elliot

Duncan picks up on the third ring. "Elliot, you good?" he asks immediately. I'm walking down Breakneck Hill with my phone in hand, headed back towards the team. I wonder what the conversation has turned to. I should ask them who this year's captains are. We only have a few guys on the team, and they tend to stick to themselves. The captains are almost always girls. Who knows, maybe it's someone like one of the Ambers or Chlo.

"I'm fine," I assure him. Originally, he and Neema were wary about my hanging out at the beach with the swim girls, which I think is dumb. The past is in the past. Let it go. Insert additional lyrics here. "Just, you'll never guess what happened."

I hear shifting, and Neema chimes in: "Ooooh, what happened?"

"Tell us, tell ussss," Duncan hisses.

I'm not far from the girls now, and I see Taffy has resumed her position on Brooklin's lap. I'll never understand why everyone loves Brooklin, especially someone as nice as Taffy. The back of my neck prickles just thinking about her. Did she even care about my answer? The two of them tangled together doesn't make me feel any better. It's impossible not to be jealous of the insanely gay energy.

The girls' heads swivel towards me in creepy unison. Six sets of eyes narrow as one.

So. I definitely don't like that.

"Um, where are you guys right now?" I ask, because something gives me the feeling I'm about to feel some serious teen girl wrath, although for what, I don't know.

"My house," says Neema. "Why? You done with the bikinied bimbos?"

I love Neema, but I wish she knew how to lay off the girls. "To be fair, they're covered up. And, yeah, I just might be. I'll call you when I'm on my way over."

"A'ight, cool. We're watching Titanic, so bring your game face," Duncan says. "Peace out!" The line goes dead. I shove my phone in my Bermuda shorts pocket, then continue my awkward walk that suddenly feels more like a death march than anything.

Brooklin's gaze is the coldest. I know all too well that it always is. Of all the girls, she's the only one I never actually considered a friend. "El," she calls. "C'mere!"

It's more than just my stomach that sinks. It's all of me. "Yeah? What's up?" I hate that I jog over, but once that weird Brooklin-pleasing instinct kicks in, it doesn't quit.

She smiles. It's her creepy smile. I hate this smile. It's the same smile she wore in the locker room last year when she accused me of staring at Amber K., the same smile she wore in every instance then-on. "Where were you?"

Uhh. "Ran into some new kid. Figured I'd introduce myself. Why?" I'm out of breath, which is more embarrassing than anything.

Taffy's eyebrows quirk. The bonfire not far away shines off the side of her face, which could be contributing to what must be blush. Either that, or it's the beer in her hand. "Really?" she asks, like she knows something I don't. Her words crawl over my skin.

"Whatever," says Chlo in her I-know-the-actual-truth voice. Her damaged blonde-dyed hair is wrapped up in an off-putting ball atop her head, and I focus on that instead. "Do you think you're going to be rejoining the team?"

It's not anything that I'd actually thought about. In a serious manner, at least. Rejoining the swim team is just something that I didn't think would happen. But maybe, this year, I can swing it.

"Maybe?"

"Good," says Taffy, pink and orange in the bonfire, "because we totally need more varsity girls."

I try smiling and acting like that isn't remotely weird. So what, I'm only invited back when they need more swimmers? People are notorious for quitting the school's swim team, but I never figured they were this desperate to keep members. Is this a last ditch effort? "You're serious?"

"Serious?" repeats Brooklin, quirking a brow. I could swear her eyes glint in the fire. "Dead."

"Dead serious," chimes Amber K. Amber S. nods.

I shake my head, then walk over to my chair to grab my flannel and wallet. Amber S. and Chlo glare at me—they all glare at me—as I retrieve my things. I need to process this.

Maybe Duncan and Neema were right. Maybe coming back here was a bad idea.

"Right," I say, shoving my sweatshirt sleeves up to my elbows. "I should probably get going. Thanks for the invite."

They all wave bye, and I head off to the parking lot.

At one point, I look over and spot Alyssa speed-walking towards the beach, head bowed down. She might be crying, but I'm most definitely not in the right headspace right now to deal with other peoples' problems. So, I just let her pass. It's easier to pretend I see nothing.

In my car, I tilt my head back, rub my eyes, breathe deep.

