“But everybody else is changing, aren’t they?” I protest.
“Yeah, but they don’t look as good as you,” Sinéad tells me matter-of-factly as she steers the car onto the road.
“Drew looked pretty good,” I counter.
“Gosh, those shoulders,” she agrees. “But that’s different. Like, it doesn’t fit as well for him. And anyway, I’m also not changing.”
She’s already taken off the hat. Said her hair got all sweaty, and now she’s got it tied back in a low ponytail. She looks like a girl again already. And now we’re going to Leslie’s place, a house with a large pool in the backyard, so I doubt her makeup beard will be sticking around for long. Or her clothes, for that matter.
The upside to not going home to change is that we’re among the first to arrive at Leslie’s. A few of the other girls were there even before us, having brought clothes to change into so they could leave class early to help Leslie set everything up. When we arrive, they’re already relaxing in the loungers by the pool, cool drinks in their hands. As Sinéad rolls up her polo shirt to expose her midriff, kicking back into her own lounger, I sit gingerly by the pool, letting my bare feet dangle in the water. This feels even weirder than being dragged around the shopping mall by Sinéad. I’m just here, with them, like I belong. As a girl. None of them, besides Sinéad, still wear their boy outfits.
Leslie comes through the terrace door with a tray in her hand, balancing a precarious amount of drinks.
“Welcome to the party,” she says to Sinéad, who’s lying closest to the door, lowering the tray a little to allow her to take one of the glasses.
“Oh, this is going to be an absolute highlight,” Sinéad laughs, after taking the first sip.
Leslie grins. “I got the good stuff. The kitchen is stacked, if you wanna have a look later.”
“Music to my ears, darling.”
Leslie walks on, handing everybody drinks. And then, to my surprise, she crouches next to me, offering me the last one left on the tray.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she tells me, lines of laughter appearing around her eyes.
I eye the drink, as the comfort of knowing that I’m welcome tugs at the bottom of my stomach. “Wasn’t that one for you?”
“I’m going to go back inside to make another one anyway. Whether it’s for you or me doesn’t matter, except if we say this is mine and I leave it, it’ll be warm by the time I return with yours.” She winks as I take the glass, then gets back to her feet to return inside.
The drink is surprisingly good, even having heard Sinéad earlier. I barely taste the alcohol, instead the drink is sweet in a light way, with the slightest hint of sourness.
Drew, Jacy, Theo and a few others arrive half an hour later. It is then that the stereo system somebody brought is turned on, and coolers with beer are brought out. It is only early evening by then, and we still have many hours of daylight left. Even once the sun has gone down, it will still be warm enough to be in the water. This time of the year, the nights rarely cool below 70 degrees.
That’s also the time where it starts to feel weird, being the only one still dressed as a girl. I feel the glances, like beams of hot light at the back of my head — sometimes I even catch somebody staring. It only gets worse as people around me get more and more drunk. As the music and laughter gets louder. I try to get drunk with them, to be loud with them, and have fun with them. And I do manage to get drunk, but that doesn’t make me loud, and it doesn’t lead to me having magically more fun or confidence. Instead, I stay by the poolside, nursing my drinks, even once the buzz of drunkenness has started to set in.
It’s not like they leave me alone. People constantly try to include me. They ask me to play beer pong with them — I join for a match and turn out to be the reason my team loses. Both Drew and Jacy sit with me at the poolside for what must be over half an hour, but I don’t talk enough to keep them interested.
I know I’m getting into my own head about it. Maybe that’s the worst part about it. Knowing what is happening, but being unable to stop it. I get fidgety. I keep glancing around, flinching at loud sounds. And I hate that I do, but these are drunk boys and girls, people who used to bully me. People who pushed me in the hallway, sneered at me, said and thought all these awful things. If they’re drunk now, aren’t some of these thoughts and words at least bound to resurface? They have so much more reason to bully me now, don’t they? They probably wouldn’t even realize how I feel about it.
