elliot

Alyssa is so frail in my arms, too tiny to be believed. Her strawberry blonde hair hangs over her freckled shoulders, wet and stringy, yet still curly and light. She's fragile and vulnerable and so not the girl from the Front last night that I can't believe this is happening.

Her eyes won't open, and the only thing I can think to do at this point is shake her, which is definitely something I should not be doing. When there's a voice from the kitchen, I'm relieved beyond relief. The boy who leaves the kitchen looks just like her, with short messy hair and puffier lips. Also, pissed. He looks very pissed.

"Why are you carrying my sister?" he asks in an unbelievably soft voice. Seriously, it does not match the look of extreme pissed-offishness in his eyes. "What the fuck?"

"She—at the pool? There was—well. Fish?"

Panic enters his gaze. "Shitshitshit," he mutters. Another boy walks out of the kitchen behind him—this one, I recognise. Jace Westerfeld.

Damn, okay, is Alyssa's brother the one from the Dunes then? Everything from the Instagram posts comes rushing back, and I hate that it's hard to not look away. "Um, yeah, I don't—"

"Jace," says Alyssa's Brother, not even looking back at him, "could you wait in the kitchen?"

Jace for his part looks completely flustered. "Uh, yes? Is she...."

"She'll be fine," Alyssa's Brother says with a calm surety. "Here, her room is this way."

I follow him through a small little hallway just leading off their box-stacked living room. He opens a door at the end of it, nodding me through. Her head hangs over the edge of my arms, limp and effortless. If I had another hand, I would wipe away the stray strands of strawberry hair away from her full lips. Long lashes meet rosy, freckled cheeks, and I have to tell myself to focus on not tripping instead of staring at her.

"This is her room," he says, and I have never been more grateful in my life—despite her tinyness, Alyssa's weight is beginning to kill my arms. The fact that I haven't had a hard workout in over a year is definitely not helping.

Her brother flips the lights on as I struggle over to her bed. Alyssa's bed has an unmade dusty pink duvet, so I gently lay her down atop her sheets and step back so her brother can fuss over her pillow placement. It's my first chance to really stare at her legs.

Little half-moon crescents dot her skin, some pink and fleshy, others scabbed over. It looks like someone went ham on her legs with some seriously sharp nails. The skin around the scabs is red and blotchy, almost like a rash. It's all I can do to stare—stare at those flushed cheeks, that spattering of freckles on her forehead, the angrily peeling skin on her legs.

"Right, okay," her brother says, taking a few steps back and running his hands through his hair. "Okay. So. Um. I'm gonna throw you out into the living room with Jace, and if you say a fucking word to him about this, I will rip your eyes out of your face and shove them down your throat so that you can see me shove my foot up your ass from the inside. Got it?"

"That was very vivid," I say like an idiot who doesn't know how to use the word "yes."

He narrows his eyes at me. "Very vivid. I have way more where that comes from."

"You—I—" It's way too much of a struggle to not sass back. "Yep. Cool. Okay. Sir."

He rolls his eyes at me, a very effective dismissal.

Jace leans against the kitchen counter when I make my way back into the main living room. He nods almost imperceptibly, a nod I recognise from the dude bros of school, and I manage a nod back (a nod which is definitely nowhere near as cool as his, but whatever).

"Hey," he says.

"Hey," I say back.

Jace rubs his wrist, where he's got a few random bracelet things. "Is Alyssa okay?"

"Um," I say. "I have no idea."

He ndos, as if this is actually an acceptable answer. "What happened?"

"Um. I have ... no idea."

This doesn't receive an acceptable answer nod. "So what, you just found her like that or something?"

Frickety frick. "She and I work together? I, uh, found her in the storage room, and she was like, 'Can you take me home?' I . . yeah. Yep." It's not a complete lie, at least. I guess.

Jace nods slowly. Obviously, this answer is acceptable. "Maybe she has some kind of chronic pain thing or something?" he says, though to which of us it's meant for, I have no idea. "My mom has chronic pain. It blows."

Now it's me nodding. "I didn't know that. Sorry, man."

Jace shrugs. "It is what it is, I guess. At least she has more good days than bad days now. Life is all around better these past six months."

We both nod in silent sync, unsure of where to take this. Instagram, my brain screams at me. You should ask him about the Instagram! I definitely should not.

"You know," Jace says, "that was really nice of you to take her home."

"What else should I have done?" I ask, immediately regretting how harshly it comes out.

Jace continues to fidget with his leather bracelets. "People aren't always as decent as they should be."

He's probably talking about the Instagram discourse from this morning. Like, ninety-percent sure. What else would he be referring to? Still, I'm a little offended. "Glad I give off those vibes?"

Jace looks up in a flash. "Sorry, not what I meant."

