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"Are firecrackers legal in Belize?" The girl Morgan had accidentally picked up at the bar made this adorable face, like she wasn't sure if she should frown or laugh or just gape. It was startlingly cute.
"Who knows?" Morgan finished downing her beer, shoved the bottle down into the sand and stuffed the long, thin base of the first firecracker in it. "Which way do you think I should aim?"
The girl - woman? Right, she'd said she was eighteen, so it was appropriately feminist to call her a woman - scanned the area. "Over the water?"
"Ugh, pollution." Morgan pulled a face.
"Setting houses on fire," the girl-woman countered.
"Okay, you have a point." Morgan turned the bottle in that direction, pulled out her lighter - which was not for smoking but because a lighter is always useful, Dad - and lit the fuse. Then she took 3 steps back and plopped down in the sand to watch.
The woman folded down onto the sand near her, shyly like a faun. Oh my god, with those huge eyes, she was totally Bambi. Morgan was going to start calling her that. Everybody needed a name, and cute girls - women - should have cute names. Or really useful ones that opened doors. Either was fine.
They watched the fuse burn in silence, and then the rocket burst out with a bang that made Bambi jump.
"Aw, ye-!"
Morgan's cheer died in her throat as the rocket reached a grand old height of about fifteen feet, tipped downward, and spiraled into the sea, bursting a bright red just before hitting the top of the waves.
"Well, fuck."
"At least it didn't blow up in our faces?" Bambi looked hopeful. Aw, the glass-half-full type. Adorable.
"That would have at least been interesting," Morgan told her, but she kept her voice kind because Bambi really did have the most enormous eyes. "Has anyone ever told you you look like a woodland faun?"
"Yes, you. About two hours ago."
"Ah. Right."
*
Climbing palm trees was more difficult than it looked in the movies. For one thing, their bark was sharp. Who made sharp trees? Ridiculous.
"Falling coconuts kill a surprising number of people every year," Bambi said, with that half-worried, half-surprised look on her face again.
She was watching Morgan hug the tree and try to shimmy up. Due to the aforementioned sharpness, Morgan had to stop every few seconds to pat her poor arms and say ouch a few times. It was really cramping her climbing style. Her biggest height so far was four inches off the ground, and that was from jumping.
"Luckily this is not a coconut tree," Morgan told her. Or, at least she assumed it wasn't. It was dark out, and the tree was very tall. Maybe there were coconuts hiding up there at the top, lurking in the shadows, waiting to fall. Hm.
"I have a better idea," Morgan told her.
*
The door to the roof of their hotel was locked.
Morgan was of two minds about this. The first half of her mind was excited that Bambi was staying at the same hotel she was. They could go swimming together later! And other things, probably, but no one from her high school had been willing to swim with Morgan since the Lake Incident. Morgan wondered if this was what college would be like. Hundreds of fellow ladies totally unaware of Morgan's past little slip-ups and therefore not holding them against her? Fabulous.
The second half of Morgan's mind was wondering if they could use a firecracker to blow open the lock. It was one of those chain-and-padlock affairs. How strong could a little piece of steel really be?
Morgan was trying to figure out how to wedge the firecracker into the lock when Bambi said, "Oh, I got this," and pulled a bobby pin out of her purse.
"Do you wear bobby pins?" Morgan asked, intrigued. Bambi's hair looked pretty flat and orderly, unlike Morgan's wild mop.
"No. I just like to carry useful things around, just in case."
Morgan raised a hand, and Bambi high-fived it before starting in on the lock.
"That's why I carry my lighter," Morgan told her as Bambi worked, a cute little frown of concentration on her face. Was that her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth? Oh my god, Morgan wanted to lick it. Wait, what were they talking about? Oh yeah, the lighter. "My dad keeps saying things like 'But Morgan, you don't even smoke' and I keep telling him, 'Dad, fire is one of humanity's basic tools and can come in surprisingly handy at times when you least expect it, and also flames are cool' and he says-"
"Got it."
"No, he says 'If it makes you happy, sugarplum.'"
Bambi tugged on the lock, and it popped open.
Morgan stared. "Oh my god, you are a genius."
*
They went back down to the corner store for more beer first, both because being suddenly-legal was awesome and because Morgan wanted more bottles to work with. They could make a symphony up there! A symphony of light and very loud bangs, but a symphony nonetheless.
Sitting on the roof in the dark, looking up at the few stars that were visible - "light pollution", Morgan muttered - they each nursed a beer slowly. Morgan was really hoping not to have to go to the bathroom, but she was losing that battle. She needed a distraction.
"Hey, Bambi." When Bambi didn't react and kept looking out at the dark sea, Morgan poked her arm.
"What, me? Are you calling me Bambi?"
"Well, I don't know your name, so yeah."
"I told you my name." Not-Bambi was smiling, though.
"That was hours and hours ago. Days, even. Years? Possibly years."
Bambi looked at her watch. "It was six hours ago."
"But so much has happened since!"
Bambi burst out laughing. "Morgan Freeman, if that even is your real name-"
Morgan made a sound of protest. So many doubters!
"-you can have my name again when you give me something in return."
Hm. Might be worth it. "What do you want?"
Bambi paused and tapped one fingernail against her chin. "Decisions, decisions. What are you willing to give me?"
"One of my three beers," Morgan said immediately. That was easy. She was going to turn into a racehorse shortly and produce a lake anyway.
"So my name is worth a beer to you? That's not much."
Hm. "I have a charm bracelet." Morgan glanced dubiously at her wrist, aware that her adventure with the tree had not been kind to the little horse charm in particular.
