Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

If you asked the cheer team, swim meets were the worst place to be on a Saturday. It was soaking wet and the acoustics were terrible, making their routines basically impossible without hours of extra work, and all for six loser kids who couldn’t hear them over the annoyingly repetitive and out of sync splashing. The team was co-ed, that’s how desperate they were for people. The cheer squad had been here since ten in the morning and now it was two, finally time for the longest event of the day. Thankfully it was the final one. It was with this background that a sophomore Alyssa Greene stood just in front of the bleachers. She was supposed to be paying attention to Kaylee and Shelby’s conversation, or at least pick someone in the squad to tune in to, but instead, someone caught her eye, and she couldn’t tell who they were. She squinted at them. They were the only one without a letterman jacket, Alyssa noticed as the rest of the team pulled theirs off to reveal unmatching swimsuits under maroon jackets embellished with gold. The mystery person was facing away from Alyssa so eye color wasn’t a viable identifier, and they had a swim cap on to hide their hair. Fuck.

Emma Nolan shook her hands at her side as a last-ditch effort to stretch out, ensuring she gave her best performance. It was a good use of the extra ten seconds it took for the rest of the team to get their jackets off. She exhaled slowly and Greg, her cousin in the lane next to her, laughed at her gathering her mojo.

“I don’t understand why you take this so seriously, Em.”

“You know I’m the only person carrying this team to the state championships,” she replied, only half-joking.

“You and Jess, maybe,” Greg adds.

“Well she’s Coach Boomer’s kid, she does all this out of obligation,” Emma replies, in no way ashamed of calling out her best friend. After all, she’s pretty sure Jess knows things about Emma’s personal life that Greg would be too freaked out to handle rationally. Remembering that, Emma cleared her throat and deflected back to Greg. “Besides, you’re only here because of Noah, so I think I’d rather have an obligated person carrying the team with me.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Greg says, his words nearly being drowned out by the scream of a horn telling the team to get ready at the blocks. 

“Hey, he’s not even in this heat and here you are, so.”

“Like I’m looking forward to a fucking half-mile.”

“Blame me for caring too much. At least it’s freestyle ”

Emma looked like she had full confidence in herself as she set up, toeing the line between confident and cocky with expertise. She had a reason to be so sure of herself; she knew she was the best swimmer for James Madison. She put in so many extra hours for the team and from the moment she started on the middle school team and felt the rush of the water soaking up her competitive spirit and the race of it trying to keep up with her, she knew this was what she had to do with her life. 

Back to the present, she looked at the crowd for a moment. They were all disinterested. All forced to be there by a child or sibling on the team, at which point she could tell they were wishing these boys were on the football or basketball team, these girls were on the cheer team. You would think it would get disheartening, especially since her parents never came, but Emma found her grandmother’s warm smile in the crowd, and that was all she needed. She was going to make her Gran proud someday, she just hoped that meant Team USA. Maybe then her parents would validate her love for the sport. Right now, though, they refused to even buy her a letterman. They thought it was stupid, her spending all her time at the pool. So much so that they’d never even bothered to drive her to and from the home meets. At least Greg was willing to give her a ride every weekend.

Then she spotted Alyssa Greene, looking right at her. Her heart quickened, and she wasn’t even in the water. The sensation was enough to get her to look away from the crowd. No one could know how she felt about her. She closed her eyes and sighed again and said a silent prayer that she’d get through this. She knew she was talented, but this would be a lot.

She opened her eyes and the water was staring up at her, calling her name. The blare of the mechanical beeps that came from somewhere finally told her it was time to dive, and she was ready as she could’ve been until she hit the water.

Then her stomach cramped at awful timing. She pushed forward with her first few strokes, knowing a solid start was vital if she wanted any shot at a win. Still, she was distracted by the simple hope that she wasn’t suddenly going to be bleeding in the pool for the next twenty minutes, which she attempted to muffle with a simple rhythm.

Stroke, stroke, stroke, breathe.

That was what she loved about swimming. There was a rhythm to it, a simple beat that took control of her pulse whenever she found it. It made her come alive in a totally different way than she did on land. It looked simple enough, but it took skill to truly master. A skill that no one here appreciated, except her. Someday she’d make them wish they paid attention to it.

Stroke, stroke, stroke, breathe.

A few laps passed. Emma could almost ignore the disinterested silence of everyone around her, the halfhearted enthusiasm of the cheerleaders. She’d rather be paying attention to the crashing of the water around her as she bent it to her will.

Woosh, woosh.

It made her feel so powerful.

Most of the time.

Right now she had been swimming for so long that her arms were starting to ache and she could feel her legs starting to quiver. But she couldn’t give up on herself. She couldn’t let herself think about how humiliating the end of this race would be if she fell behind and lost her pulse. All she could think about was that she was eighteen laps in, out of thirty. More than halfway done, she reassured herself in place of freaking herself out by looking at the massive stopwatch glaring at her from the wall.

Stroke, stroke, stroke, breathe.

Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two. It became a blur. The crowd had been enveloped into an entirely different silence now. Perhaps they were on the edge of their seats but didn’t want to admit it. God, she hoped that were the case. 

Twenty-three, twenty-four. Her feet were going numb. What did she do that this was getting so hard?

Finally, the last lap. If she really wanted to secure a win she needed to go a little harder. At the turn, Emma caught a glimpse of the crowd; of Alyssa. She really wanted to make them proud, even if they’d forget this moment.

Stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke, breathe.

Emma’s hand reached forward to touch the wall one more time. She didn’t necessarily have control over the action anymore. Her pulse took over a while ago. But the moment her fingers grazed the end, there was a smattering of cheers. Coach Boomer was standing over her, beaming. Emma smiled up at him, eyes wild with shock.

“What…” she murmured between pants. “What happened, what did I do?”

He offered one of his signature wicked, brassy screams. “See for yourself, kid!”

A bewildered Emma turned around to find the person currently in second, someone from the competing school, who had barely crossed the halfway point of his final length, and Jess was just shy of being considered on his heels for the final stretch. Greg was looming somewhere all the way at the other end, having trouble staying afloat after such a ridiculous distance.

“I...I won?” Emma whispered to herself.

She was stuck in utter disbelief that she pulled that off while being in so much pain, and as if on cue her body realized it was no longer required to move in order to not drown and the stabbing in her stomach came back for a second wave, making her fight the urge to vomit. Her fresh arm cramps came in full force, too, and that combined with pins and needles shooting up her legs meant she could barely move. She watched in a panic as Jess slipped out of the water with ease.

“Coach, I--” she started, but cut off when her legs gave out.

Alyssa thought she’d be excited to just have nothing to do after this, but she actually got sort of invested toward the end of it all. Whoever it was that she noticed earlier, despite being the smallest in the group, they dominated the race and got the whole crowd invested. So now everyone was looking eagerly at the end of the pool, where not everyone was done, and the mysterious victor appeared to go under for a moment, which Alyssa wouldn’t have called a big deal if it weren’t for the coach appearing to freak out. A murmur ran through the crowd like a tiny ripple and as everyone stopped caring about the kids in last, Alyssa failed at hiding the concern in her voice.

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Shelby muttered, whipping her phone out of her bag that sat on the bench beside the squad.

“You really just...have that right there?” Alyssa asked weakly. “No burying it under street clothes?”

“I’ve been texting Kevin between routines. Gonna come in handy now, isn’t it?”

“I don’t blame her, Lys. This shit’s boring.”

“I just…” Alyssa faltered for a moment as Shelby flicked on the camera of her phone. “Oh, come on. Are you really that inconsiderate?”

“If you wanna phrase it like that,” Shelby replied, briskly walking closer to the chaos. 

“She’s a loser anyway,” Kaylee justified as if that fact made what Shelby was doing more justifiable in any way.

Alyssa followed after Shelby, trying to figure out a way to stop her.

Emma gave a soft groan as she dipped below the surface for a moment. Suddenly she felt faint and frankly uncomfortable with this many eyes on her. She wasn’t swimming anymore, meaning it was back to her usual awkward self.

“You alright?” Coach Boomer asked.

Emma shook her head, eyes glazing slightly.

The coach was quick to react, nearly falling into the water himself as he lunged forward to stop his star pupil from losing control of herself.

“Jess! Get over here!”

At first, Jess was confused, but only muttered “Oh my God ,” when she realized the state her best friend was in. 

She rushed over to help her stepfather get Emma out of the pool. Slowly and carefully they pulled her up and got her over to the wall to make sure she could actually sit up through the violent shivers of her legs that were so constant and severe that they looked like spasms, and even though she wasn’t moving, her legs kept seizing.

“Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well, kid?” Coach Boomer asked.

“I...I was feeling fine earlier,” Emma told him weakly.

Boomer clearly didn’t believe that, so he placed a hand on her forehead to find no fever.

Odd. Emma racked her brain for what could’ve made this happen but she wasn’t in any state to think. It was making her feel even more ill. Jess seemed to have an idea, though, and her eyes lit up at the memory. She waited until the other Nolan finally touched the pool wall a final time, prompting Coach Boomer to walk over and give him a rant about working harder. Then she walked over to Emma, still violently shaking against the wall.

“Did you remember to eat dinner after that thing happened last night?” Jess whispered.

Jess was vague, but Emma knew she was referring to her parents fighting. It always made Emma uncomfortable and without fail, her appetite would be crushed. 

“...Fuck.”

“And you forgot breakfast again trying to get here early?”

How does someone forget they haven’t eaten in over 24 hours? Why hadn’t she known her body was begging her to stop?

“Maybe.”

“Come on, Em.”

“Okay, yeah.”

“I’ve got a spare granola bar in my bag,” Jess said as if she weren’t offering it but instead requiring Emma to eat it.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Emma mumbled, fiddling with her hands in a desperate attempt to not pass out.

“In my defense, you cut it closer than usual this time,” Jess joked.

She walked over to the bench where the cheer girls were also keeping their stuff and found her own. She fished around her bag with an urgency she’d never quite experienced before, but she still got stopped by the voice of Shelby Gonzales. 

“Are you sure you still wanna associate with her?”

There was a camera in Jess’s face now, watching her pull the granola bar from her bag, reminding her to keep it civil. Don’t question the morality of this bitch just yet. “You would be doing this too if it was one of your teammates, only I wouldn’t be in your face with a camera.”

She turned and walked back to where Emma was sitting, now with a towel wrapped around her that was supposedly given to her by Coach Boomer, only this time the camera followed Jess’s every move. Emma didn’t seem to notice, tunnel vision on the granola bar for a moment.

“Oh, thank you so much,” Emma practically squeaked.

There was a grunt of suppressed laughter at the way she sounded that came from Shelby, and only then did Emma notice the phone between Shelby’s face and hers. She didn’t say anything. Rather, Alyssa Greene did the work for her.

“Shelby, would you stop?! This isn’t funny.”

“Like Kaylee said, she hasn’t got a reputation anyway,” Shelby replied, and this made Jess snap.

“You can kindly fuck off ‘cause Emma’s a better friend than you’ll ever be,” she yells, stepping between Emma, who suddenly looks like she’s shrunk several sizes, and Shelby. 

This conceals Emma from view while she devours the granola bar and Jess, Alyssa and Shelby continue to bicker. Finally, Emma stands, shaking a little from the workout and still being relatively starved, but she keeps her balance.

“Alright, that’s enough. The drama’s over, I’m not dying, nor am I already dead,” Emma addressed the camera rather than Shelby as she took off her swim cap like she knew this would end up on Shelby’s Snapchat anywhere between ten minutes and an hour from now and wanted everyone to know it was her who worked her ass off to the point of that extreme exhaustion. She watches Shelby finally press the button to shut the camera off. 

There’s a heavy silence and Alyssa looks at Emma in a way she can only describe as...funny.

Alyssa didn’t notice it before, but Emma Nolan was kinda hot. Probably in the way that Kaylee and Shelby called each other hot platonically, of course. Looking at her up close, Emma’s muscles were toned from swimming so much, the lines of her muscles broadening her otherwise slim figure in the shoulders and down her forearms. It added the same definition to her legs, but that might as well be nothing when Alyssa finally, truly soaked in Emma’s face for the first time. Her eyes glittered a strange mix of hues, green, gold, and even a flicker of brown in this light even though for the most part, they were blue. Her jawline was soft, but Alyssa wondered what it would feel like to run her hand down it nonetheless. And her lips. God, Alyssa couldn’t stop thinking about those lips, naturally colored a vivacious pink. Even her golden blonde hair fresh out of the swim cap was gorgeous, falling just past her shoulders is unruly waterfalls as she pulled it out of a bun. Of course, she was already soaking wet from just getting in the pool, which definitely put her on a whole other level. Then the question hit Alyssa. How “platonic hot” could this be if she and Emma had never spoken?

“Uh, you good, Lys?”

Oh fuck, her voice was raspy right now too--

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Cool cool,” Emma replied with a cheeky grin, instinctually finger gunning at Alyssa but regretting it once Kaylee and Shelby groaned at her.

“Alright team, great work today,” Coach Boomer interjected, living up to his name whenever he rallied the small group of teens together, even grabbing the attention of the trio of cheerleaders who’d never worked under him.  “Foster, Salix, great work on your form since the last meet. You’ve improved.”

The two freshmen looked at Coach Boomer excitedly as he addressed them, and Emma laughed to herself as they exchanged high fives. This was clearly a situation where the two of them had worked their asses off together, and Emma loved watching the two of them grow together since picking up the sport this year. She couldn’t wait to see their faces when they finally got “Boom-ified”, the special term for receiving a nickname from the coach that got lovingly adopted by the rest of the team.

“Nifty, you’ve got the breath control down to a tee. Polish up that stamina and you’ll be in fine shape to go head to head with Juice.”

Nifty was a nickname for Noah, mocking the time he got hit on in math class last year and tore a page out of Emma’s book of awkwardness and just replied to the poor girl with Uh, that’s nifty that you think that...but no thanks. Since then, Greg’s been convinced Noah was gay and in love with him. Emma lovingly reminded him this was rural Indiana, and if he said that anywhere other than Gran’s house, he’d be dead. Juice, meanwhile, was a rare name for Jess since she always seemed to have spare snacks on her, as proven by two minutes ago, but Coach Boomer really only used it at these team wrap-ups because her mother despised it. 

“G-Man, remember what we talked about. I don’t want to bring the team down right now.”

Greg looked like he’d been caught trying to rob a bank. Coach Boomer ignored that in favor of addressing his cousin.

“Nole, in spite of the fact that you still look like you’ve seen a ghost, that might’ve been your best race yet.”

Emma grinned, mostly to herself.

“Alright, bring it in, folks!”

When Alyssa heard that come from the swim coach, she expected some awkward chant, but instead watched as the kids in front of her shed their towels for a moment in favor of a group hug. Maybe she’d underestimated these kids. They weren’t doing this to look cool or win the attention of people at school, they did it because at the end of the day, they were a team, and even though they weren’t all interested in it--Greg--it was clear they had a connection, and they would never backtalk each other like she was pretty sure was already happening with the cheer team as their coach, some bitchy ninth-grade English teacher, started herding them into the locker room like cattle. With that, Alyssa was pulled from the now dispersing scene as the swim teams started heading for the lockers themselves.

“Yo, Nole, can I talk to you for a second?”

Emma was cold. She wanted to get back into her regular clothes. She was sure only eating a granola bar today didn’t help.“Sure, Coach.”

“You don’t gotta push yourself so hard; I’ve seen what it does to even the best athletes.”

“I know. I just forgot to have breakfast.”

“Emma Nolan, you worry me sometimes, kid.”

She paused. Was this how it felt to be appreciated? “...I know.”

“I know you do, but this whole team, we spend so much time together that you’re like my kids. Still, I can’t shake the feeling that you’re more than what meets the eye.”

“What does that mean?”

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

She wished that were true.

After the team finished changing, Greg drove Jess and Emma back to Emma’s house, where Emma thought they’d be getting to their usual post-meet routine. Instead, the moment she got through the door her parents gave her a disapproving look, and she knew. They’d seen Kaylee’s video. Which meant everyone in town saw it too.

Chapter Text

When Emma wasn’t at the pool, she was a completely different person, and that was especially true the Monday after the incident at her last meet. Right now she was drowning in a hoodie that was at least two sizes too big, pretending not to exist. She heard them all whispering about her. She just pretended not to care, pretended she wasn’t there. It was hard to, though, when the murmurs she’d been hearing for five hours on end now only proved what her parents already told her about this.

You’ve made a fool of yourself.

I won, though, she’d replied, level-headed because she was shockingly used to being berated.

They don’t know that.

It sucked more coming from her peers. She’d figured out a while ago that her parents wouldn’t care no matter what she did. At least she got past what she assumed would be the worst part of the day in the cafeteria. Her locker was right outside her chemistry classroom, the next class she had. Of course, stopping here was an easy way to get Shelby Gonzales and Kaylee Klein back on her heels. Their stupid jock boyfriends were practically attached to them by the hip, egging them on.

“Hey, Emma, are you sure you aren’t gonna pass out again?” Shelby asked sarcastically.

Emma didn’t look up from her locker. Part of her wished someone from the team could defend her right now, but the only people willing to do that at this rate would be Greg and Jess.

...And they’re really going to let Jess Monae be so profane on school property?

But she wasn’t sure she could look Jess in the eyes after ignoring all her texts, stuck on thinking about the way her parents spat the name Jess Monae like a curse.

“Why are you so bitter? I didn’t kill your mother,” she deadpans instead.

The four of them presenting themselves in front of Emma suddenly look offended, disgusted that she’d even brought that up. They shifted so they were creating some sort of a half-circle to confine her to her locker as she slammed it shut. She turned around to find them surrounding her and forced a smile. Don’t make Shelby think you are actually going to kill her mother, Nolan. Thankfully, Alyssa Greene finally decided to show up and distract them from an inevitable hate crime that Emma wouldn’t even be able to call a hate crime because no one knew she was gay.

“Whoah, what are you guys doing?”

“Emma said she was gonna kill Shelby’s mom,” Kaylee hollers, misconstruing Emma’s words deliberately.

Alyssa cocked an eyebrow at that, moving in between Kaylee and Shelby to get a better look at the girl. She looked so scared of all this attention that today she had to be the one to try not to laugh.

“Yeah, right. You really use anything to start drama, don’t you? Lay off her.”

Apparently, that was enough to intimidate them. They’d really do anything to conform to a specific group, Emma realized as they split directions. The fake smile on her lips died the second no one was looking at her.

“You’re still shaking,” Alyssa pointed out, bringing Emma back to reality.

“Sorry. I just--I thought I was gonna get beat up.”

“No, I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have to deal with them...You--you were great out there on Saturday,”  Alyssa said, stumbling over her words. Why was she so nervous?

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Her eyes wander to Emma’s shoulders for a moment. Then, “Where’s your next class? I can walk you over there so no one gives you shit.

Emma giggled, and finally, she smiled genuinely. “Lys, we literally have chem together.”

“Oh! Uh, shit,” Alyssa laughed at herself. “Well, uhm, I can still walk you in.

Emma turned pink, and thankfully Alyssa didn’t notice. Her brain ruled in favor of questioning why she was suddenly so unsure of herself.

“Sure! Give me a second.”

Alyssa then proceeded to watch as Emma took off her hoodie and leaned down to stuff it in her bag. Watching anyone else do this, Alyssa would’ve been fine. But because it was platonic-hot, high school swimmer, half-jock, half utterly-afraid-of-jocks Emma Nolan, and her shirt came up for a moment to reveal she actually sort-of had abs on top of the definition in her arms that already killed Alyssa, she was not fine. In fact, her mind went places she knew would land her in Hell. She had thought about girls this way before, but never like this. Never this violently, never this graphically, never in front of their faces. But, at the same time…what would it feel like to kiss Emma Nolan, wrap her arms around her broad shoulders, run her hands down her figure, fully soak her in without shame, even if that meant watching her bra slip off and fall to the floor?

She was fucking sick.

...She loved it. It made her feel alive.

She was a sinner.

Why should she care?

She pinched herself, subtly, of course, while Emma slung her backpack over her shoulder. Emma looked at Alyssa as she stood up, trying to convince herself that the way she was looking at her with an almost blank expression wasn’t for the reason she was secretly hoping it was for.

Alyssa gave her a small smile as they walked into the classroom while the warning bell rang, hardly daring enough to look Emma in the eyes because she feared that if she did she’d start thinking again, and...oh God.

At least they were making peanut brittle today. You could zone out horribly and all of a sudden not understand a lesson on moles and atoms, but it was pretty hard to get distracted while cooking peanut brittle. The teacher claimed it was so the class could understand chemical reactions, but by the time they reached 15 years old, the entire class figured out their teacher was at least a little hungover and didn’t want to deal with teaching a whole lesson and dealing with annoying questions and annoying students. It was fine, though, since the teacher hated her job that much no one cared about not having to deal with her grating, monotone voice clacking through a slideshow presentation she didn’t make.

It was no wonder Alyssa had a C in chemistry.

You can’t fuck up peanut brittle, she reminded herself, unless you’re partnered with your crush. Thankfully, she wasn’t, so it should’ve been an easy A, but it wasn’t like Kaylee cared about her grades. She lived in Alyssa’s fantasy of not overbearing parents and Alyssa was baffled she could do something like chew gum in class, like right now, and not get in trouble. Kaylee read the instructions in the same disinterested tone the teacher taught in and Alyssa pretended like she was following along, even though she wasn’t because the moment she admitted to her confusion or the million other things that chipped her carefully crafted image of her mother’s perfect daughter, half of which were Emma Nolan, then she was no longer Alyssa Greene. Everything she was had been built on a lie, and she knew that, but--

Bang!

She and Kaylee were covered in half-cooked peanut brittle now, and she wasn’t sure if she was burning because it had been warmed up just enough to change shape or because of the shame of everyone looking at her, not even trying to hide their laughter. Over that sound, Kaylee screamed in Alyssa’s general direction that she ruined her outfit and then ran out of the room. Alyssa stared blankly down at her hands for a moment. They were warm and sticky but that was hard to focus on over the piercing stares, the laughter, the ringing in her ears that was a residue of Kaylee's screaming. She looked up slowly and there were the faces of all her classmates. They were laughing now but in a day they'd probably forget it because she was Alyssa Greene, the perfect image of a high school girl, except for that one thing no one knew about.

Emma Nolan was staring at her from across the room, eyes wide, yet they were soft with concern. Saturated and warm, these were the only eyes that didn't aim to have her dead.

Yet they were the eyes that made Alyssa Greene burst into tears and run out of the room. She listened as her classmates let out another crashing wave of laughter, probably thinking she was pissed for the same reason as Kaylee. Fucking Kaylee; why did she have to associate with Kaylee?

Emma anxiously glanced between the door and the teacher for a moment, waiting for the eventual grumble of a go-ahead before she took off down the hallway. Something in her gut told her to grab her hoodie from her bag before she did so. She tried to be subtle about the fact she was following Alyssa, but that was harder than it looked in the middle of a class period, especially when Alyssa seemed intent on crossing the whole school for privacy and it was hard for Emma to keep up from a distance as Alyssa kept rounding the corners ahead of her. For once, Emma was glad she didn't bail on dry land day. Eventually, Alyssa shoved her way into a bathroom and Emma waited a solid 15 seconds after she heard the crash of a stall door before walking in.

"Alyssa? I-It's Emma Nolan, are you alright?" Emma whispered, suddenly realizing how stupid she was for this.

"I'm so fucking stupid," Alyssa spat, holding back a sob.

"We all have our moments of complete and utter self-hatred," again, Emma was deadpanning at a super weird point in the conversation. "But that doesn't make you stupid."

"Then why will this zero make me fail this class for the quarter?" Alyssa asked. There was so much anger in her voice that it had to be genuine.

"Because chem is hard and our teacher sucks?"

Alyssa took a shaking breath. "I just feel so dumb anyway. You've been being harassed all day for something out of your control and act like nothing happened, meanwhile I fuck up once because I don't understand something I should understand, and here we are."

"Don't compare the two of us," Emma demanded softly. "You are so much better than me. The world of James Madison looks at you like you're the sun because you are wonderful, and I...I get used to being told I don't matter."

"Emma--" Alyssa choked out as Emma realized what she had done.

"Alyssa, it's fine. The point is, we're not the same in any way."

"But you're a real person. Not being stared at by everyone. I screw up once and my mother's grip on me tightens me back into perfection like a piece of clay."

"So...just...don't let her." Emma stutters but she's still acting like it's an obvious answer.

"Are you serious?"

"Well, it doesn't have to be all at once, obviously. Just...little things," Emma pauses. "I wanna show you something. Come with me."

"We're supposed to be in class?"

"The teacher doesn't care. Do you wanna shed your good girl skin or not?"

"I don't want anyone seeing me like this."

"Borrow my hoodie."

Alyssa poked her head out of the stall after a few long seconds and Emma passed her the hoodie. Alyssa giggled as she put it on.

"Mm, you're taller than you look."

Emma chuckled, looking down at her lap, glad that the door of the stall prevented Alyssa from seeing her blush. 

Alyssa looked at herself in the hoodie, and if it was big on Emma it was gigantic on Alyssa. It was one of those bright red ones that read ‘LIFEGUARD’ in giant, blocky, white letters and the longer Alyssa looked at it, the more she wanted to know where it came from because there were no beaches in Indiana and she’d never even seen the ocean. It was mysterious. It stuck out like a sore thumb, yet somehow it was subtle. It was so perfectly...Emma Nolan.

The stall door creaked open slowly and Alyssa walked out, keeping her composure as best she could, though Emma could still see her eyes were bloodshot.

“So...where are we going?” she asked shyly.

“Follow my lead.”

Alyssa trusted Emma, for some reason, and she watched as she led her to the pool, of all places. Alyssa shouldn’t have been surprised by this, of course, but she thought she saw everything there was to see in here...innuendo intended. She followed Emma to the other side of the room, where she suddenly noticed that the end of the bleachers, where you could go underneath, was blocked off by a rusty seal. Alyssa raised an eyebrow as Emma took a clip out of her hair and used it as a lockpick. Twisting a spot between two metal boards, the seal came loose enough to create an entrance. Alyssa wandered in slowly behind Emma, who then pulled it shut and twisted the hair clip in the opposite direction she had used to open it in order to relock the seal.

“What the hell is this? How did you find it?”

“When I was in middle school I’d come to the high school meets sometimes, but no one was with me so I’d do stupid shit. Mostly hang out in here after I spent months figuring out how to unlock and lock back up. It gets really loud and bright out there, and sometimes I need a break from it even now. Little did I know it was a not-so-secret hook-up spot back in the day,” Emma concluded her ramble by gesturing to the dimly lit back wall that was littered with multiple graffiti hearts containing initials and dates that spanned 3 decades before abruptly stopping in 1997.

“That’s...insane.”

“Just wait until poor Hawkins finds out about the football bleachers.”

“I think he knows, he just gave up on caring,” Alyssa said, exaggerating a fake gag and rolling her eyes. Then her next words came out before she could stop herself. “So...why’d you take me to an abandoned hookup spot?”

“Oh, God. No, I’m not like that. I’m not a creep, I swear!” In her panic, Emma started yelling and stumbled backward, thudding into the metal hatch.

She didn’t say she wasn’t gay.

Alyssa couldn’t help but laugh. “Emma, calm down! I’m joking. I know you’d never do that.”

“O-oh. Sorry.”

It was funny. Emma looked so composed in front of their peers, but she felt safe enough to freak out in here, in front of Alyssa, of all people. What did that say about the two of them?

“I would like to know your actual motivations, though.”

“I...I just thought...maybe I could help you out with chem? And we could come here...so--so no one would have to see us together?”

“Wait. Why would I not wanna be seen with you?” 

Emma froze. A pause bubbled over. Then. “I, um--I--”

“Are you okay?”

“I’ve said too much. I’ve shown you too much, I--”

“Hey, it’s okay. I’d...I’d love to.”

“Really…?”

“Yeah.”

Then the bell rang, and Emma hurried to unlock the bleachers again. She finished locking it up and pinned the hair clip neatly back in her hair as Alyssa began the sprint to her next class, putting several feet between them again. Only now the girls were heading in opposite directions and being drowned by crowded hallways. Still, Alyssa couldn’t not think about Emma, and it showed in her desperation towards Kaylee at cheer practice during their water break. Despite being desperate, she was clever about it too.

“Kay, I have a problem.”

“I’m not smart enough to help you with it,” Kaylee told Alyssa before taking another sip from her water bottle.

“No, it’s a...it’s a crush thing,” Alyssa said meekly.

Kaylee’s eyes lit up and she squealed, dropping her bottle out of excitement. “Oh my God, Lyssie’s first boy problems! It’s about time, Shelbs and I have been waiting for the day since seventh grade. Spill.”

“You better not tell her, she’ll kill me. It’s kind of embarrassing, actually--”

“No promises. Spill.”

“Nolan,” Alyssa mumbled.

Kaylee covered her mouth dramatically but quickly regained her composure. “You know, I shouldn’t be shocked. With the way you were acting on Saturday and then--Oh! You’re trying to get his attention by being nice to his cousin! You’re so smart, Alyssa. I wouldn’t have thought of that.”

Apparently, Shelby was paying attention all along, because she butted in rather suddenly. “You’re disgusting, that boy is lanky.”

“You’re gonna yell at me but not talk about how ugly Nicholas Boomer is?”

Shelby started cackling, and after a few seconds, she realized something. “Is there some mystery plot here involving giving Emma her sweatshirt back and then hooking up with him?”

“I want more than a hookup, Shelby.”

“But you have her sweatshirt, make whatever move you want then! No guy can resist you!”

“Oh, fuck, I still have her sweatshirt. I almost forgot. Do I have to go to someone’s house now or--”

“Shit, Kay, she’s actually nervous to talk to Gregory Nolan,” Shelby muttered.

“What about you would turn him off?” Kaylee asked.

Lesbianism.

“I...I don’t know, I just...I’ve never felt this much for one person.”

They’re practically cooing at her now. For once, Alyssa was happy when her coach strolled over to cut off the water break. That really went about as horribly as it possibly could have, huh? Really, she should not expect that much of her friends, but at least the rumors that would fly around about this would distract from her being terrible at chemistry, so maybe she could date Greg and miraculously ignore Emma and be normal. Maybe it would all work out.

When practice let out, Alyssa was forced to change back into her brittle stained clothes, but she managed to procrastinate by staring into the empty void of her locker, filled only with Emma’s hoodie. Alyssa took extra caution with it, staring into the little white plus sign for a little too long. Then she realized the hoodie smelled like a strange fusion of a forest and the overly chemical odor of chlorine. It was only then that Alyssa admitted to herself that she was absolutely fucked. She sighed slowly, eventually finding the courage to shove it back on, and only then did a small slip of paper fall to the floor beneath her. She glanced at it for a moment, wondering if it would be an invasion of Emma's privacy to look at it. Eventually, Alyssa realized she'd have to catch a glimpse of it in order to put it back where she found it. And that quick glimpse led to a phone number, signed simply with an N. Alyssa felt her face heat up and she supposed the girls noticed because they started squealing again.

"You bastard," Alyssa muttered under her breath because she knew damn well that not even she could've come up with that.

Chapter Text

Emma looked so casual at practice on Friday afternoon, and that was honestly the only way Jess could describe it. Not to discredit the work she put in, it was still a hundred and ten percent like it always was with Emma, there was just a different energy about it. Jess picked up the pace to try and keep up with her to try and hold a conversation.

“So, what’s up with you today?”

Conveniently for Emma, they were working on backstroke, something Jess admittedly struggled with, so Emma could keep a lead and not have to really focus on the finer parts of a conversation. Win-win. “I’m just excited for this weekend, that’s all.”

“Since when is that a thing you say?”

Emma’s eyes lit up, not that Jess could see it, and suddenly on the turn way more water than usual spat out of the pool, some of it spraying Jess in the face from behind Emma. “Did I not tell you? I’m going to Alyssa Greene’s house after practice.”

She has to specify Greene because there are at least two other Alyssas at James Madison.

Jess nearly collided with the wall instead of turning properly, and she sputtered for air as she came up with a reply. “Wait. The Alyssa Greene? The best cheerleader in our grade who literally every dude wants to date? How did you do that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. She blew up peanut brittle in chem on Monday and got super embarrassed, so I told her I’d help her out but then I couldn’t bring myself to actually give her my number so I just...slipped it in my hoodie and gave it to her?”

“Wait. Go back. She did what?”

Emma fell silent for a moment. “I...was not supposed to tell you that part.”

Jess started cackling and it’s enough to get the attention of the rest of the team. “Does this explain the uncomfortable looking blouse?”

“Her mother has standards for a first meeting; what can I say?”

Noah butted in all of a sudden. “Maybe you’ll be the first person to bring any sort of plus one to the cookie decorating party in a month.”

“First of all, shut up. Second of all, if it becomes more than just studying for chem, I am not inviting Alyssa Greene to a swim team holiday party; she’ll think it’s the corniest thing since corn itself. And because she’s on the cheer team she’ll think plus one is supposed to be romantic because all her friends have boyfriends.”

“You have a point,” Noah said in reply, though Emma swore she heard a twinge of disappointment in his voice. He was probably looking forward to teasing Emma for that until the day he graduated.

Finally, this was the cue for one of the freshmen to jump in. “What holiday party?” Foster asked.

Emma tried to go back to focusing on her usual rhythm, letting Noah deal with the explanation of that.

“You’ll hear more about it in December, but basically every year right before Christmas we have a little get together and make cookies and trash Hallmark movies and shit. It is pretty corny, in Emma’s defense.”

That was a very brief period of no distractions for Emma, because the next thing she knew, Jess was back on her trail.

“I wouldn’t have taken Alyssa Greene for the type to suck at chemistry.”

“You wouldn’t take her for a lot of what she is. She’s not a stereotypical golden girl,” Emma defended.

“Sure as hell feels like she is.”

“You’ve never spoken to her. She’s really just a kid too, you know.”

“Mm-hm…”

She texted me at three a.m. Monday night and that was her first message, I’m sure she’s got plenty more surprises.”

Finally Jess has had enough of this topic. “So what were you doing up at three in the morning?”

“Oh, you know how it is. Dad was pissed at me for losing my hoodie even though I told him I knew where it was,” Emma shot back as calmly as possible, but her stress became visible in the way she sped up as though running from the issue. 

Though she was in the water, so how was that metaphor supposed to work?

“You’ve been worrying me lately.”

“Funny. Coach said the same thing.”

“Emma--”

“Can we not do this right now,” Emma asked, her voice suddenly dropping to a whisper, and it pained Jess to see how genuine she sounded. “I just want to not dread leaving school on a Friday like anyone else.”

Jess was sure that if she could properly see Emma’s face that would feel even more like a punch to the gut than it already was, so she just muttered “Fine,” and hardly said a word to Emma after that. Emma loved Jess with her whole heart in only the way best friends can love each other, but sometimes she felt safer when there were no words exchanged at all, and Jess knew that. She always seemed to know what Emma was thinking.

It was toward the end of practice when Emma spotted Alyssa pacing the hall, waiting for her. That was odd. Emma told her to meet her at the main entrance of the school. Then Coach blew his whistle and told everyone there wasn’t time for the usual wrap-up because he ran a little late today. That was when it clicked. Shit. She really had to hurry up now so Alyssa didn’t think she abandoned her. And if that meant she hardly had time to shower or dry off then so be it.

Alyssa’s point of view of Emma trying to cut back on time was mildly entertaining at least, and hey, it made up for Emma’s practice running late. She was still trying to shove the sleeve of her denim jacket on while hurrying out of the pool area and giving a quick goodbye to her teammates. Her hair was clearly still damp from the shower as she gave an out of breath greeting to Alyssa, who took one look at her and knew she’d be freezing in the mid-November weather since she hadn’t dried off properly. But at least she looked nice. Beautiful, if Alyssa dared to let her mind go there.

“Hey,” Emma panted.

“That was quick.”

“I promise I usually take more comprehensive showers.”

Alyssa thought about the sweatshirt. She had clung to its scent before she had to give it back to Emma on Tuesday. It smelled distinctly of chlorine, like she’d noticed before, but now it indicated that Emma’s statement wasn’t true.

“Obviously. What made you think I would think otherwise?”

But now the only question was Why ?

Who was Emma Nolan?

“I...don’t know,” she admitted.

“Are you alright with walking to my place?”

“Yeah, I walk home most days anyway. Good cardio,” Emma told her.

Alyssa fake gagged. “I forgot you care about your sport,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“And you don’t? You’re, like, destined to be cheer captain senior year.”

“Just another thing my mom makes me do. I hate it most of the time,” Alyssa said it so casually like if that were common knowledge it wouldn’t totally change Edgewater’s perception of her.

“Oh.”

Emma’s cheeks went pink as a silence blanketed them for the rest of the journey to Alyssa’s house, and she tried to convince herself it was because of the cold because Alyssa couldn’t know what she was really thinking.

The Greene household, even from the outside, looked like the sort of house that belonged to someone in power. This was definitely one of the bigger properties in Edgewater because it was in the general vicinity of the lake, and it made sense, because Mrs. Greene was the only real estate agent in town by now. Of course, she only came here from Indianapolis, with a young Alyssa in tow, when her husband left her, leaving Alyssa with at least some of the experience of the privilege she once had. Even then, she was still pretty privileged for living around here. She probably didn’t even realize it. She hung around the types of kids who were popular because at the end of the day they had money. Enough to keep up with fashion trends, at least. 

Looking past how her family would never be able to afford this property even though it was just on the other side of town, Emma took in the sheer pristine quality of it. A clean white exterior with a neatly cut garden, it screamed perfect suburban life so loudly that it almost made Emma feel sick.

“You've got a nice house,” she mumbled as they came up the porch steps.

“Uh, thanks?”

Of course, Alyssa wasn't going to know how to reply to that.

Mrs. Greene met them at the door. Emma wasn't quite sure how to act as she spoke. “Oh, I was wondering when you’d show up.”

Emma forced a smile as she shook Mrs. Greene’s hand, then cleared her throat. “Hi, ma’am.”

Mrs. Greene looked at Alyssa and chuckled. “She’s certainly more polite than most of your friends.”

“Mom.”

“I think she’ll be a good influence on you,” Mrs. Greene said after a moment of scanning Emma’s face.

Emma froze, unsure of how to react to that. Once again, for about the third time that week, Alyssa swooped in to save her from her own awkwardness. “Mom, do you really want to talk about Emma like this right in front of her?”

“You two can head upstairs; I’m planning on starting dinner if you're going to stay until then.”

“I'm not sure when my dad will want me home,” Emma replied to the offer. 

Neither of the other two women in the room would have any reason to pick up on the fact that such phrasing was code for I don’t know when he’ll notice I’m not there.

“Alright. Study hard in the meantime,” Mrs. Greene’s tone sounded sweet, but she sent a stony look to Alyssa that immediately made Emma understand why she had freaked out over a bad grade as Alyssa practically dragged her up the stairs.

The moment she shut her bedroom door, Alyssa was talking again.