I want to leave. Get far away from this place before anybody does anything they’ll have to apologize for on Monday. Before I get emotional over something I shouldn’t be getting emotional about, because I’m not supposed to want to be a girl in the first place. I shouldn’t want to be sitting here at the poolside in girl shorts, a top and a stuffed bra, with my junk tucked between my legs. I shouldn’t be comfortable wearing makeup, I shouldn’t even want to have long hair, not with how girlish my face looks already. They’ve got to know, don’t they? Sinéad especially. Why hasn’t she said anything yet? Drew might have missed it, because he is Drew, but what about Jacy? Or Theo?
I get up. I struggle a little, my balance is off. I’m gonna ask Drew if he can call Amy to come pick us up. It’s already late enough to want to leave, right? It’s eleven pm, I can say I’ve got to study.
Standing on unsteady legs, I look around for Drew and spot him on the other side of the pool, chatting with somebody who’s got their back turned towards me. Shouldn’t I be able to recognize them? My vision is strangely hazy. My thoughts are sluggish.
A heavy arm is flung around my shoulders. “Mia!” says a masculine voice. Marco, one of the guys who kept complimenting me earlier. He’s more than a foot taller than me, and from the way he tilts against me, I can tell that he must be just as drunk as me. If not more.
I force myself to look up at him, pulling the corners of my mouth into what feels like the grotesque imitation of a smile.
“Yes?”
“You’ve been sitting at the edge of the pool and didn’t go swimming once!” he complains. “Aren’t you way too hot? You know with the weather? And you being… hot?” he grins down at me dumbly.
That familiar unease sneaks up my throat. This is exactly what I was scared of. My body goes rigid, the smile fades. Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
“I’m fine,” I mumble, knowing he won’t hear it past the music.
From the distance, I hear Jacy say, “Yo, Marco, I don’t think you should—”
But by then, he’s already saying, “You should take a splash, it’s so refreshing!”
My squealed protests are in vain, because I’m already flying through the air, and then everything goes cold. It’s so sudden it makes me dizzy. My lungs spasm, I’m already out of air, but where do I swim? My limbs are frozen. I open my eyes, but can’t make out anything but a vague, blue blur. The distant thumping of the music reverberates through the water.
Wouldn’t it be ironic, if I died like this? Surrounded by people who’ve been telling me they want to be my friends, killed by something so simple as being pushed into the water and nobody thinking to check on me. My thoughts are growing foggy. My lungs spasm again, and this time, my lips part.
There’s a loud static sound. A shadow appears before me. Strong hands grip me, pull me upwards with such force that it hurts. Then I’m above water, held in somebody’s arms as I cough my lungs out. Everything hurts. My hair sticks to my face in a curtain, my throat aches with each new coughing fit. But the arms hold me, continue to hold me, even as I continue to not support my own weight.
There’s movement, and I realize vaguely that I’m being carried out of the pool. One arm is supporting my back, the other underneath my thighs, holding me with ease. I’m shivering. No clue whether from shock or cold. Everything is so hazy. My thoughts are barely coherent. What is even—
Voices. “Oh my God, is he okay?”
“Fuck! I didn’t know — I’m so sorry!”
“Everybody SHUT UP!”
“Les! Get a blanket! Get him inside! Yes! Clothes as well! Go!”
“Drew, do you need—”
“I’ve got him. Get out of the way!”
The light changes behind my closed eyes. Gets brighter. Then the movement of my savior climbing stairs, cradling me in their arms.
“Hey, Max, you okay?” Drew’s gentle voice asks, his warm breath ghosting across my ear.
I draw myself further together. My thoughts are beginning to thaw, but that doesn’t make anything better. It makes me realize what just happened. I got pushed into the water, and somehow I almost drowned. Drew had to save me, and nobody will ever look at me like they used to. They will see the boy who likes to dress up as a girl and almost drowned in a shallow swimming pool.
Pathetic.
I want to nod. I want to tell Drew that I’m fine, but I can’t. Because I’m not. This is the point where everything turns, isn’t it? On Monday, I’ll return to school and nobody will want to talk to me. And I will tell myself that’s fine, because I never planned to have friends around here anyway, but really, will it be fine? For a few days, I actually thought I had friends. The way Leslie had greeted me earlier had made me feel so welcome. Sinéad doing my makeup this morning, Jacy leading me to the big table outside, calling me jumper.