There's a knock on my window. I glance out—Taffy.

I open my door a crack. She steps back. "What?" I murmur. I can't fathom what she would want.

"Hey, I'm sorry," Taffy says, staring down at her Chacos. She still holds the beer in her hand, and she hiccups once, her major "I've been alcoholing" tell. She was literally sober ten minutes ago. Maybe she's not entirely drunk yet, but still. "You were so quiet tonight. We should have talked to you more."

I force my jaw to soften. I didn't help things by being quiet, I guess. Getting back into the swing of things must have been as weird for them as it was for me. "It's okay."

Taffy's head whips up. "Really?"

"Yeah." I let myself breathe a little more evenly. "We're cool."

She grins. "Awesome. Ohmygosh, thank youuu."

"Yeah no worries." I tap the wheel, waiting for her to say bye so I can head over to the Adriko's for some Titanic.

"Could I maybe snag a ride home from you?" Taffy asks, looking at me with these wide, innocent eyes. And, crap, I don't want to say no, do I? I was here for, what, an hour, and I'm already willing to bend over backwards. I hate that I'm like this.

"Sure, get in." Taffy squeals excitedly, flinging her hands into the air and sending little droplets of beer splattering against my window. I wrinkle my nose slightly, but only say, "No open containers in the car, though."

Taffy looks down at the beer in her hand, like she hadn't even noticed it was there. I don't care about responsible drinking, but I wouldn't have complained if she'd have stuck to that light roast. "Okay, then," she says. And she chugs the rest of the bottle's contents, eyes squeezed tightly shut. She tosses the bottle onto the sand, and it takes every ounce of my being to not demand she go pick it up.

Just be cool. Channel your inner Jacinda Ardern.

Taffy slams the door shut too tightly behind her, then just sits in the seat and waits patiently, as if something is going to happen. She hiccups again, and I sigh.

"Seatbelt?"

"Oh!" She jolts upright. "Yes! Yes, of course. Seatbelt. Yes!" As she buckles in, she giggles, intermixed with frequent hiccups. Literally, she only had time for a drink. How is she already this tipsy? She's tiny, but with all her previous summers of drinking, I figured she'd be far more tolerant. "Seatbelt, seatbelt, seatbelt. Yes."

Taffy doesn't live too far from the beach, but the four minute drive feels like an eternity. My jaw is tight the whole time, especially when she says, "I told them you're not gay."

"What?" I ask, not really getting her point. "Why?"

"I mean, if you're not, then you should be able to come back," Taffy says, patting a gentle rhythm that is far from being rhythmic on her lap. I wish she would stop. "Before when we weren't sure, it was different, but now—"

"Taffy, what the hell?" What, so if I like girls, I can't be on the team?

"What, are you mad?" The rhythm gets a little louder. Her voice, a little edgier. "I'm sorry. I just thought you'd be happy?"

The team. Back on the team. I could go back. And I don't exactly think I need to be worrying about coming out right this instant.

"I mean ... they wouldn't have been mad though?" Yes, I'm mad. She basically just said that I shouldn't be on the team because of my sexuality. Which is so gross, I can hardly believe it. I get ostracised because of suspicions, I'm ignored and brushed aside, and then I'm summoned back into existence to help bolster their numbers? "They aren't homophobes or anything?"

"Oh no no no!" Taffy says, stopping her patting altogether. "Never! We love you, girl! We don't turn on our own."

I'm sure that's a lie. I know it's a lie. I saw what happened to Kim Kaylies when she dyed her hair electric blue (a mistake for any swimmer), and I saw what happened when Kyle Simon broke up with Amber S. for some girl from his chem class. I know what happened to me, even if it felt unintentional. But ... it's so easy to hope that it isn't the same this time. That we're all somehow different.

"Okay, then," I say. "I'm not mad."

Taffy squeals excitedly again. "Yay!"

I turn into her driveway. She's slow to hop out, but when the door finally shuts and she crosses in front of my headlights, waving ecstatically, I exhale and tell no one: "Yay."

A/N:

Wow, imagine hitting this being, like, the shortest chapter in the whole book.

Chapter four is up and ready!! Hope you're enjoying thus far!

Edit: Check the new gifs lmfao.