“I'm sorry about my mom. She can be a bit... much.

Emma shrugged. “At least she cares. And honestly, I'm grateful for the offer,” she said, dumping her bag on the floor next to Alyssa's desk.

Everything in this bedroom was neat. Too neat. Mrs. Greene regularly dusted the ceiling levels of neat. Its walls were painted a pale pink, as though the color wasn’t meant to be noticed. It was nothing compared to the amount of flashy blue ribbons on it, photographs of the perfect girl in a perfect dress hung up in rustic brown frames. Even her own bedroom reeked of perfection.

“So...should we get started?”

A while later and Alyssa was groaning at another problem on the sheets that had been assigned for homework, her head face planted into her desk. Emma resisted the urge to laugh as she ranted. “You make it look so easy! How do you understand all this science-y stuff?”

“It's a backup plan. If for some reason swimming doesn't work out or I can't get my coaching qualifications I could see myself going into marine biology.”

“You really wanna do that stuff for a living?”

“Sure,” Emma said, and now it's her turn to be casual about something that was kind of a big deal. “Whenever I get on the block I imagine winning some big, fancy award just to spite the crowd here that totally doesn't care, but what I really want to do is change somebody's life the way Coach Boomer has helped me. And if I can do that by competing or coaching, it won't matter whether or not I’m someone renowned.

“How does a high school coach change someone's life?”

“It's not like this for everyone, I know, but the ragtag team Boomer put together gave me a place I feel safe. Gave me some sort of purpose and confidence that I can get to a point like the one I dream about.”

“I wish I knew what the fuck I wanted to do with my life,” Alyssa grumbled. It felt like it came out of nowhere.

“You’ll get there, and based on your reactions to chemistry it will not help you make that decision, so don't worry too much. Some of just...get there sooner than others.”

“Do not make me go back to studying, Nolan, let me ask you a weird question.”

“Ugh, fine,” Emma said playfully, yet still she somehow concealed the fact she was excited that Alyssa wanted to talk to her about something unrelated to school.

“Where’d you get that hoodie from?”

Emma knew immediately what Alyssa was talking about and went quiet for a moment. “...When my grandad noticed my interest in swimming he drove me all the way out to New York to see the ocean. But not, like, the good part of New York with the city and stuff. He wanted to show me a real beach too, so he took me to the Long Island Sound. Beautiful views, but more of the same hicktown suburb vibe as it is here, except their equivalent to Hoosier pies are bagels and they fold their pizza in half when they eat it, which is super weird. Anyway, I'm rambling now so I'm gonna stop.”

Alyssa could listen to Emma ramble forever.

“Oh, I don’t care that you’re rambling.”

“Really? ‘Cause Greg does,” she said, adding a slight chuckle so Alyssa knew it was lighthearted.

“You guys must be close.”

“Oh, yeah. When his parents were alive I was closer to them than my own parents. He’s more like a brother than a cousin.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It is.”

There was another comfortable silence brought about by Emma being unsure how to segue into what would either be going back to balancing chemical equations or letting herself be distracted by Alyssa’s subtle ways to try and get her not to do that. On one hand, she could get herself in trouble with Mrs. Greene, but on the other hand, Alyssa actually seemed to care about Emma beyond getting out of studying, and the longer Emma looked at her, the harder it was to focus on how she knew they had to study. To further distract her, the pleasant aroma of a home-cooked meal came drifting up the stairs and she supposed she let her guard down a little too much.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, let’s just get back to work.”

Alyssa’s puppy dog eyes did nothing to make Emma’s intentions waver. But she thought about it. She thought about telling Alyssa everything; looking into her sweet gaze and bearing her soul, telling her everything she wanted to become was the only escape she had from parents who hated her at worst, simply didn’t care at best. At the end of it all, she’d be sitting there with tears streaming down her face and Emma Nolan would finally kiss Alyssa Greene. There would be two outcomes. Alyssa wouldn’t care about her family and kiss her back, or she would be so repulsed that she told everyone everything. Either way, Emma would end up leaving her house. Whether it be because CPS got involved or she got up and left on her own, it didn’t really matter. She didn’t have anything left to lose, anyway. At least, that’s how it felt on these shitty days when she walked into her friends’ lives and found a house that was at least sort-of clean, and it didn’t reek of beer, and it wasn’t visible if the inhabitants' lives were falling apart. There would be no dishes piled in the sink and no dirty laundry on the stairs. No vomit stains on the basement floor because their mothers didn’t get sick of dealing with their fathers’ hangovers and make them sleep in the basement where they could be violent and disgusting and forget every heartless thing they said to their daughters in peace.

Emma really didn’t want to be this closed off, but whenever she told anybody anything it ended badly.

You’re a disgrace.

I know where it is, Dad.

It’s the last thing you had of your fucking grandfather and if you want to lose it, fine.

You’re a hypocrite, telling me that. You didn’t care about him. He offered to help you, you said no.

I don’t want handouts.

You drank yourself out of a job; you can’t even get one at a gas station, and you’re calling rehab a handout?

Don’t talk to me that way. You and your mother can figure something out.

That’s what we’ve been doing.

All that over a fucking hoodie. Emma was pretty sure most kids her age didn’t have to help their parents pay the bills. It wasn't always that way. Hell, she had some memories of a truly great father, but sometime five years ago everything changed when her paternal grandparents died suddenly in a car crash and her dad never recovered. They tried everything in their power to help him but they never seemed to find something that stuck, and he kept spiraling until they hit right about now.

The only thing Emma could hope to do about it was working her ass off to get out of there. It shouldn’t have surprised her, then, that her parents were disappointed in her choice to pick up an extra-curricular rather than help out at home, but she couldn’t possibly devote everything she had to a trainwreck. What was the point, if it was going to fall apart anyway?

“You seem distracted all of a sudden.”

“I’m good.”

All of a sudden dinner came and went in a respectable manner and Emma looked at the time on her phone, slightly worried when she realized it was after six, and it would be closer to seven when she got home.

“Thanks for having me, but I should get going.”

“Do you have a ride?” Mrs. Greene asked.

“No, ma’am. I was just gonna walk home.”

“Can you call someone to pick you up?”

If it had been this long, Emma knew what was happening. “No, ma’am.”

“Odd,” Mrs. Greene muttered under her breath, but it was nicely shielded by Alyssa’s offer.

“If you’ve got to walk home, let me go with you. It’s getting dark and you never know what could happen.”

“I’ll be fine. I told you I usually walk home.”

“No, I insist, I want to talk to you more anyway, without trying to get stuff done.”

Emma blushed, yet simultaneously froze on the spot. This was a bad idea. “If you want, I guess.”

Alyssa looked to her mother.

“I trust you.”

“Yes!” Alyssa squealed.

Emma burst out laughing. “Why are you excited?”

“Because!”

“That’s not an answer.”

They kept conversation smooth from the moment they walked out the door until they reached Emma’s block, at which point she changed topics awkwardly.

“I just wanted to thank you, real quick.”

“Why?”

“It’s hard to work around my practice schedule sometimes, and not a lot of people wanna talk to the rumored lesbo apart from those guys.”

Alyssa rolls her eyes. “They’re just rumors, and besides, my schedule is twice as insane.”

“Yeah, but, they’re not wrong,” Emma blurted out. It was gone before she could do anything and she hated knowing why. There was a beat before she continued, in which Alyssa froze, wide-eyed. “And I don’t know why I just said that to you of all people, I just didn’t want to get attached and then have you be pissed at me when you started hearing that stuff--”

“Hey,” Alyssa finally cut her off. “I don’t care about that. I wanna know...everything about you.”

“What…?”

“Take a breath. Calm down. I won’t tell anyone. This is your place, right?” Alyssa somehow brushed past it so casually, gesturing to the tiny house in front of them.

“Y-yeah.”

Suddenly there was an ugly crash followed immediately by the shattering of glass that came from inside the house, yet somehow it could be heard from the street. Alyssa winced while Emma just went pale. This was exactly what she was afraid of.

“What was that?”

There was a faint, shrill scream from inside in place of a response from Emma. “Dammit, Michael! How do you flip a whole fucking table! You need to get your shit together, there are people on the street seeing this! You’re so wasted you can’t close a damn window?!”

Finally, Emma managed to say something. “...You need to go.”

“This is a borderline dangerous situation.”

“That you know nothing about,” Emma’s suddenly screaming as loud as her mother, only Alyssa looked afraid of it while her father didn’t. At least an argument could be made that Emma simply didn’t know any better since she’d been in the middle of scenes like this for so long. “Just go! I know how to handle my own dad! And for the record, you didn’t see any of this! Got it?!”

“Not a peep,” Alyssa finally mumbled, and she turned around to start heading back to her own house. One where things like this didn’t happen.

If she could feel so terrified after only one five-second interaction, how traumatized was Emma? Especially considering she seemed more scared of Alyssa knowing about it than what actually happened.  That was the distinction here. Emma was afraid of the reality of this despite living in it. Mrs. Nolan was not. Alyssa got home and she couldn’t stop thinking about it, but she made a promise to Emma, so she simply lie awake for far longer than she should have. For herself, she was glad it was Saturday tomorrow. For Emma, not so much.

Chapter Text

hey

can we talk?

Those text messages had been staring back up at Alyssa Greene, unanswered by Emma, since last Saturday. Still, every day when she woke up it was the first thing she checked because she really liked Emma. She liked her an irrational amount. She knew that before everything happened, of course. She had this yearning to get to know the girl with a smile that actually meant something and the shining blue eyes that Alyssa could drown in and the voice of an angel that was rough around the edges for as long as she could remember. But now she had talked to Emma, and her laugh made Alyssa’s stomach do flips and she gripped onto every word she said as if her life depended on it. Looking at her in those spare moments where no one else was around was the only time that Alyssa felt like she was really herself, even if that meant she was going stir-crazy inside her own head and her heart was buck-wild.

So, yeah. She could admit to herself that she had a crush on Emma, and she wasn’t about to let that slip through her fingers, so that morning upon still not hearing from her, Alyssa rolled out of bed, ready to make a last-ditch effort to talk to her. She hoped the outfit she picked out wasn’t too formal, and just in case it didn’t have enough maroon on it to be passable for a school sports event, she pulled her letterman on over top as she greeted her mother, who was sitting in the dining room, reading the paper.

“Hey, mom.”

Mrs. Greene turned around at the sound of her daughter’s voice, eyes widening when she saw she was dressed. “Someone’s excited.”

“Yeah, and?”

“There’s gotta be someone on that team besides Emma that you’re thinking about.”

Alyssa froze, and Mrs. Greene laughed at that.

“Ha, I knew it!”

“N-no…!”

“Alright, what is up with you, Nole?”

She sighed as she stood up from where she just finished her last-minute stretches. “Nothing.”

“Nothing my ass,” Coach Boomer grunted, and Emma stifled a laugh as she realized that the comment garnered the attention of a couple of parents with particularly sharp ears. “You’ve been distracted all week, it’s not like you.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled. 

Before he could get another word in she turned away to set up at the block. It was here that she spotted the face of Alyssa Greene in the crowd, and suddenly it was as if she hadn’t stretched out at all. She went tense and got sweaty, and when she tried to breathe she got cut off and startled by the sound of the shrill beeping telling her to get set and then start, leaving her with a dive she knew she couldn’t recover from, not in a race this short and not in her weak spot of breaststroke. She tried to keep her rhythm, it was the only thing keeping her from going mad and drowning in thoughts of Alyssa hating her after last week. Her heart was so far out of sync from her strokes that she felt completely erratic, not helped by the pounding of lights and the buzz of the crowd. She just had to breathe, work on her breath and the rest would feel natural.

It was her worst race ever, and by the time it was over she felt like lead. It was too loud, everything was too intense. She didn’t want to think about the fact that her shitty time could’ve possibly cost the team a spot in Indianapolis for the championships, only the thing she’d been dreaming of since she was twelve, but the thought came up anyway. She was disappointing her coach, she let the whole team down--

She tried to run from it all before they could notice the anxiety hitting her like a ton of bricks, but of course, Alyssa knew where she was going, because she’d been dumb and gotten her heart stuck in her throat. As Emma pulled her swim cap off, she saw Alyssa running after her. Alyssa stopped about a foot from the door of the hatch as Emma shrunk into the dark of the bleachers when she finally stopped shaking enough to open it with her hairpin.

“Why are you here?!” Emma half-shouted, half-sobbed.

“I had to make sure you were okay after last week,” Alyssa said simply. Had to , like it was an obligation, but clearly not one she was phased by having, unlike...everything else she had to do. “Can I come in?”

Say no, say no, Emma attempted to will herself into speaking, telling Alyssa to get the hell out of here, because why should either of them think she was anything more than a product of her family. Instead of that, though, she wound up in another wave of panic and suddenly she was racked with a sob. Just when Emma felt that she might just cave in on herself, Alyssa surged forward and wrapped her in a hug, holding up all the parts of her she thought were falling apart. Alyssa grabbed her hand as she sunk to the floor against the wall and then she whispered, “Give me your pin.” Emma silently complied, as her hands were now tremoring again and she wasn’t sure she could lock up herself. After that, Alyssa slid back down beside Emma, who was making herself as small as possible. They sat in silence for several minutes, listening as the pool distantly came back to life in another world. Finally, Emma spoke.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you, I just wasn’t thinking and--”

Before Emma could pit any more of the blame on herself, Alyssa interjected. “It’s okay. You were scared. I would be too. Hell, I’ve been there.”

“What...what do you mean?”

“My parents used to fight all the time before my dad left. It wasn’t as obvious. Just whispered shouting matches at my bedtime. But it still kept me up all night sometimes. It always annoyed me when they put up a front of perfection, but at least there weren’t any rumors.”

Instead of being solemn about this, Emma chuckled, grinning at Alyssa and looking her in the eye for the first time since the ordeal began. Alyssa felt her stomach flip as Emma spoke. “Well, welcome to the fucked-up parents of Edgewater club.”

Alyssa laughed at that for some reason, too. “That’s just the two of us.”

“Just the way it should be,” Emma smirked. 

It was only then that Alyssa noticed Emma had grabbed her hand again and she was now rubbing circles in the palm of her hand. Her throat went dry and only then did it smack her in the face that Emma was sitting here in nothing but her swimsuit. A swimsuit that was pretty tight, since that supposedly made less drag, according to Emma. A dizzying smile came crashing onto Alyssa’s face before she could get control of herself and she murmured, practically into Emma’s collarbone.

“I missed you, you know.”

Emma went red but only lost composure for a beat before her eyes widened. “Shit! I gotta get back out there!”

“You’re gonna kill it,” Alyssa said, nearly gagging at how sweet she sounded as she rose to her feet alongside Emma.

Emma’s eyes were glinting now, despite the dark. A show of her newfound determination and the cocky racer in her came back with a vengeance that made Alyssa swoon. “I know.”

Alyssa handed the hair clip back to Emma, trying to ignore the natural instinct of their fingers when they touched to sink into each other. There was a moment where they just existed in the purity of hidden love, too powerful to be seen by those who were outside and too heavy to be understood by either lover just yet. At that moment, nothing existed, but Emma pulled their still-linked hands apart after that absolutely blissful second and suddenly Alyssa’s fingers had to reconfigure their existence without Emma’s giving them a gentle pressure. She felt...funny, watching Emma walk away to unlock the hatch. Like they were never meant to leave each other, yet here they were, and the crowd’s chatter from just above them hit her like an explosion. The pour of artificial light as Emma pulled the hatch open was downright painful, like those fireworks that explode with pure white and make you have to shut your eyes so they don’t burn. It was framed in this light, though, that Emma turned to face Alyssa once more, and her messy blonde hair appeared almost like a halo as she pinned it back up. The glow was eventually concealed from view by her swim cap, but that didn’t stop Alyssa from knowing that at one point, it had been there. It was only when she was completely ready to jump back in the pool that Emma spoke her last words to Alyssa for that moment, giving a dorky salute as she did.

“See you around, Greene.”

Alyssa just saluted back, awestruck for a moment.

See you around had been something of an understatement, it turned out. Every moment that they could, the girls were texting, calling, back under the bleachers for lunch, or at Alyssa’s house. If it had been more socially acceptable, they would have been attached at the hip. This longing to be around Emma was growing more and more obvious by the second, so much so that even Kaylee, who wasn’t known for being the most attentive to detail, took notice of it one day in late November when they were getting ready for cheer and Alyssa was humming a tune under her breath.

“Hey, Lys, what’s that song you’ve been singing for days?”

Alyssa’s jaw dropped, cutting her off mid-note.

“I’m not trying to be rude, but I know most popular artists and I’ve never heard that one.”

“You know the radio hits , Kayl. That’s different,” Shelby interrupted, but she didn’t let Alyssa off the hook. “But she has a point, what is it?”

“O-oh, it’s a song that Emma likes, you wouldn’t know it.”

“You know, if you’re so into Greg you talk an awful lot about Emma.”

“I’m working on it,” Alyssa suddenly snapped, confirming to the girls in front of her that no matter what reaction Emma got out of Alyssa, her reaction to Greg was bigger. The stress of fabricating a lie, she guessed. “I have to get his grandma to like me, that’s so much harder than a mother.”

“Alyssa, I swear to God, if you don’t make a move before Christmas break I’m killing you and then myself.”

That turned out to be easier than planned because a few days later Emma awkwardly stuttered something to Alyssa while she was splitting her lunch in half to give to her.

“So...ugh, this is gonna be awkward, but, um...the swim team is having our holiday party in a few weeks and I--I was wondering if you’d be my plus one? Not--not like a date, definitely not trying to hit on you if you don’t want that, but I figured...I figured we’re close enough, so I thought I’d ask if you wanted to go, and then Coach would stop shoving the idea of taking someone along down everyone’s throats.”

“Wait, Boomer’s encouraging this?”

“I swear, he wants us to get laid so badly, and it’s like, damn. Sorry I’m not on the cheer squad. Sorry we’re not cool like you were.”

Alyssa froze, chuckling a little, and the laughter got louder before Emma realized what she’d said.

“Was that rude? Did that go too far?” she was panicking again as Alyssa’s laughter grew more boisterous.

“No,” Alyssa said after breathing for a moment to hold back her howling. “It’s just true. I swear we’re not allowed within six feet of the football or basketball team during games to avoid someone going MIA. It’s happened too, a senior last year got pregnant right after our halftime performance at homecoming-- while the band was playing .”

“Ew! No!” Emma screamed in horror while playfully swatting Alyssa’s chest. “Didn’t they play Take on Me?!”

“Yeah,” Alyssa wheezed, now unable to hide how she was howling, full-on tears streaming down her face while Emma gagged so hard Alyssa couldn’t tell if it was real or not until she started shouting over Alyssa’s cackles that she wasn’t hungry anymore.

Clearly, a school-related get-together could go over without a snag.

A few weeks later, Alyssa was walking all the way to the Boomer household for this stupid thing. No, scratch that, the party wasn’t stupid. It was important to Emma, so it couldn’t be stupid. What was stupid was that Alyssa didn’t have a backup plan for when Emma inevitably had to head there early because for some reason Mr. Boomer trusted his idiot son Nick with the sparkling cider and the asshole filled it with the beer that was kept in a cupboard in the basement--How did Kaylee find that hot? Alyssa hated knowing where the alcohol was in this house before she ever rang the doorbell but that’s what happened because she felt a need to make sure her friends didn’t get themselves killed at a party. High school parties were incredibly weird to witness while sober, but Alyssa had a good feeling about this one. She reached forward to ring the doorbell.

After a moment the door was pulled open and Alyssa was greeted by the sight of Emma. She was finishing a sentence directed somewhere inside the house before she turned to Alyssa. There was a smile already etched into her cheeks as she met Alyssa’s gaze, clearly startled by her presence.

“Oh!... You’re earlier than I imagined,” she greeted.

“Well, someone bailed on me, so I had to make sure I still got here,” Alyssa replied to the comment, voice light and sweet like she was ripped from a cheesy song on the radio.

She didn’t want to question how Emma could drive at the age of fifteen. That story was probably very illegal, but what else had Alyssa grown to expect from Emma’s parents?

Then Nick seemed to notice Alyssa was the one at the door, and he had to think that they were one and the same to say what he did. “Sorry my dad won’t let us have fun, Lys,” he said with a smirk as he suddenly emerged in the doorway.

Alyssa’s blood went cold. “No one asked you,” she shouted.

Jess intervened before Nick could react poorly to the guest or a further conflict could start. “Okay, why don’t you go back to your little glorified man-attic?”

Alyssa wasn’t sure if she was allowed to laugh as a squabble broke out on the stairs that involved Jess Monae pulling her brother up the steps, but Emma started chuckling, so she figured it would be fine. With this laughter, their breaths mingled in silver wisps on the winter air.

“I’m sorry about that,” Emma said. She was trying to be serious here but a smile still ghosted her lips. “You can come in, I’ve just gotta finish shoving these in the cooler and then I’ll take your coat.”

It was only then that Alyssa noticed that Emma was still holding an armful of ciders against her chest. After that beat, Emma interrupted herself with her own thought. “Actually, since I’ve got a half-dozen ciders right here, you want one?”

“I’m alright,” Alyssa replied, stepping into the house. She took a moment to take her coat and hat off herself while Emma somehow jammed the ciders in the cooler by the coffee table. She caught a piece of conversation from across the living room.

“This isn’t exactly the plus one I was hoping for, Nole.”

“I know,” Emma deadpanned, paying more attention to the crunch of ice than to her coach over her shoulder. She didn’t let him say anything else before shutting the lid of the cooler and walking over to Alyssa.

“You look nice,” she said meekly.

Alyssa felt her cheeks heat, and she took a glance down at her outfit. A plain red dress with a green cardigan. “Thanks. You do too,” she said with a shy grin.

Emma laughed at herself, or at Alyssa. Alyssa couldn’t really tell. “It’s literally just a flannel,” she muttered.

Technically, Emma wasn’t lying. Her outfit screamed I don’t want to wear something festive, just a tank top with a red and green plaid strewn lazily overtop that slid off her shoulders--God, those shoulders--and a simple cuffed jean covering her legs. Part of her wanted to know why Emma always wore such loose clothes, but another part that she’d tried to repress knew the answer.

“Yeah, and? You always look nice.”

There was a pleasant, somehow charged silence as Emma watched Mr. Boomer go down the stairs and into the basement to get some old Christmas movie DVDs from the basement. Then they were left alone in the living room. The moment he was gone, Emma moved even closer, somehow, and spoke in a whisper.

“How did you manage to get your mother to let you wear that dress?” 

Her murmur made Alyssa’s skin tingle. They were touching in a dozen places and Alyssa felt even more alive than she ever had with Emma. Her breath smelled vaguely of cider, and from this view, Alyssa could see the dark spots in her eyes, the ones that could make her eyes look hazel from a distance, and count them. She watched as they trailed down to the edges of her thighs. She’d never liked that before, not when the boys did it. But Emma? To have Emma’s eyes made her feel powerful.

“Well, I told her I’d never wanna screw with my best friend’s cousin,” she whispered back, giddy.

Suddenly Emma whipped her flannel off and threw it neatly over her shoulder so it hung there. “So what about those rumors,” she said, finishing with a chuckle. “That you like him?”

“Uh--”

Emma raised an eyebrow and Alyssa thought she died for a second.

“I had to distract them from the peanut brittle thing!” she cried out defensively.

Emma took a step back and winked. “Good to know I’ve got blackmail against you now because I’ve caught Greg drinking milk straight from the carton,” she said as she did this, her tone suddenly switching to a lighthearted one.

“You’re kidding!”

Alyssa was still caught in the whiplash of the seemingly random tone shift when Jess interjected from the stairs, and suddenly it made sense.

“About what?” Emma called up the stairs, and Jess was practically sprinting down them when she yelled back.

“All of it! Greg--the milk carton, but--you like Greg ?”

“I...I mean--”

“No fucking way!”

Out of nowhere, Mr. Boomer appeared in the hallway to witness the spectacle.

“Hey, Jess Monae! The hell did I hear you say?!”

Jess didn’t repeat it and hardly froze before replying “Yep, I’ll get the DVD player hooked up,” and then she disappeared again.

Then the doorbell rang, and Emma broke even further from Alyssa. “I’ll get it.”

She pulled the door open and Alyssa spotted Greg from where she was left standing. She heard Emma mutter “Come in, you bastard,” before she interjected herself.

“Wait, all this time you’ve been here and Greg hasn’t been?”

Emma’s face dropped suddenly. She shook her head solemnly and, in complete seriousness, said. “Oh, no. We don’t trust Greg in the kitchen.”

“And we still put him on cookie duty?!” There was a shout from somewhere down the driveway. Glancing out the window, Alyssa determined it was Noah, walking up the driveway with Foster and Salix in tow. Being the only junior in the group, he was the designated driver for most things like this...and he had a soft spot for the freshmen. Alyssa knew that only because Emma had told her. They had been discussing how Alyssa planned to get here originally.

Doesn’t being in his car seem weird if we've never met?

Only if you think it is. The guys are super chill.

I think it’s weird.

I--I can drive if you want.

You can drive? We’re both sophomores.

...In a pinch, calling my morality, my obedience to the law, and respect for the cops into question.

Alyssa laughed at that, not realizing the implication.

“No one else volunteered,” Emma called out to Noah, jolting Alyssa from her thoughts. “Now get your ass in here, you’re letting the cold in!”

It was funny to Alyssa how Emma could swear and not get in trouble with Mr. Boomer while Jess got scolded. However, since he wasn’t Emma’s dad, it wouldn’t be Mr. Boomer’s place to judge, whether or not he agreed with it,  even though he cared about her more than her parents. Alyssa stood there staring out the window and let the thought sink in while Emma greeted her friends. Noah was yelling about knowing something was going to happen, but Alyssa was too consumed by her next sentence to hear what. What Emma said about letting the cold in, was it something she used to be told when her parents noticed she came in the house, a reminder of better times, or was it simply a learned behavior?

“Hey, Lys! Come meet my friends!”

“Oh, yeah, hi!”

Emma was different with these kids than she was in class day-to-day. She was clearly in a position of some sort of esteem with them, making it evident to Alyssa that although only Noah had actually been eligible to be the team’s captain as the only one in the group older than a sophomore, Emma was the one who was actually in charge, exuding a sort of charisma that left her friends hooked on every word. Alyssa was hooked too. She had been left expected to fill a lot of roles in the next two years. Future cheer captain, future debate team captain, future student council president, valedictorian for the Class of 2018 who would inevitably stay that way until senior year and give a speech at graduation. You name it, Alyssa was expected to take charge. Often she didn’t know what to do with that power, a hundred eyes stalking her at all times, but for such a shy person, Emma handled it gracefully. Granted, these were five of her best friends, but the point still stood. She wrapped up her introductory speech with ease and told the group she had to get the deck of cards from upstairs , which was mostly responded to with a collective groan, and Alyssa pretended she knew what that meant as Emma dragged her off with her. They walked into one of the rooms, presumably Jess’s bedroom, where Emma had apparently been keeping a bag of her stuff. She fished through it as she spoke, facing away from Alyssa.

“Was I being kinda creepy earlier?”

“No...why?”

“I--I don’t know what came over me.”

Alyssa shrugged, not that Emma saw. “I was fine with it.”

“I wasn’t sure if it was weird or not so I just wanted to check in with you but I swear to God I wasn’t trying to flirt, I just wanted to make sure nobody heard it, and then... that happened, and--”

It became clear that Emma was going to keep going until she was answered, so Alyssa cut her off. “Emma. It’s fine. You’re fine. And I’m fine with weird--well, I guess that depends on what you call weird--but I like when you’re weird because that’s just...you. Always has been, ever since you preferred the cars from our fourth-grade teacher’s model of New York City over the Hot Wheels, even though you weren’t meant to crash them together.”

Emma turned around suddenly at the mention of it, eyes shining. “You remembered?”

“Of course,” Alyssa breathed out like it had been the simplest thing in the world. Perhaps, to her, it was.

Emma had finally worked up the courage to the pretty new girl in her class at recess who she was inexplicably nervous about. Only when she was alone and unsure who to play with did Emma approach.

“Hi...I’m Emma.”

“‘Lyssa,” Alyssa said after a moment, a shy smile on her face.

“Do you wanna play cars with me?”

“Sure!”

Alyssa stood up to get the tub labeled ‘cars’ from the play area, but Emma pulled her in the other direction. 

“No, these cars are the good ones. They don’t bump when you roll them.”

“That sounds awesome,” Alyssa commented, showing genuine interest and only making Emma more excited.

Alyssa grabbed a car, a red one with a white top, and started looping it around a paper central park while Emma grabbed one of the many taxis on the model and clutched it to her fist, showing it to Alyssa.

These ones are cool,” she said, running a finger across its black checks. “I’ve never seen one of them for real.”

Alyssa raised her eyebrows. “I saw taxis all the time back home.”

“Where are you from?”

“Indianapolis,” she answered.

“Oh, my grandparents live there with my cousin. That’s cool that you’re from there too.”

“You say cool a lot.”

They fell into a rhythm of play for a little over half of recess as they got to know each other over a game of 20 questions, racing around Central Park and knocking over trees and lampposts before deciding to fly over them, at which point they decided their cars of choice were superheroes saving all the other cars, but they were fighting over who got to win some big award. Alyssa’s car could spit fire and Emma’s taxi had laser beams, so obviously only one of them could survive. It was then that Mrs. McKinley, the teacher, noticed what was happening at her model, and she raced over.

“What are you doing?!”

Emma fell silent, so Alyssa butted in instead. “We’re playing superhero cars!”

“You’re chipping the paint on the…” she sighed. “Alyssa, honey, I know Emma said it was fine, but we’re not allowed to play with these cars. These are Mrs. McKinley’s special cars, just for her. Why don’t you go play with someone else? Emma’s not exactly the best role model.”

Alyssa looked at Emma with a horror-filled expression, but there was no way for Emma to know if Alyssa was mad at her or shocked that Mrs. McKinley didn’t even attempt to lower her voice for the last sentence. So Emma just walked away, but not before dropping the taxi cab from as high as she could reach.

“Emma! Get back here!”

“God, Mrs. McKinley was a bitch.”

“Oh, totally.”

“And to think we could’ve been friends that whole time.”

“I would’ve liked that.”

Emma cleared her throat. “I found the cards. We should go.”

“Why did you bring them, anyway?” Alyssa asked as they made their way down the steps.

“I bring them on the bus for away meets. I can’t read or look at my phone or I get motion sick. Turns out Foster is amazing at card games, so now’s my chance to get the rest of the group to join in.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

A couple of rounds of games happened first, combined with enthusiastic chatter and competitive spirits. The chatter didn’t stop when the games did, and it overflowed until Greg was told to put his Gran’s cookie dough in the oven, at which point an ominous silence fell upon the group that Greg objected to.

“Come on guys, do you think I’m gonna burn the house down without even making the dough?”

Silence.

“Fine, fine,” Emma cut in. “Salix--what shitty made-for-TV movie are we watching today?”

“We’ve got a double feature,” they smirked, and the rest of the group died inside on the spot, light disappearing from everyone’s eyes. Still, Salix continued. “Comparing Snowglobe and A Snowglobe Christmas , they said, pulling the DVD cases from behind their back.

“Wait...Is that...the same actress?” Alyssa questioned, looking between the boxes.

“Yup!” Salix was way too excited about this. “But the movies have no relation to each other!”

Foster shook their head slowly from beside Alyssa. “I regret joking about this.”

The group gave a collective hum of agreement, leaving Alyssa out of the joke, which felt...nice, oddly. She didn’t have to know the ins and outs of everything here, and it was somehow freeing.

All in all, the day was successful, the movies were terrible, the conversation just kept going so fast Alyssa couldn’t keep up on top of not understanding half of the jokes, no one was drunk, and there was no kitchen fire. Pretty good, as far as the swim team was concerned. Still, something lingered in the back of Alyssa’s mind about that little thing with Emma she understandably couldn’t stop thinking about.

“Did you drink the spiked cider before it was switched?”

“...Why do you ask?”

“That kind of weird was nothing like you.”

“Maybe I did,” Emma admitted.

Alyssa was silent in pure confusion for a moment. To be honest the question was sort of a joke. She didn’t expect that response.

“Why?”

“It sounds dumb, but I wanted to understand it. I wanted answers. I wanted to know why it’s worth ruining your relationships, your reputation, your career, all of your desires in life, just to feel a buzz.”

“Did you get any closer...to those answers?”

“That’s the thing, I don’t know.”

“Oh?”

“I’m not anywhere closer to understanding what happened to my dad to make him the way he is, but at the same time, I feel like I’m chasing the same deadly spark in a totally different way. One that would make me happy in the long run, but it’s gonna blow up in my face now, and there’s a twin flame, working in tandem that I will never reach, period. And I just...don’t know where to go.”

Alyssa had no clue what the fuck she was talking about. It was probably better that way.

Chapter Text

After the holiday party, the team got so used to seeing Alyssa walk home with Emma after practice for one of their study sessions that they started lovingly calling her a part of the team, even when they were hanging out less in January because the swim team was preparing for the statewide competition. Of course, Emma’s poor time a few months ago was hardly anything; it was one race. Regardless of it, the team was pumped by the idea of going to Indianapolis, especially since they would be defending their title from the previous year as the reigning champions. It seemed impossible for such a small team with no money, but they worked hard. It seemed like at least once a week Alyssa would be hearing about someone making a new personal best, shaving off a few seconds. She was already excited for them, but hearing about it only made her want to watch them compete even more. So she asked her mother if she could drive her there. Her mother said she had a house showing. The next day Alyssa reported this information to Emma and her friends rather dejectedly, and it was in their reply that she figured out exactly what they thought of her.

“So you can come on the bus with us!” Jess said it like it was the simplest thing in the world.

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, you’re basically one of us now,” Foster commented, and Alyssa watched in amazement as everyone else seemed to agree. Her eyes drifted to Emma, quickly going red in the face.

“Is that allowed?”

“You just need a permission slip and to buy tickets for all three days,” Foster offered with a shrug.

“Is Coach Boomer okay with it?”

“We’ll ask him for you!”

Like a cloud of chaos incarnate, half the team began their descent onto the coach to ask him his opinion. Emma and Jess hung back with a very mortified Alyssa, and they couldn’t help but laugh at both her dead-inside expression and the flurry of kids talking over each other that shocked the coach as he stepped out of the supply closet. His response to it was just to hand Alyssa a permission slip, which was met with cheers. He gave her a stone-cold look, too, but it wasn’t a disapproving stare. If Alyssa knew what she was looking at, he was saying If you let these kids down I’ll kill you.

Alyssa's mother agreed to it, thankfully. And so it was. Instead of being witness to the disgusting quantities of teenage heterosexual bullshit that were considered Valentines Day celebrations in high school, Alyssa got to climb onto a coach bus with the girl she was pretty sure she had a crush on, and all of her friends, including the boy all of her friends thought she had a crush on.

Christ, a candy-gram sounded so much simpler than this.

It was a 3-hour drive from Edgewater to Indy, so of course, Greg prepared a whole playlist for the ride. It was basic white people songs everyone knows. Sweet Caroline, Billy Joel, Stacy’s Mom, the whole nine yards including the Cotton-Eyed Joe. Alyssa knew they had a better collective music taste than this, but it was evident from how a minor squabble broke out that they couldn’t agree on one thing apart from this. Part of Alyssa wanted to ask Coach Boomer why he banned show tunes and led them here, but then again, watching everyone collectively scream the opener of The Lion Sleeps Tonight somehow was better than the idea of Greg screlting Defying Gravity. She could live with everyone being slightly off-key if she didn’t have to witness that, though apparently, it wasn’t even Wicked that caused this, because Noah wouldn’t shut up about the hell that was the Glee version of Baby Got Back for an hour straight. Alyssa wasn’t about to press him for details. Meanwhile, Emma was back to her usual card game shenanigans (Albeit they were pumped up, she brought extra decks of varying sorts.) with everyone bunched into the back of the bus by the time they hit the highway, everyone yelling along to the songs and leaving Greg in charge of the music. Alyssa couldn’t help but notice how Emma would rock back and forth to every beat of every song without realizing as they played, as if the beats and melodies of them lived inside of her, waiting to come out. She wasn’t sure how long she got lost in that simple thought of Emma, but she was startled from a steady, silent gaze out the window by a hand smacking her in the eye. She looked up and found that Noah and Jess were standing in the aisles of the bus performing a very dramatic YMCA. Coach Boomer, who was driving this anarchy bus, was far too desensitized to the free-for-all that was this group. Alyssa resisted the urge to grab their wrists and drag them back into their seats on his behalf, not wanting to make a scene. Thankfully, she was pulled from the urge by a text just barely getting through her data. It was Kaylee, asking where the hell she was. As she read that, it hit Alyssa for the first time that she didn’t know how to explain the situation she found herself in. She looked up from her phone and suddenly Emma was standing, begging Greg to turn off the song so Jess and Noah didn’t get killed. Perhaps the situation was meant to be self-explanatory. Alyssa slipped the camera of her phone on without anyone seeing.

“Greg, please, they have no self-control, they just hit Lys in the face--”

“Yet you’re standing, so why should I listen to you?”

He was willfully ignoring that she had a death grip on the top of his seat. Then they hit a speedbump and the whole bus, apart from Greg, shared a collective yelp as Noah and Jess were nearly shot to the front of the bus. Thankfully the chorus had passed so they could grab onto a chair.

“Please!”

“Okay, fine, but I choose the song.”

“Deal.”

There was a pause before the opening chords of a song that Alyssa didn't recognize started blasting and Emma reacted by lightly smacking her cousin in the face as he lipsynced something.

“We're your Weather Girls, and boy, do we got news for you!”

Alyssa stopped the camera and sent the video to Kaylee with no context, ignoring how it drained the battery on her phone. She brought a portable charger for a reason. She stared at the unread message on the screen for a moment and judging by the time Kaylee was going to first period, so she allowed herself to say what she was thinking for once, judgment-free.

I’d say paradise but...ech

Have a good day at school x

After a while, things appeared to calm down, though Alyssa didn't exactly trust the stability of the silence. The sudden onset of quiet was reflected in the endless stretch of highway. No changes to the scenery except for the endless, noiseless passing of cars. The rest of the team was now on their phones, leaving Emma staring blankly out the window.

“You alright, Em?”

A strangled noise came from Emma’s throat, and it took Alyssa far too long to realize it was because she had still been humming along to the music, so quiet that it had been nearly inaudible.

“Yeah.”

She barely acknowledged Alyssa, not even turning from the window. Then she switched to singing the lyrics, and it was clearly a song she knew well. It didn’t even occur to Alyssa that the song was Country Roads until the chorus because it didn’t sound like a country song when Emma sang it, but it didn’t sound like a joke either. It was just...Emma.

Alyssa’s phone buzzed again and she found it was already half-past eight, meaning it was probably passing time and she received a text back from Kaylee.

what have you gotten yourself into

The reply was simple.