Drew sets me down in the upstairs bathroom, propping me up against the side of the bathtub, just as Leslie comes in with a stack of clothes. “I wasn’t sure what clothes you’d want, so I just got you some pajamas? I also brought a hoodie, but, you know, it’s so warm…”
She puts the clothes down next to me, then grabs a towel from the low shelf by the window, draping it around my shoulders.
“Uhm, do you want me to stay? Or do you want, like, some space?”
“Space, please,” I manage to say past the ache in my throat and the shame that burns my eyes. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” she says softly, then leaves, closing the bathroom door behind her. Drew stays.
With a heavy sigh, he plops down next to me, leaning against the bathtub as well. “That was fucked up.” He has his knees drawn almost all the way to his chest, his arms resting on top of them. “I’m sorry that happened.”
“Not your fault,” I say in a low voice. Every word rasps against the back of my throat. I wonder how long it will take until it stops hurting. Whether the pain is from coughing, or whether I’ve actually damaged my lungs, breathing in water.
“I should’ve been there. With you. I should’ve realized sooner that you weren’t going to come back up. Fuck!”
“It’s not your fault,” I repeat, insistently. Then, quietly, “I knew this was going to happen. I should’ve left earlier, or not come at all. Not today.” My voice fails, and I stop speaking. My eyes sting.
“No!” He breathes a heavy sigh. “You can’t go back to hiding again. Not after it went so well. They didn’t mean anything by it—” The source of this chapter is g.com.
“Nobody ever meant much by it, did they?” I say drily.
“No, really, they’ll—”
“Just drop it, okay?” I’m so tired of having this conversation. I want to go home.
“Do you want to tell me why you… couldn’t come back up?”
I pull my knees up further to my chest. He can’t know. “…No.”
“Do you want me to leave so you can change?”
“I think… yes.”
Once he has left, I struggle out of my wet clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor for lack of a better place to put them, then put on the pajamas Leslie left me. I’m not cold enough to put on the hoodie; even inside the house it’s still very warm. Then I go into the hallway, where Drew is waiting for me.
“I called Amy, she’s coming to pick us up. She’ll be here in twenty.”
My thoughts are clearer now. No longer trapped by adrenaline and instincts. It even feels like the alcohol has let up.
“Do you wanna wait for her on the porch?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Fortunately, the stairs are hidden from the terrace at the back of the house, and we don’t meet anybody on our way to the front. There, we sit in a Hollywood swing in the low glow of the motion detector light.
“Thank you for… saving my life,” I say, hesitantly. Hesitant, not because I don’t mean the words, but because I don’t know how he will react.
“Of course.” His reply is almost absentminded. “Anytime.”
The reaction doesn’t satisfy me. It’s like he doesn’t understand—
“I know this is not how you wanted this to go. With me making friends and everything. But really, thank you for… putting in the effort. I don’t think I’ve ever told you how good a friend you are.” He’s the best friend anybody could wish for. The kind of friend who climbs trees to sit next to you on the roof every evening, the kind of friend who will talk to you every day, even when nobody else wants to. The kind of friend who jumps into the pool and carries you out and sits with you while you’re barely coherent, making sure you’re fine, when it would be so much easier to make fun of me.
“Sunshine asks me to come outside…” he whispers, after a long moment of silence.
The world goes quiet. “What?”
“It’s poetry. The reason why I’m… a good friend, I guess. A few years back, I started reading poetry online. I know, that’s a little weird, but it kind of… helped me reflect upon myself, and I honestly think it turned me into a better person.”
My stomach is tied into an anxious knot. “What kind of poetry?” I ask, a slight shiver to my voice.
“Oh, I can show you. One moment.” He gets out his phone and types something on it. A few seconds later, he shows me the screen.
Sunshine asks me to come outside,
Tries to coax me out of the safety of my room
With the promise of a beautiful summer.
I follow, because I hope to feel his warmth
One last time.