"You're good." I can definitely tone this down. I'm just shaken by Tanner's words, I guess. "Sorry, I'm just kind of dickish today."

"You're not the only one," he mutters.

"I'm sorry about those posts," I say, because it feels like the right thing to do. I can't believe it comes out. "They were mega not-okay." "Mega not-okay" probably just cancelled out the effectiveness of that apology.

"Tell me about it." Jace shakes his head slightly. "This town is so homophobic. I can't wait till I leave."

Homophobic? A hand comes back to massage the back of my head. My hair, short and choppy, tries to slip away from my grip immediately, so I tangle my fingers in the dark mess for a second. Just a second. "I don't know if I would say it's homophobic, per se—"

"Elliot." Jace furrows his brow. He's shorter than I am, and he's got his whole stocky wrestler thing going on, and the brow thing is definitely weird on him. I realize that I've never seen him look angry before. Ever. And this? This is angry. "This town? Homophobic. The majority of the people? Homophobic. Even if they don't mean any 'harm' by it, it's still harmful as fuck."

"I don't—"

"We put up Pride flags at my church last June, and someone stole them." He straightens his back, adjusts his stance. His jaw has to be sore, it's so tight. "Noelle Brody, a trans sophomore, switched to homeschooling because the bullying was so bad. Because she couldn't stand it anymore. This Instagram thing? Seen as normal, dude. Hulhazy may not think it's homophobic, but it most definitely is."

I don't have anything to say. I mean, I know I'm not homophobic—definitely not. Duncan and Neema are the best allies you could ever ask for. I mean, Neema drove us to a Pride event an hour away last year, and Duncan packed our backpacks with "Pride essentials" he spent hours looking up on YouTube. My parents aren't either. Sure, they may be a little crass, but there's a difference between not getting something and being homophobic, right?

"I mean," Jace says, "just look at how the swim team treats you."

Something white hot surges through my chest. "What?"

"Everyone knows why you quit the swim team, El," he says softly. God, I hate that nickname. So much. Especially right now. "It's so unfair. The way—"

"I quit because I had a lot of schoolwork," I snap. "You took Honors Chem with Mr. Thomas. You know what a bitch that class was."

Jace blinks. "Okay, but Chlo—"

"No," I say. "No. I quit because I had other stuff to worry about, not because I was forced to. Okay?"

"Okay."

"They're not homophobic. They're my friends. We're a team. In fact, I'm rejoining."

"Okay."

I can tell he doesn't believe me. And I tell myself that I don't care. And that maybe I will think about rejoining the team.

-

A gif from Duncan comes through: a shirtless Finn and neutral Jake sitting in the rain. It's awful out there. Blech, he says.

agreed. And then, because I can't help myself anymore: you remember that cute girl from the beach?

YES what about her???

I'm at her house.

CUTE BEACH GIRL!!!! ELLIOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I KNOW

THIS IS AMAZE-BALLS, he screams, accompanied by a gif of Gunter the Penguin dancing. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH have you made out yet?

Ha. No.

GET ON IT.

I send him a gif of the Lich shh-ing Finn

Don't shh me.

You know who you should shh?

CUTE BEACH GIRL. WITH YOUR MOUTH.

You know you waaaaant toooooo

I smile a little to myself and shoot back, Shut up, heathen. Quit trying to live vicariously through my lips.

I'm just trying to get your lips to live, my poor, game-less friend, he says.

Womanizer.

Duncan sends a few laughing emojis. I'm not a womanizer, I'm in a very committed relationship. A relationship with a girl who is telling me Thor will be at six tomorrow. Curry popcorn will be provided.

love you nerds

We love you toooooooo!

I spend the rest of my time in the living room, browsing my phone. Neema recently got me and Duncan into a comic about a magic cat and the cinnamon roll boy he trains to be super-speedy, so I let myself fall into the rhythm of bingeing. It's easier like that.

Alyssa's brother hardly throws a glance my way as he exits the hall, instead heading right for the kitchen. Right to Jace. Jace, who could definitely use a lesson in shutting the fuck up. Ugh. Homophobic? The team is not homophobic. Just, the fact that I was in the changing room with them brought up a couple questions, that's all. I probably would have had the same concerns if I had been in their position.

Like, okay. It hurt. The team thinking that I would ever do anything to them was really offensive, because I would never, but ... can I blame them? I would never have creeped on them. It's not as if I did before I came out—they knew that. Just, coming out was different. I almost came out to Taffy last year, but didn't. Still. One day, everyone assumed. And everyone hated me. But not because of homophobia. Just fear, misunderstanding, and regular old ignorance.

They didn't know any better. Things will be different now.

"Hey," Alyssa's brother says, holding open the kitchen door. Jace walks out towards the front door, throwing a nod in my direction that I'm still too angry to return. "Come with me."