I dont know

A half-hour later, the group arrived at their motel, which was another half-hour from the school where the weekend’s events were taking place. From there, everyone started picking roommates. Jess shot Emma a wink from across the room and offered to stay with her stepdad. Greg turned to Noah, and Salix and Foster immediately grouped together. 

“I--I’ll room alone if you’d like,” Emma stuttered.

“Why would you do that?”

“Y’know, because I’m…” she gestured at nothing and it took Alyssa too long to process it.

“I don’t care about that, I thought you knew that.”

“Are...are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

They didn’t have too long after that, opting to get a quick meal in before heading to the school where everything was hosted. It was huge, with long, winding hallways that bordered on elegant. It was clear from the pristine white tiles of the pools that this school sponsored the event, and if that didn't give it away, the green and black banner that read FUNDED IN PART BY THE GARRISON-CLARKE PRIVATE SCHOOL. There were other banners stating other benefactors, but they all were in the same colors.

“Imagine having this much money,” Alyssa murmured, astounded.

“There's another pool in this school,” Emma replied. “And it’s just as nice. Why do you need two? With heaters?”

One of the girls on one of the many teams scattered around the pool area took immediate notice of Emma's voice. Of course, she's wearing a green and black swimsuit with a gator on the chest, the polar opposite to James Madison’s red and gold.

“Nolan! Trash talking one of the best in the game already?” That takes nerve.”

“There are only 16 spots here and everyone knows that Garrison takes one every year, I’d say I’ve earned it.”

“There’s a reason we’re on top, and you’re not gonna ruin my last championship.”

“Ruin? If anything, I made it more exciting.”

There was a beat of awkward silence. Then the girl flatly asked, “Oh, hang on, who’s this?”

“Alyssa,” she finally said, sticking out a hand for the girl to shake, but she ignored her and just looked at Emma with some strange expression Alyssa couldn’t name.

“I should get back to my team,” She stated before turning and walking away.

“So...are you guys friends or about to kill each other?”

“I...it’s complicated. We sort of get along and text every once in a blue moon, but also do this thing where we hype each other up for the competition and it looks like we hate each other. We’ve only seen one another in-person here, so…”

“Ah.”

“Hey, newbie, why aren’t you talking to your teammates?”

A freshman-year Emma stared up at the junior in green and black.

“Nerves,” she replied instantly, robotically.

“Yeah, I’ve never seen a group here without matching suits...you must be pretty good, though.”

“We try.”

“Y’know, they say the best swimmers are the quietest ones, never brag about anything and shock everyone.”

Emma gave her a look as she asked her name.

“Emma. Emma Nolan.”

“I like it. I like you,” the girl says, sitting down beside her and running a hand through her hair

“Wait, what?”

“Staring at the water as if you want to bend it to your will. Soft-spoken, yet commanding when needed. I bet you, in particular, are great out there.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“You needed to hear it,” she said plainly, cutting straight to the chase. “I’m V, by the way. Your name is better than mine.”

“Okay?”

There was a call from across the room. “Dammit V, get back over here, you slacker!”

“And it looks like the show is about to begin! See you around, newbie.”

Emma sat with Alyssa through the boring opener speech by the principal of this school. The only thing that changed compared to last year was...well, the year said in the speech itself, then they were headed to their designated locations for the first round of competitions. Alyssa was glad to find that she wouldn’t have to put up with any more Garrison kids--for now. The competition itself was fast. Their competition was the first of two in this particular pool, meaning they didn’t have to wait in the locker room, and the tiny swim team of James Madison easily crushed that of Dean High School, so easily that she had to presume the competitors on that team were simply nervous about going against last year’s victors. She wondered what it felt like to be a kid from Dean, decked out in your school colors, pristine and matching, only to lose to the oddballs who couldn’t afford real suits, in the first round. By the time they finished, it was only 3 p.m., but they had to wait until later that night to know who they’d be up against, so the rest of Friday was free for them to settle into their room and do whatever else needed to get done. They used it to head to a restaurant because they could, and once more conversation didn’t stop.

Highlights included Foster throwing garlic bread at Jess and nearly getting the whole group kicked out.

Emma could hardly believe it went that well as she paced around the hallway, waiting for her teammates to dry off so they could head back to the hotel. To her surprise, V came rushing down the hallway from the other pool, anticipation painted on her face.

“Hey, newbie! Quick shower?”

Emma nodded.

“Nice to know I’m not the only crazy one in the world. Locker rooms are gross.”

Without the nerves about competing, Emma got a good look at V. Her hair was short, with a streak of it dyed purple, though it was fading thanks to the chlorine of the pool. The denim jacket that layered over her day clothes was covered in pins and patches. And a pride flag. She was everything Emma wanted to be, but she knew that was impossible.

Maybe that’s why things went--and ended--the way they did.

“Anyway, how’d it go for you guys?”

“Made it to the quarter-finals, barely.”

“Oof. You’re gonna have to work a lot harder to beat us.”

“You’re acting as if you want us to?”

“Maybe I do. Maybe it’d be...fun, make it more exciting. We do win every year, after all,” V smirked. She stepped forward and grabbed Emma’s hand.

“What--what are you doing?”

“Oh, uh, do you listen to Girl in Red?”

Emma’s eyes widened and she blushed, looking away for a moment before nodding quickly.

V kissed her. It was weird. Like it wasn’t supposed to happen according to the laws of the universe, yet the two of them bent those laws for something Emma couldn't name. Lips smushed awkwardly into each other, a tongue slid in at some point. But it was still better than kissing a boy, by a million miles, so she convinced herself kissing was meant to be this strange, for a few fleeting seconds, because she liked V. She liked that V put up this cocky persona but also seemed to really like her--really be a genuine person beneath it. They just couldn’t be here for Emma to see it.

“What are you doing?!”

“Don’t worry--no one cares here.”

“But I--I don’t--”

“Whoah, hey, are you okay?”

“No one can know about me, my parents will throw me out of the house.”

“Oh, okay. So...I’ll meet you at your hotel.”

“You...you want to…?”

“Yeah?”

Emma laughed dryly. “You know I’m a freshman, right?”

“Yeah, duh.”

Emma grinned, blushing once more. She looked around slowly. “Kiss me again, I’m ready this time.”

V agreed to it.

Emma tried to shake the memories of V out of her mind, knowing Alyssa hadn’t taken kindly to her. But she didn’t know her. Emma was the one that saw beyond the cocky exterior; the very same one she had adopted for herself when the world got too much and she wanted to feel like she was in control. She told Alyssa they texted, but that was only at three in the morning, when they were lonely and falling apart at the seams, full of shit like I miss you, I wish you’d take me out of Edgewater and kiss me again, take me from this shitty family so I don’t have to be afraid anymore, I can’t stand being afraid of us, whatever we are. Of this. Of myself. But that was only at 3 a.m., supposedly the devil’s hour, and the only time any of this could work. It was no wonder they hadn’t put a label on it, but she had a choice now. Now that she was back in this shitty motel, she could take a chance on V, or fall back into Alyssa. Neither were concrete choices. Both had consequences, first of all, but there were pushes and pulls to each.

Alyssa was lost in thought on the other mattress too. She suddenly remembered her reality before her father left. Her mother had told her once that someday she’d be going to a private school in the heart of the city, that they were already saving up. She wasn’t expecting Mr. Greene to walk out and effectively half their income only 2 years later. She recalled how empty and huge her room felt that night, and she still swore she could have drowned in those covers. No--she did. And she screamed and she cried and she begged for her Papa to come back , to save her from the drowning. All her mother could do was sit there, tears in her eyes, knowing she could feel herself sinking too. This motel, this place, felt just as huge and unfamiliar. Somehow like a betrayal.

If she lived in a world where she still had her dad, she wouldn’t be in this motel. She’d be attending a school like the one she and Emma lightly mocked. And she had to wonder--would she have fallen for a snobby asshole like that girl , or would she still have stumbled upon Emma in some twist of fate?

A sob woke Emma up and she sat bolt upright before glancing at the alarm clock beside her. 1:13 a.m. Fuck. She rubbed her eyes before processing where she was. Fuck.

“Shit, Lys, you alright?”

She didn’t reply, only thrashing under the covers. Emma stood immediately, walking over to her bed. “Hey, what happened?”

She was reminding herself of her father. Before he turned to shit, he’d sit at her bedside in the early hours of the morning ‘to ward off the monsters that gave her that nightmare'. She never knew how long he stayed there.

“Just a bit homesick,” Alyssa mumbled hoarsely, choosing to simplify it, and not say she was homesick for something that she last had seven years ago.

Emma wanted to know what that felt like, to be homesick. But maybe she already did, she was just homesick for this place.

She started tearing up, too.

“I’m so glad you don’t have a roomie, that would’ve been awkward.”

Emma laughed, but she was cut off by a kiss. Suddenly her knees went weak and she fell against the shut door.

“Am I that good?” V asked jokingly as another kiss softened the blow. “Damn.”

Emma nodded quickly, and V took it as a reason to move her kisses to her neck, then they kept going lower until they were against the collar of Emma’s shirt.

“Are we really doing this?”

“If you want it, we have one weekend.”

“O-okay. Yeah...keep going.”

“What can I do?”

Finally, Alyssa turned to face Emma, tears in her eyes and pouring down her face. “Can you stay here?”

“Are you implying I remind you of home, Greene? I am everything Edgewater hates.”

“That’s why I like you.”

Why the hell did Alyssa kiss her, and why the hell did she kiss back?

Well, this was certainly a meeting of Edgewater’s fucked-up families club. She didn't mind, though. It felt like a natural progression of their friendship. Going from cuddling while watching a movie (They were admittedly more handsy than the average lesbian and straight girl.) to kissing was effortless and it wiped away whatever tears had been oncoming. They knew how to fill each other's holes as if they'd been in love for years. The kiss was warm and soft; everything V wasn't. Alyssa's chapstick tasted faintly of strawberries, the same scent that always came from the shampoo in her hair. The smell reminded Emma of popsicles on a sweltering day and escaping the bitter frost of winter at the same moment. It was a reassurance, an undefined place...it was home. Kissing Alyssa Greene felt like coming home to someone who was waiting for her to arrive and actually bothered to greet her from the living room.

She missed having that.

Emma woke up still tangled in Alyssa, even through the blare of her alarm. It was...strange. Stable. Right. She wanted a thousand more days of this.

...Oh no.

“Hey, Lyssa, we gotta get up.”

“Mmph. What time is it?”

“Seven. Quarterfinals start at ten.”

“Ugh, I hate this.”

“Happy Valentines Day,” Emma joked, slipping out from under Alyssa and turning off her alarm. “I’m gonna get ready.”

She stepped in the shower and her first thought was of V. She never got to wake up next to her; she must have slipped away in the dead of night, because Emma only got a note and a phone number. A part of her believed it was meant to be that way. She knew that she and V could never work. They were Icarus flying too close to the Sun, rockets aiming for the same star and being bound by fate to crash into each other in a way that was inexplicably poetic, because somewhere in that nuclear fallout was something beautiful. Indianapolis was a place where Emma could prove to everyone that there was a reason she made it here, escaped from James Madison. And in that place...she found herself, and she found love. It wasn’t a traditional, happily ever after love...no, it was much too explosive, much too quick, but it was someone seeing her as something they wanted for the first time, and Emma had never felt that in her life, so even a year later, with Alyssa right there, she couldn’t make herself let go.

She felt so guilty.

She supposed her guilt was palpable as they started the day's races.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked Jess in the lane next to her.

“If Nolan's nervous, we're all screwed.”

“Don't say that so loud,” she grumbled.

“I won't--if we get through today. You better walk the talk you gave Garrison.”

She didn't even know what that meant anymore, but she still raced like her life depended on it, because she wasn't about to let Jess down.

There was something so freeing about being in the water whenever she allowed herself to let go. (On days where she couldn’t, it was another story.) It made her feel physically lighter. It was a different world, and gravity--the weight of the other world’s problems--had no place here. It was a forgetting of sorts because this was the one place she had total control. And she always took that control, pushed through the water and forced it to work in her favor, even when nothing else did. Once she was through with that, she became one with the water, her entire being melted away in the rhythm.  No V, no Alyssa. Just the familiar waltz, guided by the music that she crafted with her hands and feet, the melody of her breath.

Stroke, stroke, stroke, breathe.

Usually, after her races, she’d have a moment of being blissfully unaware of the world as she tried to recall what it meant to be a person. Confusion as the idea of other competitors slipped away. Not today. Today, she slipped out of the water and immediately, she was struck with heaviness, water seeped its way into her muscles and chlorine breached into her veins. It stung, no matter how good she did at the race, no matter how the team had gotten to the semifinals. She knew what she had to do.

“I’m gonna get some air real quick,” she muttered to Alyssa as she stepped out of the locker room.

And there she was, all of a sudden. Emma felt as if she lived this moment a thousand times already.

“Nolan, hey!”

“Hey.”

“Quick shower--still a closet case then?”

Emma shifted awkwardly. “To all but nine people, including you. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

V was different in broad daylight and in-person than she was through a screen at midnight. Or maybe that was just what they both knew was coming. There was no tired delirium here, only the way they both changed in a year. It was jarring.

“I suppose it’s not worth asking what’s happening between you and Alyssa, then.”

“It’d help if we could define this.”

“Listen, I see how you look at her, I’m not blind. You’re happier with her than you ever have been in a year of our calls. You’ve changed, completely, for the better. I don’t even think I recognized you until I heard your voice. I think that’s mutual because you have her. And if anyone deserves that, it’s you.”

“And you don’t?”

“You’re so quick to jump to protect people. People who, in hindsight, have done nothing for you. Your parents, for instance. Why should you be trying to help your dad?”

“What are you getting at? What does he have to do with you?!”

“You're so content to wait for the world to be ready for you, but when you go after something yourself, you get...here.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “We can't all live in super accepting cities.”

“That's not what I mean. I mean, it's obvious she likes you, so what are you waiting for? If it's me... I'm turning eighteen in two weeks. I'm graduating and I won't be back here.”

I don't want to get hurt.”

“Then the least you can do is admit...this hurts too. I want you to be happy, but that comes with hurt, so you're just running from yourself because it's safer . But that's not better.”

“Obviously I know that--"

“So let's break the cycle here. I can't let you hold yourself back because of me.”

“Wait, what are you saying?”

“I'm saying I guess this is goodbye, Nolan. It's time to move past this shit.”

That hurt. It hurt like hell. She swore she'd been cut open. But V didn't l leave her without consoling her. That would suck too much. So she kissed her one last time. So fast Emma almost didn't notice it. It felt like the very definition of nuclear fallout. And then it was gone.

“One last race, for old times sake.”

Then V herself walked away.

Emma crashed onto her bed, face down, the moment they arrived at the motel that evening. There were two competitions that day, so this wasn't too unexpected by Alyssa.

“Rough day?”

“Please just kill me now,” Emma groaned into her pillow. It made Alyssa giggle, so she made an act out of it so Alyssa wouldn’t catch on to the fact that she wasn’t entirely joking.

“Dear God that I’m not sure I believe in, please come down and smite me to prove your existence.”

Alyssa kept laughing, though she could tell adding that was all for the joke. “Em, stop being so dramatic. You’re just tired and sore.”

“And that sucks, babe.”

They could call each other babe platonically, right? Technically it shouldn’t cross a line since they definitely kissed last night. But Alyssa hadn’t gotten any sleep, was that--

It didn’t matter though, Alyssa brushed past it. “If you wanna get to bed early, that’s fine. I know I kept you up last night, and you’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

“How am I meant to fall asleep when I feel like shit?” Emma’s genuine tone returned and Alyssa was suddenly concerned.

“Are you gonna be okay?”

Emma didn’t reply, so Alyssa sunk down on the mattress next to her and started running a hand through her hair. Only then did she roll over on the bed, allowing Alyssa to see her face, the features of which were worn and tired. She didn’t look any paler than her standard ghastly shade, but then again, it was hard to distinguish between ghastly and dead, so just to be safe, Alyssa drifted the tips of her fingers toward Emma’s forehead as she continued playing with her hair.

“You don’t have a fever, that’s good, but you should probably change into pajamas.”

Emma groaned and rolled over again, this time against Alyssa’s chest.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.”

She threw off her jacket and forced herself out of her jeans only to find she had no more energy to expend, so she shut her eyes again and Alyssa found her gaze drifting to Emma’s thighs, muscular as ever and only covered only by a pair of boxers that were so faded Alyssa could see the definition.

By Sunday morning Emma appeared to perk up. Perhaps a good night’s sleep really was all she needed, because she beat Alyssa to breakfast in the lobby, as did the rest of the team, and they were all chatting about something rather loudly and dramatically for that hour of the morning.

“No fucking way, dude! Are you serious?!”

Greg’s cheeks were red and he glanced around the dining area for a moment before he nodded. Noah was silent, but he looked just as embarrassed, even from the distance between him and Alyssa. The group exploded into a brief fit of laughter at this before Jess interjected, throwing her hands in the air and letting her fork hit the floor with a clang. Alyssa heard most of it from the line to get breakfast.

“I’m so shocked I didn’t hear this at some point last night,” Jess said, and a collective groan ran across the room, yet everyone seemed to agree with the sentiment.

“There are worse things, I’m sure,” Salix tried to change the mood, but Foster was quick to refute that.

“No. I promise it doesn’t get worse than having confirmation on that--I was mostly joking, you know.”

“Actually, you never clarified--”

Emma cut Noah off. “Can we all shut up about this? I’m getting painful visuals and you’re my cousin for Christ’s sa…” She trailed off when Alyssa arrived at the table. “Oh, good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

Alyssa rolled her eyes fondly. “Says you.”

“Don’t spill my embarrassing hotel room secrets, Emma ordered. “Besides, these guys are already having a field day.”

“Okay then.”

With breakfast out of the way, the team returned to Garrison for one final match. Alyssa thought she knew what to expect; relatively quiet until the match itself got closer to starting, at which point applause would remain at a respectable volume. But of course not, because at some point during warm-ups there was a voice coming from somewhere above the teams.

“Alright, we are here with the Garrison Guardian for the Indiana State Championships! It’s the event everyone loves the most here at Garrison--the finals for co-ed swimming! As you should all know by now, Garrison has claimed many consecutive titles as the champs of this event, until last year, when James Madison High School unexpectedly won the title after being labeled the underdog of the competition. This year, we’re back for a rematch and an exciting one at that. We’ve got filmed footage coming to you from the bleachers for some real close-up action, so stay with our broadcast to watch it unfold live!”

It seemed so obvious that this school had enough money for a full-on live broadcast and all the shit that went with it now that it was happening. Alyssa rolled her eyes at the grandeur being made of a high school event, even though she knew it meant everything to Emma.

She had to admit, though, that it made the races much more exciting from a spectator's point of view. It gave her the adrenaline rush she was sure Emma got anyway, and a pleasant buzz fell over the crowd as they grew more and more eager to see a champion be declared. Between rounds, the cheering was so loud that she felt like her ears were bleeding. It was the homecoming game, only a million times better since swimming didn’t have half as many breaks as football. She wondered what was going on in Emma’s head.

Enlightenment. That was the one word to describe the experience of a crowd wanting to watch her, voices pouring over her every move with a dedicated eye. The sounds shot into the water around her and she soaked them up. The buzz of excitement coursed through her veins and she knew this was everything she’d ever wanted. Of course, she knew that already, but there was something about Garrison captain Thomas Marigold is leading the pack as we go into the home stretch, but not by much! The Nolan cousins are both right on his heels; do they have the power to keep up their stamina and overtake him after a race this long? That made her feel so alive, so present, even if the words hardly reached her over the woosh of the water surrounding her and a whoop from the bleachers felt far away.

“James Madison calls Emma Nolan their honorary captain for a reason. She’s only a sophomore but she is the team’s biggest powerhouse, which we see here as she pulls ahead of Marigold by a hair. Gregory follows suit and it’s a fascinating intimidation tactic. Look at this, we’re gonna need a close-up of that--Marigold glances over at his competitors only to find that they are in no way intimidated by the close race, and this brief falter allows him to be overtaken by a newcomer to the James Madison team, Foster Jamie. That one’s gotta sting for the senior who is suddenly in fourth place.”

Emma smirked. She felt the presence of the captain of the rival team sink behind her, drowning in the noise and in the rhythm. Rising in return was Jess. The competition was so intriguing in that way. For every time the “powerhouse” strode ahead, there was always someone left behind. And she’d never know the race from the other perspective. But it was nice to be the powerhouse in this one thing instead of the one that got left behind.

Her hand touched the wall. She gazed upwards, waiting for it to be announced.

“We have our first finish for the backstroke mile! Emma Nolan with an astonishing 21 minutes and 56 seconds! Foster Jamie follows suit with 22:06 and Jess Monae Boomer isn’t too far behind them with 22:09! Finally, we’re seeing some pushback as Garrison finishes, the captain remained in fourth for the rest of the final stretch with just 22:11, beating out Gregory Nolan by only a fraction of a second…” 

Emma lets the rest of the scores play out around her in a bit of a daze.

“A strong finish from James Madison in that race could end up being the deciding factor of the championship since it’s been close all day, but there’s one more race in-store, the 400-meter breaststroke!”

The crowd cheered, and in a few minutes that felt like the blink of an eye, she was back at the block with her heart pounding so fast it felt as if it were simply vibrating in her ribcage. This was everything she’d ever wanted, and she was so close to having it again .

The horn screamed at her to start. The race happened so quickly that Emma couldn’t tell you the details, only that she swam as fast as her arms and legs would take her.

“And they’re off! Looks like a strong start for all competitors, and it looks like this time Noah Decker, the Captain of James Madison, holds an early lead, and that’s gonna be crucial for this event because the competitors only have four laps. There is no room for mistakes here. You can see just behind him are his teammate Emma Nolan and Garrison competitor V Dougalson, who are effectively keeping pace with each other as they head to the first turn already. I already spoke about how Nolan is a domineering force for the James Madison team, but she is most known for her stamina while Dougalson is stronger in sprints, so to ensure a victory for her team, Nolan has to have another trick up her sleeve.”

They were reaching the final turn, and she and V were still on pace, though as a pair they were now leading the pack, and the only real movement between places was long behind them. She had to do something, so in a rare move, she glanced at her opponent.

“What’s this…! Nolan making the same move as Marigold in the last race. Will this lead her to the same fate as him?”

V, who just told her to move on to bigger and better things, one of those better things waiting on the bleachers. Alyssa. Alyssa, who she was forced to admit that she was falling for now that she didn’t have to worry about V. 

The strangest thing happened then. As she kept up her rhythm, her mind flooded with Alyssa. Nothing but Alyssa. Flashbacks of their friendship, so pristine it was a photo album. Then the kiss.

The next thing she knew V was swearing behind her, unable to keep up.

“Oh! Totally unexpectedly, Nolan breaks from the pack. I’m fairly sure this will set James Madison up for victory if she can keep it up, but we have to wait for the math to know for sure."

Her hand slammed into the edge of the pool so hard that it stung.

She was done. She had to hope it was enough. She felt as if she were about to explode waiting for the results. The teams got out of the pool and huddled together, tension hovering over them, so thick she felt like she was breathing it in, it was sticking to her throat, making it hard to talk, hard to breathe.

“Our winner for the co-ed swim state championships has just been confirmed…”

Emma didn’t realize she was toying with her fingers. She closed her eyes. If they lost, she would never be able to convince herself it wasn’t a big deal.

Just Breathe, Emma.

...Ow.

“So it’s my honor to present…”

She was starting to ache from the suspense alone.

“Your two-time state champions, with a second consecutive title, James Madison High School!”

The team exploded around her. They all forgot there were cameras all over this moment as they started screaming incoherently. But Emma would’ve lived that deafening moment a thousand times over as she found herself crying a bit, even with an uncontrollable grin on her face. She wasn’t thinking anymore as she broke into a run toward the crowd, all of whom watched, intrigued, as she picked Alyssa up and spun her around. For a moment, they both forgot there were other people in the room. Alyssa’s gaze flickered to Emma’s lips, and Emma, the slightly more rational one since she wasn’t being held by her very hot and very muscular best friend, set Alyssa down before she could lose herself completely. 

“O-oh! Hi, Emma,” Alyssa laughed.

“Hi! Come back over here with us!”

“Do I want to go deaf?”

“Yes, you do! Now come on!”

Alyssa didn’t have much of a choice, as Emma was dragging her by the wrist. She let go suddenly as they emerged back in view of the cameras. Alyssa felt her hand go limp at her side, even while she was hit with high fives and fist bumps from every angle and the yelling didn’t stop for several minutes.

The group was clambering back on the bus within a couple of hours, not to mention the two people it took to get the trophy on the bus. Traditionally, these two people would be the captain and coach, but Noah seemed to insist that Emma do it while he climbed into the seat beside Greg, (and being rather handsy about it too, which even Alyssa noticed) who was already yelling again.

“I can get the victory playlist going!”

“Did you have a loser playlist, too?” Emma asked from her struggle halfway up the staircase.

“No, because that’s lame,” Greg replied. “Besides, if I needed a sad playlist I’d steal your Spotify.”

“Hey!”

He didn’t actually turn on the victory playlist until everyone was on the bus, at which point he turned on We Are the Champions. It was the most clichè thing Alyssa had ever witnessed, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized that it was the closest thing to a quintessential high school experience that any of the other kids on this bus would ever get. So she sat back while they screamed along. All was well. For a few hours more, there were no unrealistic expectations, no overload of shit to do, and she realized now that Emma was feeling this sentiment as well, knowing through her euphoria that she’d have to go back home.  Still, making a pit stop for ice cream made the thought of it sting a whole lot less. Emma’s chest felt warm even as they pulled back into James Madison at nearly half-past nine that night, and for once, she had a feeling that everything would be okay.

okay i think i lied to you kay

this is paradise after all

Chapter Text

After the swim season ended, the rest of sophomore year flew by since Emma didn’t have to worry about staying late for practices or long meets on weekends and Friday nights. That didn’t mean she didn’t practice, of course. It just meant she could balance her time more like an actual human and hang out with her friends in contexts completely unrelated to swim. Stupid things like driving an hour to find a bowling alley, or a mall, or a cheap diner that she had to convince Jess and Greg to not ‘dine and ditch’ from because the rest of the group didn’t want to ruin their lives by breaking the law. 

Of course, she was still with Alyssa quite often too, but they preferred to be alone because somehow their study sessions always turned into makeout sessions, though they never meant for it to happen. It always started out innocently, a simple arm around the shoulder that was nothing for most friends, especially not them. But it always escalated after that night in Indianapolis. Emma knew better than to keep letting herself fall into it over and over again; she didn’t know if Alyssa was actually gay or just saw her as an experiment, or God forbid just something to piss off her mother since she knew she trusted Emma. Alyssa was still saying she had a crush on Greg in front of her friends, so what if that was supposed to mean something to Emma? Was Alyssa taking advantage of Emma’s gay-ness to win brownie points with him? Despite herself, though, she knew she wanted Alyssa, and it was so much easier to not call this what it was, even if she was kicking herself for doing just that.

Regardless of whether or not the study sessions were productive, both Emma and Alyssa did well on their finals, which came as a surprise to no one who knew them, and suddenly summer vacation was upon them. However, this didn’t bring about much of a change to Alyssa’s schedule between bible camp, the volunteer work she was forced to do at the local library, and the eventual pre-season of cheerleading. Luckily Emma’s birthday fell after Alyssa was hauled away to camp and before the pre-season, so she got to go to Emma’s birthday party with a couple of her friends, where they went paintballing a few towns over.

“Let’s split into pairs!” Greg suggested excitedly.

Emma rolled her eyes. “There’s only seven of us. Besides, that’s stupid, we’re going to either betray each other or hold each other back.”

“But the drama!” Greg complained in response.

“How about you work alone and the rest of us pair up?” Noah, ever the rationale, suggested.

“Sounds good,” Emma smirked, clearly certain working alone would let her win.

“I want Jess with me,” Noah stated.

“Babe!”

“You know you skip dry-land day, Greg,” Jess commented, smug.

Greg’s mouth gaped for a moment in response. “Betrayal!” he sputtered.

“You can work with me, Greg,” Alyssa offered, leaving Foster and Salix together as always.

The match went as expected, for the most part. Jess had no problem killing Greg first, a smirk on her face as she proved her previous comment to be true that Emma could see from several feet away being shielded by an obstacle in the area. She would have to find another way around to avoid being sniped by Jess. Or she could just wait it out, she realized as Noah came up from behind Jess, and they started discussing a plan of action.

Nice.

“Any updates?” Jess asked, and Emma realized she was in luck when she could hear the faint conversation.

“I just got Foster. Nearly caught Salix too, but they barely dodged my aim and started headed for the woods. I couldn’t see them anymore.”

“Okay, so what’s the plan, do we go back that way?”

“They’ll see that coming from a mile away.”

“So where could Alyssa be?”

“I don’t know.”

Knowing what was coming next, Emma looked to her left at a rusty ladder. A vantage point would mean she could remain out of sight, or at least be harder to reach, and she didn’t have any other option. All she could do was pray that she could be silent, or at the very least that Jess and Noah would be too caught up in making a plan to hear something that was barely in earshot anyway.

“We need to find Emma, then.”

Once she got up the ladder she started heading for the area that Noah had just come from. This was gonna be good. It took several minutes for her to find Salix, but when she did she realized they were still expecting Noah and Jess to come back this way, and they had their gun aimed away from where Emma was standing behind them. Not wanting to wait for them to turn around out of paranoia, Emma immediately shot Salix in the back, and they let out a shout. Immediately, Emma was jumping down from her vantage point adrenaline leaving her not keen on staying still for very long, but her plans were ruined by another shout. Someone had heard Salix.

“This way!” the voice sounded close.

All of a sudden Emma was hanging off of a ledge by one hand as Jess and Noah ran into the woodland area of the playfield. Her eyes widened. Was this the end? Apparently not, because she watched in shock as Noah tripped on the base of a tree.

“Jess!”

Jess actually turned around, ready to help Noah to his feet, not willing to backstab him until it was completely necessary. Now she was preoccupied, facing away from Emma, who took this as her moment to shoot. Her aim was shaky from only using one hand, and she suddenly realized how bad of an idea this was Noah stared from beneath Jess. Emma held back a gasp as he could only manage a strangled noise of terror, rolling on the fake grass away from the hardly-aimed shot and leaving Jess no time to react. The blob of paint struck Jess in the side.

“How could you, Nifty?”

Emma wasted no time running from the scene as Jess spoke to Noah and he got to his knees.

“What?”

“You let me get shot!”

I did not!” He called back as he ran from where Jess was now going to stay for whatever remained of the match. 

He thought for a moment that he was gaining on Emma until he heard another pair of footsteps approaching from the side, then the cock of a paintball gun. Alyssa had covered his whole head in the paint.

“Agh! It’s gonna get in my eyes!”

Emma turned at the sound of Noah’s scream, all of a sudden face-to-face with Alyssa, who mouthed a quick sorry to Noah but otherwise had no choice but to ignore his agony. When she realized who she was facing, that was the only reason she faltered, feeling as though her world stopped at the sight of Emma, who was standing a good 10 paces from her, a fresh tear in her jeans and a stain from the turf on her glasses, her usually messy hair downright unruly. There was a fire in her eyes and it spread into the air, making Alyssa’s heart race from more than adrenaline. She couldn't bring herself to just shoot Emma. That was obviously how the game worked but she couldn't just...do it.

Drama, indeed. Forbidden love drama.

Alyssa’s hands started shaking as she shot, and Emma easily dodged it by slamming back-first into a tree and then tucking herself behind it before Alyssa could fire again. Then Emma fired three shots toward Alyssa as she took a sharp breath, making it so she was surrounded by paint at all angles. She was struck by the paint in the stomach, so hard that she fell to her knees, winded by the contact.

“Shit!” Emma’s voice sounded further than it was as she dropped her weapon and ran to Alyssa, for the moment not caring or perhaps even realizing she'd won. “Lys...Lys!”

“M’fine,” Alyssa coughed out.

Emma knelt down in front of her as she blinked a few times, trying to refocus. Unexpectedly, Emma's fingers brushed against her face.

“You're literally tearing up.”

“Oh. I-I’ll be fine. Just give me a second to catch my breath.”

“Alright,” Emma breathed. She leaned in closer to Alyssa before falling softly at her side and placing her head on her stomach. “Yeah, I could use a sec too,” she murmured when she realized Noah and Jess had disappeared to find the other three competitors and tell them ‘the round is over, we’re getting pizza in a bit’.

Alyssa blinked lazily, a haze falling over her. Emma smiled, resisting the urge to do anything more.

“Y’know, it would suck if that were a real scenario.”

Alyssa chuckled. “Would you weep over my bloody, lifeless body, even as the enemy?” she joked. Emma hoped she sounded so lighthearted because to acknowledge that reality and its existence in another universe would be too depressing and not because she secretly hated her. But deep down she knew Alyssa would be in that reality and be her lover in it too. Same for every universe after that, no matter how happy or how sad.

Wait. Shit. Lover?

Emma nodded solemnly. “I would.” The statement was as easy as blinking. “I’d feel terrible if something happened to you and we never got the chance to say what we mean to each other.”

“Well, of course we would,” Alyssa piped up, sensing that Emma was uneasy but also missing the point entirely. “We’re doing it right now.”

“No, I mean--” Emma cut herself off, suddenly struck by her senses. “I’ll explain later.”

She pulled herself off of Alyssa, who let out a whine in response. “Wait, what did I do?”

Emma was standing now, brushing more plastic grass off of her jeans and then picking at the tear in them. Alyssa knew her well enough to know what she was thinking by now.

Shit, my mom’s gonna kill me.

Why? It’s only a tiny hole?

Emma didn’t like when Alyssa questioned her.

It’s a sin, it’s a sin, blah, blah, blah…

Torn fabric is a sin?

Emma stuck her fingers into the hole in the sleeve of her flannel, left behind from getting it stuck in her locker. Then she ripped as hard as she could.

Apparently.

“No, it’s not you, I just...I dunno.”

Alyssa sat up at that, opening her mouth to speak--to plead with her to please just talk to her because it was so much easier that way, but she was interrupted by a shout.

“I hope that was long enough, dumbasses,” Greg hollered. “We’re hittin’ the road!”

“Wow, that took forever,” Emma joked.

Panting, Jess walked up behind him, an arm slung over Salix’s shoulder. “Took forever to find this guy , you mean. You really had them cornered, Lyssie.”

Emma watched Alyssa cringe at the almost faux-endearment and before she could think, she was retaliating. “Please never call her that again,” she deadpanned, reaching down to help Alyssa to her feet.

Jess put her hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, Jesus.”

Thankfully Noah and Foster were oblivious to the tension.

“Can we talk about this now?” Alyssa whispered into the phone that night. It was well past midnight, the only way Mrs. Greene wouldn’t know it was Emma she was talking to about, well, whatever this was going to turn into.

There was a long pause. We’ve been doing this for...how long? Five months?” Emma finally asked into the darkness.

The frame of time made the topic of conversation really hit her for the first time. Emma went on, without so much as a half-second pause. “And I...I like stability, I guess. So I don’t want to ruin what we have, but at the same time...how can we be really stable if I don’t know what I am to you?”

There was no response from Alyssa, stunned into mulling over the question, which only prompted Emma to keep talking. “I mean, I am all for you experimenting. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had my moments. But I want more than that. I want something real.” Emma cut herself off with a sigh and then “Dammit, Alyssa, I want you. And if I didn’t say that sometime soon I don’t know what I’d do with myself.”

The confession made Alyssa’s heart stop. “What do you think I saw you as?”

“I don’t know. An experiment? A way to piss people off? A joke? A way to get to Greg? Literally anything involving leaving and regretting everything?”

“I’m still here though, aren't I?”

“I guess so.”

“I told you Greg was a distraction from how bad I was at chem?"

“Yeah?”

“I still kissed you first?”

“Yeah.”

Somehow Emma didn't put two and two together. She was quiet. Alyssa kept talking. “Emma. You mean the world to me. Honestly, I thought you got the memo when I kissed you the first time.”

Emma couldn't help but laugh at the predicament they were in. “It was late! I was tired! I thought you were just being weird!... Good weird, I promise!”

Now Alyssa was the one to start laughing over the phone line. “Yeah, sorry about that,” she mumbled sheepishly once her giggling surpassed. She paused for a moment, trying to gauge what was coming next. Then before she could think, she was speaking again. “So why didn’t you tell me this then?”

“I…” Emma hesitated. “I kinda still thought you were straight. Wait, you didn’t actually say that yet, did you?”

Alyssa had to hold her breath for a moment to keep from guffawing into the air of the late night. “It was heavily implied. But yeah, I’m gay. Turns out Greg was a cover for more than one thing.” she lowered her voice to a whisper suddenly, as though Emma was never meant to hear her next thought. “It’s so weird to say that out loud.”

“Good. I--I mean, I’m glad this didn’t get weird.”

“Like you said, 5 months. You had to have thought something by then.”

“I mean...yeah, but...can I tell you something weird?”

“Shoot.”

“A couple of months before we met, there was this other girl.”

Unsure of how to reply, Alyssa just hummed as if to tell her to go on in one pitch. 

“We were never something serious by definition, and there were only a few days that we could do everything that almost-couples do, minus dates and being in public and shit because I was still closeted to everyone including the team, but it was serious to me. I mean, imagine it. You’re barely 14 and just trying to figure yourself out, and there’s this...this person who is so confident in all the things you’re not...so it just feels...right.”

Whether or not the prompt to imagine this was rhetorical or not, when presented with it, Alyssa thought of Emma. Emma, with her almost effortless charisma and drive. Emma, with a grand plan for what she wanted out of life. Emma, who was so sure about, well, herself, despite being stuck in Edgewater.

And it did feel right. It really did.

“Obviously things couldn’t stay that way,” Emma went on, shaking Alyssa from her thoughts. “I was pulled back to Edgewater and we kept up the balancing act between being what we could be and what we wanted for a while, and then you came along and whether or not it could be considered moral, I knew I wanted more than what I had with her.”

“What are you getting at?” Alyssa stuttered out.

“I was afraid of it for a while, maybe because of her, I dunno. But...I really like you. Obviously. And, uh, maybe we could go on a date sometime? Like, a real date? Nothing we’re meant to be studying, no third-wheeling with the team--regular teen junk.”

“Regular teen junk,” Alyssa echoed in a breath as if she couldn’t contemplate being anything below her mother’s idealized version of her. “Sounds nice,” she mused before stopping to think. “But how? Neither of us are out and we’d both get in hot water if we did come out. I mean, my mom, she’d--”

Emma cut Alyssa off, voice soft. “It’s okay. We’ll figure it out. No one has to know if you’re not ready.”

“Yeah, but--”

“What?”

“It’s stupid, actually, nevermind.”

“I bet it’s not.”

“What if I need a cover story? I can’t just...suddenly be going out with Kaylee and Shelby every weekend, that’d be too elaborate.”

