолвно, безнадежно.”
I loved you wordlessly, without a hope.
I said it quietly enough that I wasn’t even sure he heard, and when he didn’t answer, I raised my eyes just a little to see if he was still there. He was. I watched his throat bob as he swallowed. Then he turned around and walked away without saying anything at all.
“APHRA!”
I turned. Sophie and the others were waving at me from our tent. “WE HAVE TO CHECK IN NOW!”
I rubbed the tears out of my eyes and rejoined the group, because, if nothing else, I am always a team player.
“Okay,” Sophie said. “Let’s have eight hands on the eight.”
It was time to take our boat out of the boathouse, and we were about to move it off the rack. I got into position with my hands on the gunwale. Sophie said, “Ready to lift.” We’d just started to lift it when Bethany, who was standing way too close behind me, bobbled and lost her grip.
In that instant my hand ended up smashed between the hull and the bar.
I shrieked. And then I did it again, because the damn boat was still on my hand. “Get it up!” Sophie shouted. “Get it up!”
They pulled Dullahan up an inch and I slipped my hand out and cradled it against my chest.
Coach Kim reached for my hand, which I did not want anyone to touch. “Let me see it,” she was saying while Bethany kept repeating, “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
I showed Kim my hand, which was already starting to swell. She held out my hands side by side to compare them.
“Make a fist,” she said. I did, saying the f-word about twenty times in a row. Finally, in as cheerful a voice as I could muster, I said, “Could I get some ice, maybe?”
“I think it’s sprained,” she said. “It doesn’t look broken, but you might need an X-ray.”
“Nah,” I said. “I’m good. It’s just…HA HA HA, that’s fine, it barely hurts.”
Claire said, “We’re due at check-in.”
Talia said, “Shut up, Claire.”
Sophie said, “Can you still row?”
“Ha,” I said. “Ha ha, sure. It’s nothing. I mean. I’ve got two hands, right?”
To Sophie, Kim was saying, “Go get Melina.” Melina was one of the better rowers on our JV eight.
“No,” I said. “No, I am totally fine.” I attempted to make a fist again, which didn’t go so well. “I can still row. I just need to ice it for a second.”
“Aphra,” Coach Kim said. “You are not rowing.”
“It’ll be fine in a minute!”
She was pulling me away from the rest of the group by my shoulder. “There’s next season,” she said. “You’ll row next year.”
Sophie came running back with Melina, who looked pretty damn delighted to take my seat. “Four-seat, right?” she chirped.
“Yeah,” I muttered.
Sophie said, “Let’s get to check-in.” Then, maybe because her cheerleader roots were showing, she cried, “LET’S DO IT FOR APHRA!”
Please, I thought, you guys dropped the boat on my hand.
“FOR APHRA!” they echoed, as if they hadn’t been ignoring me all morning. Bethany, at least, met my gaze and gave me an eye roll. Whether it was directed at me or at them, I couldn’t tell.
And so I was left to watch my team row their last race of the season with a freshman in my seat. I sat down by the edge of the water. After a minute, John O’Malley sat down next to me.
“What,” I said flatly.
He wordlessly handed me a baggie of ice.
“Did they really drop the boat on you?”
“Shut up, John.”
“Hey, I didn’t drop the boat on you.”
I looked down at my hand, which was already going black-and-blue. It would be ugly tomorrow. At least it wasn’t my right hand. Which meant I could still punch John if I wanted.
Together, we watched the boats row to the start line. John handed me his binoculars.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“It’s your boat,” he said. And then, just in case I might have forgotten, he added, “Which they dropped on you.”
“That they dropped on me,” I said automatically.
“What?”
“It’s a restrictive clause.”
The starting beeper went off.
It was a 1,500-meter race. Those typically last about four minutes. Four minutes of putting your heart into your arms and legs, listening to Sophie shouting her orders, and loving her, and loving the girls in front of you and behind you, because for those four minutes you are one person, one organism with 16 arms moving in unison. There’s a term in crew, finding your swing, which is the best possible thing that can happen. Everyone is in total sync. You
can feel it like expertly rhymed poetry; you can even hear it in the whoosh of the oars moving together. It’s what we all pursue, that perfect synchronicity. It’s better than winning a race, once you find it.
From the shore, I saw the second my boat found their swing. I could see it in their faces. They flew through the water, shooting between the other boats; they were in fourth place, and then third, and then second.
“Whoa,” John said. “Are they going to win?”
I held my breath. I wanted them to win.
They were bow to bow with the boat from Great Falls, the best girls’ eight in the county for the last three years. They were so close together I couldn’t see who was ahead. I could hear Sophie calling over the crowd, which had gone furious with excitement. I felt the screams all around me in my bones.
I wished, so badly, that I was in the boat, that I could hear and see and feel what my friends were feeling. Dullahan under them and Sophie in front of them and boats on either side.
I couldn’t tell who won. Then I heard it over the loudspeaker.
“Occoquan Club takes it!”
John and I leapt to our feet. He hugged me, and I hugged him back, and we jumped up and down for a good long minute.
When the noise from the crowd started to subside, I could hear shouting from the boats by the finish line. John said, “They’re calling you.”
They were. My girls were calling my name. I jogged down to the dock, where they were pulling the boat out of the water. John, who was still with me, held me back. “You’ve only got one hand left,” he said. But once the boat was put away, I went to be with my friends. Sophie jumped on my back and howled like a wolf, and Claire was so happy she kissed me on the mouth, which was a little unexpected but I went with it. Bethany alone hung back. I didn’t want to ruin her buzz, so I said, “I need some Gatorade—that shit was exhausting,” and went back to our tent while the rest of the girls posed for victory selfies.
* * *
—
I drank my Gatorade by myself, and after a few minutes the team filtered in, still talking way too loud, like they were all a little drunk. Bethany wasn’t with them.