The brother and I are halfway down the hall when the door opens, revealing a fierce pattering of rain, then shuts tightly. "You and Jace are...." I start.

"None of your business," says Alyssa's brother in his crazily musical voice.

"Right."

Alyssa's completely passed out in bed, and I stare for a second. Stare at the way she's spread out, more like a corpse than a human. Stare at the way that, even in sleep, she looks pained. Stare at the way her hair sticks to her forehead, at the way her brow is all scrunched up.

I really wish I knew what the fuck was going on here.

"Did you see it?" Alyssa's brother asks.

I hesitate. "Do you mean her...." It feels so weird to say. "Her tail-thing?"

"Ugh, how fan-fucking-tastic," he says. "Okay. So. If you tell anyone, I'm going to have to murder you."

"About what?"

"About her tail-thing."

"Oh."

His eyes are sharp. "Seriously, I will break your face. With a chainsaw."

I glance back at Alyssa. Her brother must have taken off the massive sweatshirt she had on earlier at work. Gosh, that was only, like, an hour ago, wasn't it? How? It feels like an eternity ago.

"You know, I'm kinda surprised she asked you to take her home," Alyssa's brother says, drawing my attention away from Alyssa. He leans against the edge of a small stack of boxes. Alyssa's room is pretty bare, its only decoration stacks of boxes.

"I saw her," I say. "With the tail. I don't know if she had much of a choice."

He shakes his head. "Nah. She could have called me. Probably would have made you easier to deal with."

"Deal with? Ow?"

He side-eyes me, but doesn't say anything else. "What's your name?"

"Elliot. You?"

"Tanner."

"Cool, cool."

"Yep. Names. Cool." For a second, I think we're about to drift off into awkward silence, but then he asks, "Pronouns?"

I don't know what this means. Not really. "Like ... pronouns? Just as a solidary statement out of random thin air?" I ask. Then it hits me. "Or what I use?"

"No shit, Benedict Cumberbatch." The following eye-roll is powerful.

I should have realised that one right away. Still: "Your sass hurts my feelings."

"Good. Pronouns?"

He's staring expectantly, and I realize he wants an actual answer. "Oh." The back of my neck prickles. "She and her?"

"Why does that sound like a question?" He rolls his shoulders back a few times, cracks his neck. "He-him over here."

"Okay." Before Tanner and Alyssa, I'd never been asked what pronouns I use before. It's strange—I know I'm definitely cisgender, but it's somehow flattering they would care enought to even ask. "Um, Alyssa asked me that as well."

"She's been working hard on it. Her partner—ex-partner—got us both into the habit."

"Oh?" Ex-partner?

He seems to frown for a second, but shakes it off so quickly I doubt whether it was actually sadness in his expression I read. "So, you work with her? At the pool?"

"Yep. Concession's stand." It's so weird, having a casual conversation with someone right next to a sleeping mermaid with bloodied divots all over her legs. "Today was her first day."

"Bruh. She's my sister. I know it's her first day."

"Oh. Yeah." The self-conscious prickling at the back of my neck intensifies. Does he have to be so rude and abrasive? I mean, I pretty much did him and Alyssa a solid, right? Jace's words echo in my head—people aren't always as decent as they should be.

I did the right thing. I did a good thing. Even though Tanner is kinda making me feel as if I didn't.

"You know," Tanner says, "she really didn't want to get a job."

I try to act interested, even though I'm still preoccupied with what Jace had said to me. "Oh?"

"Yeah." He crosses his arms, focusing his gaze on a still slumbering Alyssa. "I was expecting for her to text me all day, telling me about how boring it was and how she didn't want to be there and crap."

"Our boss is pretty chill about phones in the stand," I say, even though I don't know why. "I get away with it all the time, really. Except for Reddit. Hates Reddit. I suspect he's a 4Chan man."

"You guys chat much?"

"Like, today?"

He squints. "You've met before?"

"Last night, I guess," I tell him. I feel like he's interrogating me, which is so weird. There's just something about him that makes me feel smaller, somehow. This feeling that he's in charge. I don't care for it. "At the Front?"

I almost ask him if he was there with her, but then I realize he probably knows about the Jace discourse online, and figure I should lay off.

"You spoke to her at the Front," he says slowly.

"Yes? Is that ... wrong?" Did I just get Alyssa in trouble? Typical.

"No," he says. "No, guess not."

He seems to shake himself off. "Okay, so, I'm gonna have to have you leave," he says.

"What?"

"You'll be fine," he says drily. "My sister trusts you enough to let you carry her home, so ... yeah. You're good."

This is too weird. "Okay? Do you want my number?"

Tanner seems to weigh it for a moment, then shakes his head. "You're good. Bye."

"Okay—"

"You know where the door is?"

"Yes?"

"Bye."

With steps that feel like jelly and a head swimming with confusion, I let myself out and into the downpour.