Emma was silent, getting sucked into the hypothetical for several seconds. Alyssa didn’t have words to fill the silence, though, so she was left with that silence turning borderline painstaking, occasionally scratched away at by the seconds ticking on Emma’s clock like nails on a chalkboard.

“What if…” Emma started finally, trailing off at the sheer absurdity of the thought even before she could say it out loud.

“What?”

“What if you asked Greg to be your fake boyfriend?”

“ What ?” Alyssa repeated, this time with a little more bite than desperation, baffled by the concept of possibly having to kiss a boy. Emma’s cousin.

Ew, oh God no.

“Okay, okay ssh!” Emma blurted, reminding Alyssa of the time once again. “I know it sounds crazy, but he...he probably won’t mind…! And it makes sense because you told Kaylee and Shelby about him, not me.” 

There was a note of pride in Emma’s voice as it confirmed that everything she’d heard from Alyssa was, in fact, reality. That Alyssa had really chosen her.

Alyssa was still stunned by the proposition, but as Emma was explaining it she’d gotten her mouth to stop gaping long enough to muster, “You...you are a genius, Em.”

“First a chem genius and now a genius of bizarre romance plots that only happen in the fanfictions I read at one in the morning,” Emma stated bluntly. “It’s an honor.”

Alyssa had to bite back her laugh so hard that she nearly choked on her own breath. Emma was so amused by her barely audible wheezing that she didn't notice the footsteps moving towards her bedroom door until there was a sharp knock already there.

“Speaking of one in the morning, we should get some sleep.”

There was a disappointed grumble on the other end as Emma shot her gaze to the door.

“Fine, but only because you said so.”

“Okay, goodnight. I’ll text you in the morning and we'll talk to Greg.”

“Night, Em.”

Then she hung up on Alyssa. Silently, she wished she could have a moment’s peace to think about the conversation and what it might mean come morning, but of course, that couldn't happen.

“What do you want? If it's about my call I just hung up, so you can go back to bed instead of lecturing me.”

Surprisingly, the door still opened with a loud creak. Emma said nothing as the silhouette of her mother sunk into the darkness.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I don’t want you to dread talking to me, Emma, I’m your mother.”

“Little late for that one,” Emma muttered.

“I’m serious.”

“Okay, so…” Emma made some vague gesture with her hands. “Why now, what is this?”

“I’m not doing my job as a mother. I should be supporting what you do rather than forcing you into a box, regardless of what goes on in my life. And I may not understand it, but I should’ve never discounted what you love because it didn’t fit what I wanted from you.”

“This is coming from nowhere, I don’t understand.”

“One of my friends from college called today. She told me her son got arrested recently for drug possession, and it got me thinking.”

“Oh.” Emma could barely hear her own voice.

“I don’t tell you I love you often enough, but I do. Life just...gets in the way. I raised a good kid.”

Did you raise me, or was it the lack thereof that made me good? Emma thought, but she didn’t dare say such a thing. She said nothing at all, in fact, just letting her mother get the message that she didn’t want to have this conversation.

“Now, get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“You want me to do what ?”

 “It won’t even have to last very long! I could say you broke up with me after 3 months if you hate it.”

“Which implies that we’d only be dating for 3 months,” Emma quipped, jabbing a playful elbow into Alyssa’s side. “But it’s fine.”

“Alyssa...you said this was Emma’s idea?”

“Yeah?”

“Is this payback for Noah?”

“I swear to God I didn’t hear that,” Emma replied.

“Come on, all you have to do is cover for me when I’m out with Emma,” Alyssa pleaded. “And maybe occasionally hold my hand in front of Kaylee and Shelby,” she added after a beat.

“No kissing?” Greg asked.

Alyssa recoiled at even the idea and the slight motion made Emma chuckle under her breath. The sense of pride over Alyssa choosing her returned and left warmth in her chest.

“God, no.”

“...Fine, I guess it’ll take attention off of me, too.”

“Yes! Oh my God, you’re a lifesaver.”

After that, the rest of the summer flew by, and for a while everything was great. Then at the first swim practice of Emma’s junior year, a certain ginger showed up and changed the whole dynamic in the group.

Chapter Text

It started off with the same enthusiasm it always did. The group of teens chattered excitedly as if they hadn’t talked to each other nearly every day of summer vacation. Coach Boomer had something to say to all of the athletes as they entered the pool, too.

Nole, you look like you’ve grown 3 inches over the summer!

G-Man, you’ve got something on your neck.

Fox, Salix, I see summer vacation has done nothing to separate you two. Good to know!

The nickname Fox came shortly after state championships, in lieu of the way they had practically snuck up on the Garrison captain. Boomer still found the name Salix too hard to nickname. He was going to go with Salesman on account of them being the one to pitch “the worst crappy movies in the history of this Christmas party,” in Boomer’s words, but everyone had rejected it; the logic unbeknownst to him. He eventually came to the conclusion that it was because he hadn’t used the X in Salix’s name, and even if that wasn’t really the team’s reasoning, they all pretended it was for the same reason that Jess suddenly stopped rambling about the cute girl in her English class the moment her stepfather had pulled into the parking lot of the pizzeria to pick her up from Emma’s birthday celebrations.

New nicknames aside, everyone in the room was so familiar with each other that Emma worried that there were no new recruits interested in joining the team. Something about that idea was deeply unsettling to Emma. If the team tapered out of existence after she graduated, she wouldn’t be able to help but blame herself. After all, she had just been appointed captain, so would it not be her fault, at least a little bit?

As if to answer her silent prayers, the door burst open at that moment and all the heads in the room turned to look at the newcomer. She was a scrawny girl, posture slouched from carrying her backpack on one shoulder--or maybe it was always like that, Emma had no way of knowing after looking at her for only a moment. Her most striking feature from that distance, however, was her ginger hair, tied into neat braids. She took a few steps into the pool area before looking up and finding everyone looking at her. At that, the rest of the group except for Emma and her coach started exchanging glances. She should’ve known right then and there that things would change for the worse.

“Sorry, am I late?”

“No, not at all! We were just about to get started! You must be Winona, then?”

“You can call me Winnie.”

“Of course! You’re going to get a new nickname courtesy of me anyway. You should be a fun one, red hair and all. Hm...Fireball?”

“W-what?” Winnie stuttered, knowing that she was rarely ever angry enough to be called that.

“He gives second names to all of us,” Emma supplied to the newcomer. “It’s a rite of passage.”

“Yeah,” Salix called out suddenly, breaking the awkward silence from the rest of the group. “Name me already, coach!”

“You seem like a fireball,” Coach Boomer continued, paying no mind to Winnie, Emma, or Salix’s comments. “Certainly an impressive enough time at your tryout.”

Winnie opened her mouth to thank him for calling her impressive, but she was interrupted by a snicker from someone in the group. Emma looked up to see it was Jess. Since when was she such an asshole? Had Emma missed something completely?

“I get immediate red squirrel vibes,” she commented without thought, desperate to get away from that train of thought. Then she realized what she’d said. “If you don’t mind being called a squirrel, of course. I...I just thought, squirrels are cute, you know?”

Coach Boomer saved Emma from her own awkwardness, sort of. “And that’s our team captain, Emma Nolan. When you get comfortable around here it'll be Nole in no time, though. That was about as good of a greeting as you’ll get out of her, but what she lacks in social skills she makes up for in being an amazing swimmer.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Thanks, coach.”

Winnie ignored that comment in favor of addressing Emma’s previous one. “Oh, I don’t mind. Squirrels are pretty cool--have you ever seen one of their skulls?”

“I haven’t, but I gotta admit I’m curious now that you bring it up.”

There was more muffled laughter.

Boomer’s face shifted into an expression of slight terror at this. Why did he always get the weirdos? “Okay, that’s enough of that for now--you can introduce yourself more properly to the team after our obligatory first-meeting-of-the-year chat that’s basically me saying that if you drown or nearly die it’s not legally my fault since you already know how to swim,” his gaze shifted to Emma and he became much more lighthearted. “Or if you forget to eat, that’s not my liability either.”

“Jeez, coach, really coming at me today,” Emma joked.

“Always, Nole.”

The obligatory first-meeting-of-the-year chat went just as planned, and afterward, they hung out in the pool area for a few minutes and the rest of the team introduced themselves to Winnie. This left Emma on her own for a few minutes and she got lost in thought. Nobody had acted like that to Foster and Salix last year, and no one on the team had ever outright laughed at her or the group of now-juniors that were here right now. She thought about asking Noah if he’d had that experience--after all, he was the only freshman four years ago, but instead, another question came into her mind and didn’t leave.

“Hey, Jess, can I talk to you for a sec?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Emma pulled Jess away from the pool area and cornered her into the glass-paneled walls before she spoke.

“The hell has gotten into you? You’d never laugh at somebody like that.”

“You gotta admit that skull thing was weird.”

Emma was silently indignant of this statement, crossing her arms over her chest. Then she shifted the subject slightly.

“You were laughing before then, too.”

“Don't you remember summer camp in eighth grade?” Jess asked as if that held the key to understanding this.

“I remember tripping and falling into a bush of poison ivy and being in agony for a week?”

“Oh. Right…” Jess trailed off for a moment, not expecting that response. “Well, Winnie was like... eleven at the time and she nearly drowned, so I’m just shocked she can swim at all now.”

Emma gaped at her. “You're laughing about that?”

“Listen, I don't doubt she can swim now, but Daddy's money was probably a factor. You know he has a huge hotel chain.”

“Did you just--you know what, no. I'm done with this conversation.” Emma replied, voice firm with anger.

If only you weren't so nice when you let people in. You know better than anyone that people are liars and cheats. When we've been ignored for so long there's only so long we can go that way. Look at the little redemption story, esteemed guests! Gaze upon the prodigy who's nothing but kind and forgiving, and who do we have to thank for that?

...Well, I get it now that I don't get ahead with kindness.

Her timing was perfect too. As she went back into the pool area to get her bag, not even allowing Jess to look at her, let alone give a rebuttal, the rest of the team was filing out with theirs. This left her alone with Winnie for a moment.

“Hey. How’re you liking the rest of the team?

“It's...nice. You guys are nice,” Winnie said, and it was almost like she was surprised by that fact.

“Good, I’m glad,” Emma replied, leaving a beat before adding, “If anyone gives you shit, let me know and I'll get the whole team together to kick their ass.”

(Maybe she just wanted to destroy Jess right now, but that would pass.)

Winnie started laughing at the offer. Just a little. Not a full laugh, but a hesitant chuckle that grew over the span of a few seconds.

“What?! I'm serious,” Emma continued over Winnie’s laugh.

“You're gonna have a lot of ass to kick,” Winnie finally managed between heaves of laughter, making her tone so light-sounding that Emma didn't realize what she said--at least not what it implied.

“I’m willing to do it,” Emma retorted as she pulled her bag over her shoulder. The sound of her voice rang in the rather empty room. “I may not look strong, but do you know the amount of willpower it takes to stare at nothing but water and a black line for two or three hours straight?”

“...Why do you do this?” Winnie asked in response to the rhetorical question. It sounded completely genuine.

For a moment, Emma was baffled by the question. How was she meant to explain it? She couldn’t.

“Well, you have to see it for yourself.”

“I’m excited,” Winnie said, and again there was a hesitance to it.

“I am too,” Emma smiled. “Now, come on, let’s get to the bus.”

She wasn’t going to let her general anxiety about being harassed by the football team stop her from making this girl feel like a part of the team. She looked relieved at the thought of Emma going with her, so Emma fought the part of her that said this was a bad idea. The conversation was light over the never-ending thrum of the bus’s engine and the crashing waves of other chatter that she and Winnie were sandwiched between until the bus slowed as it was headed for a stop on a block of large, illustrious houses; so huge that only half of one of them was in sight from Emma’s view out the window. Based on Jess’s prior comments to Emma, this was unsurprisingly the point where Winnie moved her bag back over her shoulder, trying to figure out a way to close out their pleasantries.

“Do you think you could do me a favor?”

“That depends--what is it?”

“I could use some help picking out a better swimsuit than the one I have now. Do you think you could, uh, help me out with that this weekend?”

Winnie didn’t dare to mention that despite the large pool in her backyard and the fact that her siblings got new swimsuits every year, she hadn’t actually gotten a new one since she was probably around ten.

“Sure! I need a new one too so it’s convenient. Just give me your number and we’ll work something out, my parents probably won’t care anyway.”

Emma didn’t mention anything more herself as the bus lurched to a stop and Winnie hastily scrawled a series of numbers on Emma’s palm with the pen she’d been using to do her homework while they talked. Then she stood quickly, already walking off as Emma called out.

“I’ll text you when I get a chance.”

Again, it was vague, so without either girl knowing, they were both heading back to their personal hell.

As they were trying to figure out when and where to meet up, Jess texted Emma, saying she had been joking, she didn’t really mean what she said about Winnie. Emma told her that wasn’t a good enough excuse.

The Dick’s Sporting Goods in Edgewater, Indiana was one of the only stores left on “Main Street”, only kept in business by the various high school sports teams in the area and the local dads’ merciless need to do normal dad things like hunting, fishing and buying their sons rubber footballs in the hopes that they become town heroes. Somewhere across the street and about a half a block away there was the K-Mart, which explained Winnie’s grumbles of disdain about going into the “asshole jock store”, but Emma insisted that the K-Mart had nothing appropriate for good competition as she got out of her truck and slammed the door, waving away the cloud of dust such inertia created before she turned toward the store, taking with her the sight of an empty parking lot before she spoke.

“This is the closest I’ll ever get to a real dick,” Emma commented, figuring that testing the waters of the team’s casual gay jokes about themselves would be a better idea without the rest of the group there.

“Same,” Winnie muttered under her breath. Her cheeks were tinged pink with the excitement of rebellion and Emma chuckled softly at herself; the situation they were in.

That excitement died the moment they stepped inside and were met with the faces of Kyle and Jules, testing basketballs in the middle of the aisle and dropping curse words like it was nothing, and the store clerk didn’t seem bothered by it either.

“Well, if it isn’t the anorexic and the Fireface, what a pair,” Kyle started once he caught the ball he had been bouncing in the aisle and started trying to corner them by the door.

“The fuck are you two doing here, anyway?” Jules segued.

“That’s not any of your business,” Emma replied.

“I’m still gonna be curious, because as far as I’m concerned, Fiona the Ogre over here has absolutely no motor skills.” Jules continued regardless.

“Dude,” Kyle interjected suddenly. “Emma’s on the swim team, so the Ogre’s new foray into athletics probably doesn’t even need motor skills!”

“Okay, you wanna play like that?” Emma retorted. “You and me. Monday. The pool. Meet me before school, 5:30 sharp.”

“Ah, nah, I can’t. Got a test first period to study for. Can’t be wet and sore for that,” Jules tried.

“So do I. Don’t see me complaining, do you?”

“Well--”

“Kyle,” Emma cut Jules’s blabbing off immediately. “You up for the offer?”

“That’s mad early, I’m not getting up!”

“That’s what I thought,” Emma shot back before turning back to Winnie. “Let’s go.”

Winnie was eager to escape the commotion, but Emma wasn’t quite done, turning to the boys to bark “And you better not give us any more bull, you hear me?”

If they were going to do much else, neither girl could see it.

They were on the opposite side of the store by the time Winnie finally spoke again, voice meek and slightly muffled by her being engrossed in racks of swimsuits. “You actually get up that early?”

“Oh, yeah,” Emma shrugged as she pulled a plain yellow one piece from the rack beside the one Winnie was browsing. “Coach doesn’t require it--I’m the only one there, I just like the quiet. Nothing but me, my thoughts, and my times.”

“Were you bluffing about that test?”

“No.”

“Why do you do this?” Winnie found herself repeating, this time more exasperated than she had been earlier in the week.

The answer came to Emma much easier than it had just a few days ago. “What can I say? I love it. What about you?”

“Huh?”

“All this talking about me--what about you? Why are you doing this?”

Winnie hesitated before deflecting back to Emma. “We're gonna ignore the repeated comments about you not eating?” she joked.

“It was one time!” Emma replied, just as light.

It wasn’t necessarily one time, but that was the worst it had gotten and it wasn’t exactly her fault to start with.

“Okay, okay…! What about this one?”

The swimsuit Winnie pulled from the rack wasn't too unlike Emma's except for its emerald green color and the sleeves that went halfway down the arm.

“Not too bad...” Emma muttered once she got a look at it, trailing off to get a closer look. “Yeah, I think this could work. Wanna go try it on?”

Emma slipped behind the curtain with Winnie's permission to make sure the suit fit properly, a swim cap also in hand.

“Hm...You could probably go a size down if you wanted,” she stated plainly after a moment of looking at the slightly younger girl.

Winnie went red. “W-what?” She stuttered.

“It's only a suggestion. It helps to shave off a few seconds. If you're not comfortable with it, th--” A buzz from Emma's pocket cut her off. “Sorry, do you mind if I check who’s texting me?”

“No, not at all.”

“Why are you calling me this early on a Saturday?” Greg grumbled into the phone, voice thick with sleep.

“It's one in the afternoon,” Alyssa deadpanned. There was a beat of awkward silence from Greg before she continued. “Right. So. I was talking to Kaylee and Shelby, and--”

“Oh, God.”

“And they're already planning this party for Thanksgiving break after the football game.”

“What does this have to do with me?”

“I was getting there, Nolan,” Alyssa replied, snark palpable. She sucked in a breath before forcing out, “They’re insistent on compatibility checking us, or whatever.”

Greg groaned in reply.

“I tried to avoid this, I promise. I told them you had a meet, but they still said for you to just come later.”

“You're kidding.”

“I'm not.”

“I hate your friends.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“So when is this?”

“I think they're thinking the Sunday before Thanksgiving at Kaylee’s house. Her parents booked a business trip, so what a time to wreck the house,” Alyssa sighed. “I’ll keep you updated.”

“Is that all?”

“I think so, yeah. Someone had to wake you up.”

“Fine, you might be right about that.”

“I love being right,” Alyssa commented, smug.

“Quick question?”

“Yeah?”

“Why is Emma such a simp for that?”

Alyssa choked on her laughter. “Shut up, oh my God!”

“Am I wrong?” 

“...No.”

emma help how do i be cool at parties

parties with alcohol specifically

Emma stared at her phone in pure confusion for a moment. “I'll get back to him later,” she eventually murmured. I’ll see if I can find this a size down for you and I'll try mine on while you're putting it on.

“Cool.”

Both of the swimsuits fit well and they were out of the store as quickly as they were in. Of course, this didn't stop Kyle and Jules from trailing behind them.

“Hey, Emma! Does the carpet match the drapes?” Kyle called out from the door.

“Pretty sure you’re bordering on sexual harassment now! That’s a crime!” Emma called back.

Again, Winnie ran from the confrontation as Emma faced it head-on. Kyle wasn’t too phased by Emma’s accusations, and she silently hoped it was simply because he didn’t understand the implication it had as opposed to just not caring, but either way she wasn’t about to have this conversation, instead unlocking her truck and following Winnie inside after she watched Jules flip her the bird from an even further distance. Whatever. She had other things to worry about, like the younger girl in the passenger seat of her pickup with wide, glassy eyes that stared semi-vacantly out of the window.

“You okay?”

“Sorry, I don’t like it when people yell.”

“Ah. Fuck.”

“What?”

“Yelling is my coping mechanism for everything,” Emma said flatly, with a completely straight face.”

“So you weren’t kidding about fighting people.”

“Of course not,” Emma replied, layering her voice with faux-offense. 

“They do that often?”

“At least once a week.”

“So it’s not just me. Good to know.” 

“Jess told me about…” Emma trailed off, realizing that she didn’t know what it was despite Jess’s explanation.

“Oh, great,” Winnie muttered, voice thick with sarcasm. “Just so you know, I could swim then too.” 

“I didn’t say you couldn’t,” Emma reminded before a question popped into her head. “Why do they even hold that against you?”

Emma didn’t specify who, but both of them could fill in the gap with ‘pretty much every teen in Edgewater’.

Winnie shrugged. “Oh, y’know, rich parents are probably enough on their own.”

Emma squinted at that; even from her upbringing, she couldn’t understand why someone would go to these lengths to hate someone well-off without incentive.

“Which implies there’s more?”

“Oh! Yeah! They don’t think I’m their biological kid and it nearly wrecked their marriage! I am now the devil,” Winnie made the proclamation so casually and as if it held such humor behind it that Emma almost didn’t understand what was being said for several seconds.

“...What?”

“I’m gonna prove them all wrong though. That’s what I’ve decided. I won’t be their pawn anymore,” Winnie supplied when she noticed Emma suddenly hesitate. There was another beat of silence before Emma found the nerve to continue.

“We’re gonna get along just fine.”

“You and me...against the world?” Winnie offered. Again, there was a hesitance to it, but this held a note of something else, too. Hope.

“Against freaking Kyle,” Emma muttered with the confusing combination of both a grin and an eye-roll.

They didn’t stand a chance against Kyle, or any of his cronies, and they knew that better than anyone, but for a fleeting moment in the back of Emma’s pickup truck, with sunlight pouring through the dusty windows, they chose to believe otherwise.

“I should probably get to the driver’s seat,” Emma grumbled after a pause. “We should get home.”

Winnie could sense the feeling that Emma didn’t actually want to move based on the resentment that lined the words. It was clear that she had no desire at all to get out of this parking lot where, as Emma ‘so lightly’ put it, both of them had just been harassed. She knew the feeling well herself; that was the only way she could pinpoint it so fast. Going between school and home was just two slightly different ways to be punished. What Emma was dreading, however, she didn’t know. Still, she could work with that to both of their advantages.

“Mm, this was boringly quick.”

“In and out, just like you wanted,” Emma replied flatly, seemingly not getting the hint.

“Yeah, obviously I don’t wanna stay in there, but,” Winnie said, elongating the vowel of the last word.

This was when Emma understood, and her eyes widened a little as her features eased into a smirk. “Oh? What are you thinking?”

“Ice cream?” Winnie suggested, and Emma’s eyes popped even further because she knew this was referring to the Coldstone half an hour outside town--the same one the team went to after the championships. It was reserved for special occasions, though, and there was nothing about today that made it special. It was a typical day in early October and she was simply lounging in the back of her pickup truck and staring off into space because Winnie never looked her in the eyes, which never mattered to her anyway.

She was simply getting a chance to be a kid despite everything. Despite Kyle and Jules, and whatever was going on with Jess, and all of the jokes about her being gay, and her parents, and life in Edgewater as a whole. And even though she’d had a few afternoons of nothing but those moments, they weren’t something she’d take lightly, and she was fairly certain by now that Winnie was thinking the same thing. When was the last time she’d had a friend?

“I can pay for yours if you want?” Winnie practically pleaded, and it was then that Emma realized she had fallen silent.

She questioned for a moment if the girl had planned this--Why else would she just have that spare money on her?--before she remembered some people could do that. Then she fell into the trap of overthinking once more. Would Winnie think Emma was using her for her money? Would she be accused of accepting a handout when she got home, even though she’d always saved her money for mostly the hypothetical benefit of her father? And what would be the consequences of that on a Saturday?

“Emma,” Winnie was begging now, and shit, she hadn’t said anything yet.

“Sorry! Uh…”

She took a glance out the window, spotting Jules and Kyle leaving the store for real this time, carrying several bags of new equipment for whenever it was that basketball season would start and decided: Fuck it.

“Uh, yeah, I’d--I’d really appreciate it.”

That would wind up being a great decision, however inconsequential it seemed at first. Somehow, fate was binding them to make up for a lost moment they didn’t know they’d lose.

“Great!”

“ Ugh , I need to move now,” Emma groaned, exaggerating each word.

“At least you have a good reason.”

Jess may have made fun of the fact that Greg skipped out on every dry land day his freshman year, but, truth be told, she hated it too. It could best be described as a field day--in the worst way possible. The team was forced to run 2 miles on the track around the football field while the football team was practicing, which was usually pretty uncomfortable for the girls on the team for obvious reasons, but it was made worse for Jess when her stepfather would start trying to coach them, and more importantly his son, from a distance. It was always a painful reminder that Nick was the favorite despite his tendency to be a jerk, if only because he could score a touchdown about once a game. It wasn't fair, but that was how it was. Jess came second. She was the second-best kid, the second-best swimmer. The one thing she never was, though, was Emma’s second-best friend. 

At least, that was how it was until this Winnie character showed up, embodying Emma at her most vulnerable from her first seconds at the pool. Jess still remembered being in seventh grade and  introducing herself to her new team when Emma barged in, blue eyes wild, cheeks red and voice squeaking, with the appearance of handprints still embedded in her arms, muttering something about being shoved down the stairs.

Jess would come to find that Emma was a very rebellious and sometimes violent child, unlike Winnie was now. She never had any problems being scolded, yelled at, or otherwise picked on even before the incident that would take two of her grandparents’ lives. (Jess always suspected that Emma’s earlier memories of her dad were somehow altered by the thin veneer of childhood innocence because of that, but she could never be sure.) Afterward, though, she turned violent at times, getting loud enough that the middle school coach’s first words to her were. Oh. It’s you. And Jess, being the most trustable swimmer since she was Boomer’s kid, was left in charge of handling these outbursts, which were not unlike her incident with Alyssa before they became friends, not that Jess knew about that. 

She knew everything about Emma once she finally cracked under the pressure of grief and her father’s newfound addiction, and it was hard at first, but at least Emma had something consistent and honest after months of total turbulence around her. So what did it mean for Jess if this torch was being passed on?

She’d be second-best to Emma, too.

A whistle broke Jess from her thoughts. Ah, the favorite child getting away with it again.

“Nick, don’t catcall my friends, that’s weird!”

“I’m messing around, it’s fine!”

Speaking of friends, Emma was several paces ahead as Jess shifted her attention. “Hey, would you slow down? I wanna talk to you.”

Emma obeyed wordlessly.

Jess peered behind her to check if Winnie, currently sandwiched between Greg and Salix distance-wise, might be able to hear her.

“She’s pretty good,” Jess mused.

“You wouldn’t be surprised if you weren’t such a jerk to her.”

“I’m really sorry about that,” Jess finally admitted, if only because she had no way to prove herself right anymore. “It was selfish and rude and I don’t know what came over me.”

“I don’t know either.”

“So...are we okay?”

“What? Did you think I was gonna curse you out over a disagreement?”

“I...wouldn’t put it past you.”

“Okay, fair.”

But, as some people might put it, sticking together was easier said than done, and after this disagreement, who were they to know what would happen to them? Especially when an ultimatum came into play?

Chapter Text

Just seven hours before, at eight in the morning, no one on the swim team knew what was coming, especially not Emma herself. The only things that made the day an anomaly was that it was one of the rare occasions on which a swim meet took place on a Sunday. This was almost to be expected the week of Thanksgiving break, however, since they had the upcoming Friday off from school. That and the fact that Greg still had that stupid party to go to, of course, but right now that was the last thing on anybody’s mind as they pulled into the school parking lot, preparing to head to another school 20 minutes away for a meet. The driver’s side door of Emma’s truck popped open first, and she looked around to see if her coach was there as she  strode up to her cousin before cracking a joke.

“Did somebody order a beard?”

Alyssa followed out the passenger side door upon a few chuckles of laughter from Emma’s teammates, though she paid no mind to Emma’s joke.

“Okay, I think you’re gonna need to explain that a third time.”

“It’ll make more sense when we do it,” Emma replied without even turning to look at Alyssa.

“But when you flip the cards won’t people know what you have on the other side?”

“I mean, yes, but--that’s not the point, Lys.”

“So...what is the point?”

The point is, I got sick of normal Uno and I found this in Gran’s attic.”

“Since when is anything you find in an old woman’s attic a good idea to use?” Salix asked.

“My Gran’s not old,” Greg called out as Emma said at the same time, “Do you think she’s some witch?”

Salix faltered at that but in their place Noah spoke. “I’ve been to her place, and she does not act her age, so it wouldn’t surprise me if she was a witch.

There was a brief chorus of stutters from both Emma and Greg before Emma settled on saying “You know what, that’s fair.”

“So, why don’t you explain your Gran’s witchcraft for the rest of us?”

“I’m waiting until Jess gets here or else I’ll have to do it seventeen times.”

“And Alyssa got a sneak peek because…?”

“Because I got excited,” Emma mumbled, which sent a chorus of laughter through the parking lot again, this time prompting a small giggle from Winnie, who, up until now, was just watching the scene unfold.

Unfortunately, over the past month and a half or so of being on the team, Winnie would come to find that not even everyone here liked her. It started a month ago at the first meet of the season when Winnie saw the kids from the other school piling toward the pool, every word echoing in the room. And they were shouting--God, why did they feel the need to be so loud?!

“Win, you alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” Winnie found the strength to stammer although all of a sudden the weight of the competition came crashing down on top of her. This was a team that had made it to state championships and won. Twice. Could she really live up to that?

Emma saw right through the facade and pulled her away from the growing clamor, to the spot where she'd had plenty of freak-outs in the past.

“Tell me what's really going on.”

“I can’t do this,” the words came out in a rush.

Emma didn’t even have time to formulate a reply before Winnie continued. “I’m gonna fuck it up and they’ll all be mad at me and they’ll all have been right all along and my parents--it’s only gonna be another reminder that I’m a disappointment no matter what I do.”

Holy shit. They really were the same person.

“Hey, no, listen. Look at me. You’re on this team for a reason, okay? Coach sees real potential in you--something nobody thought I had when I was first starting out.”

“But you’re--you’re the captain of the team,” Winnie stammered once more, baffled by the confession.

“Yeah. All this to say, if I can do it, so can you, and if no one else sees that, then at the very least Coach and I do. And even if you don’t do that well, it’s your first meet. You’ll have so many chances to get better, screw what everyone thinks right now...”

Emma didn’t add that Winnie’s parents may never approve of her (and screw that too) because it was a harsh reminder for herself as well.

“...I’m proud of you no matter what, kid.”

“Thanks, Emma.”

“Anytime,” Emma replied with a smile on her face that looked so real that Winnie had no choice but to believe it was real. “Just take a breath, and whenever you’re ready, we’ll head back out there and you’re gonna do just fine.”

They all started staring at Winnie like she had six heads and Emma couldn’t help but find it a little hypocritical. Fox and Salix, she could understand. They hadn’t known Emma for long enough to realize that she had moments like this too, but coming from Jess? It felt absolutely despicable, as though she never loved Emma unconditionally in the first place. Jess replied to this saying Winnie had nothing to freak out that badly over, and judging by the reactions of those around her, they agreed.

Emma was jolted from her thoughts by the sound of another car door opening, and Coach Boomer wasted no time, starting to talk before he even got out of his vehicle. Jess followed out the passenger door as he started to speak.

“Sorry I’m late, folks. Had some delays getting out of the house this morning.”

“Care to tell them why?” Jess budged in, and Emma swore there was something...off about it. “I mean, come on, they at least deserve an explanation.”

“It’s just Nicholas wanting to go to some stupid party with his girlfriend.”

Alyssa, being friends with Nick’s girlfriend, found this proclamation strange. “He got up before noon to ask to go to a party?”

“I’m just as shocked as you,” Boomer grunted. “But we don’t have to worry about that right this second, we’re already running a bit behind,”

“Right, yeah.”

The bus ride consisted of the usual clamor and chaos of the group crowding on the back of the bus as if to pretend they were the coolest kids in school. Alyssa crammed herself between Emma and Greg, three to a seat, just because no one wanted to sit alone in the rush. Greg and Alyssa started bickering, from either side of Emma, about whether or not it would be appropriate for them to be posting pictures at this idiotic teenage hormone pool to really sell the narrative of them being together. Emma wanted to laugh at the predicament, she really did, but she knew that if she and Alyssa were being honest about their situation to everyone around them, they’d be arguing about this for an entirely different reason, and it wasn’t fair. Why were straight people downright expected to shove their love in people’s faces while Emma had to shove hers away or risk…

Risk what was going to happen in a matter of hours.

Trying to ignore the burning of envy in her chest over that fact, Emma slipped an arm around Alyssa’s shoulder discreetly, so as to not alert Coach Boomer of the motion from the front of the bus, trying to savor what little freedom she got around her friends, remembering that she was lucky for even that. She didn’t dare risk kissing her girlfriend in front of anyone for fear of being found out, but it was fine because there were eight people in the entirety of Edgewater who she knew for sure wouldn’t directly hurt her for it. That didn’t include what they’d do if she was found out, but there was no time to dwell on it. 

Yet.

“Well, whatever you decide on, you can borrow my truck if you need it,” she supplied, desperate to end the argument before it escalated and gave her a headache. “Just don’t be gross or anything,” she added just to be safe.

“Right,” Alyssa shot back with a knowing look to Emma. “Sure thing.”

Can you explain this version of Uno now?” Noah finally chimed in, clearly sick of the relationship talk, based on both real and fake relationships. Emma could assume he was feeling the same contempt as she was about the situation their partners were in. Emma was glad for a change of subject.

“I don’t want to explain it three more times so we’ll do it as we go,” she replied, giving a playful jab to Alyssa before moving her arm off of her shoulder. Alyssa just rolled her eyes as Emma continued.

“Basically--” she cut herself off, sifting through the deck in an intense focus for a moment before pulling out a card with a square symbol that had an arrow on its side swerving outward. “Every card has two sides, light and dark. You start with the light side until this card gets played, at which point everyone switches to the dark side.”

Emma started filtering through the cards again, trying to find the other variants in the deck. In that time frame, Fox made a comment. 

“I second Alyssa’s thoughts on this--who decided to make it?”

“Uh, they wanted money. But at least it’s not Dos. That is a crime against humanity,” Emma muttered, not looking up from the deck of cards. “You guys dodged a bullet with this, though. I could’ve brought the version where instead of a draw pile there’s a giant contraption that shoots varying amounts of cards at you.”

“Save it for December,” Salix replied after a beat of awkward silence. “I’m already trying to find a horrendous movie.”

“Why are you all the way that you are?” Jess sighed.

There was nothing different about the meet, it was the same thing it was all the time. James Madison dominated, Emma came in first, Jess was somewhere right behind her. There was no noteworthy chaos on the bus ride home, either, and this is what Emma found to be the most ominous thing about the day. Something that was there that morning wasn’t there now. And sure, they had just spent hours in a pool, but somebody always had something to say to rile everybody back up, if only until they got back home.

“You said we could take the truck?” Greg asked when they got back off the bus.

Nonchalantly, Emma tossed him the keys. “Take good care of her, and don’t die, alright?”

“Darla is in capable hands.”

Two and a half hours before, at half-past 12, Alyssa and Greg arrived at Kaylee’s party, only half an hour after it had technically begun. Sure, it was a bit of an early start for a teenager’s rave, but they found they could get away from their parents at church since they had other things to do that didn’t require the presence of pesky 16-year-olds. Surely it was planned that way. Greg found himself latching onto Alyssa’s hand whether or not it was originally agreed upon simply because he didn’t know what to do with himself walking into such an environment, that, the moment the door was opened, the inside smelled faintly of the odor of cheap American beer and the floor buzzed with the bass of music. Alyssa looked between him and his hand for a moment before realizing that there was no way she could undo that action before somebody noticed. Most noticeably Kaylee, who was marching toward the pair steadfast.

“Hey ‘Lyssa! Hey Greg, I told you you could make it!”

Greg just nodded somewhat egregiously in response, and Alyssa quickly and quietly smacked his wrist before returning her own hand to where it was.

“Either of you want a beer? We’ve got a shit ton in the fridge.”

“Oh, no thanks,” Greg replied before Alyssa could get a word in. “I’m gonna end up driving you home, aren’t I?” he whispered to her.

“Oh,” Kaylee squealed when she picked up on what Greg was saying. “I see why Alyssa likes you, you’re no fun!”

“Hey,” Alyssa interjected, but Kaylee paid no mind unless you were to count the abrupt tone change when it came to talking about Greg right in front of his face.

“I must say it’s kind of a refresher, though. Nice change of pace. I mean, I cannot name one girl on the whole cheer squad whose boyfriend would stay sober just to drive their girlfriend home.”

Not liking Kaylee’s sudden, almost condescending tone, Greg jammed himself in the conversation again. “That’s--not the only reason. I’m not discrediting Alyssa’s ability to drive, I mean, my Gran would probably be pissed at me if I drank anything too.”

“Again, boring himbo. Have you ever even had alcohol?”

“No?”

“This should be interesting,” Kaylee commented before she turned on her heel to walk away and call out to her other best friend. “Hey, Shelbs! You were right about the boy being lanky as hell! Come say hey!”

The moment Kaylee turned away, Greg squeezed Alyssa’s hand for a moment to grab her attention and he rolled his eyes. “Is she always like this?”

“Yes,” Alyssa replied flatly.

“Jesus, she’s exhausting.”

Alyssa just nodded quickly and pulled him toward the mass of popular kids who barely acknowledged his existence before now, if at all. “It’ll be fine.”

At the same time, two and a half hours before, at half-past twelve, there were two boys across town plotting their revenge, waiting for the right moment to strike.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Jules asked. They were about to get in the car to head to Kaylee’s house.

“If she wants to put some dirt on our names, we can throw some right back.”

“This is...this is completely different!”

“Fine. Be a pussy. It’s not like any of our other jokes hurt her.”

“This involves another person!”

“Who also hasn’t been hurt by our jokes. That’s all it is, dude, a joke.”

“I can’t do it.”

“So I’ll do it without you, it’s fine.”

Two hours and fifteen minutes before was actually the point where it could be argued that the nightmare began, as Kyle pulled up to Kaylee’s house and strolled in all too casually for what he was about to do. The host of the event was just as oblivious as she greeted him.

“Hey Kyle! I was worried you’d never show up! Where’s Jules?”

“He flaked on me last minute. But you’ll see why I was late in a second. You have no idea what we saw.

It was purposefully vague and happening later than imagined, but that was a part of the plan. Let them forget about what happened and then leave them helpless to fix the narrative if everyone saw it at once. What exactly did he have against Emma and Winnie at that point that led him here? It almost didn’t matter now, it was nearly too far behind him in his sheer hatred for him to recall it.

An elementary-school-aged Kyle ran up to Emma on the playground. She was sitting by herself in the shade of an oak tree on that day somewhere on the border between spring and summer.

“Emma, Greg told me he wanted to play pretend house with me.”

“Okay?”

“That’s gross!”

“Why?”

“Because boys don’t kiss other boys and that's a girl game!”

“My gran says it’s okay.”

“You’re not like him, are you?”

“What?”

“You’re not gonna kiss a girl?” his tone was accusatory, so Emma replied on autopilot.

“No.”

And no one ever told him that was the wrong way to think, so he kept on thinking that way and of course, it spiraled into other things by the time he met Winnie Thompson at summer camp and he asked her out. She rejected him, and he was determined to figure out why in the pool that day.

“Are you gay, Winona?”

“Don’t call me that. And what is your obsession with gay people? Are you …?”

“Of course not, fucking idiot. I go to church. Don’t you?”

“No?”

At that moment he lunged for her legs, intent on holding her under the water.