"The fact that you still have a charm bracelet is extremely, well, charming. But no, I don't want a bracelet."
"What do you want, then?"
"I haven't decided," Bambi said airily, leaning back on her hands to look up at the sky again. "Something special, but that won't get me arrested when I go through airport security."
"You strike a hard bargain."
"Mmhm." Bambi smiled like a cat, and Morgan caught her breath, staring.
"How about a hug?" Morgan asked.
"A hug?" Bambi turned those wide, dark eyes on her.
"Or a cuddle."
"A cuddle?" Bambi wasn't inching away, just staring at Morgan. At Morgan's lips. Oh, fabulous. Someone was staring at Morgan's lips, and it wasn't a guy twice her age.
"Or something else." Morgan rolled over onto her hands and knees.
"Are you drunk?" Bambi asked, voice a bit breathless.
"One and a half beers in - how many hours?"
"Six."
"Six. Then no, I'm not drunk, I just have a small bladder." Bambi looked confused, and Morgan rewound. "Whoops, wrong conversation. We were talking about... something?"
"Something else, yes." Bambi leaned up, easing into Morgan's space. "I, uh. I've never. With a girl, I mean."
"Me neither," Morgan reassure her. "Just cougars. Wait, was I supposed to say that?"
Bambi laughed, a bright and startled sound. Morgan's heart flipped over. Or was that her bladder? Hard to tell.
"Morgan Freeman, do you want to know my name?"
"Yes," Morgan breathed. She really, really did.
Bambi leaned up further and closed her eyes, and Morgan thought 'Oh, she wants me to kiss her.' What a novel idea. Morgan did it immediately.
Their teeth clicked. Morgan made a frustrated sound and reached up, sliding her hand into Bambi's soft hair to turn her head just so and get their lips to touch just right, and- It was like dancing backwards, taking on the part she never had, but it was good. Bambi leaned into her and shivered slightly, and Morgan thought 'I could do this all night.'
Except they broke for air, gasping softly with their foreheads touching, and Bambi said, "Audrey."
"What?"
"Audrey. My name."
"Audrey." Morgan tasted the name on her tongue, along with Audrey herself and the beer and the faint scent of fireworks and the stronger scent of the sea. "Audrey, I want to do that again, but I need to pee so bad right now I can't even tell you."
Audrey laughed. "Okay, we can go downstairs."
"No, I don't think I was clear. I will not make it downstairs. I had to choose between kissing you and public decency, and I chose you."
"I-" Audrey blinked. "I think that might be romantic? Or gross. I'm not sure which."
"Me neither." Morgan assured her. "I can pee over the edge, though. It's dark, nobody will know."
Audrey made that little half-worried, half-surprised face again. Morgan wanted to kiss it, but her bladder was screaming.
"Here." Morgan staggered up, kicking off her sandals and pulling off her pants and underwear in one quick slide. "I'll just." She knelt up on the edge. There was no railing, oh my god, no railing. She squeezed her eyes shut. "Guys do this all the time, right?"
She yelped when warm arms came around her waist. Tiny arms like faun legs.
"I've got you," Bambi-Audrey whispered in her ear. "I won't let you fall, okay?"
"Okay," Morgan whispered back, and let go.
*
"Did you know your classmates were on the balcony below when you began... emptying your bladder?" The policewoman asked in exasperated and slightly accented English.
"I didn't," Morgan insisted. "Also, my dad is a lawyer, and I'd like to call him."
"Of course he is," the policewoman muttered.
*
So, long story short, Morgan was deported from Belize and never got to set off the rest of the firecrackers, but Audrey came to see her off at the airport, so there was that. The fact that the rest of Morgan's high school classmates were never speaking to her again, not even the ones who weren't on the balcony, was trivial. Morgan was going away to college in two months anyway.
"Are you banned from the country?" Audrey asked worriedly.
"It's more like a temporary national restraining order. At least, that's how my dad explained it to me."
"Give me your email, at least."
Morgan gave Audrey her real gmail, not her AOL account.
"I'll email you when I get to school," Audrey promised. Something about sharing an email account at home with her parents, blah blah, Morgan wasn't really listening because Audrey smelled faintly like gardenias and Morgan wanted to sniff her. Not freaking people out was so much work.
"I know that face. You're holding something in." Audrey smiled and touched Morgan's nose. "As long as it's not pee, go ahead and let it out."
"I want to sniff you," Morgan confessed.
Audrey laughed. "Are you going to school on the east coast?"
"Yes."
"Then we'll find a way to meet up and you can sniff me as much as you like." Audrey paused. "Okay, that sounded weird. I meant-"
"It was perfect," Morgan insisted. "You're perfect."
Audrey blinked at her shyly. "I'll talk to you in two months."
*
Two months later, Morgan climbed out of her parents' very sensible, highly-rated SUV with her box of clown costumes and a tiara on her head. Other cars were jammed all around them in the tiny roundabout outside the New Dorms, other girls unloading boxes and duffle bags and - was that a harp case?
She was so busy staring at the case and wondering if someone could hide a body in it that she didn't watch where she was going. She bumped directly into someone.
"Sorry!" She yelped, her voice perhaps a bit too loud even for outdoors. Awkward! But how to apologize again without sounding overapologetic and unfeminist? Conundrum.
And then the girl - woman, they were adults, right, women - turned around.
"Morgan?" the woman asked, her dark eyes widening with shock.
"Audrey? Wait, excuse me." Morgan dropped the box on the sidewalk, took the tiara off her head and stuck it on Audrey's instead, then kissed her.
Behind her, she heard her mother say, "Aw, Arnie, look! She has a girlfriend already. I knew a women's college was the right choice for our baby."