“Let go of me, you--”

Before Winnie could get an insult out, all she could see was the blue of the water around her. Some people start screaming. Others started laughing. Either way, the lifeguard didn’t seem to care, or he didn’t notice through the clump of kids surrounding the anarchy.

“You know that’s a sin, right?”

She came up for air for a moment and the sky looked more grey than it did twenty seconds ago.

“How was I supposed to know?”

Blue.

This was the wrong way to go about it. She saw that now, so she started screaming for help.

Back to the present, Kaylee responded perfectly to Kyle’s prompt. “This better be good.”

“Oh, it is. So good, that I think everyone should see it on the TV.”

Kaylee turned back to the crowd of guests, whose interests were all now piqued. There was an array of curious mutters and she spoke over them.

“What do y’all think?”

Another array of mutters, this time more affirmative.

“Let’s do it, then!”

Greg should’ve known it couldn’t be good when all thirty or so guests gathered in the living room and he smelled alcohol on all of their breaths. It got worse very abruptly when the cell phone video started shakily, and Kyle from the video didn’t waste a moment before he spoke.

“We’ve got some dykes in this store, I swear to God.”

At Greg’s side, Alyssa flinched at the video. He wanted to tell her to be more subtle about it but honestly, he had no idea what was happening yet so he just leaned in a little closer and whispered. “You alright?”

Alyssa said nothing, shoving herself into the crook of Greg’s neck and trying to pretend it was Emma.

“Wait, dude, come a little closer, you might catch something,” Jules from the video chimed in. 

Everyone there knew the voice.

The camera moved closer to the dressing rooms where a faint conversation could be heard from inside when Kyle stopped providing context as he moved the camera.

“Nolan straight up just...walked in there...there’s someone else in there too, wait ‘til you see who, it makes so much sense.”

Once Greg got over the shock of the immediate use of a slur, he realized what was being implied, but what was he supposed to say, because obviously the fact that Emma was dating Alyssa and she had never stepped foot in that store didn’t mean this didn’t happen. Either way, how was he meant to intervene with Emma’s real, terrified girlfriend clinging to him?

“...Could probably go a size down if you wanted...” the voice on the recording was muffled, but it was Emma.

“What?” Came Winnie's voice, weaker than Emma's.

Fuck.

“Yo, Nolan, chill out! Damn!” Kyle’s commentary was taunting.

“Jesus Christ! What are you doing to Winnie, man?”

It seemed to be deliberately covering Emma's next words.

“She's probably enjoying it.”

“She doesn't enjoy anythi--oh shit, move!” Jules cried out to the cameraman.

The camera started to shake and tilt but a glimpse of Emma's blonde hair was caught.

“Winnie’s never even cursed, what makes you think she'd fuck a girl deliberately?” Jules continued.

“So you think she's--”

“Yeah.”

The video cut after showing Emma re-entering the dressing room.

“I knew she was off somehow,” Kaylee was first to speak after the bombshell exploded in the room. “ Never talked about boys once.”

“Never thought she'd go that far, though,” Shelby muttered.

“A dyke is gonna get desperate around here, Shelbs.”

“It's not like this is new information,” someone else chimed in, and suddenly there was a roar of laughter and countless recalls of little signs of Emma's oddities that led to this. Only one hit Greg's ears and it came from Kyle.

“I thought we were just making fun of her for being an ugly nerd who can't get guys, but I guess not.”

Two hours before, Emma got a call from Greg. He wasted no time with any sort of context or explanation to it, and Emma could hear the thump of bass through the phone. It appeared that he was being dramatic, as always, for a moment. Then Emma picked up the call.

“Are you home yet?” The voice was panicked.

“No? I’m taking the long way, I always do.”

“You better find a shortcut.”

“What? Greg, what is happening?”

“Get home fast and pack a bag just in case,” he said, ignoring Emma's question.

“Greg!” she snapped back. “I know you're trying to avoid telling me what happened, but that's not going to help.”

“I don’t even know, it happened so fast--Kyle--” Greg stammered. Saying it only made him panic harder and Emma swore she heard faint hyperventilating either from Greg or...maybe Alyssa? 

This was the only sound she needed to finally register the gravity of the situation, but the noise continued, and the phone was jostled for a few seconds, covering it up. Finally, Emma had enough. “Greg!” she barked before softening her tone. “Please. I need to know.”

“Right. Sorry. U-um, there was...he had a video. But the thing is this time they believe it.”

Emma felt herself stop walking but didn’t actually register it. Her hand loosened its grip on her phone. That meant--

The blare of a car horn interrupted her thoughts. She turned around at the sound, not used to hearing it, only to find a car coming to a stop in front of her, still moving slightly as she stared. Shaking off the panic from that quickly, she mouthed a quick apology, hoping the driver could see from the window, and then kept walking. “How much do they know? Is Alyssa okay?”

“Well, they don’t know, as long as you’re not fucking Winnie on the side.”

Emma choked and sputtered on the air she had breathed in.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, but they think you fucked her and they mean it. You’re not gonna get out of this one. Everyone saw it at once.”

Emma was silent. Was she supposed to know how to reply? Somewhere in that silence, she heard a faint knock on a door on the other end, and then a scream. Kaylee was loud when she was drunk.

“Are you done yet?!”

“Sorry...uh, gotta go,” Greg whispered.

The line went dead before Emma could reply, and suddenly she was frozen again.

Oh God oh God oh--

She broke into a run.

1 hour and 45 minutes before, Emma arrived at home and ran up the stairs of the porch. She was careful not to slam the door but it didn’t matter anyway. The moment she walked in, she heard the sound of a football game filling the house. Thankful for the distraction, she sprinted up the stairs unnoticed and began shuffling through her closet for her long-abandoned suitcases, shoving in what few outfits she actually liked that her family let her wear and the few trinkets she had that made the room feel like hers. A framed picture of her and her grandfather, a small stuffed animal she’d had since she could remember, the items were few and far between. There was only one that stuck out.

Countless photos of her and the swim team were in an album she kept on the shelf. She’d had it since seventh grade and kept up with it even now. Still, in this context, catching sight of the book was enough to make her stop in her tracks, gingerly picking it up from where it lay. She didn’t even think to wonder what would happen with the team after all of this because they were one of the few good things she had. Slowly, she opened the book to the first page and was met with the slightly appalling sight of her and Greg in seventh grade. Emma remembered this moment; her Gran insisted on taking a picture after their first meet. Overcome with a feeling of cringeworthy nostalgia, she propelled herself onto the next pages. For the added experience, they were all in chronological order, designed for her to go back to someday and see how much she had changed. It was a reminder that she had lived through the horrendous-ness of middle school and even found something good. The element of hyper-organization haunted her because she remembered not wanting to live and thinking this would be the book of memories she left behind for the team if they cared to have it. But something had changed, and she couldn’t tell when it happened, but at some point, she started smiling, and all of a sudden she was grinning in every photograph, all the way up to two weeks ago, where, by some fluke, James Madison lost the meet, but that didn’t matter because Noah was running around with his phone, pretending it was a microphone and asking everyone How do you feel that we’ve finally lost our winning streak ? and then taking a photo of the group, whose almost satirical response to this was to start throwing peace signs at the camera.

Emma remembered her reply to this as clear as day.

“I’m excited!... If any of our future competitors are watching,” she said, playing into Noah’s news reporter-like demeanor. “I hope this lights a fire under your asses, because I’m coming back strong and I love a challenge!”

She stared at the photo for a moment longer before a yell broke her from her trance-like state and she shut the book with much more haste than she had opened it with at the sound, shoving it into the suitcase and locking it shut before moving that, and her backpack, closer to the door.

“Emma! Get down here!”

“Coming!”

Don’t fuck this up and you can undo all of that and pretend it didn’t happen no matter how often you think about it.

“Word’s going around that you’re screwing around with a girl,” her father said harshly before she could even get all the way down the stairs.

“They’re just joking around, Dad. They always do.”

“You don’t make yourself a hard target,” he shot back, stone-cold. His wife had a different approach, but Emma found this one much more dubious.

“How long, then?”

“Years.”

“I knew something was up with that Jess girl.”

“No, it was some ginger on the video,” her father interjected at the same time Emma cried out “Hey! Don’t talk about her like that!”

Once she got over the initial shock of her father remembering Jess wasn't a ginger, she realized the only way he would've seen whatever video Greg was talking about earlier was if it were currently posted on the local church’s Facebook page and she was being condemned by Edgewater’s most powerful people.

“How do they get away with making you guys have those competitions on Sundays? It's ripped you from God.” Emma's mother interjected again, ignoring his point. “You've seen that girl who has shorter hair than you and that boy growing his hair out like some faggot, they’re sinners.”

If the best thing in her life did that, maybe she didn't want God. She hadn't for years, knowing that was what drove this reaction. But she didn't say that. She didn't dare out Fox or Salix to save face, either.

“Seperation of Church and State,” she replied instead, as cool as possible. “It's in the constitution.”

“Don't play smart with me,” her mother warned before turning sickeningly sweet. “Had I known about these jokes I would've done something.”

No, you don't listen! You don't care! You didn't even hear me come in, did you know I left?! Emma's mind screamed, but the thought of her mother caring at all, combined with her desire to still have a home compelled her to be more passive. 

“Like?”

“I’d ask pastor Joe to fix you.”

Ah. Shit. She knew she wasn't what her parents wanted, but for it to be stated so bluntly? That stung.

“Think about it,” her mother continued sweetly, knowing the exact way to get her from vulnerable to completely conceding. “We could forget this ever happened and I’d have my daughter back, just like we talked about.”

That had been yet another promise she had broken but that didn't mean Emma didn't consider it for at least a split second before her dad spoke again.

“Until that happens I don't want you in my house.”

“You didn't even give me a chance to defend myself!”

“Fine. Here's a deal. You give me your phone so I know you're not dating any girl, whether or not it's that Winnie girl, because I know you said they like to joke, and you stay. Even if you are dating a girl, you stay if you give me the phone. If you don't, your little girlfriend stays protected, but you leave.”

“Either way you’ll tell people,” Emma stammered.

“That would be my responsibility as a citizen of this town.”

Emma hated to admit she considered the options, despite the fact that she hated this house. She wanted so badly to see her dad become who he once was again, and she never would if she left. He would've done this either way, but Emma didn't want to think about that. The stronger thought was that if she gave into temptation and stayed, Alyssa would certainly break up with her for outing her and she couldn't live with that thought. Alyssa made her so happy. Alyssa understood her. Unlike them.

“Make up your mind.”

“I…”

He stepped forward and grabbed a wrenching hold onto her wrists, enough that it would leave a mark.

She hadn't been in this much trouble in a long time. One of his claws moved to her jaw and pushed endlessly. She wondered if he was breaking a bone until she looked down and saw his hand drifting to her neck. He was close enough to her that she could smell the beer on his breath that never went away anymore.

Was he choking her?

“I won't do it!” Emma gasped, and immediately he let go, leaving her coughing for air.

“Alright. Get out.”

Emma didn’t give him the courtesy of a nod, nor the respect of any final words. She didn’t even look at him. Her mother went unacknowledged too. She just shoved up the stairs and they pounded with every step.

Standing back in the doorway of her childhood bedroom and staring inside as if she were viewing it from a stranger’s perspective, she saw now that it didn’t even look like her room, rather the room of the sixteen-year-old her parents had wanted. This was her room before everything fell apart. The room when her father was good and her mother didn’t have to work overtime every week. The sight gave her whiplash because as she was mere minutes from leaving and hopefully not being forced to come back after her Gran told her two grandkids in the house was too much of a burden, every good memory of her family filled her and swamped her with grief. The walls and bedding were an ugly shade of pink, and without her album of photos sitting on the bookshelf, it was now only full of the books her parents wanted her to read so she looked normal. Some old textbooks from her past classes that she hadn’t gotten rid of were peppering it, but it was mostly shitty, vapid, heterosexual romance novels collecting dust. The only things left in the closet were her old dresses and blouses. In this strangeness, something stood out. Her grandpa’s guitar was long-abandoned in the corner of her room, deemed too loud and irritating for her to use it at home after he died, on top of it being dubbed a “goddamned useless piece of shit”. Emma knew her parents would ruin it in some strange vendetta against him and the least she could do was return it to her Gran before they could, so after she swung her backpack over her shoulder and grabbed her hastily packed suitcase, she fished it out of the corner of the room. She selfishly wondered, for a moment, what would happen to the accolades she kept tucked away safely in a box under the bed because if she took the guitar she couldn’t take them. Would they be destroyed to try to erase anything good about her, or would it not matter because the majority of them weren’t things her parents ever cared to acknowledge?

Part of her wondered if it was really her he was ashamed of. After all, he had a lot to be ashamed of for himself. Losing his job and the better part of his marriage couldn't have been easy, especially not when he was raised to do things on his own. So maybe it was his own shame in himself that brought them here. That's what she convinced herself, anyway, staring at the shell of her room. 

She grabbed a stick of deodorant off of her dresser, then turned away.

Before she walked down the stairs again, she grabbed her toothbrush from the bathroom and shoved it in the suitcase. That was all, and then she kept going, finding that her parents had already dispersed from the door. She walked out again without a word, wondering again if they’d know she was gone until they checked to make sure she wasn’t just holing up in her room. She kept walking in the general direction of her grandfather’s house until she couldn’t will herself to move anymore and she found herself curled up on the curb, bags scattered all around her, wiping tears away from her eyes, silently wishing she could undo this because it hurt. What happened to the dad who sat by her bed and made the nightmares go away, the dad with a stunning lasagna recipe, the dad who had a record of Frank Sinatra and would dance around the living room with Emma on Sunday evenings after church, the dad whose life wasn’t completely ruined?

She heard a noise. Trying and failing to wipe the tears away, she looked up and found the woods on the edge of town in front of her, then a little flash of red. She had been spotted. She looked down again quickly, shoving her suitcase and backpack out of anyone’s line of sight.

“Hey, Emma!” Winnie called out, nearly tripping over a tree root as she bounded towards her.

Emma didn’t reply. She couldn’t. If she did her crying would become pitifully obvious and the last thing she wanted was pity. It was the last thing she deserved, too, to have someone feel bad for her getting in this situation that she could’ve prevented if she tried to fit in a little bit more. Least of all did she deserve it from Winnie, whose life was about to be ruined also, based on the little information Greg gave.

And yet.

“Hey…” Winnie’s voice became softer as she grew closer and realized that Emma was curling in on herself. “What’s going on?”

Still no reply. Winnie’s voice grew worried, downright panicked. “Emma. Are you okay? What’s happening?”

“Come on. At least look at me.”

“I’m...I’m sorry,” Emma forced out. “Today's been, uh, it took a turn.”

Winnie didn't know what compelled her to say what she did. She was the absolute worst at comforting people. Maybe it was the hope that someone might do the same thing for her if she tried hard enough. “You could talk to me if you want, or, you know, I could just stay here for a while so you're not alone.”

What had Emma done to deserve this when her own parents threw her out like the trash?

“Don't you have somewhere to be?” Emma grumbled, desperately trying to avoid the conversation.

“I was trying to avoid going home, actually,” Winnie replied, so casually that Emma, who was very out of it, didn't pick up on the implication before Winnie could continue. “I mean, it's too nice of a day to pass up some exploring.”

This was when Emma finally cracked, and the secretly crying girl on the side of the curb became a wreck in her friend's arms in the middle of the street. Hot tears ran down her cheeks and she buried her face in Winnie’s neck, gripping onto the smaller girl’s shirt like her life depended on it. Occasionally the tears spilled down her neck, even after only five seconds, and she cringed each time they touched her skin. In her desperation to be held as though she were still seven years old, though, she revealed what sat behind her.

“Is that a suitcase?” Winnie muttered without much thought, because she, too, was shocked at the idea of touch.

Emma only tensed in reply.

“Okay, we don't have to--”

“My--my dad--” she sputtered, cutting Winnie off before falling back into cries. 

Winnie only held her tighter until the crying mostly stopped, except for a few tears still obediently trailing from her eyes.

“He found out I’m gay,” Emma said eventually. There was no emotion to it anymore.

“Oh... oh… I'm sorry.”

There are so many kids that have it worse than you, Winona. Quit complaining.

Emma shrugged. “I can't deny I saw it coming. He’s been like this for a long time. I just wish…”

“What?”

“I just wish he gave me as many second chances as I gave him,” she admitted, voice soft.

“I understand,” Winnie replied. “I won't go into detail--this isn't my pity party--but I understand.”

And she did. How many times had she sat outside of the school waiting for her mother to pick her up because she promised again, or lay awake waiting to be acknowledged, even if only in the pitch black?

“God, parents are assholes,” Emma said in that same emotionless tone.

“The worst.”

This shared proclamation by both Emma and Winnie seemed to spark something in Emma and she came back to life, in a sense.

“Why do they think they can just throw me out?! It's not fair!”

“Why do they think hurting us is some long-term solution anyway?! Are we that bad?” Winnie ranted in conjunction.

“No,” Emma replied, but neither of them could deny that they trembled at the thought, and the waver in her voice was too obvious. “No, it's not always like this.”

“So they act like they're gods, and what for?”

“Control,” Emma muttered. “They somehow think this is going to fix me and all their other mistakes.”

They became mistakes at different points in their lives and neither was going into explicit detail, perhaps they didn't want to and this was vulnerable enough for two kids never allowed to speak, but both of them still recognized what the other was thinking, knew their lives had both been rife with neglect and purposeful ignorance. That solidarity was what made just another rant feel so monumental.

“I'm not a mistake. You're not a mistake. We're people. We're kids.”

“Yeah. Screw what they think, I'm not a damn punching bag.”

Just as it was starttng to feel like there was a light waiting for Emma and the end of the turmoil of the day, a car whizzed by with another blaring honk and what was yelled from the window was enough to undo what had been spoken by the girls on the curb a moment ago. Several yells, spoken with such a harshness that it seemed like these boys were driving around with the intent of finding and berating her.

“Fucking lesbo!”

“Take that shit outta town!”

“You need Jesus!”

“Are you gonna rape the damn ginger again?”

Emma froze as they disappeared from view.

“...I've just made myself a damn punching bag,” she murmured into the shock.

“At least it's not people who are meant to care about you throwing the punches.”

“I guess.”

Emma didn't want to find a good part of this part of everything and Winnie saw that, changing gears quickly.

“This could get dangerous at night though, do you have anywhere to go?”

“In theory, my Gran. In practice, I don't know if she'd choose to keep me over her daughter.”

“I’ll go with you. If you have a witness she can't say no!”

Emma laughed, but deep down she knew Winnie was right. Wasn't it sad they had to think that way, as if they were criminals? In reality, their only crime was existence, but what a cruel price of life on Earth they had to pay.

“I guess I'll lead the way,” she said weakly, standing up with that, though she still didn’t look up.

The heckling from cars only grew like a flame as they had to leave the outskirts of town. By the time they got where they planned to go, it was far later than they expected and Emma started having second thoughts again. This seeped into the pair standing on Betsy’s porch.

“I can’t.”

“So you’re gonna stay on the street?”

“She’s gonna be mad at me.”

“Considering what Noah was saying earlier, I really doubt it. You’re overthinking this.”

“I know, I’d just like to not repeat what I just went through.”

“That’s fair! I’m getting the bell for you.”

“Wait, wh--”

The door opened before Emma could finish that sentence, then there was an utterance from the other side of the door frame. 

“Oh, God.”

“Hi, Gran,” Emma whispered, voice wavering as her eyes met someone else’s for the first time since all of this had started.

In response, there was a gasp.

Betsy Nolan had seen a lot of things in her life. She had been around for a long time. She watched her daughter marry a man and then watched as everything fell apart. She lived through the death of her husband and even the time when a toddler-aged Greg showed up at her doorstep in the middle of the night with a social worker in a scene not unlike this one because it seemed like the Nolans couldn’t escape a tragic, unexpected mess. Betsy thought that incident, in particular, could not be topped, but dear God this was worse. Because Emma knew exactly what was going on and it showed. It showed in the way her voice wavered even when it was barely audible, in the way she shifted from foot to foot, but most of all the giant, bruising handprint on her neck when she looked up.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make things worse,” Emma sobbed when there was no reply other than that. Now that she was in the arms of someone she had known for years, she felt far more comfortable letting herself fall apart, to the point where she had to ask Winnie what had happened.

“Her father…” Winnie trailed off, remembering she didn’t know if Betsy knew Emma was gay. That and the fact that her eyes drifted to that bruise, making her shudder.

“I am going to murk that man,” Betsy muttered, and despite the circumstance, Winnie laughed a little.

“In all seriousness, though, thank you for helping her…”

“Winnie.”

 “Winnie, what a lovely name. After I figure out what’s happening and we sort it out I really do have to invite you for dinner.”

“Oh, ma’am, don’t worry about it--”

“Nonsense. And call me Betsy.”

From the living room, the grandfather clock began to ring that it was now three in the afternoon, and with that, it appeared a new phase of Emma’s life was about to begin. The nightmare of earlier that afternoon had simultaneously ended abruptly and ripped open a whole new one, like the wreckage after a hurricane.

Forty-five minutes after, Winnie finally had no choice but to go back home. She felt awful about dreading it because Emma would probably kill for it. This is when she would become aware of how the hurricane affected her because her mother was waiting by the door. She thought for a fleeting moment that maybe for once her mother cared, but that was anything but the truth.

“Have you seen this video someone posted of you and that lesbian girl?”

Winnie hadn’t asked how Mr. Nolan found out about this. “No?”

“I don’t care if you are gay if it means you won’t carry on your bloodline, but honestly, Winona, this was so ignorant. It looks so bad for the company--I’m gonna have to bribe all these dumb kids to take the dozens of refilms off of the internet.”

Winnie said nothing.

“Go outside and wipe the dirt off of your jeans.”

Okay then.

Chapter Text

Emma refused to let herself cave in at the events of that Sunday. She couldn’t. That would be showing her parents that she was everything they thought she was. Nothing more than a sorry, lazy excuse of a daughter who couldn’t do anything of monetary value, so she was destined to fail. But she wasn’t that, she couldn’t let herself be that, so despite her Gran’s protests, she showed up at school the next day with none of her usual companionships. The whole team had texted her after what happened, except for Jess, oddly, but they came to the quick conclusion that they shouldn’t stick around Emma outside of practice anymore. Or, more accurately, she begged them not to come to her aid so they didn’t get hurt too. The same was supposed to go for Alyssa, but she was harder to convince.

When Emma got to school on Monday, Alyssa was standing in front of her locker.

“What are you doing here?” Emma half-whispered, half-hissed.

“I--” Alyssa choked out, but she said nothing more, her face twitching into a frown for a moment before she regained neutrality.

“What happened? What did they do?”

Alyssa winced before stepping aside, revealing Emma’s locker with a dent in the middle, and all different things were written in a shitty, half-dried permanent marker on the perimeter still intact.

Dyke.

Lesbo.

You’re not welcome here.

Creep.

Go to Hell.

Kill yourself.

Emma stared blankly at the words, and whether or not she admitted it, she was grateful for some sort of warning.

“The football team had a practice before school today because they have a game tonight and they all came in here and did this. I’m so sorry, Emma,” Alyssa rambled.

Emma didn’t say anything in reply. It hit her right then how different school was when every other word that was spoken seemed to be about not her sinful existence, but the fact she was there at all. It was as if she wasn’t even human. It was ruthless static. Buzzing, burning electricity crackled in her ears. The kind that if water touched it, she’d be electrocuted. Something had to give.

A pair of footsteps entered the hallway, and though Emma had no idea whose they were, a dozen heads turning told her on top of laughter. Emma turned to look now too, and there was Kaylee and Shelby.

“Alyssa, why are you still with her?” Shelby asked in disbelief. I know you’re still holding out for Greg because he was your first love or whatever, but, come on, girl. After that fight it’s hopeless.”

What did you do? Emma wanted to ask, but not with them here. She almost wanted to laugh at Shelby’s wording, but that wouldn’t help her either.

“What are you still doing here?” Alyssa asked Greg when he left Kaylee’s bathroom.

“Did you forget I’m pretending to be your boyfriend?”

“No, but you should be helping her.”

“I told her to pack a bag.”

“And that’s it?”

“Am I supposed to leave you without a car?”

“Yes! Go make sure she’s okay, dumbass!”

“Won’t that look suspicious?”

“She’s literally your cousin, you idiot!”

“Who I may have to pretend to hate!”

“I don’t fucking care about that! Who knows what’s gonna happen to her?!”

“You’ve never been to her house! Who are you to know anything about our family?!”

What Greg had known of a decent uncle was all a facade from at least three Thanksgivings ago, but who was he to notice?

“I know enough . She talks to me, you know!”

“Yeah, but I’m her family!”

“So go!”

“What if she doesn’t need my help?”

“Why wouldn’t she--agh! You know what, just go!”

“I already told you, she’d feel terrible if I left you here!”

“No, I mean that I don’t want you here at all if you’re gonna be so fucking childish about this, okay?! You’re being an asshole and you’re not like this, and I don’t know why you think it’s justified all of a sudden! Leave me alone!”

In response, Greg swore in her direction as he turned to walk away. Alyssa made her way back down the hall to the main area of the party, surprisingly frazzled by the extra tension piled on the situation. Shelby peering on from the living room didn’t help either.

“How much of that did you hear?”

“Just your last remarks,” Shelby replied. “Is he trying to justify what Emma’s claiming she is or something? Honestly, that whole team is kinda...off.”

Alyssa wanted to scream in frustration but couldn’t even let that escape her as she finally broke at Shelby’s words. She just started crying, fully aware of the irony of it when she burrowed her face in Shelby’s shoulder. Part of her wanted to know why they could all have guessed that Emma was gay but had no clue about her, but another part of her already knew. Alyssa never purposefully stuck gum in her hair in second grade just to get it cut like she’d so often heard Emma did. Alyssa liked wearing some makeup. She didn’t want to “dress like a lumberjack”, nor had she ever tried to sneak into the boys’ section of the store. If she dared to go there, Alyssa could admit that it was partly because she wasn’t socially awkward. She never had sometimes violent episodes of anger. She never broke down when things got too loud. She could invite people to her house and know it would be safe. She was a cheerleader. To everyone here, she was one of their own.

She wanted it to end.

“Come on. Let’s go.”

Alyssa was pulled away from Emma without another word. She never got to tell Emma what happened with Greg--the unspoken question that she knew Emma was thinking. She also never had the thought that Greg might have already told other people about the situation, unintentionally creating a disastrous schism. Maybe that chaos was part of the reason swim practice got canceled for the week, a devilish, festering conflict hidden under the guise of starting a good Thanksgiving break early. The other part of it was a series of emergency PTA meetings that were taking place over the next days before the break, ones that the team went unaware of. It wasn’t hard to hide in all this drama.

Speaking of Thanksgiving break, Emma was wishing it would come sooner very quickly. Over the next few days, people found crueler and crueler things to do to her. Everything from the insults on her locker to tripping her in the hall. Stealing her bag in the middle of the hallway when she couldn’t use her ruined locker, thus making her late to class, which pissed her teachers off more now, wasn’t off the table either. Someone even tried to unbutton her flannel in the middle of passing time, and another chucked their milk on her in the middle of the cafeteria and a solid twenty percent of the school. She didn’t have spare clothes because she wasn’t fully moved in at her Gran’s place, so she had to smell like rotting milk for a third of the day, which became even more embarrassing when kids in her class noticed and started throwing pencils at her just to rub it in. It was like it was some fucked up competition to see whose trick on her was the worst on her, and in that jeering at the freakshow she was, they all forgot that this was meant to be a joke at first. If they even knew at all, she didn’t know, but Kyle had no idea what Emma was doing there with Winnie and there was no way he could have, it was just petty revenge for a challenge he refused to take, and he accused her of horrible, horrible things, but that didn’t matter, and it didn’t matter how that hurt Winnie because she was just another game to them and oh my God, he was actually right about Emma and that somehow gave him a status boost, and hey, at Winnie’s parents came to their daughter’s side for once, saying that the accusations couldn’t have been true because Winnie was denying them--and she was always playing the victim in every other situation (like bratty, spoiled kids do)--so that had to mean something, right? They were paying thousands to get the evidence off the internet so the idea of a queer kid didn’t hurt their business, and because they were so money-hungry they’d never try to blame Emma for this in court, which indirectly helped her whether they meant it or not, but Emma tried to tell herself it meant anything at all. It meant she wouldn’t lose everyone. She’d have Winnie.

Emma saw through the facade of the Thompsons defending Winnie with startling ease. She knew how business worked, this was just another thing to sweep under the rug. Another whole kid to sweep under the rug.

Once upon a time, her father had been a businessman too, coming home with stacks of paperwork and ranting about how his assistant had brought him the wrong coffee and saying his wife better not do the same. She grew up thinking that casual misogyny was normal and it let him hold power over her for so long, but Dad, look, I’m dressing like a boy, like the son you always wanted, doesn’t that make you happy ? Over time, an addendum was added to this, saying home was the place he was allowed to spike the drink. Either way, he had worked at a company full of financial advisors and was a manager of some sort. Emma used to think that meant being a CEO, but no, clearly that meant getting away with way worse shit, and she thought he was the pinnacle of leadership. She used to want to be just like him but she was so bad at math he outright told her she couldn’t and called it tough love so she knew to get better grades.

Look at her now, better grades in math and falling apart at the seams.

Just like her dad.

What had happened to her? 

Kill yourself kill yourself kill yourself kill yourself

She had four whole days of freedom at the end of it all, but it wasn’t enough time. It would never be enough time. She wanted to let herself cave in so badly after only three days of it but she didn’t. She had grades to maintain so she could prove her parents wrong. Swim practice resumed on Monday and the team was counting on her. So instead of collapsing at home and being grateful that she didn’t have to deal with her father, she went into a room still so barren she couldn’t call it hers yet and spent every moment she could awake so she could, by the logic of her screwed-up brain, balance out the awful with the semi-faked okay. Gran said that they could go shopping another day. Emma couldn’t tell that to Betsy, that simply meant whenever Emma finally burned from the stress and needed a few days of something that wasn’t pain and work. At least after Greg showed up he had the guts to confront Emma’s parents and collect the box of trophies she had been forced to leave behind and she could actually display them with pride in Betsy’s former guest room. He told her that most, if not all, of her childhood pictures that her parents kept for some reason but never got around to hanging, had been destroyed. She couldn’t even make herself care.

When she got to school the following Monday, she looked dead on her feet. So much so that a very stubborn Alyssa approached her again.

“What have I been telling you?” Emma deadpanned.

“I know, I know, but--”

“Go away. I don’t want you getting hurt too,” she said, not even bothering to hear Alyssa out until she processed what she said and the particular way she said it, aided by Alyssa’s reply.

“Are you mad at me?”

“No...I just--I’m tired.”

“Yeah, that’s the thing. You can’t keep doing this to yourself. What if something happens?”

“Worse than this?”

Alyssa offered her a look. A silent acknowledgment that this was about the one reason she was still walking through the halls. Her teammates, and more importantly, perhaps, the inevitability of an ugly reaction from Coach Boomer.

“I’m still going to practice. I can’t...not have this one thing,” Emma replied to the void. 

Alyssa ignored how Emma was deliberately ignoring the question, picking up on the fact that she probably didn’t know what she’d do in that situation either. “Do you want me to be there just in case?”

Emma half-sighed, half-groaned at that, annoyance becoming evident in her voice once more. “No, ‘Lyssa, what do I keep saying?”

“Okay, okay, fine.”

Alyssa broke away from her before major attention could be placed on the pair, but either way, she was still quite confident nobody suspected a thing just yet. The stereotype was that friendships between girls were more sensual somehow, and that could be used to her advantage even if that girl was Emma Nolan, because, as mentioned before, yet another backward stereotype that ran rampant in this town claimed someone like Alyssa couldn’t be a lesbian because she was perfect in every other way, and that completely wrong perception of her could also help her case here because anything she did for Emma would be automatically assumed to be just because she was nice to everyone, even the people who no one understood why she was nice to them to begin with. With all of that in mind, Alyssa felt prepared for everything Emma wasn’t prepared for.

When Emma got to the pool after school, she immediately knew something was up. No one was in the lockers getting changed yet but even besides that, she could feel the tension. It was the same shift in energy as when Winnie first showed up and she was starting to think that maybe her friends weren’t as nice as she thought. Maybe she should’ve seen that coming when they were in constant competition, constantly battling it out for the best possible times, the best ways to do better and better. Maybe being on top of it all somehow meant she didn’t notice how cutthroat it got.

Emma walked over to Jess, wanting to figure out why she hadn’t called at all this week; why everything felt so tense.

“What’s going on?”

Jess didn’t reply or even look up from her swim bag.

“Why are you ignoring me? Come on, nothing’s changed, has it?”

As she said that, Coach Boomer stepped out of the supply closet just like he had a few days before championships her sophomore year, and instead of a cloud of joyous noise there was silence as he laid eyes on her. Suddenly the flames of Hell rose in his eyes, something she’d never seen in him, before and he marched towards her.

“You have a hell of a nerve showing up here after what you’ve done, Emma!”

Boomer hadn’t called Emma by her legal name in years, leaving her scared shitless.

“I didn’t do anything! Winnie’s denied everything! Why would she do that if she has everything to gain hating me?!” Emma would admit, her tone was defensive.

“How can I trust you, though? How do I know you won’t hurt the other girls on the team? My daughter, for God’s sake!”

“I know it’s gonna be hard to get that back, but I swear I’ve never done anything to anyone,” she turned to the group, who was still silently watching from a few feet away. “Right, guys?”

They all quietly affirmed her position.

“I think it’s a little late for that.”

“I understand--”

He cut her off, not caring to hear a defense. “I’m disappointed in you, kid. I’ll tell you why because I think you need to hear it.”

People had been disappointed in her often enough. She could take it from her parents, could take it from her peers, but coach? That stung. Especially if he was still calling her kid.

“No, I don’t. Please don’t.”

Her pleas fell on deaf ears whether or not they were audible.

“You put this town on the map, kid. It was your excellence that made this town known to the rest of Indiana. You had the potential for a mile in less than twenty minutes by graduation and that’s a free ticket to the most elite teams in the world, but you wrecked that. Whatever is still holy in America doesn’t want to see this gay shit in our sports, and no self-respecting team will let a lesbian in it.”

“I still can make those times soon enough. Then they have to let me compete.”

“That’s not how this works. How are you getting anywhere without a coach?”

“What?”

“This hurts me just as much as it hurts you, but I can’t have someone like you on the team. It goes against my morals and the morals of this town. I believe you when you say you didn’t hurt anyone but I can’t be responsible if someone here starts believing the lies of Temptation. Nor do I condone what you claim to be. You’ve really got another girl roped in, and that’s where I draw a line.”

Right. She revealed she had a girlfriend in the middle of this mess. That was another way they all forgot the humble beginnings of this story--on top of the competition to hurt her, there was a separate witch hunt to find the girlfriend, with the swim team being among the top suspects. With the manner in which she was outed, Winnie was ruled out scarily fast. Emma told herself that was why she lost control and budged in before anyone else did, before Emma herself could find a rebuttal.

“You can’t do that! She’s our captain!”

“The PTA demands it. For student safety, Emma’s not permitted in the locker rooms anymore.”

You would think she’d know that before right now. What would’ve happened at gym class tomorrow had she not been here? Would she have been stopped at the door to be further humiliated?

Once that bomb dropped, the rest of the team rallied in her defense, wondering what the hell they would do now.

“Easy...we just...pick a new captain. We can all trust Noah.”

“I can’t clean up this mess,” Noah protested Coach Boomer, putting his hands up in some metaphorical surrender.

“What if we just...don’t? If we all leave it’s not just Nole,” Fox suggested. There seemed to be agreement on the matter.

It was all going according to plan.

“And throw out everything y’all have accomplished? Boomer countered, and immediately there was hesitance. Funny, how selfish people are. “I'll tell you what...Jess. You're my kid. I can trust you to make a good decision here.”

There was no decision to be found. He could easily predict what was going to happen. Any of them would have been fine but Jess had the most guts.

“Tell me, would you want to captain this team?”

“I mean...of course.”

“So...you kick Emma out and take over her role, or we all stay a big, happy family and you never get that.”

A flurry of protests came from all around the scene, but Boomer shushed them and told them to not interfere with the process. This had to go exactly right or it would take days, maybe even weeks to convince them all this had to be done without the team disintegrating completely.

He had heard every conversation about Emma that Jess had ever had without her knowing. He knew how this was going to go. In seventh grade, she groaned that she was basically left in charge of the newcomer and even wished she would fail a class so she didn't have to deal with her. But they were past that, right?

In ninth grade Boomer walked in on his daughter on the phone with Noah after championships, she ranted that Emma had snuck off in the dead of night and “slept with the enemy”. That it had been irresponsible and nearly wrecked any shot at winning. They were 14. Boomer didn't think much of the “metaphor” or the conversation.

The past few months were when things fell apart. When Emma got chosen to be team captain, Jess, despite not showing it in front of the team, was crushed. She claimed it should've gone to her because she was Boomer’s kid and she'd been doing this for even longer than Emma. That was no match for the debt Emma felt she owed them for giving her a shot. Then Winnie showed up and Jess was outraged, thinking this scrawny kid no bigger than a stick had to have bought her way here. But collapsing integrity was one thing. Emma befriending its source was another.

They were alone now. Boomer had forced the rest of the team out of the room with protest getting louder and louder, more and more disturbing, while Jess and Emma just stared at each other. After a moment, Jess broke the silence.

“You know what I hate about you?”

“Jessie,” Emma sputtered. It was to no avail.

“I hate that you act all holier than thou about this team and the fact that you're in charge. You're not necessarily the best swimmer here! We're all good at this, keeping up with the prodigy, but you're only here, only his goddamn saint because Coach knows underdog stories are a million times more popular than the kid born with resources around them to succeed.”

“I...I didn’t know you...cared that much,” Emma stammered.

“Of course I do. Coach is my stepdad, for God’s sake. I want to impress him. Really become part of his family, but all he ever talks about is you. Certainly, you know about that.”

Emma sighed. “Do you need to bring my dad into this?”

“It’s your weak spot...especially now.” 

“Is that really enough reason to--”

“If I choose you over me right now, my cover with Carrie is basically already blown, and I can’t be the family disappointment again. I won’t Because then it will be like you and your parents have been, and I know you don’t want that.”

Emma flushed red with anger. “Come on, that’s so...“

“I have more than my own selfishness,” Jess continued immediately as if she already knew what Emma was going to say. “And at the very least I can own up to that. You? All of your relationships have been able to win you something while you were still within the social sphere. Alyssa? Kaylee and Shelby stopped being mean for a few months. Winnie? All of that money that you never had. Me? I just brought you closer to Coach so you could be that prodigy. And don’t even get me started on the Garrison girl.” 

“Her name was V,” Emma grumbled while Jess gathered her thoughts.

“It doesn’t matter now! Either way, you can’t pretend you didn’t lead her on for months, too. You can’t deny she got a few colleges looking for your name because of it. Freshman year you abandon all of our plans for that night just to screw around with her? She was so desperate, man. She claimed you were special and that was all it took. I hope that was worth it. You’re not special. You are horribly manipulative, just like the rest of the world, and you took all of what you gained and used it to not help your family.”

“I admit I’m not the best person. I’ve done bad things to gain others,” Emma replied as evenly as she could when her entire moral compass was being questioned, unable to help but think of being stuck between Alyssa and V a year ago. “But is that not what life is? I’ve had no choice. You come from a world like mine, full of rejection and hurt, and you realize damn quick that it’s screw or get screwed, but at least I give people second chances. At least I try to get where they’re coming from. And my parents? I never let you meet them because they weren't coming from anywhere good.”

Jess’s words were getting to Emma despite her confident front. 

Your mother tried so hard to protect you. She thought taking you to church might shield you, keep you from becoming like him. Look what you did to that.

It had gotten her through everything, it had to get her through this.

Jess paid little interest in Emma's reasoning. “Hm. Screw or get screwed? I like that philosophy.”

That was when Emma finally realized she was fucked. She tried desperately to hold back tears as Jess turned away after four whole years without so much as a goodbye. No thank you, no nothing.

“I’ve made a decision,” she called out the door. As the rest of the team filtered back in, she told them something else.

“I don't regret it.”

They all thought that was good until Jess whispered in her stepdad’s ear and a wicked, prideful grin grew into his expression. Then the others connected the dots instantly. Emma looked at their expressions, silently panicked, but for a long moment, no one said anything. Perhaps they didn't want to. They all had something left to lose. Except for one. The one who never even fit in here because she never had a chance to.

“How does it make sense that someone willing to do that become our captain?” Winnie muttered under her breath.

Coach Boomer just glared at her, and this intimidation was enough to shock her back into cowardice.

Emma tried so hard to not let the worst recesses of her mind blame Winnie for the reaction. It would make her a hypocrite; she would've done the same thing if she were her. But it would also prove Jess right about her, and she knew she couldn't come out of that and still be sane. It was why when they all fell silent again, Emma didn't say anything either. Right there, she could have torn everything away from all of them for not being braver, told Coach all of their secrets too, but she didn't. The truth was that she wasn't brave enough for this either. She wouldn't wish it on anyone, not even Jess.

Especially not Jess. Emma refused to let her final remarks to all of them, but more importantly, her, be hateful. That was never what they thought her to be.

Until now, apparently.

She gave the group a quick salute, voice breaking as she spoke, trying to be honorable about this. “Thank you for everything. It's been an honor. Kick some ass for me.”

Then she turned away and walked out of the pool. No one followed, not even Greg.

Then she broke. The moment she was out of their sights, she started running. She buried her face in her hands and didn’t dare look up from the floor, scared of what might happen if she were seen rubbing stinging, burning tears from her eyes with her wrists. It all stung more as she shoved the door open and a surprisingly and ironically sunny November sky shot light into her eyes and she blinked harshly.

To the rest of Edgewater, this was a perfect day, with no more lesbian threat. 

Emma couldn’t help but scream into the open air, finally looking up as she thought no one would be around to watch her fall apart since the majority of extracurriculars only started 5 minutes ago. The light still stung but not looking down was a relief because it let the tears fully fall from her face even as they blurred her vision.

Who knew 5 minutes was all it took to destroy her? This team saved her life--what was she going to do now?

There was someone in the distance, and Emma’s view of them became clearer as they ran over to her. She tensed until she realized who it was.

“What are you doing here?!” It was an ugly scream that was tainted by bubbling sobs whether Emma meant that or not. It just hurt so much to know her life had spiraled out of control with half of her understanding and even believing Jess.

“I couldn’t leave you here,” Alyssa whispered. God, why was she being so nice? “What happened?”

Emma collapsing into her arms and starting to sob was in stark contrast to her messy words. “You need to go! You’re gonna get hurt too!”

“It’s okay. I can handle it,” Emma didn’t miss the quiver in Alyssa’s voice. She knew Alyssa was lying for her sake but she didn’t comment on it. She didn’t have the energy. “Anything for you.”

“What if--”

“Hey. Don’t worry about that right now. You’re the one who needs me.”

Emma wasn’t going to argue. She was an absolute wreck right now. Her nose was so stuffed from crying that she couldn’t breathe and her tears were hot on her cheeks as she gave in to Alyssa’s words and her knees buckled while she buried her head against Alyssa’s neck even though they hadn’t moved from the parking lot.

Emma felt like she was drowning. All her life, that was never a concern--look at everything she’d accomplished--but now she was facing the harsh realization that it could get worse beyond her family, and it would every chance it got. She remembered a lot of things from her chem class mostly because she had it with Alyssa and often found herself re-teaching the content, and one thing came to her at this moment, oddly enough. Entropy. The state of disorder in a given substance and the basic rule of it was that everything in the universe naturally moved towards this disorder. Nothing good was going to stay in her life, not even the one person trying to get through the rapids of Emma’s mind to save her. In this metaphor, the lifeboat was yet another sharp rock for Emma to get caught on.

“Why do you keep coming back for me?” Emma mumbled, voice muffled by the fabric of Alyssa’s cardigan. She hoped Alyssa wasn’t too attached to it. She hoped the wet spot that was accumulating on it didn’t get her in trouble.

“Because I love you...if you don’t mind me saying it.”

Emma didn’t dare speak her next question into existence. 

Why? 

There was so much shame attached to the question, wondering why she didn’t know if she deserved love. Wondering why she would if even her own family rejected her. So instead she just stood there, gaping, unable to process the fact that Alyssa was waiting on an answer. She didn’t notice the glimmers of disappointment in her eyes that she eventually got control over. 

“You know what...we’ll worry about that later. Do you need me to drive you home?”

Emma managed a small nod that Alyssa felt against her shoulder before Emma sobbed again. The cries grew louder for several seconds, leaving Emma frozen to the concrete as she still hadn’t seemed to regain strength in her legs.

“You’re okay. I promise I’m not leaving.”

That didn’t help. In fact, it only seemed to make Emma cry harder.

It used to be their thing. On days when Greg wasn’t dropping her off at her parents’ house, it would be Jess, and except for the one time Emma nearly passed out, the one time Jess had convinced Emma that her parents should be there in case of another incident, they would go to Jess’s house and hang out in her room, delaying another dose of disappointment from Emma’s parents. Because Coach Boomer and his kids were all athletes in some manner, he had plenty of things to help with soreness that Emma didn’t have at home, so before they made their way upstairs--a dreaded activity after hours of swimming--they would raid the closet down the hall for heating pads, and then when they couldn’t put off going upstairs with any more snacks, they would plug them into the outlet in Jess’s room and lie on her bed while watching whatever they could find on Netflix while covering their arms and legs with the pads. They mostly hate-watched whatever shitty rom-com trilogies the company miraculously milked but sometimes they fell upon really strange gems like Shrek the Musical, because apparently, it starred the same guy from Talk to the Hand. How such a thing even got made, let alone filmed professionally with such a star-studded cast remained a mystery, but it was a fun time, and afterward, whenever the pair got into stupid qualms, Emma was partial to singing the Travel Song just because it was so annoying to Jess, but in the end, it lightened the mood.

Back in the present, Alyssa looked around the deserted parking lot for several seconds before slowly taking Emma’s hand that she wasn’t still using to wipe her tears. At least she was being cautious about all of this. Emma wanted to think that first so she wouldn’t be a hypocrite now either, but the overpowering thought was of how Alyssa’s hand felt. It was soft and warm. Emma presumed that was because she had been standing in the sun for several minutes, expecting something like this to happen. It was in sharp contrast to Emma’s hand, cold, shaky, and hardened by life. She wanted so badly to protect Alyssa from all of this, but she couldn’t. She was too much of a mess and Alyssa was too insistent on being there for her.

Why? You don’t deserve this.

In the car, Emma collapsed into the passenger’s seat and sighed deeply as Alyssa clicked her seatbelt into place. It was then that her body remembered its need to breathe and she started coughing. When that sound died down too, she realized her tears were falling slower. Was she going numb again already? 

She clicked her seatbelt in and this was a cue for Alyssa to start talking as she hesitantly put her foot on the gas.

“What happened in there?” she asked just as softly.

Emma sniffled, and it made a disgusting sound. She cringed at herself before uttering a single word in a voice that she only now realized was growing hoarse.

“Jess…”

Alyssa raised an eyebrow when Emma said nothing more.

“Jess happened,” Emma repeated tiredly, not seeming to have any energy left in her to elaborate. She closed her eyes once more and rubbed at her temples as she became aware of a dull pounding in the back of her skull.

Alyssa didn’t prod any further, figuring Emma would open up when she was ready, and she wasn’t going to feel safe until she got home.

Wherever that was.

Home was complicated for Emma. Her parents’ house hadn’t been home for several years and her Gran’s house wasn’t yet a place that held her memories, so she was stuck in limbo between who she was then and now. Neither of those people seemed appealing, making the person she was even worse.

They spent the rest of the drive in careful silence, somewhere in the middle of knowing they would be more content in the quiet and wanting to speak but not knowing how. The silence dragged on as Alyssa parked Emma’s truck in the driveway but this was where Alyssa felt a minor shift. Emma stepped out without a thank you and headed for the door almost lifelessly. Alyssa caught a glimpse at her eyes in this motion. They were still slightly red and irritated, but mostly they were hollow. Alyssa continued staring at this phenomenon until Emma entered the house and left her with only empty space. Still, Alyssa sat in Emma’s truck alone for a few minutes. She had time to kill before she would get home at the time the after-school buses started making their rounds at the time she usually got home and she wanted to make sure Emma was safe, as well as trying to avoid being spotted by Emma’s grandmother, who was, for now, visible in the open window of the living room, gazing out in confusion at the unfolding scene. 

“You’re home early,” Betsy said flatly, placing her knitting on the table beside her.

“I...I know,” Emma stuttered. She wanted to explain what happened but it felt impossible to find the words to say just how much this hurt. It came out of nowhere. Had her entire friendship, and, by extension, the past several years, all been a lie?

“Where’s Greg?”

Emma hesitated for a moment before she shrugged. “At practice.”

Betsy stood from her chair at that, features darkening. “What?”

“He...he’s at practice,” Emma repeated. Maybe if she didn’t say it, it wouldn’t be real.

“What did they do?” Like Alyssa, Betsy seemed to see this coming. Did that make Emma stupid or just naive?

“I didn't do anything,” Emma managed. There was a tension in her chest from simply existing right now and part of her hoped it would go away if she could explain this in any way that made sense. She didn't do anything. She’d been a jerk at times but like Jess said, everyone was. “I didn’t do anything, and they kicked me off the team.”

She didn’t know why she said they. It was too vague. In reality, it was just Coach Boomer and Jess, and whatever rational part of her brain that was currently rotting knew that but it didn’t change that it hurt. Maybe the others didn’t hurt her explicitly but that didn’t change the fact that they had done next to nothing. Had they known? No, this was just their worst nightmare came to life and she kept them away . Not even Greg had anything to say and he was there when she was in diapers at Thanksgiving dinner at the age of two. All the more reason to protect him.

...Right?

“Oh, honey…”

Emma flinched away from the touch when Betsy stepped forward to hug her. She was sick of being the center of people’s attention for any reason at all and it would have really pleased her to phase out of existence entirely. She didn’t want to die, per se, but she would have preferred not to be alive. Living was exhausting the way things were now and that was not helped by questioning everyone around her, which apparently also included her Gran. What if she got sick of Emma too? Then where would she go?

Oh, fantastic, she was crying again. The exact thing she was sick of doing so much in the past week.

She turned away and marched up the stairs without another word, moving into the husk of her room without thought. No part of her was thinking what else her Gran might pick up on as she attempted to put the pieces together

What if her Gran didn’t care to make this room look like hers at all?

She cringed again at just the thought, dumping her backpack and swim stuff on the floor. She supposed she should be shoving her swim bag in the closet to never see again, but the closet was still so barren that all her dedication would stare at her like a lone soul silently screaming to be loved. It would stare as if it was herself. She couldn’t separate herself from the past years of memories that she could no longer look back on or else they would be layered in the filth of all of this. The stain of mistrust and loving too much. She had always loved too much. First her parents, then her team. Did that mean Gran was next? Or God forbid Alyssa? Had she already done too much for Greg or could they make something in this mess? There it was again. Another second chance. It was a trait some said would hurt her, and that was a lesson she was taught again and again but somehow never learned even now. She tried to say she had, but in the complete blank purgatory of this new life where everyone who looked her way was either scornful or a coward, there was no one left to stop her from trying to find a second chance with the others.

Nothing.

They had actually taken her advice, and it hurt like hell. But at least they still had each other.

She couldn’t tell anymore how long she had sat at her desk staring blankly at the vaguely colored light of her text message app, waiting for someone to go back and fix this. She heard the door open again after an undetermined amount of time but somehow it was already 4:30. She vaguely registered an argument beginning to boil between Greg and Gran as he walked in and Gran was hitting him with questions. 

“Why didn’t you do anything?”

This was a question that Emma wanted to be answered as well but it basically didn’t matter after how long she had been sitting there. She shoved her head in her hands.

“Coach said we’d be in trouble if we tried to say anything against this, or him, or Jess, in front of him, and I don’t wanna know what that means,” Greg retorted.

“So this was Jess? Jesus Christ…”

“Yeah.”

“You couldn’t even stop her from starting this mess?”

“Gran!”

“What?! She was Emma’s best friend!”

“It would've been a mess! Everyone would be split between the two of them and we didn't need that!”

This seemed to appease Betsy for a moment. The argument died before it could even begin but Emma was sure it would return when Greg least expected it--hopefully when Emma wasn't around to hear it.

There was a ding. Finally.

Winnie.

i swear i tried.

Emma stared at the message for...she didn’t know how long anymore. She didn’t know how to reply and time didn’t exist in this catatonic state anyway--living in a room temperature coffin. The only thing that jolted her was a knock at the door, and she opened it without thought. She wasn’t thinking anymore. She didn’t know who she was without her friends, without everything she had worked for. How could she think if she wasn’t a person?

Her Gran was standing at the door. Emma already knew what she was going to say, she had heard it enough from her family when she felt useless and helpless and numb.

You’ve had enough moping, haven’t you? Spent so long in your room I haven’t seen you all day. So selfish. Get out here. I didn’t raise you to do this.

“Emma?...Emma?!”

“What? Sorry!”

“I brought your dinner...I figured you’d want to stay up here, not have to put up with me,” Betsy’s tone was somber but she still chuckled at her own joke and filled the painful silence for only a fleeting moment. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know.”

“You still have people. You have me. What about that Winnie girl? Certainly, she didn’t…”

I don’t know what I’d say to you if you lost all of them. Those words went unsaid.

“She’s a freshman, there’s only so much she can do.”

“And the girl who drove you home?

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You did not drive yourself home like this,” Betsy stated. Fuck, she read her granddaughter like a book.

Emma was silent, face terrified and angry simultaneously. This made Betsy’s face light up.

“You...have a girlfriend!”

(Maybe she lied about the circumstance of her outing to her Gran. She didn't think she could handle even one more person knowing just how nasty it was.)

Emma was too terrified to reply and with that, she took the plate from her Gran and closed the door again. It was one of her favorite meals Betsy made. Expertly cooked chicken with a side of asparagus, but it didn’t look appealing. Stupidly, her eyes drifted to the knife meant for the chicken.

Don’t.

She was too much of a coward to follow through with either the thoughts telling her to stop or the action itself Her hand shot up to her shoulder and she hissed at the pain, grumbling at herself in a manner incoherent to even her as she rocked back and forth for a few seconds. She could hardly look at the minimal damage done to herself and the empty canvas of a room around her, and certainly, she would never fuck around with this again. It stung. It stung so bad she felt stinging sensations all the way down but at least it wasn’t sadness. At least she could drown in a few drops of her own blood instead of the nothing...no, the shame, that her life had become.

Right before she turned 15, Emma actually did apply for a job over the summer at the one community pool Edgewater had. They needed an extra pair of hands for kids swimming lessons on Saturdays, and since she and her mom had always been on high alert and CPR certified, she thought she was perfect for it. Until she had a panic attack at the interview and got told it wouldn’t be safe for her to work with the kids. She never told anyone about that utter failure and until now she thought that was the worst it could get.

Clearly, she was wrong. Because she realized in the brief clarity feeling anything other than numb brought, that she could’ve started over here and had something completely new. But she had to wreck that.

She shoved whatever long-sleeved shirt or hoodie she could find the fastest on, ignoring how it stung. It would stop the bleeding.

LIFEGUARD.

“Mom! I’m home!”

“Alyssa, I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” Alyssa heard her mother call from the kitchen, and so she wandered in slowly, not having time to speak again until her mother posed a question.

“Are you still close with that Nolan girl?”

“N-no.”

If Mrs. Greene noticed Alyssa stutter, she said nothing on the matter. “Good. I honestly can’t believe she turned out such a bad influence! Here I thought her friends were different from those jocks who drink every weekend--I suppose they are.”

Alyssa made no comment on that.

“Were any of the others…?”

Alyssa shook her head. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t talk to most of them anymore.”

“Most?”

Alyssa was silent.

“What are you hiding?”

“I’m...I’m kinda dating her cousin?” Alyssa said it more like a question, but Mrs. Greene was not the type to read into that. She barely contained her relief that her daughter finally had a boyfriend. Sure, he wasn’t going to be your ideal prom and homecoming king, but he was a boy. After years of asking and trying to set her up with church boys, Alyssa actually seemed to be interested in a boy. A boy!

Jesus Christ, Gregory Nolan?

“Greg? Being raised by Betsy Nolan?”

“Yeeeeah?”

Oh, dear.

Mrs. Greene’s face flashed at least five distinct emotions before she evened out again, talking with her hands. “You know what...you know what, if you love him I will try to get around his grandmother’s atheistic nature...do you love him? Do you think you do?”

Alyssa grinned, thinking of hours and small moments spent with Emma because in conversation Greg was basically a stand-in for Emma’s name. “Yeah. I do.”

“Okay...okay, okay...I'll try.”

I wish you would.

This was about to get a hell of a lot more complicated if it hadn't already.

Chapter Text

Emma was awoken by the sound of sharp knocking on her door. She had no idea when she fell asleep, nor what time it was when she woke up, she just knew that she felt marginally better than she had last night. She was fairly convinced you can't go lower than that, so it was almost a relief when she woke up again to faint sunlight filtering through the window instead of endless night. Today would be better. More knocking came through the door and she rolled over, relishing in the warmth of the sheets. There was no dead cold around her. Someone was bothering to make sure she was alive, and the allure of that safety was a comfort after everything that had happened in the past day.

More knocking.

“Yeah?” Emma mumbled in a sleepy manner only achieved by waking up a literal minute ago.

“Can I come in?” Her gran asked, muffled by the wooded barrier of a door between them.

Emma pushed herself upright at that, blankets falling from her chest in the process. To her shock, the air around her didn't immediately feel cold. She didn't dwell on that for very long, though, because she found herself trying to look presentable to her own grandmother. In a way, she still felt like she didn't belong here and had to prove that she deserved to stay. That was why she forced herself to shift into a sitting position on the bed and fix her hair, pretending like she had been planning on getting up relatively soon in case it was already the afternoon. If it was still the morning, miraculously, she could at least pretend to be a functional member of society instead of letting the day go to waste.

“Yeah?”

That was a weird question. She wasn’t used to things like that, yet somehow it almost went over her head. That was the thing she thought when she convinced herself she looked okay enough.

The doorknob jiggled for a moment before Betsy pulled the door open. Emma wondered if it was intentional, but once again she didn't have time to think about it for very long before she was greeted with a fully-dressed Betsy Nolan, and with that sight she was reminded that it was only Tuesday.

“What time is it?”

“Nine a.m.,” Betsy replied coolly, in complete contrast to the way her granddaughter reacted to this information.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!”

Betsy raised an eyebrow as Emma began to fidget under her gaze after hurrying to stand from her position on the bed. “For what?”

“For waking up late and wasting your time,” Emma stammered in reply.

“Late? Are you kidding me?”

“H-huh?”

“Do you honestly think I expect you to go to school after all of this?”

“Well--I--uh…”

By most standards that wasn't an answer, but for Betsy, the non-answer was enough to reveal Emma's thoughts on the matter.

“Oh, honey.”

Going further against most conversational logic, Emma folded her arms at Betsy's sweet tone, allowing hers to turn slightly standoffish. “I don't need pity,” she grumbled.“I don’t pity you,” Betsy replied. It was a lie. She was so crushingly sorry for Emma and the fact that she lost everything in the way she did, even if it was becoming clearer and clearer that she was trying to hide just how nasty it was from her. “But you’re allowed to feel like shit every once in a while.”

“Gran!” Emma reacted, stunned by that word coming from a woman already in her early seventies who was way too nice for her own good.

“This situation deserves to be called shitty.”

Emma laughed quietly, a small smile finally appearing on her face.

Betsy smiled in return, reaching out to mess up her granddaughter's hair as she spoke. “That’s my girl. Now, whaddaya say we fix this room up for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, plain white walls are a little depressing and your closet is…” Betsy turned to look at the empty closet and gave Emma a click of the tongue. “Non-existent.”

Emma didn’t reply to that, shifting from foot to foot as if afraid to admit what she was thinking.

“What is it, baby?”

“What if you regret this? What if you regret me ? What if you’re just like everyone else? Then what do I do?” Emma asked. It sounded less pathetic than you’d expect from someone who had just been abandoned. Rather, it was almost expectant. Expecting this would happen again.

“What would make you think that?” Betsy asked after being left in a stunned shock for at least two seconds. To Emma’s shock, there was no tone of offense or anger to it.

She shrugged. “Everyone?”

“Apart from them, I mean. What did I do?”

Again, there was no anger to it, nor was there an attempt from Betsy to make herself the victim of Emma’s existence. So she sucked in a breath before stuttering a reply. “I...I mean, why aren’t you talking to me?”

Betsy was silent for a moment. Emma could see the fear burst into her eyes and she sighed. “Your parents called last week.”

“What did they say?”

“I don’t think you want to hear it,” Betsy’s tone went grim in a second flat.

“I’ve already hit rock bottom, I can take it,” Emma replied flatly.

Betsy swallowed. “Your mother found a facility in Baltimore for your father...you’re not going with them.”

“Okay? That’s not news to me.” Emma said it like it was nothing--zero emotion attached.

This was when the reality of the situation hit Betsy and tears rushed to the corners of her eyes. “I wanted this to be temporary--”

Emma took that completely wrong, not even letting her grandmother finish her sentence. The very idea of this enraged her. “Why?!”

Betsy remained as level as she could. “For your sake, Emma. No kid should have to go through this,” her voice broke then despite her efforts. “And I hate the fact that my daughter played a part in it. I didn’t raise her that way.”

“So you want me back with my neglectful mother and alcoholic father? Gee, thanks,” Emma retorted, rolling her eyes.

“That’s not what I want,” Betsy finally snapped.  I didn’t want any of this! I wanted my daughter and you!”

Therefore, the not-fucked-up Emma.

“Who are you picking? Your hypothetical daughter or me as I am?”

The question was strange because it wasn’t angry. It was desperate. It was a kid who needed someone to care about her so badly calling for help. Her mother had chosen to defend her father countless times even though he was no longer the man she fell in love with and everyone knew it. But Emma needed someone to defend her now, she couldn't do it alone.

“I choose you, Emma.”

The simple statement brought tears to Emma’s eyes. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” she grumbled.

This girl apologized far too often.

“Why?”

“It’s gonna take me a while to believe that.”

“I know.”

“That’s not your fault.”

“I know that too. And I want you to trust me, but you have to let me in.”

Emma nodded. “I'll try.”

“I was thinking we could have a bit of a girls’ trip, just the two of us, and fill up that aforementioned closet of yours with whatever you’d like...as long as it's decent and doesn't cost a fortune,” Betsy offered after a lull as if to offer Emma some starting ground on the matter.

“Ew, Gran, don't call it a girls’ trip,” Emma joked.

“Why not, are you not a girl?” Betsy quipped back just as fast. She was surprisingly smart about queer stuff for a woman her age, to the point where Emma sometimes wondered if she was queer herself until she remembered Greg probably brought this particular thing up when Fox and Salix joined the swim team.

Was she even allowed to call Fox by that nickname anymore? That bridge had been burned but that didn't mean the ashes of those memories didn't still exist.

Whatever, there was a question to be answered. One Emma didn't like to dwell on--she was afraid she'd hate the answer. “Of course I’m a girl. That's just so...millennial.”

“Oh, okay, like I know what that means.”

“You know you do.”

Betsy smirked. “Anyway,” she chortled, moving swiftly back to her initial proposal. “If I don't call it a girls’ trip, will you take the offer?”

“Anything I want?” Emma repeated slowly.

“Pretty much.”

“Even if it's in the men's section?”

“I just want you to be comfortable.”

Emma's eyes lit up. “Can I get a haircut?” She paused before clarifying. “Like, I want it short...boy short.”

“Ooh, a total makeover! I like your thinking!”

“One more question?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we go further so no one recognizes me?”

“That's a smart idea.”

This might have been the first time Emma was excited to go shopping and it showed.

“I love it when you’re smiling,” Betsy said in response to Emma’s goofy expression that told all. “That’s my girl,” she repeated as if she hadn’t seen Emma in years despite showing up to every swim meet.

Maybe she hadn’t.

“I should get dressed,” Emma stated. “I feel disgusting:”

“Fair point,” Betsy replied, taking a step toward Emma's doorframe. “I'll go make us breakfast.”

Then the door shut again and Emma was left alone, standing in front of the mirror as she grabbed her glasses from her dresser. God, she was a wreck. Her hair stuck up in at least three different places and her hoodie was fading and fell well past her waist. There were dark circles under her eyes. However much she wanted to pretend she could be perfect, she wasn’t. Especially not now. But at least she wasn’t stuck in the dark pit of yesterday and a fresh start felt a little more feasible despite last night’s dinner still on her table, untouched. The cutlery was jabbed into the long-cold chicken. Emma didn’t remember doing that. She didn’t think she had any instinct for self-preservation last night.

She was alive. Not okay, but alive.

Within a couple of minutes, she was dressed, and she left her room, finally reminded of the existence of the outside world. Her room was at the end of the hall and the room right next to hers was Greg’s. She peered in, noticing the door was open and the light was left off. No one was there. She descended the stairs slowly as the smell of eggs and toast hit her. It had been a while since she’d experienced that. Probably since the first time she went to Alyssa’s house.

That was probably the first time she thought about Alyssa since she dropped Emma off here, and suddenly she felt guilty despite everything that had happened to lead up to such a thing. What did her mom know about it? Did she even make it home?

Emma stopped at the bottom of the stairs, peering into the kitchen at her grandmother handling a frying pan on the stove with ease.

“You made Greg go to school while I get to stay home?”

“Of course,” Betsy replied, not even hesitating. “He’s not going to help you, he can deal with the consequences.”

 “He was under a lot of pressure,” Emma tried to defend him, but Betsy was having none of it.

“He told me he got into an argument with a friend the day you got kicked out, too,” she said. “Said she got all pissed at him for ‘not wanting to risk being outed’ and couldn’t even come back here.”

This was brand new information to Emma, but she filled in his blanks that were meant to not out her relationship immediately. Just as quickly, the conversation between Alyssa and her cheer friends that she had heard only a week ago started to make sense. She wanted to know if it fed into everything that happened yesterday, but it was too late.

“Can we not talk about it? Any of it?”

Upon saying that, Emma thought she might get a lecture on the importance of opening up about her feelings, and she watched her grandmother mentally prepare to begin it, but the toaster popped to save her from that. On any other day she would agree with the idea behind the lecture, but it was different when she hadn’t even processed what had happened, let alone everything she felt about it.

“If you insist...have some toast, dear. I noticed you didn’t eat your dinner.”

Oh, fantastic.

Without saying anything else, Emma walked into the kitchen and grabbed a piece of toast directly from the toaster. If it burnt her hand, she didn’t appear to care, not even bothering to get a plate or butter the toast before she shoved it in her mouth. She turned to look at her Grandmother when she filled her mouth as if to ask Are you happy now? But the taste made Emma realize just how starved she was. Betsy just smirked.

Within no more than a half an hour, the pair were out the door, with Emma in the passenger’s seat of her grandmother’s car. They were silent as seatbelts clicked into place and the car chugged to a start. It was going to be a long drive since the nearest mall was in Heaven, the next town over, so as Betsy backed out of the driveway she tried to find something to say.

“You don’t want to talk about what happened, so what do you want to talk about?”

“Literally anything else,” Emma replied flatly.

Betsy contemplated the broad prompt for a moment. “Did I ever tell you how I met your grandfather?”

“...No, I don’t think so.”

“Oh, you must’ve been too young.”

“Uhm, ew.”

Betsy laughed. “No, it’s not gross. But, uh, you know how the sixties were.”

“That might be worse. Were you high?”

“Listen, that’s a given at Woodstock.”

“This is gonna be fun,”  Emma mumbled.

“Oh, you know it.”

The year was 1969, and Betsy Nolan was a radical by the standards of that year. She was the first person in her family to go to college, a special achievement for a woman at the time, and while she was there she was exposed to the anti-war sentiments of many students at the time. Being in New York City, Woodstock wasn’t too far and her family, who, of course, sent their only daughter to a private, Catholic college, would have no idea she was even attending. It would be a weekend of good music with her best friends, and that was all she expected. Some drunk fun.

She was sitting alone while her friends tried to find a bathroom, a joint nestled between her fingers as she idly watched the crowd. Nothing good should start that way and yet, someone was yelling over the noise of the way-larger-than-anticipated crowd.

“Oh, Leslie! There you are!”

Betsy turned around at the sound of a distinctly male voice. The man in front of her was not unlike every other man at the festival--covered in tie-dye, with blonde curls down to his shoulders and the strap of an acoustic guitar slung over one of them, but there was something intriguing about the wild colors of his eyes that left Betsy infatuated.

“I’m not Leslie,” she replied as kindly and calmly as she could. She didn’t want to scare him off. 

“Oh, I thought you were someone else! There’s no way a woman as gorgeous as you came here alone, after all.”

Oh my God, Gran, that’s so cheesy.

Shush, you. It’s just what happened.

Betsy blushed as she spoke. “I’m with friends. Tell me Leslie’s not a girlfriend before you flatter me, though.”

“Of course not. She’s my sister. And I’m Harrison, if you care. Harrison Nolan.”

“Elizabeth. My friends call me Betsy or Bea.”

(The second nickname would fade over time.)

“Are you implying I can call you that?”

“You did just call me gorgeous.”

Harrison smiled, and in one word it was radiant.

“So, Bea, how far have you and your friends come for this?”

“We all go to the College of New Rochelle, so, not too far.”

“I took you for the educated type.”

I appreciate Grandad’s style of flirting here.

“Why else would we be behind this movement if we weren’t?”

“Going to Vietnam for a few years the moment I turned 18 was helpful.”

Yikes.

You don’t need to rub it in.

It’s been 50 years!

“I’m...so sorry.”

“Don’t be! I’m excited to be home and have a normal life. That’s not all there is to me.”

“I’m sure you’re fascinating,” Betsy mused.

Harrison smirked. “You’re quite the flirt. Hey, pass over some of that. I want to know if that’s where you got such smooth talking from.”

“As if you’re not smooth?”

“I didn’t want to admit it, but I am so nervous right now.”

Betsy laughed at the honesty of the stranger she was immediately fond of, and with that, the nursing student who wasn’t supposed to have weed in the first place passed it to Harrison, who sat down next to her before he lit it again.

“Damn, that’s good.”

“You know,” Betsy said, suddenly realizing something. “You had to be pretty high already to confuse me with your sister.”

“Maybe...I was only kinda high, but I just wanted you to talk to me,” Harrison suggested. “She told me to meet her here but I thought you’d catch me in the lie sooner.”

“I don’t think I’d care.”

The connection of their lips in a heavy kiss only felt natural after that and they could taste the drugs on each other’s lips as they heard faint guitar riffs from not too far away. Eventually, a verse began and they pulled apart, panting for air. They were quiet for a long moment until a chorus began.

“I’m gonna have to learn that song now,” was the first thing Harrison said to Betsy.

“Why?”

“To remember the day I met my wife forever.”

“You know, I thought that was going to end with me making some joke about hating straight people, but that was actually pretty cute.”

“You knew your grandfather, he was...quite the man.”

“What happened with Leslie, though? Did grandad fabricate an entire sister?”

“No, she died before you were born, but at the time she came running up to him and started screaming at us when she caught us making out. Harry, I was gone for 15 minutes! Don’t tell me you got in a quick one with a stranger! You’re not even done with college! Dad will kill us both if you got a girl pregnant here of all places! You’ll never find her again! ”

“Um, rude.”

“That’s what I said! But after the initial drama we got on quite well.”

“Good to know.”

“You remind me of him a lot of the time,” the change in subject seemed abrupt but Emma went with it.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

With the story having used up much of the car ride, they arrived in the parking lot of the mall within a few minutes and decided the first course of action would be to freshen up Emma’s wardrobe because, simply put, she didn’t even like what she was in now. It was an old shirt from middle school so it didn’t fit entirely right, which was bad enough until what was printed on it was considered. It was a cheesy message about being yourself printed in giant, white, blocky letters. Emma could feel the irony of the statement burning into her skin in every place the white text layered over the black shirt. It worked for her back then, when she was closeted, but now she was facing the fact that not everyone wanted her to be herself. She thought the shirt would end up being reserved for going to bed alone, but right now that wasn’t the case.

There was a sharp change in Emma’s style when she was free to wear what she saw fit and that became evident within minutes of trying on new clothes. Her flannel collection, for starters, had to have tripled when she realized no one was going to limit which ones she bought based on if it was too boyish. New things she never would’ve imagined belonging to her, mostly obnoxiously patterned button downs, also got added to the collection. She didn’t stop to think about how everyone might react to the butcher choices because, in all honesty, she was too caught up in the freedom of self-expression. It was a relief. Now that Betsy had an idea of what Emma wanted, she was throwing some of her own ideas into the ring, much to Emma’s delight. She wasn’t used to having a parental figure who supported this sort of thing. Highlights of Betsy’s choices included the most obnoxious, large, army green jacket Emma could possibly imagine--which she pictured covering in pins of her choosing--and a simple orange beanie. Certainly, they couldn’t fill Emma’s closet in one shopping trip, but at least Emma had enough clothes to last her more than a week and Betsy knew what to get Emma to fill in the blanks of her wardrobe.

The other errands were smaller since Emma’s room was mostly furnished. All that was needed immediately was a bigger shelf for her books, including extra space for plenty she always wanted to read but couldn't until then, and a different color for the walls. Much like Emma’s choice of clothes, her bedroom walls would be decorated further as time went on, but at least if the walls were anything but drab egg white, the emptiness of it was bound to feel more temporary. Emma decided on a gender neutral lime green, and a bookshelf that you were meant to put together yourself because ‘it was cheaper'.

Betsy scoffed at the logic. “You're 16. You don't need to worry about that.”

“I--I mean, I just thought--”

“Listen. I don't know what it's been like for you, but I have a pension from working as a nurse for 35 years. I didn't retire that long ago and I still do part-time at the library. Don't worry about it.”

“Um. Alright. Might still be fun to put together though.”

Betsy knew Emma was probably saying that just so she didn’t have to feel bad about the situation but she conceded anyway, rolling her eyes. “If you say so.” Then the fiftieth attempt that day to get Emma to realize she shouldn’t have to be worried about being in her home. “How about a chalkboard wall?”

“Shit, you know me scarily well.”

The swear caused a few shoppers to turn and look. Only then did they seem to notice there was a teenage girl and her elderly guardian in the furniture store in the middle of the school day and they couldn’t help but stare at the oddity. Betsy paid no mind, actually finding pride in the situation. “Of course I do. I'm your grandmother.”

The last stop came on the way home from the mall when Betsy pulled into the parking lot of the place where she’d been getting her hair cut for the past decade. When they parked, Betsy made a call.

“Hello dear! Tell Doris it's Betsy Nolan and we have a little emergency.”

“Gran, we're not going in at…one o'clock on a Tuesday without an appointment.”

Betsy moved the phone for a moment. “Sh, don't worry about it.” There was a reply to her request that Emma couldn't hear as Betsy moved the phone back to her ear and answered. “Yes, it's a right now emergency.”

Emma was mortified.

“No, I’m not going to explain it in public. It's personal business. Just get Doris for me.”

The poor receptionist must have conceded because suddenly Emma was being dragged out of the car while being told Doris was an old friend. Thankfully she greeted the pair as such and it wasn't too awkward.

“Oh, Betsy! It's been too long!”

“Remember I was telling you how I met your grandfather? Doris is one of my friends who I was there with,” Betsy supplied, which was a relief to Emma as she offered a hand for Doris to shake.

“Summer of ‘69 was not one to forget,” Doris mused. “You must be the granddaughter I've heard so much about. Surely you know a thing or two about teenage shenanigans.

Those memories weren't hers to keep anymore.

“I can't say I do.”

“Aw, come on! I saw the headline in The Edgewater Gazette twice that you and Greg were doing some real impressive stuff for the swim team at the high school, and Betsy never shut up about it all January! Needed me to pretty her up for the big trip to the city! There was nothing of note there?

Emma didn't know whether to be crushed by or light up at the remarks.

I wouldn't have taken such a strong and silent type to be a pillow princess.

V was smirking at her and it was the first thing Emma saw when she came back to reality and the shitty hotel sheets.

I didn't know what I would do anyway so I thought it would be easier.

You liked it that way and you would have even if it wasn't your first time. Admit it.

I mean…

The look in V’s eyes changed for a moment.

What?

It's nice to feel cared for like that.

V said nothing so Emma continued.

Was that too sentimental? Cause if you wanted to let your smugness out by destroying me then I’m fine with that as long as I can destroy you in the finals later.

When you put it like that...losing doesn't sound so bad.

V kissed her again, slower than she had been all night. Emma felt her laugh and her insides lit on fire.

Get some sleep, then. You're gonna need it.

Or maybe...that was still hers, but no one here could know. Everyone here was around Betsy's age and they would implode. They’d probably implode no matter the age demographic. This was Edgewater, after all.

“No, ma’am.”

“Well, anyway, it's a pleasure finally meeting you. What brings you here with your grandmother at this time of day?”

Emma froze. Betsy took over, clearing her throat. “The aforementioned emergency.”

Silently, Emma wondered if they were close enough for Doris to have already heard about it more explicitly. She wondered how her grandmother discussed it. Either way, Doris just nodded courteously. “Alright. What do we need done?”

Emma stayed frozen. She always knew she wanted short hair but it was different trying to express that to a stranger, even if she was Betsy’s old friend. Again, Betsy saved Emma’s ass, leaning in to whisper a reiteration of what Emma told her earlier. Doris didn’t repeat it, thank God.

“And how are we going about this?”

“Uh, I dunno. I didn’t think I’d be doing this today so...I guess I’m your canvas.”

“Wonderful!”

With that, Doris got to work with Emma advising her and they ended up with a simple pixie cut that was slightly long, allowing a few curls to spring outwards. Emma was so caught up in the excitement that she didn’t even notice the stares that came with getting rid of most of her hair. (Which, of course, ended up being donated.) She simply stared at herself in the mirror, suspended in the moment of finally seeing herself as she always wanted. This was nothing like second grade. That was full of shame imposed on her by the expectation that she was supposed to be good. This was freedom. She brushed a hand over her hair slowly, as if to ensure it wasn’t a hologram, unable to stop an idiotic smile from showing on her face.

“What do you think?”

“It's perfect.”

As they left, Betsy left behind a particularly hefty tip for the emergency service Doris provided. Doris said something about that tip being the only way Betsy got away with doing this and Betsy gleefully ignored the remark, instead chortling about sending her love to Sylvia.

“Was Sylvia another college friend?” Emma asked.

Betsy gave an affirmative hum and waited until they were alone to finish by saying “And Doris’s wife.”

Emma beamed to herself. She wasn't alone here.

The ride home was filled with Emma gushing about the new look. What this all meant to her. Maybe she could start fresh, or as fresh as she could while at the same high school. Getting home felt refreshing when she knew that soon the room would look like it belonged to her.

Gran put the shopping bags in the hallway to make room for what came next.

“The bookshelf was your idea. You're putting it together.”

Emma silently gaped at her grandmother.

“What? I bet you're good with your hands.”

“You...disgust me.”

“Not my fault you have a terrible poker face,” Betsy winked. “I'm gonna go make some cookies.”

“Mm, have fun!”

“You too!”

It wasn't long before Greg got home and saw the chaos of Emma putting together a bookshelf leaking from her room. Against all logic, it was going well, but that didn't mean it didn't take a shitload of space.

“Woah, there’s stuff here,” Greg muttered.

“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” Emma muttered back, nose still buried in the manual.

“You...went shopping without me,” Greg suddenly realized, tone incredulous.

“Of course,” Betsy called from the kitchen. “Would have been awkward dragging you along after everything!”

Greg couldn't argue with that, so he didn't, instead, he found himself stepping over some of Emma's work to enter her space. “I'm sorry about that. It was stupid and immature and I shouldn't have been thinking about myself on the worst days of your life.”

“It's not like I could be mad at you.”

“What?”

“You were trying to be safe. I can't imagine what it was like to be there watching that video with everyone reacting right there.”

“Even beyond that swim fucking sucked today. Jess was such an ass for no reason, especially to Winnie.”

“Apparently Jess has always been that way,” Emma sighed. “How is Winnie doing?”

“Came up to me asking how you were, so I'm assuming she's still trying to reach you, unlike...everyone else.”

“Noted.”

“Enough about her, are we good?”

“I'm gonna be honest and say it sucked, what you did. I know you know me well enough to assume I didn't want you there but the dumb thing is, I did. I've been so lost and really...just sad you couldn't be there for me even though I understood why you did what you did.”

“Well, I am gonna be there now because I was just dumb for not doing anything. As long as you don't hold a grudge?”

“Of course not. Apology accepted..." Emma trailed off for a moment, squinting at the print of the manual as she spoke again, slower this time. "Can you pass me the number three Robertson head non-slip screwdriver?”

“Jesus Christ, which one is that?”

“I forgot you're you,” Emma answered lightly, leaning over to get it herself. Greg just huffed.

“How do you know it's that one?”

“I'm reading the instructions,” Emma stated.

“Who even has tools that specific?”

“Grandad did, I found them in the garage.”

“Fine, nerd,” Greg’s light insult didn't last long. “Nice haircut, by the way.”

“Thanks.”

The next obstacle came when the pair ravaged the kitchen for the fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies and Betsy asked Emma something.

“Why don't you ask your girlfriend if she wants to come over?”

“I'm sorry, what?”

“You know I figured you out and I don't mind.”

“Uh, I mean, I can ask, but it's gonna be...hard to make that work?”

“I will...um, kindly avoid being home on the day that's arranged,” Greg managed.

“Oh, no, you better get along with her,” Betsy snapped back.

Then came the phone call to Alyssa when Emma got back to her room. Alyssa answered almost instantly even though she had probably just gotten home, further proven by the fact that she was whispering, pretending to get her homework done immediately.

“Hi, babe.”

Emma blushed at the pet name, replying with a bashful “Hi.”

“I'm glad you're okay...settling in today, I guess?”

“Yeah, about that?”

“Hm?”

“My grandma wants to meet you.”

There was a moment of silence and in it, Emma felt Alyssa's panic. Alyssa didn't dare ask how Emma’s grandma even knew in the first place.

“Don't worry about it, she's chill! Like, really chill! You should see what she let me do,” Emma blushed deeper at the thought of Alyssa seeing her new haircut, something she had to witness in real-time. “But I’ll let that be a surprise for later. I’ll be out of school again tomorrow to paint my room, do you wanna swing by in the evening?”

“I'll ask my mom. She’ll probably say yes if I say it's for Greg. She's so excited about him, it's hilarious," As Alyssa was talking, a text notification popped up on her phone. "Oh, speak of the devil…”

alyssa im fully aware i was a jerk to both you and em so can we be civil cause i know we both need this cover and if gran knows i was mean to emmas secret gf IM DONE FOR.

“Is that gonna be weird?”

Alyssa giggled. “Not at all. I gotta go though.”

“Keep me posted?”

“Yep. Love you, bye.”

“Bye.”

Not even 10 minutes later, Alyssa confirmed her initial thoughts about her mother. Now all there was left to do was wait for tomorrow evening, which would somehow be even better than that day.

Emma squealed and flopped onto her bed. She had a proper dinner date with Alyssa just like any other teenager, with no strings attached.

Chapter Text

Back at school, Emma, and her mysterious absence after a week since the story broke, were still the talk of the town. Even outside of school it seemed to be all anyone discussed. Living in a town as small as Edgewater, this drama was the biggest anyone had seen in years, propelling the moves of everyone in town; the discussion taking over everywhere from school to church. Wednesday after school, a completely normal day for everyone on the squad except Alyssa, would end up being no exception, as once again the cheer team was changing in the locker rooms, eagerly preparing for the first basketball game of the season at a practice that just ended. At the moment, Shelby was gushing about her now-boyfriend, Kevin, who was on the basketball team and super excited to see her cheer for him. She and Kaylee were so caught up in that that neither of them noticed the way Alyssa was vibrating with excitement as she changed until she grabbed her letterman from her cheer locker for an extra layer on top of her winter coat since midwestern winters were brutal, and something fell out of the pocket, clattering on the linoleum floor. Kaylee whipped around and found the small box face up on the floor. Shelby turned to look only when Kaylee spoke.

“The hell is that?”

“Nothing!” Alyssa cried out. 

She knew the way she said it seemed defensive, but even if Greg apologized, Kaylee and Shelby didn't know that and were still adamant that she shouldn't give him a second chance because he was so close with “the queer”. Even if they weren't, she didn't know Greg enough to lie convincingly about the contents of the box. Though she supposed Kaylee and Shelby knew him less.

“Doesn't look like nothing,” Kaylee commented, eyeing the blue wrapping paper topped with a golden bow.

“Well, you didn't need to say that,” Alyssa muttered under her breath.

Shelby caught on quickly. “This is about Greg, isn't it? You only get this weird about him.”

“I do not!”

It wasn't a lie.

“You do.”

“Fuck you, Shelby,” Alyssa tried to make it sound like a joke but it wasn't.

“Oh,” Shelby hollered. “You’re down bad, girl.”

“You’re gonna just...forgive him like that? Kaylee asked, waving around that damned package as she spoke with barely any volume control. The contents rattled and Alyssa, attempting to keep this a surprise even if Emma wasn’t around to hear about it, cringed. “He’s way too close with Emma,” Kaylee finished her statement, too caught up in the gossip to notice Alyssa, who accidentally jolted at Emma’s name and she muttered, “God, can’t we shut up about that?”

Kaylee cocked an eyebrow.

“I’m so bored of it. Hasn’t anything happened the past two weeks?” She asked, putting her usual popular girl mask back on as she reached for the box. Kaylee held it above her head and smirked, so Alyssa kept trying to dig herself out of the hole. “I mean--okay, probably not, I hate it here, it’s so boring, but come on , give him a chance. They’re cousins! They spent every day together before everything happened too! He’s not automatically her just because they live together now.”

Finally, Kaylee sighed dramatically and lowered the box. “Guess I can’t change your mind, you stubborn ass. Don’t be shocked when he breaks your heart.”

Alyssa winced at the name-calling even though she knew it was meant lightly. It just didn’t feel right when she knew that she would hate her if she knew. If she knew she was lying through the skin of her teeth. About this relationship, about her sexuality, about her plan in life--literally everything. She would be calling Alyssa an ass for a horrible reason instead of this affectionate manner if any of that somehow got out, so in a way she should hate her.

“Now you know how I feel about Nick,” Alyssa grumbled.

“Oh, shit!” Shelby hollered, finally shoving herself back into the conversation.

“Shut up! Give me the box back!”

“ Fine .” 

Alyssa grinned quite fakely the moment the box touched her hand. “Thank you! I have to go!”

“Oh, okay, I see how it is,” Shelby teased. It felt slightly more natural but still weird.

Alyssa rolled her eyes. “Whatever! See you guys later, bye!”

Without another word, Alyssa shoved the neatly wrapped package back into the pocket of her letterman and swung it over her shoulders. Then she did the same thing with her winter coat and backpack before buttoning and zipping the respective jackets as she left the locker room, letting out a sigh of relief when all she received in reply were simple goodbyes that faded away the further she got from the door. When the door shut behind her and she was sure nobody could see her anymore, she smiled to herself even though she had nearly outed herself. She was crazy about Emma--and if that was shown to her friends through the thinly veiled vessel of a boy, she could live with it, because even if the name was a lie, discussing this with her friends instead of forcing herself onto the sidelines made her feel like a normal teenager. It was the biggest fuck you that she could possibly give to the people who tried, and succeeded, at least until Emma, to convince her she was an abomination without being outed. That evening was going to be even bigger. She would be meeting her girlfriend’s grandmother, something expected in a relationship that was still somehow rebellious because she was a girl in love with a girl.

Now her only hope was that Emma would say it back. She didn’t blame her for not saying it on Monday--she had just been heartbroken by her closest friend, but it still sucked. The good thing about Emma being out of her parents’ house, though, was that they both had a chance to be hopeful even though they were in Edgewater.

Meanwhile, at the Nolan residence, it was still the furthest thing from normal that the two residents of that house who had been living there for years had experienced for a long time, even if the rest of the town chose to ignore it in favor of mockery. The craziness was welcome today as the clock approached half-past five quickly. Emma, Greg, and Betsy had spent the day painting Emma’s new room, and one of Emma’s old t-shirts was covered in splotches of the lime green after hours of work. Greg sunk down on the floor, feeling like he was withering away from the labor. Emma laughed and turned toward him.

“You okay, dude?”

“I’m dying ,” Greg groaned, glancing down at his watch. “We’ve been working on this for, like, four hours.”

To paint such a big room Emma and her grandmother realized they would need a third person to help them so Betsy reluctantly let Greg stay home from school that day since he had apologized to Emma already.

Emma put her paintbrush back in the bucket of paint. “Oh, shoot, it’s 5 o’clock already?”

Betsy didn’t turn away from her work on the quickly filling wall as she spoke to her granddaughter. “You better get changed. You wouldn’t want your girlfriend seeing you like this.”

“She wouldn’t mind,” Emma stated without much thought, a blush appearing on her cheeks instantly. “But I want to look nice anyway.”

Betsy smiled. “Of course! You do have a whole new closet now, use it! I’ll get out of your face, find something good!”

Before Emma could reply, Betsy had put down her paintbrush and forced Greg to stand back up and leave Emma’s room. The door closed with a quick noise and Emma took it in for a moment, standing in the silence of a half-painted room. After that moment, she walked over to her closet and then stopped again, methodically planning her choice of clothes. It was exciting now that she had things she wanted to wear. Her sweaters and obnoxious flannels all felt too casual for Alyssa’s first time seeing the place she lived and meeting her grandmother, so she found herself parsing through her button-ups. She eventually found herself drawn to something simple; a plain white button-up with sky blue jeans, her brand-new beanie, and Doc Martens instead of her usual ratty Converse that were pink just because her parents wanted her to have something pink in her wardrobe. When she put the outfit on, she cuffed the sleeves of both her shirt and jeans on and made the choice to not button the shirt all the way. Before she showed Betsy and Greg, she checked herself out in the mirror and actually felt like she looked good. Having the confidence to wear something well-fitting because it felt like hers was refreshing, and perhaps that showed when she showed the look to her grandmother.

“If you’re wearing that, it’s a door-open policy.”

Emma laughed. “Okay, okay. But you asked me to change.”

“I did,” Betsy replied. “And she is going to love it.”

“Ew,” Greg exclaimed from the couch, his new spot for sulking about his arms being sore from painting.

“What? You know how kids your age are. I didn’t miss it with you and Noah.”

“Oh, come on!”

Emma just smirked at him. Betsy was quick to pretend she didn’t just roast her grandson. “So! Should I make some more cookies?”

“Damn, Emma,” Greg muttered. “You need to have major life events more often. You’re clearly the favorite.”

“I know.”

“I can’t catch a break today, can I?”

“Nope, never!”

Hardly 20 minutes later, the doorbell rang, and Emma jumped up and ran to the door, easily ignoring Greg’s laughter.

Alyssa didn’t know what to expect when she rang the doorbell to Emma’s house, especially not after witnessing only a moment of her girlfriend's previous home life, but Greg laughing at her from somewhere in the living room wasn’t it. The instant Emma pulled the door open, that joyous sound hit Alyssa’s ears and the warmly-lit house and aroma of baked goods was a sharp contrast to the weather she had just walked here in. Emma was staring at her like she was the brightest sun in the galaxy, despite the fact that she was freezing and the sight of Emma was a lot more to take in. Alyssa was shocked into a stunned silence.

If Emma seemed most confident at the pool in the past, it was barely anything compared to the smugness oozing out of her as she leaned against the doorframe so casually. The thing about watching Emma swim was that it was loud and chaotic, so her confidence usually disappeared in an instant, but in the relative silence and warmth emanating from her home, she was smoldering, and she looked like herself--the way she always used to say she wanted to. Clearly, she knew Alyssa would find something attractive about that because the top two buttons on her shirt were undone and she was just grinning at her.

“Hey, babe. What do you think of the new look?” There was a glow in Emma’s eyes.

“It’s, uh, wow.”

Emma laughed at Alyssa’s panicked stammering to the point where the cackles made her tilt her head back before she spoke again. “Come in. Let me take your coat.”

Alyssa just nodded and swallowed thickly, stepping into the house and letting Emma take her coat after she shut the door. Once that was done, Emma hung up her beanie as well, revealing her newly cropped hair.

“I’ll say it again,” Alyssa whispered. “Wow.”

It was now Emma’s turn to blush. For a brief moment, there was nothing but silence between them as they wordlessly communicated the suppression of the urge to touch each other, to relish in each other’s presence. It was the kind of silence that rose and ballooned between them in nothing but warmth. It burst only when the oven timer blared and there was a sudden scrape of metal caused by the fresh tray of cookies leaving the oven. Only when Betsy left the tray on the countertop did she acknowledge the girls, approaching them in the doorway.

“Well, aren’t I glad I raised a gentleman? And you are?”

It was only when Betsy spoke that Alyssa noticed she was there, and she jumped away from Emma as she quickly turned to look at Betsy, eyes wide and panicked.

“Alyssa Greene, ma’am.”

Betsy couldn’t hide the bemused look on her face.

“Gran, please say something so I know you won’t kill me?”

“I’m sorry, Veronica Greene’s daughter?” Betsy raised an eyebrow to emphasize the question.

“I know we look nothing alike, I get that a lot.”

“No, I’m not worried about that,” Betsy chuckled. “I’m just imagining the look on her face if she realized you have a horrible poker face for my granddaughter!”

“Jesus Christ, Gran!” Greg exclaimed while Alyssa laughed uncomfortably. To distract from that, Emma faked a pout. “Are you saying she wouldn’t like me?” she whined sarcastically.

“She’d hate you, but that’s why I love you,” Betsy stated before turning to her guest. “And to be clear, Alyssa, I don’t mind who your mother is, I can tell you love my granddaughter already. I’m sure you’re a wonderful girl.”

At Betsy’s proclamation, Alyssa just looked down at the floor, but not even that hid her grin. Betsy smiled back at this, hardly noticing how Emma did the same thing in a much more nervous manner.

“Why don’t you come in, have a cookie?”

Alyssa gladly accepted, meanwhile, Emma found herself in desperate need of an escape. She suddenly realized she was halfway through a beeline to the bathroom by the time she spoke. “I’ll, um...I--I’ll be right back.”

Everyone clearly noticed something was up, but nobody commented on it, and Emma slammed the door behind her before anyone could respond, anyway. She stood at the sink with a death grip on it, suddenly refusing to look at herself in the mirror. It felt stupid to feel so nervous over a minor comment, especially since those sorts of jokes were how her grandmother showed her affection, but Alyssa didn’t know that, so it was just hitting her now how big of a deal this actually was. If Betsy decided she didn’t like Alyssa, she could use anything to kick her to the curb since she wasn’t a legal guardian. If Alyssa didn’t like Betsy, God knows what arguments they’d get into, and if both of those somehow happened--Emma might as well implode. She didn’t have anything else. And since she was alone, she had nobody to stop the spiral of thought of all the different ways her life could possibly be ruined by not only this moment but every other one until she left James Madison. There were so many scenarios that she felt like she was drowning in them--suddenly it was so easy to feel that way--and she couldn’t keep them straight. She didn’t even notice how much mental energy this took until she was jolted from it by someone banging the door so loud that she was suddenly imagining it collapsing and killing her right there. One clear thought meant she immediately realized her breathing was shallow, and she yelped without thought at the noise of the door.

“Can I come in?”

Greg, thank fuck.

“Y-yeah.”

The door opened then closed before he spoke again. “I had a feeling you were freaking out,” his tone was noticeably softer than when he was complaining to her earlier today.

Emma just nodded, not looking Greg in the eyes.

“I promise you, everything’s okay.”

“And I know that, but I just--I don’t know--”

“This is important to you,” Greg stated as if he were reading her mind, and for a moment, she gaped slightly.

“It’s easier to find things important when they’re numbers and endless patterns and not...feelings.”

“Yuck, feelings,” Greg teased, and Emma smiled slightly even as she was staggering for breath. She didn’t say anything. Greg continued.

“In all seriousness, I’ve been keeping an eye out. Nothing bad has happened, okay?”

“Okay...okay, yeah.”

“Do you want some water?” Greg asked softly. “You probably need it.”

Emma nodded, suddenly aware of the fact that she was lightheaded from gasping for air, although the question, alongside the reply she would have to give in a moment, kept her from dwelling on that as Greg filled the cup they kept in the bathroom for when they brushed their teeth. “My hands might be a little shaky.”

“That's okay.”

Emma sipped the water slowly and waited for Greg to speak, because when she knew what to say it was easier to filter everything.

“Does this happen a lot?”

Emma didn't really want to discuss that but it was a distraction from Oh God what if this is all a lie and Alyssa decided you were already too much when you freaked out at your Dad's place that one night and it's all a joke. No one stays, why would she? Especially not when you're like this. It would be easier for everyone if you died and they wouldn't miss you because you're a hot mess. “I mean, sometimes.”

“What do you usually do?”

“I, uh, handle it alone.”

You're always alone.

“Okay, but how?”

“My dad would be drunk and I’d hide in the bathroom and distract myself by plugging the drain and soaking my arms in freezing water until it hurts so bad I don't think.”

Greg blinked, dumbfounded. “Is that what you're trying to do?”

“I think I was about to? I don't know anymore.”

“You don't have to hurt yourself, Em.”

“It hurts, but it's nice. It feels like being at the pool, kinda.”

Greg waited for a fuller response because he knew that didn't have the greatest connotation right now.

“It hurts less than thinking people want you dead. Way less scary. I'm...so scared, Greg.” That was when Emma finally let out a sob.

Greg reacted instantly, grabbing a towel from where it hung. As he handed it to her he let a hand linger on her arm. “There's nothing to be afraid of. Let me show you. I’ll be right here. I do care if you die, even if things go bad with Lys, which is not now, I swear. We're family--and even if we weren't, you're the coolest person in this God-forsaken town.”

“Cooler than Gran?” Emma joked, suddenly realizing she felt safer now than however long ago she came in here.

“Uh, no shit.”

She laughed at that, feeling her breathing even out. After a few more minutes, Greg asked if she was ready to go. It was terrifying, but it felt good to get her anxiety out of her for now and let her struggle be out in the open, even if it was only to Greg, and he didn't exactly get it, he would be there. Alyssa was a whole other can of worms that would be opened fairly quickly, because apparently, the look on Emma’s face made it obvious that she had been crying, on top of her reddened eyes and the wrinkles in her nice shirt. Emma was shocked Alyssa and Gran even noticed her and Greg come in because they were deep in some embarrassing story about Emma as a kid and both of them were laughing so loud that she had no choice but to feel okay again.

“Are you really telling her that?”

“Listen, you swallowing a penny and puking it up made you who you are,” Betsy quipped.

“I was 6,” Emma called out, folding her arms indignantly. “It was before Lys came here. I never told her for a reason.”

“Yeah, but you hate capitalism now,” Betsy replied, dead serious.

Emma could’ve quipped right back about that having more to do with being raised by her as opposed to her actual parents than choking on a penny as a kid. But that was a reminder of everything, so she just gave a little “Hmph,” and looked back at the ground.

The silence flared with pity for just a second.

“Hey, Em, do you wanna get some air while Ms. Nolan starts dinner?” The question was gentle. So gentle that it was nearly overshadowed by Ms. Nolan insisting Alyssa call her Betsy.

Emma just nodded, and finally, Betsy noticed that something was off about her granddaughter’s behavior since Alyssa came into their space. She had previously been preoccupied by the guest, but now she didn't even bother with a comment that the pair better not be screwing in the garage. Instead, all that happened was an exchange of glances as Emma turned a little pink before even stepping into the cold. Once the pair got their coats on and stepped out without a word, that pink tinge became a jolt of a shiver. The town around them was so still with the dead of winter that Alyssa didn't think before grabbing Emma’s hand even though they were on the front porch.

“Hey. Are you okay?

“I want this to be...good...so badly that I don't know what to do with myself,” Emma admitted shyly.

“It is good. Your grandma takes some getting used to, but it's a welcome change from everyone else in town.” Alyssa paused before grinning. And the embarrassing stories about you help.”

“That's what Greg was getting to, I think. Um, but…”

Alyssa didn't say anything when Emma didn't pick up after trailing off. She just tilted her head to one side slightly, like a golden retriever. Emma chuckled through attempts to articulate her thoughts.

“But I think I mean that for more than just tonight. What if this goes away?”

“Us?”

“I mean...I should expect people to go away but what if you do? What then? I want us to go well so bad that any other thought wrecks me...cause you're just so good to me, and for what? You text first because you know I get anxious--and I never had the stupid things like that. But you notice. And what do I do without someone to notice all the stupid things and not care about them?”

Alyssa took a breath to process Emma’s small monologue. “We don't have to think about that, because I’m not going anywhere, but honestly, I think the same things.”

Emma looked stunned by this. “What? But you're like...perfect.”

Alyssa couldn't help but laugh at the declaration. “I lie to this whole town about everything. You're the one who knows. I can't lose that. I'm not going anywhere.”

Then she made a decision that most would consider a mistake. An impulsive decision that was a byproduct of a naïve teenage love. She held out her pinky finger. “I want to be with you. Platonic or romantic. I promise.”

Emma just stared at it for a moment, so Alyssa uttered a confession. “...I think pinky promises are sacred oaths.”

Emma should be thinking that things like that are stupid. If it were anyone else, she would be. She never believed in that and knew damn well that forever isn't something you promise. Especially not when you're 16. But it was Alyssa, so she grinned at the stupid little proclamation that had no reason to believe when she was scared everything else would fall away because no one else had told her I want to be in your life. And no one else had stayed, always trying to defend her no matter what it could’ve cost. So she held out her pinky, and then they interlocked.

“That’s why I keep coming back, I guess. Since you wanted to know so bad.”

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. A heavy silence, so thick it could barely be cut with a knife if anyone tried. Their breaths became silver wisps again and they twisted together so well they couldn't be told apart.

Oh.

“Shit, I…” When Emma trailed off again she looked to the street and Alyssa knew. For a brief sweet shot, it was like a heterosexual film where the couple is running through the snowy park, hands interlocked. Even that was only out of context. They were actually running to privacy in the backyard. Eventually, they settled again on the stoop of the balcony, and it was here that they entangled themselves in each other even though it was wet and cold and probably hadn’t been washed in...who knows how long.

Ew.

“Are you okay?” Alyssa whispered now that they were guaranteed no harassment from passing cars, even on a nestled side road. She was so close to Emma that the latter could feel their sides pressing and, more importantly, the feeling of Alyssa’s breath, hot on her ears and moving a few locks of hair just a touch.

Emma closed her eyes, blinding herself to Alyssa’s reaction. “I trust you. I trust you, and that scares the shit out of me.”

“Okay,” Alyssa muttered, processing the information.

“Fuck it, I don’t know how else to say it. I love you too.”

Alyssa grinned, relieved the tension that she’d been feeling since that fateful moment in the school parking lot was released. “I love you,” she repeated.

For a moment, they passed the words back and forth, until all they could do was laugh at each other for continuing to say it until they lost count of how many times they did. Saying the words again and again, the pair expected they would feel as if they lost meaning, but they didn’t. With every repetition, they grinned a little wider and an almost competitive spirit was ignited, both refusing to be the one who relented and left the other with nothing but the words until Emma started to laugh. A real laugh, full and from her chest, made her fall back onto the wood making the base of the back deck.

“What are we doing?” she managed as she giggled.

“Starting over,” Alyssa replied as honestly as she could. “Looking forward to what’s left for us, creating something new to hold on to, and maybe realizing it won’t crumble under us?”

They both knew what she meant.

“And on that note, I kind of--” Alyssa stopped for a moment, watching Emma sit up as she fiddled with her jacket, looking for the box. “Got you a housewarming gift.”

Instead of protesting like she usually would, Emma just took the box, admiring the color and intricacies of the neat wrapping before she untied the bow with care. The lid slid off effortlessly once Emma pulled on it, and what else would be inside but a small toy taxi.

“You didn’t.”

Alyssa looked down with a bashful blush hidden well by her hugging her jacket close to her chest and fixing the buttons and zippers again.

“New beginnings, or whatever.” She had planned something nicer to say but now that she saw a childlike joy make Emma’s whole face light up, it didn’t matter.

Emma rushed to pick up the toy, running her fingers along the blacks checks making a line on the yellow vehicle. Slowly, her hand drifted to the bottom and one finger brushed a wheel, going back and forth on the smooth wheel. No one was there to call her a bad kid. She grinned.

“Thanks,” she breathed coyly.

“You’re cute when you're happy like this,” Alyssa smiled, thinking nothing of the observations. She tugged at the edge of Emma’s beanie to take it off, revealing her cropped hair to tussle with it. “Handsome with the hat off.”

“Lucky us, hats are against school dress code,” Emma commented. “You’ll hardly have to see me cute rather than handsome.”

“Your Gran is cool with us, though, so maybe I can make it work. Tell a couple of lies.”

Emma scoffed jokingly. “A couple?”

“Speaking of, there are actually people inside waiting for us and I’m freezing, so let’s go.”

“You didn’t answer for your crimes, Greene,” Emma joked again.

“God, will this shut you up?”

Suddenly there was liplock made slightly awkward by Emma’s beanie falling into Alyssa’s lap since she took it from her. It wasn’t like their other kisses that were intentionally soft and fast. This one confirmed that this house could be their place until they were in a corner of the world that could be their place in its entirety with no fear of or shame in being found out. It was rough from lips chapping thanks to the cold as hands shot all over. It was reckless, yet it was a refuge.

And of course, it wasn’t discreet to Betsy. Despite that, dinner went along smoothly even with more embarrassing stories being told. Afterward, Alyssa had a little time before she had to head home, so she and Emma were sat on the couch. Whatever they could find on Betsy's cable TV hummed in the background of their chatter until Emma's phone chimed.

not to be annoying but like are you alive?

"You never texted Winnie back?" Alyssa inquired, peering over her girlfriend's shoulder to view the message history on her phone.

"Look, I'm kinda still getting my life together again."

"Maybe you should. Maybe it would be nice."

Alyssa's talking about more than just talking to her, and they both know it.

"But--"

"She's trying, and do you think you could spend the rest of your life avoiding the thing you love?"

"I could pick up that guitar..."

"Now who's avoiding the question?"

It was a thing Emma was left to contemplate after Alyssa left, and after hours of laying in bed restlessly, she shocked herself with her answer.

yeah i was just avoiding a mental breakdown and shit

if you still wanna be my friend after all this...hmu?

Chapter Text

Neither Emma nor Winnie knew what to say to each other when they met up before school the following Monday. It was the first time Emma was in school since her last meeting with the rest of the team. Betsy practically physically restrained Emma from leaving for school on Thursday and Friday, worried she might start panicking again seeing her former friends or the people who outed her. She even offered to move Emma to the neighboring school district and drive her in every day because the school buses didn’t go that far. Emma knew the neighboring town was just as homophobic, though, and life had to move on at some point. She had to face her truth now that it was there. After just a week, she felt more prepared for that.

That didn't make reconnecting with Winnie any easier, especially with the elephant in the room.

They came in through opposite doors, quietly staring from either side of the width of the pool.

“You came.”

“I’m sorry!” Winnie blurted the moment Emma expressed some amount of shock. Because she was sorry Emma thought she wouldn't be there. But she felt the need to apologize for the mess as a whole, too, as if she caused it. “If I hadn't been seen with you this wouldn't have happened.”

”It was inevitable, kiddo,” Winnie grinned sheepishly at Emma's pet name because she was an awful lot like her former captain, who didn't even put thought into the word. “They’d find a way eventually.”

“But--”

“No, honey, you’re allowed to have friends and not everything is your fault. Especially not this. Okay?” 

Emma had noticed over the past several months that Winnie had an affinity for all kinds of affection, even if she’d never admitted to it. She was a whole lot like Emma, so Emma knew she wasn’t going to wait until the younger girl reached her tipping point. Pet names and reassurance slid out of her like butter, things she longed to hear for years...until Jess came along.

“Okay.”

Emma felt herself space out a bit at the thought. So maybe her former best friend saw her as a vanity project--but that didn’t mean shit now.

Dad, when are we gonna start Family Game Night again?

An innocent question 4 months after her grandparents passed.

I don’t know, baby.

I miss you. You’re alone in your room all the time and I never see you. When will things be normal again?

His voice grows low.

I don’t know.

I want to feel normal again!

Emma held back a sob as she raised her quivering voice.

You should stop only thinking about yourself! The world doesn’t revolve around you, and I’m dealing with this too! I don’t know! I don’t know anything! Maybe it’ll never be normal again!

Emma was so frightened by his screams that she pressed herself against the wall, eyes shut tight.

But it was only in the middle of the pool room, in front of Winnie, of course, that she realized she understood what he meant.

“Emma?” 

She blinked. “Hm?”

“Where are you changing?”

“Don’t worry about that.”

The longer they spent trying to calculate what to say and how to bridge this gap, the more Emma didn’t know what to say. They had spoken over text; about the team and Jess, how they were treating Winnie after everything, (Not good.) About how her parents were treating her now that the video was bleached from the internet,  (Not speaking was better than the alternative.) et cetera. Emma said nothing about herself other than the fact that she was looking up how to play her grandfather’s old guitar. There was nothing else to say. Everybody seemed to know everything else and she felt naked all the time in an emotional way.

But maybe it was worth trying again anyway.

She slipped back into the water for the first time in a week the old-fashioned way, through the ladder. Winnie followed shortly after and they were silent.

It felt...different. Odd. Her legs were slippery underneath her as she stared at the fine, moving lines of the water underneath her. Maybe because it was just them. There was no chatter, no passive-aggressive splashing over a joke being told, no friendship.

But there was also no race against the clock nor the expectation that she, not even the whole team, dominate the competition. No burden of her parents’ disappointment each day, no idealistic dream of a championship to permit Emma to hide herself in the name of a team.

She was free. Now that she was nobody, there were no rules to bind her to the way she used to do things. She could be whatever she wanted; she could allow herself to be someone apart from the constant victor she was framed as. She could have fun. 

In some ways, this had already hit her--dramatically changing her presentation and moving into a new home helped, but it smacked her in the face all over again when she got in the pool. School and home were always two different worlds.

Overcome by the epiphany, a childlike joy overcame her and without thought, she shoved a wave of water at Winnie, who was still hovering by the ladder, hesitant as well until the water hit her and she shrieked, rushing away from it. Yet, Winnie didn’t verbally react to it other than the scream. She didn’t bother asking Emma why she had done it, simply splashing her back.

She had always seen her younger siblings do this, but she’d never said she wanted to join in. By the time two of them were old enough for it, Winnie was already 9. Much too old for her siblings’ games according to her parents. She was the oldest. She was supposed to be setting an example. It was funny. Abigail was only 2 years younger than her but was never told to be an example by age 9.

It was funny until one day when she realized it wasn’t--and then everything made sense.

She supposed this was Emma’s example.

How was someone two years older kinder than her family? It was the same age gap that she had with Abigail.

Though Emma and Winnie kept up the splashing for a while, Emma seemed to notice something off.

“Hey, kid, you alright?”

“It’s not fair.”

Somehow, Emma softens even further at Winnie’s words, slowly wading toward her, but only slightly. “I told you not to worry about it, okay?”

“But I feel terrible about it.”

“I should’ve remembered how they treat me and not dragged you into it. Don’t think that way.”

“But I’m so selfish! You had been thrown out and all I could think was Damn, I wish that were me. I want someone to give a shit about me like your grandma.” The words were out before she could think, and that set a precedent for the rest of the conversation.

Emma froze for a moment, totally stunned. She barely moved a muscle as she spoke. “What do they do to you?”

Winnie looks down at the empty blue of the water beneath her and starts nervously rubbing the back of her neck. “I mean, it’s really not a big deal cause I guess I’m used to it--”

She knew what that meant.

“Winnie,” Emma interrupted the younger girl’s rambling, even more tension quivering in her voice than just 5 seconds ago. She’s firmer, too. In her head, she’s trying so hard not to scare Winnie, especially not in a moment like this, but she knew better than to deny how she always was when in these sorts of situations. Like father like daughter. “What do they do?”

“I mean it sort of makes sense when you think about it cause my mom cheated on my dad--” she started before clasping a hand over her mouth, making it clear that she had never spoken about this, and probably that she was instructed to do so.

“And he doesn’t think of you as his kid?” Emma filled in.

Winnie swallowed. Nodded. It was two distinct motions. “But they’re still together to save face, so my mom always acts the same way. They had a bunch more kids--I can’t really call them siblings, let’s face it--and I guess I’m different than them...and that’s the way it is.”

“That doesn’t answer the question,” Emma replied. Midway through she realized how flat it was, and so she attempted to add a sweet ending. It sounded wrong.

“I don’t– I mean, I guess they just don’t notice my existence, and when they do, it’s never good…” she trailed off, and immediately Emma understood, giving a small nod. “...but I guess it’s better than nothing?”

It wasn’t. They both knew that.

“Would you rather have nothing?”

“When my siblings shove me around and order me to do their chores because they know no one will do anything, sure. But I like to think they’ll realize eventually, that I’m still their kid.”

Something about this confession made Emma feel like she had broken into a million pieces. She didn’t remember the last time she felt that hope. Part of her was jealous that Winnie could still think that way. Another part just felt pity. It was a pity that a girl with so much potential was so hung up on this hope. A hope that Emma had learned the hard way was worthless. It somehow eroded her anger at the Thompson’s to see it from that view and finally, her toughness cracked. Even when her other former teammates were in her life, they didn’t know how to hear this sort of thing, so Emma made sure they didn’t, unless it was Jess, and even that was rare and vague. In this softening, she remembered the moments seconds after the interaction she had been reminiscing on earlier.

There was a decently long silence apart from the heavy breaths from both parent and child, though for different reasons.

He whispers something first.

Oh my God… I can’t believe I–

No! No, before you start, just, forget I said anything!

In the young girl’s eyes, there began the same fire that her father had just moments before.

No, Emma…

I know what you’re gonna say. It’s who you are now.

No.

Before she could give a rebuttal, he wrapped her in a hug.

There could have–no, there should have been a moment where the nightmare ended, and this was where the fine line between her father realizing what he was doing and not being too far gone to care had crossed, yet nothing came of it. There were probably many moments like that early on, but what promise could her father keep if he was taught to bottle things up? Who could hold him to that standard when he never discussed any of it with his wife, who was doing the same thing just to keep up the Nolans’ attendance and reputation at church?

Because of her, they ended on good terms despite everything when they fled to Baltimore.

Somehow, Emma managed to conceal this emotion in front of Winnie, who appeared just as nonchalant as she was trying to be. The only indication that something had changed was the slight glimpse of a frown appearing on her previously dead-neutral face, but before Winnie could notice that, the older girl enveloped the younger in a hug, and for a moment, nothing more was said. It said everything that needed to be said.

Winnie was still not used to hugs, but for a moment, it was okay. For now, the true consequences of this, the true wounds, were not revealed.

Eventually, Emma pulled away, trying to shrug off the verklempt feeling left behind by the subject. The same feeling that had clouded this whole morning, she attempted to swat away with a couple of blinks. She tried not to think about that, though. She tried not to think about any of it, initially, but she supposed that with Winnie, it was inevitable–a sort of shared commiseration that was so fucked up they withheld the details from even each other.

Even in the water, Emma started fidgeting, bouncing on the balls of her feet with ease despite the constant motion of water around her, the microscopic ebb and flow in even the smallest waves. Winnie sensed her discomfort but still picked up on the fact that she had been trying to reassure her, and it made her feel guilty.

Not to mention what she just said to someone who probably still wanted her parents to even pretend to care. Also not to mention that she just admitted the thing that she was told never to say out loud, ever.

“Let’s just forget this ever happened. I never said anything, let’s do something stupid.”

To Emma’s surprise, she found herself nodding along with Winnie’s suggestion. Stupid was the foundation of their friendship, the bedrock that both of their illusions of a normal life rested on, and they treasured it.

“Yeah, I can work with that. Wanna race?”

For a moment, Winnie just side-eyed her. Emma, of all people, would know that that was the exact thing they were taught to treat like it was not stupid. And of course, she also knew that she had years more experience than Winnie, as well as an actual passion. Winnie just used it as an excuse to not go home at the end of the day. Maybe Emma had started out that way, but she had found something Winnie hadn't been able to among so much drama. Unless, of course, you counted Emma herself. Winnie wanted in on the group of outcasts who might understand her, based on what she had heard from her peers, but Emma was all she got. Even the outcasts shunned her. Her and Emma. The two of them against the world of James Madison, the world as a whole, for real this time. Not just a question.

“If you think I can go all out immediately, you’re wrong,” Emma said with a laugh.

This led to Winnie rolling her eyes fondly, and they both trudged to the same end of the pool. Neither of them knew just how right Emma was about herself. To Winnie, it was a chance to truly prove herself to Emma. She didn’t know to what extent that would happen.

Emma was the one to call out a simple 3, 2, 1, Go! But it felt strange to say when it didn’t echo on the water and bounce off the walls. Nevertheless, they began, and Emma found herself struck by Winnie’s progress. It wasn’t like it all happened in one week, but when they were no longer competing it was easier for Emma to not focus on her own time or her older friends who were much closer in times to her.

She was putting so much pressure on herself. Pressure to have the best times on the team, mostly, but also pressure to be seen as a church-going girl in the conservative Midwest, which would ultimately be what let her be seen as a star athlete. That’s why it was a relief when Winnie overtook her. It also meant that her short-lived legacy as team captain meant something. Even if no trophy case would ever acknowledge her role, even if it would be totally erased, even if it didn’t mean anything because she knew from both Winnie and Greg that the family the team had built was falling apart under Jess and Boomer’s sudden anti-queer, vice-like grip while simultaneously refusing to let anyone affected leave (because it was all of them, and they all knew it, especially Jess) she had, in some small way, done the thing she wanted to do since her mentors saved her from going down the wrong path.

But any shred of dignity or pride she thought she could feel within the very same walls that had, days earlier, housed people and moments that made her feel like nothing, not even nobody, quickly disappeared.

Suddenly, her arm stung, a crashing wave of fiery, burning Hell landed upon her limb, a thousand times worse than that time that earned her a week or so of scrutiny from Kaylee and Shelby that time last year. She would have questioned how that was only last year if it weren’t for the pins and needles tingling she felt in her arm as a result of being underwater when the flames began. This made her stomach plummet and her heart race so fast that she couldn’t gain control. Only halfway across the pool with nothing to grab onto, there was no way for her to regain control even if she wasn’t freaking out. She didn’t think she meant to, but she screamed. Now that was the echo she fondly remembered.

When Winnie heard the scream, she knew something was wrong. It was far too frenzied to be Emma making a declaration of victory, and even if she had thought Emma was several feet ahead, she wouldn’t act like that anyway. Besides, when she came up for air in a rush upon hearing the scream, she looked around, repeatedly blinking in an attempt to recalibrate. She almost expected Emma to have faked her out, rushing past her with a shit-eating grin. She would have preferred that to what really was happening. The screaming continued, becoming almost howling.

She whipped around and there was Emma, behind her and struggling to stay upright.

“Oh, fucking hell!” Winnie cursed, finding time to glance up at the sky, or at least at the extremely high, artificially lit ceilings of the pool, and question how they ended up here as she raced to try and be of use to her friend for once.

She wondered why a god would try to drown a 16-year-old who already had enough going on in her life. She wondered why it would give Emma so much strife to start with. She wondered why it would assign her, the scrawniest kid in all of Indiana, if not the world, to try and stop this. In all the movies Winnie had heard about from her church-going friends that could probably only be found on Pureflix, this was the moment where the non-believer broke out in prayer, begging to be saved. But Winnie? At that moment, a part of her died. The part of her that had longed to be saved from her parents by whoever would listen, but mostly Emma by that point, realized Emma was just as human, just as fragile as her. She didn’t know exactly how she hadn’t seen it when Emma was crying in her arms last week, but there was something infinitely more terrifying about wrestling with her willpower to shove the larger girl over her comparatively small shoulders while Emma finally seemed to realize she was screaming in pain and choked on her breath to force herself to shut up that made any hope of being saved that was left in Winnie, die.

She had to save herself.

“Okay, okay, you’re okay…” Part of Winnie was trying to convince herself of that, but Emma wouldn’t know the difference.

She managed to force Emma onto the hard flooring at the edge of the pool, hearing a slight whine in response to the jerky motion. Winnie cringed at the sound, but more important right that second was the way Emma immediately grabbed at her shoulder, pulling the odd fabric that made up a swimsuit, sticky especially when it was wet but made worse by the sight Winnie was shocked by, away from her arm. 

There was blood. It was dripping and oozing from Emma’s shoulder, running down her arm like a fucked-up waterfall, and when she removed the tank-top sleeve of her bright yellow swimsuit from it, Winnie saw a reddish-orange splotch leaking through the yellow.

“Ooo-kay,” Winnie mumbled, clapping her hands together. She said nothing as she stood up and turned away from Emma. Even in her rush, she was weirdly calm as she strode to the bleachers, fishing around in her backpack for something.

What?

“Do you… always have that?” Emma managed. Winnie noticed that her lip quivered as she spoke and she grimaced as she ended her sentence. “How do you fit that in your backpack?”

“Don’t ask,” Winnie whispered in reply, a strange look in her eyes as she placed a first aid kit on the floor beside Emma and got down on her knees.

Emma glanced down at it, pained and bewildered. She thought back to their last conversation and everything snapped into place. “Fair enough.”

Winnie took the opportunity to inspect the wound. It appeared to be a relatively small cut, and ultimately not that deep except in the spot where it managed to reopen itself. She was so confident it reopened only because there was no way Emma could've done this to herself in the pool, there was nothing that sharp around, not to mention how the bloodied spot was completely covered. Either way, she had probably hit a vein whenever this happened. There was hope, though. It didn't look so bad that it needed stitches, Winnie observed even as Emma flinched when she touched it. Part of that, though, had to do with how it probably got there. Winnie could assume, and it was a fair assumption, but it would make the entire situation better if she didn't try to confirm that.

“No judgment here,” Winnie muttered into the tense silence, opening the first aid kit and rummaging around for disinfectant and a band-aid that would stay on the shoulder.

Emma shuddered at the disinfectant being applied, but the tension in what was otherwise silence was eased by Winnie’s three words. They waited for the intimate moment to be over, for the band-aid to have been applied as best as Winnie could do when she felt pressure from herself to help Emma, before Emma leaned back on her palms, exhaling slowly.

“Thanks.”

Winnie glanced down at the floor. “No problem.”

“No, really…you teach yourself to do that?”

“Y-yeah,” Winnie shrugged as if it was no big deal, but she was still stammering, still turning red in the cheeks, not used to compliments. “But it’s not like it’s impressive.”

Emma laughed dryly, ignoring what she had been forced to do at the same age. “Dude. You’re 14. That’s amazing. And if you hadn’t been here?”

“The nurses…are actual professionals,” Winnie mumbled, not understanding Emma’s praises of her.

Emma, in return, scoffed. “Yeah, right. And either way, they’re homophobic. They’d call this Jesus punishing me and let me bleed out and die on the floor while reading the damn Bible.”

“You wouldn’t die from that.”

“I’m exaggerating,” Emma whispered, smiling a little. “Take the praise.”

Considering what had just happened, Winnie was surprised she even did smile. But that was the lies they learned, to the point they might have forgotten it was a lie. All the afternoons Winnie spent waiting for her parents to pick her up from school, the nights that she cried herself to sleep, had anything she’d ever loved being ruined, never hearing a word from her dad, and she never said anything. She lied. But in the silence, they both found some shred of truth in the webs of their lies and the lies their peers told about them in the past two weeks or so. It was a burden lifted off of her shoulders. And it was nice to be thanked for her efforts for once. She couldn’t imagine how Emma felt, knowing how dramatically her life had changed.

It might have been cathartic to openly scream for help. To let herself bleed and hurt so much in front of someone else who wouldn’t always know what she was hurting.

Chapter Text

As time went on, what had happened to Emma became more normal to her. By a certain point, it was just a thing that happened, but she couldn’t tell you quite when the switch happened. Life went on and things naturally stabilized. She actually followed through on learning some things on her grandpa’s guitar and got really into music and theory, using it to fill her spare time, mostly when Greg would leave on Saturday mornings for meets and she found herself mourning her old life. Sometimes she wrote shitty songs about the feeling to cope, wondering if someone in the world could relate. She thought about posting them online but was deterred by the thought of her classmates finding her work and seeing how much their ideas and actions had affected her, even though she was getting used to it all. At the same time, she celebrated Christmas at her grandma’s house and eventually finished her hellish junior year, proud that she had done it. Not too long after, she turned seventeen, and though it wasn’t as exciting as paintballing with her friends, she spent her birthday with her family; whatever was left of it. It made her home feel more permanent. And just like she had grown accustomed to her new life, her peers grew accustomed to the news until it became old. It took months for it to fade into the background of life at James Madison, unlike most things. Also unlike most things that ran through the gossip mill of the high school, Emma being a lesbian was still relevant to the student body even when it became old news. She was still picked on and shoved around in the halls, but never to the same extent that it had been in the first few months. She had Shelby Gonzales to thank for that, for once in her life, because Shelby and Kevin Shields had finally gotten together at junior prom in a rather dramatic end to their will-they-won’t they talking stage that somehow lasted a year and a half, nearly rivaling Emma and Alyssa. Emma was, of course, not at prom to witness it–she didn’t have a death wish–but according to Alyssa, who was practically obligated to attend whether or not she wanted to, the events had overshadowed her becoming prom queen. Of course, she didn’t exactly have a problem with that, given that she was attending with Greg. No one else viewed it that way, some people even apologized to Alyssa for Kevin and Shelby taking the spotlight from her and Greg. This became a big feud for the final weeks of their junior year, and as a result, the popular kids seemed to forget Emma existed for a moment.

Even though she was hardly harassed because of the new drama, she was still a social pariah, and nothing encapsulated that to her more than junior prom. She was left home alone, without her girlfriend, and her cousin of all people was her girlfriend’s date. Her plan had been smart, but it had its drawbacks, and she felt nothing numb sadness at the thought of Greg in a tux and dancing with Alyssa, something she wanted so badly. She saw the videos of Kevin and Shelby, and then Alyssa, because she lost all self-control by nine o’clock, and she began to imagine some fantasy where the perfect prom was hers. That was one hell of a cathartic song to write. It was something she spoke to Alyssa about, too, but she was expecting nothing from it, of course. She didn’t even think it was a good idea, but still, she wrote another stupid song just to live out the fantasy. Not to mention that she knew how important it was to Alyssa. So if Alyssa decided because of the song that she wanted to go to prom with Emma, then Emma could play along. If they got that far, she’d be happy to do it.

Apart from the prom that took up more and more of her thoughts, there was an additional buffer to her misery, and that was summer vacation, when absolutely no one from school could give her shit unless she chose to go out, which, much to the mostly light-hearted chagrin of her grandmother, wasn’t often. In her defense, she only had two friends outside of Greg, and it wasn’t safe for either of them to be seen with her, or the other way around. School at least forced those interactions, so she found herself looking forward to senior year, with the thought of graduation leaving hope in her heart. 

Already, it was the end of November all over again, and though she had nothing to truly gain from it anymore and she had accepted that fact, she still spent most mornings at the pool, and that was the case today, even without Winnie, who was only with her on Mondays. (After all, she was still on the team, so Emma couldn’t blame her.) Somewhere deep down, she still wanted to meet Coach Boomer’s old goal for her, even after everything he’d done. It gave her something to work towards and a reason to want to go into school each day even when she knew she would still be given shit for who she was. 

In sharp contrast to her girlfriend, not much had changed in Alyssa’s life over the past year. She was still the darling of James Madison and the predestined valedictorian. It was strange, she couldn’t lie. Especially after the mess that was junior prom, she felt like she wasn’t actually experiencing her own life. Rather, she was seeing it through a sliding glass door–distorted to her eye, but not to anyone that was in the room, buying into her lie. It was all the more infuriating when she knew that at any moment, she could take charge and be the person in her life for once, instead of the projection of her mother’s desires that they all knew so well. All it took was charging through the door. Hell, even opening it a crack would do the job eventually. But she couldn’t. And she was stuck outside, looking in at Emma, who was torn between the Alyssa she saw, who was kissing her cousin and yet was supposed to hate her, and the Alyssa she knew, who was there in precious, rare breaths of fresh air, but also stagnant. Emma was able to move within Alyssa, understanding the balance of what was real and was fake with startling ease, almost more than Alyssa herself. Perhaps she was the only person capable of it.

She found herself stuck on this thought again that morning nearing Christmas vacation. It was somber knowing a year had passed since Emma had been outed and Alyssa found herself mentally flipping through all of the times the same thing should've happened to her, but it didn't, because she was the golden child. The one she got stuck on, of course, was prom. As student council president, she was responsible for organizing a solid amount of this year's event, and although November was barely over, she was already tasked with hanging up flyers throughout the school to get people interested in signing up for the prom committee, or at least to help set up the huge event, and for reasons that the student council advisor had mentioned but she hadn’t bothered to pay attention to, this had to take place 45 minutes before the buses would pull in to the school. She wasn’t worried about that, more nervous about the realization that at this rate, she would have to relive last year’s prom, and she was beginning to question if that was what she really wanted. Actually, she already had her answer. In the meantime, she was meant to join a few other seniors on the council to get the flyer thing off of their to-do list, but being so wrapped up in her thoughts, that wasn't the first thing on her mind, and she wasn't walking as fast as she should considering the time crunch she knew she was on.

On the contrary, she stopped in her tracks in front of the familiar glass doors that led to the pool, fondly remembering the brief time during which she was wholly accepted behind the doors even though she was never even on the team, and despite every time that she hadn't stood up for herself--a choice that affected everyone on that team, and had at least something to do with their demise. She didn't know why she chose that day to stop there and gaze through the doors instead of any other time when one of her thousand extracurriculars demanded that she come to school early. She knew what she was going to see, but this particular viewing angle was magnetic.

Emma had apparently just finished what she was timing herself on, because she came up for air and immediately reached out for what Alyssa presumed was a stopwatch in front of her on the floor, looking down to make sure the endless stream of numbers had frozen. As she read whatever the number was that the stopwatch displayed, she rested her elbows on the floor in front of her and pulled herself slightly out of the water. For a second, it appeared she froze, and to Alyssa, time itself froze. But in the blink of an eye, Emma was unstuck, and she landed abruptly back in the water, its blue hue that could only be the result of chemicals rippling out around her. She raised her fist to the air in an ecstatic daze although she thought there was no one around to relish in the apparent accomplishment Alyssa had just witnessed. If the room wasn't soundproof, she might have heard some celebration. Then she began spinning in circles manically, and it shot water all around her before she freefell, landing in the water back-first and momentarily letting it encase her whole being, clearly not unnerved by the action. She came back up still not fazed, in fact, she was resting on her back in the middle of the pool. The water reflected her image even from the fingerprint-stained glass on the door that was Alyssa’s view into Emma's world of the willingness to accept herself. It felt like a movie scene.

That was when Alyssa finally decided to make her presence known, pushing the door open and cringing as it squawked in response. At that ugly cry, Emma's gaze locked on the door. At the same time, her legs willed her away from it, sending more sputters of water flying. Alyssa knew that in Emma's mind, that could've been anybody.

“How long were you watching me for?” Emma stammered, still in shock from being walked in on and slightly out of breath from her workout, but she was wading gently and effortlessly towards Alyssa now that she knew she wasn't in any danger.

“A moment,” Alyssa shrugged. She rested her bag precariously against the wall by the door before perking up, as if she had imagined it perfectly that this was how the day would go. 

Well, she certainly had imagined it, she just never thought it would actually happen.

“What's the new time to beat?”

“20: 09,” Emma beamed.

Alyssa relished in the pride that radiated off of her girlfriend as she grinned, and Alyssa couldn't help but share that grin. Despite every echo of her mother's voice in her mind saying no, once the smile had broken out of her, she made herself relatively comfortable on the tile flooring around the pool area, sitting criss-cross applesauce in front of Emma, who drew closer still until, at some point in the conversation, she ended up against the end of the pool once again.

“You are...amazing,” Alyssa breathed.

Though she had been complimented on her skills many times, Emma still found the heart to blush, looking away from Alyssa. There was something different about it when Alyssa complimented her, and not just because she was her girlfriend. When Alyssa told her how well she was doing, she seemed in genuine awe of Emma's ability. Almost as if she were wondering how she scored a girl like that. Emma hoped she knew the question was reciprocated. Either way, when Alyssa thought like that, she had no intention of asking Emma when the next best thing would come, or what she would do better when that day came.

“You know, I really didn't expect to see you here,” Emma noted. They had the occasional rendezvous in the hallways around this time when they were both headed to first period, but that usually ended in Emma picking up the pace in the opposite direction because of their classmates. She knew she would usually be shoved around a little bit either way, but she knew better than to linger around anyone, let alone a girl. So there was never anything like this.

Alyssa smiled and shook her head fondly at the predicament. “Neither did I.”

Emma froze for a moment, all too similar to the moment that led to them crashing into each other’s lives as she soaked in the fact that Alyssa was really there, so extremely perfect to Emma without having to put in a drop of effort to be that to her, despite the effort she was forced into for everyone else.

“God,” Emma breathed out.

Alyssa laughed as if she already knew what Emma was thinking, but she still asked, “What?”

“I just…” Emma started, cutting off when she realized she had no clue what to say and fumbling to make some motion with her hands. “I love you.”

Alyssa’s grin didn’t fade. “Good. I’m glad.”

Emma rolled her eyes lovingly at that. “Oh, shut up, would I keep dating you if I didn’t? Of course not.”

Alyssa didn’t get a chance to reply before Emma reached out from the water and put her hands on Alyssa’s shoulders to steady them both and kissed her, not quite chastely. Alyssa was somewhat aware of the trust this took but didn’t care much in her lovestruck haze, only kissing Emma back. She felt giddy, almost like her classmates during passing time slamming each other into lockers in scenes she was sure that this one was just as gross as. But she didn’t care.

“Get up here so I can kiss you back harder without falling in,” she panted in-between Emma’s kisses, having lost all regard for the world.

Emma obeyed that command and let go of Alyssa only to pull herself out of the water effortlessly, using the floor around the pool as a launching point. Alyssa imagined that at some point it became easier to learn that than continuously wait on the ladder to have enough room. That thought, however, didn’t stop her amazement at her girlfriend, and it certainly didn’t stop her eyes from wandering the same way they always did. She found herself ogling at Emma’s arms once more because knowing how they felt had never done anything to quell her desires. She thought about how close they actually were, Emma’s bare thigh touching her own. Somewhere in her chest, she felt her heart begin to race, but that thought was cut off by more kissing that Alyssa reciprocated as Emma’s hand moved to her back for a moment. Alyssa noticed her hand was warm despite being in the freezing cold pool a moment earlier. She wondered if that was because of her and it only made her want more. Thus, this kissing was harder than usual, to the point where they both knew it couldn’t be called kissing, it was making out, and it was certainly harder than they ever had in public, let alone in front of a door anyone could see through. Maybe it was the most intense make-out session they’d had, full-stop. Alyssa wasn’t sure how much that meant, because moments like this were few and far between, but she was too hazy and preoccupied with the moment to care. Clearly, Emma had wanted to do the same thing Alyssa had asked of her. This was only proven further by how Emma’s hands began to move from Alyssa’s back, starting to wander around her chest. That was when Alyssa realized where this was going, stopped kissing back for a moment, and realized she was out of breath. Woah. Where did anyone get the lung capacity for this? She supposed, given where they were, that the answer to that question was obvious, and the realization made her swoon.

“We should...we should move.”

Emma kissed her one more time while she was talking before offering a reply that was equally out-of-breath. Good to know they were on the same playing field. Mostly.

Emma giggled before she spoke, thinking about how jealous Greg would be that this was her moment and not his even though he was still on the team and allowed access to the locker room. Not that she would ever say it out loud, but she imagined Greg groaning about how he and Noah broke up since Jess took charge of the team, and now he would never get to do that. She just grinned at Alyssa, glancing at the floor. Grateful.

“Yeah…um, yeah.”

They separated quickly, like an electric jolt had struck the minimal space between the pair. It felt the same way, with pulses rushing and it suddenly being very obvious that Emma was blushing. There was a twinge of awkwardness to it even though they both wanted what was happening, an innocent fear of first contact. This was amplified as Emma bolted away, looking for the old hairpin that she had no other convenient reason to use in a way that would hide its true purpose. There, they were so far away that Alyssa couldn’t see the tremor in Emma’s hands and fingers as she clung to the pin for dear life. Only when she began to sprint towards their otherwise concealed haven under the bleachers did Alyssa follow, and then there was awkward fumbling as Emma tried to still her hands while coming to the very fast conclusion that this might actually happen. Alyssa laughed, her willingness clearly not dented by Emma’s quickly growing embarrassment as she shoved her lightly and took their key from her hand. The feeling of their hands touching, even for that split second, quelled Emma’s shaking enough that they could make sure the key didn’t fall to the ground. Somehow, without even using words, they had communicated that whatever happened right then wouldn’t change anything.

Alyssa got the makeshift door open and suddenly the fast-pace of the moment dulled. Emma came in behind her. She was already toying with her yellow tank-top sleeve, but she slowed down as well, closing them away from the world with a hesitance she’d never had to have before.

“Hang on a sec,” Emma stammered. “Are you–” She couldn’t will herself to finish the sentence. 

Instigating something like this–sex, her consciousness blurted, it’s not an evil thing anymore–was far more complicated than the thoughtless haze of that night in the hotel, especially when now she was looking Alyssa in the face. Alyssa–the “purest” girl in all of James Madison, who had even less of an idea of what was supposed to happen now.

Luckily, Alyssa understood what she was trying to say as she tried to finish the sentence, not even knowing how to say it. “I…I want to, I think.”

“Okay…okay. Got it. Cool.”

Suddenly Alyssa understood what Emma had gone through moments earlier “Do you…” Emma nodded as she trailed off, so she started again “Have you ever…?”

Emma went red, mind flashing back to every Sunday of the first 16 years of her life, the church camp she went to until it became too costly for her dad’s new life, the weeknights she spent at youth group, and the distant memories from what felt like a lifetime ago, but in reality, it was five years ago, when that was her safest place. God was so good to her then, His doors had shielded her from the world, and now she felt a twinge of guilt. Not only had V touched her and lit her up from the inside out, but she had done the same thing to herself, whispering on the phone at well-past midnight, trying to find the same rush of the real thing and knowing her clock was ticking down. A march toward the stifling death of the closet was what it was, but also a march toward her unraveling. After a while, she wouldn’t even be on call with V.

The clock was ticking again, but not in a way she was aware of.

“Em?"

Emma leaned in closer, moving her arms onto Alyssa’s shoulders to whisper a confession even in their recluse location. “Um. Yeah. Is that…is that okay?”

To Emma’s surprise, Alyssa’s eyes lit up. “Okay, yeah, it is,” she started, then paused, rubbing her hands together. “Do you, like, know how this is supposed to work?” She asked, eyes already beginning to wander downwards slightly.

“Sorta? I never think I’m doing it right.” Emma admitted, and despite her words, she felt the strange rush from moments ago return.

Alyssa’s eyes snapped up, and now their chests were touching again. The closeness caught Emma so off guard that it sent a shiver down her spine. In response, Alyssa’s voice grew low. “I’m sure I could check up on that.”

“Sounds good,” Emma mused, tugging at Alyssa’s jacket sleeve before pulling it off in a swift motion, tossing it aside. She watched Alyssa’s eyes widen, so she kissed her hard on the now exposed collarbone and guided her to the wall, seeing her shiver as she fiddled with the sleeve of Alyssa’s shirt, waiting for the nod she received.

“What about you?” Alyssa’s voice asked in a tremble, trying and failing at not thinking about or looking at Emma and the way her eyes ballooned at seeing her tits.

Emma was looking at her tits, oh my God.

Emma suddenly became solemn, glancing down at her trusty swimsuit and trying to control her voice at this new sight. “You have to be ready for everything. Are you?” She asked. 

Silence hung in the air that Alyssa’s perfume floated into as Emma stood perfectly still–tense, but not rigid, hoping that Alyssa understood other girls the same way she did. Girls that Emma Nolan might love this way were a rare gem in Edgewater. A pearl that must be treasured. Girls were a song that she hummed under her breath in the dead of night and put into a symphony of tension and touch and heat and passion and love by touching their bare skin and feeling every curve and bump in whatever fleeting moment the world would allow. Girls were the secret she kept closest to her her heart, tucked in the deepest chambers of her atrium. Girls were lines from poetry books about the greatest natural beauties of the world, or from heroic tales about standing on the edge of losing everything or winning it all. Girls were somehow being witness to the best work of art in the museum, wondering if the other onlookers had stopped to stare for just as long, or why they bothered to photograph it when the world was leaving it there. Girls were the snapshots she kept in her mind of what a normal teenage life might have looked life if she had the luxury of taking it. But for once, these thoughts were not out of longing, and she would leave all those snapshots of normal of life behind and take rural Indiana if it meant this gem, this pearl that she cupped so tenderly in the palm of her hand so as not to make it filthy with the air she breathed, was no longer just a work of art. If it meant living this moment of perfect melodies and harmonies that the two of them were yet to create, she would take everything she had been through over, and over, and over, and over, torturing her mind, because in the end, there would be Alyssa.

Alyssa, who bowed her head as if in prayer for a moment, praying to the altar that was their love. Their love…it provided a much better shield against the world than Alyssa had ever felt.

“Yes…yes I am.”

Just as expected, Alyssa was immediately hit with the sight of Emma. Nothing more, nothing less, just Emma. A blank canvas for her touch with the glow of a thousand angels and the warmth of a thousand suns, any previous markings paled out and unnoticed. Whatever pastors had told her that once you had been touched you were unholy had never been more wrong about anything to Alyssa, who stared at this supposed filth like she held the key that would unlook the universe.

“You okay, love?” Emma whispered. She straightened, pulling away from Alyssa slightly. Alyssa watched Emma’s breasts move with her like she hadn’t seen the physics of the motion a million times over on herself or the cheer girls. But that didn’t matter, none of it was this.

“Yeah,” Alyssa replied, then she swallowed as if that would cure her breathlessness.

“Good,” Emma replied, kissing the edge of Alyssa’s breast tenderly, the edge that poked out from her bra, of course, not hasty to take things too fast and ruin the pulse that thrummed between them.

At this, Alyssa gasped, and she couldn’t help but feel her legs begin to shake, with far too much effort being put into staying upright.

Emma laughed, a soft, deep-toned laugh that came from somewhere so far within her that Alyssa had never heard it before. It was tender, the furthest thing from mocking Alyssa had ever known despite how much she felt she was worthy of mocking, quaking at the sight of her girlfriend. “You can sit down, it’s okay.”

Alyssa didn’t quite know why she did, embarrassment burning her as she tried to stay composed while she slid to the ground, once nice hair billowing out from around her as it moved against the wall. Emma smiled, sitting down in front of Alyssa. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her, going back and forth between kissing Alyssa’s shoulderblades and fiddling with the back of her bra. Emma didn’t want to rush the fleeting moment that they had, trying to make it something that was their own. It was some sort of repentance, she thought, to try not to copy the moment she had with V, because Alyssa probably deserved, or at least expected, somebody far purer than Emma. Someone who hadn’t touched another girl. But somewhere in her sick mind, she got a kind of joy from knowing this was different, in the same vein as her first kiss with Alyssa. She and Alyssa were slow, careful, cautious, and tender in this moment while she and V were hard and fast and remnants left behind all over the messed-up sheets. Now she was the one who was meant to know what was going on, satisfied with the thought that she had grown up a little since freshman year. She’d like to think that version of herself would be proud of her for daring to do this. So she let it hang there, thinking about how, in some conceited way, her and Alyssa might’ve been the best thing to happen to Edgewater. Emma looked past her girlfriend’s shoulder as she fiddled with her bra strap once again, looking at the initials of the kids from the time before this space was locked who had left their mark on the walls. They were so similar to Emma, back in their days, yet they would hate her. She was sure there was kids whose letters were on the wall that still lived here now. Was this moment just as precious to them, or was it just something that was expected of them? In reality, all these thoughts spanned hardly a few moments, with Emma’s mind racing a million miles per minute, but those moments were all she needed to realize that if anyone were rebelling in the same way as her all that time ago but never documented it, she would, in some way, tell their story, and she was honored to be the one doing it.

“Emma?”

“Mm, yeah?”

“Take off my bra.”

Whoa, shit.

Emma complied, and once that was done she gazed at the whole of Alyssa’s torso, finally taking in her stomach, smooth and brown and perfect. Emma exhaled slowly. “You are…” she started before realizing she had no words. Not that she was perturbed by the realization. She was itching to stop talking anyway.

She began to kiss Alyssa's breasts again, watching them move at her command. Alyssa began to move at her command. Her breath would hitch and then she’d sigh pleasantly, telling Emma without words that she could go lower on her torso, nipping at the space just below her breasts, then her ribs, then her stomach. The sighs became moans and quick, emphatic nods. Hearing it made Emma feel as though a lighter had been taken to her hip area, swooping low and building with every sound.

Before she took her pants off, she let her hands rest on Alyssa's hips, putting pressure there and kissing the skin that rested just above the waistband of her pants. Alyssa's breath seemed to stutter at Emma's newly calloused fingertips toying into her jeans, but Emma was used to this part. By now it was second nature when she touched herself. All she really had to do when she was alone was think, then she could start as low as she wanted. She could make herself dizzy with pleasure and sensation over and over again, but to Alyssa, this was foreign. Especially the parts Emma knew so well.

As Emma pushed against Alyssa's hips, a hot feeling erupted in her gut, and it was molten lava compared to every other sensation she was feeling right now, but it felt good. A sound she had no control over left her and she watched Emma, positioned firmly above her now, grin. There was an intense focus etched into her features, like she was an artist creating a masterpiece and all she could think about was reshaping Alyssa into a person who had felt all of this. Emma's hand dipped into Alyssa's pants and she gasped, her heart hammering to keep up. The rough fingers were brushing against her privates now. Finally ! A voice inside her that she didn't recognize screamed, but despite the instinct, this was getting fast, and hot. She felt as though she’d reached her boiling point, suddenly ashamed of the pool in her underwear. Now there was more happening that she couldn't hold back, not just moans. Her hips would buck, then she couldn't breathe for a moment and she was out of control.

“Wait!” She finally forced out, and she’d never seen Emma move so quickly, jolted out of her groove by just one word.

“What’d I do?”

Alyssa looked up at Emma and wiped the sweat off her forehead, eyes fixating on the clear white that dripped on Emma's middle finger. Alyssa wasn’t sure she knew how to explain that she felt like she was losing control, a feeling she wasn’t used to. The longer she thought, trudging through the fog of arousal to do it, the more she thought that maybe Emma wouldn’t understand. She’d never had the same pressure from anyone. Standards were hers to make and break, and if Alyssa knew one thing about Emma, it was that she used this power to escape her reality. Reality had been kinder to Alyssa than it had been to Emma, so maybe it was a relief to her to feel her life slip away for a few moments of…whatever this was.

“Is it supposed to feel like this?”

Emma paled, though she was really trying to hide it. “That depends.”

Alyssa reddened. Of course Emma would feel guilty. She decided not to explain herself. “Listen, I…I think you should…”

 “Bottom?” Emma supplied without so much as a hitch, embarrassing Alyssa even more.

“I mean, if that’s what it’s called…”

Emma laughed and they switched positions. “M’kay, rookie, let’s see what you got.”

Somehow Alyssa turned a deeper red, feeling like an impostor for even trying to do this. How gay could she be if she’d never screwed a girl, anyway? Her mind flashed, but she took a deep breath to try to ignore the intrusiveness of the thought. 

She started on Emma’s legs. She thought it would be easier, and maybe even make her look cooler–a little more like she knew what she was doing, if she didn’t try to copy Emma. So she kissed the side of her hip messily, a little surprised when she saw Emma shiver. It was encouraging, though, so she continued and sped up the pace, getting the feeling Emma would be able to handle it. She switched to using her hands, drawing lines up her thigh. Up here, it was a much better view of the ecstasy that was seeing her girlfriend naked, fulfilling the “dark” fantasy that had occupied her mind on the fateful day when they met. Somehow, it was better than she had imagined, especially the feeling of Emma’s muscles, the ones she had ogled over so much, tensed under her touch. But maybe that shouldn’t have been such a surprising revelation–after all, she hadn’t touched anyone else.

“God, you’re fucking hot,” Alyssa breathed, not even realizing she wasn’t thinking about the way it came out with such lust, or that she got so lost in touching Emma that she was no longer questioning what to do.

“I love when you tell me how amazing I am,” Emma whispered, a confession of pride and greed. It was greed because she wanted Alyssa all to herself.

“Good,” Alyssa replied happily. She was getting confident now, so she went back up to Emma’s chest, fixating on her breasts and kissing them for just a second while letting her palms rest on Emma’s shoulders. Then, she went on, leaving one hand against Emma’s shoulder and using the other to trace the definition of Emma’s abs.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this part,” Alyssa continued. Emma meant to laugh, poke a little fun at how blunt Alyssa had become, but then her breath stopped when she realized Alyssa was just buttering her up to turn her on.

“Every time you get out of the pool I think about how fucking cool it is that you just get up like it’s nothing. Sometimes I'll be in class and I'll think about you naked when I’m bored. Or I’ll think about you writing me a song about this moment--which all my friends’ dumb boyfriends could never do, but because it's you, it's so fucking attractive,” she paused for a moment and heard nothing but Emma breathing hard. When she was done soaking up what Alyssa had said she began to whine breathlessly, maybe not even realizing she was doing it.

“More. I want more, Alyssa.”

Alyssa went back to toying around on Emma’s thighs, quickly moving to her inner thigh to keep her occupied while she was trying to find something to say. “I love that you don't care what anyone else thinks of you. Confidence is sexy. You look so good when you come to school in button-ups and that leather jacket, but it's even better when I know you're doing it to piss people off that you're so confident...Everyone just wishes they had what you do, you don't need anyone to like you,” Yeah, this was starting to feel like she didn't have to think about it. “That makes you so mysterious, like the cool guy in movies, but actually hot.”

Alyssa's finger flicked against Emma's genitals as she shook with heat and anticipation. That made her short-circuit for a half-second before coming back, voice growing hoarse from the incoherent exclamations she let out at Alyssa's touch and words. The way the pair mixed to create a paralyzation Emma didn't want to escape.

“Can you take off your pants, baby? Please?”

Alyssa backed up to do just that and Emma sat up, wanting to get the best view she could. Alyssa giggled at the eagerness, drawing closer so their bare legs touched now. She relished in the sight of Emma again from this much closer.

“I love you,” she blurted suddenly as if they hadn’t said those words to each other hundreds of times in a year. There was a pause, soaking in the words just one more time–because, really, who knew what would happen to them in this place–and then Alyssa went back to what she had been doing before Emma had mustered up more words.

Right. This part.

She didn’t know where her finger was meant to go now, so she just took a guess, and the response was unexpected.

“Holy God ,” Emma shouted, then a mess of syllables that meant nothing pooled out of her as if her mouth were a spool and Alyssa had yanked them out only for the words yet to be formed to land all over the naked frame of the pair of them, knotted up so strangely that she couldn’t tell what they were supposed to be anymore. The analogy seemed bizarre to Alyssa as she thought it, comparing these exclamations to some sort of vomit. She hesitated as she thought more of it while Emma was still trying to speak. Vomit was just as intimate, wasn’t it? All those times she held her cheer friends’ hair back at the drunken parties that were kept secret from her mother even if she was forced to be the sober friend who had that job, it still required so much trust, but it was just a little different. She knew Emma had probably closed herself off from that world of friends, but drunken parties especially, but knowing that, how much trust would this take? “Are you wearing acrylics or something?”

“Huh?” Alyssa thought out loud before the realization hit. “Oh God, Oh my God. Yeah, my mom made me get them for the debate competition on Saturday, but they’re not that long or that sharp. Is it hurting you?”

“Listen,” Emma stammered with a little more control now that Alyssa wasn’t trying to finger her, though not giving a straight, simple answer of yes or no. “Usually I’d tell you you’re overworking yourself and aiming for something that’s just…unattainable, but right now this works in my favor for once and I want you to fuck me so bad.”

Well, that settles that.

So she continued, and suddenly things were speeding up again. Alyssa didn’t know how to describe it, especially as she watched her girlfriend go beyond what she could handle. She never could have seen inside of Emma’s head at that moment. If she could, she’d understand why Emma begged for it over and over. But at least when Emma had finally grown tired of it and a blissful silence finally overcame them, she could think about it. She took in Emma’s body once more. It was a pure white marble against the grimy tile flooring that was under the bleachers, and in hindsight, it was kind of gross and she wondered when the last time this floor was cleaned, since no one else knew this space could be opened by a bobby pin that had to be at least five years old. Anyway, the contrast between Emma and the world the two of them were in reminded Alyssa of some ancient Greek statue, carefully preserved to look cleaner than it really would have been. Somehow, this made Alyssa think back on what Emma had said just a few minutes ago as if it were actually a long time ago. She supposed that this is was a liminal space of sorts, with Emma lying in front of her, unmoving, with her eyes still shut. Her thoughts didn’t have to connect. Lord knows Emma’s weren’t. From what Alyssa could tell, she’d be like that for a little while longer. For some reason this made Alyssa smile to herself as she let her mind wander, processing the words her mind had hooked onto.

You have to be ready for everything. Are you?

She supposed she knew what Emma had meant by that, especially in the heat of the moment, and she couldn’t say she wasn’t. After all, look at what they had just done. Yet, she still couldn’t help but think of herself as a bit of a hypocrite. She could do this but not tell the rest of Edgewater she was in love with a girl? It felt strange. Of course, that doubt was to be expected in this town, where Christian purity was a cultural value, but part of her wondered if Emma meant something else, because it almost didn’t compute to Alyssa, why someone who had done that before would care so much to ask that question. What if it was more than that? What if, somewhere deep down, she wanted Edgewater to know about them, even if they could never understand this moment and what it meant?

Alyssa wanted it too. She wanted it so badly she couldn’t find the words to say it and suddenly the longing was so strong she couldn’t hold it back. She watched Emma’s eyes slip open as she groaned softly, sitting up slightly and leaning on her elbows to reactivate her muscles.  Looking at this, Alyssa couldn’t think for a moment, and for once she didn’t bother to.

“Go to prom with me, Emma.”

“I, uh, what?” Emma stammered, mind still trying to catch up to Alyssa’s train of thought.

“Do you want to?”

“Of course I do, but I–you–”

Alyssa didn’t let Emma finish her sentence, or at least what it was supposed to be. “Then let’s do it. Go to prom with me.”

Alyssa watched Emma pinch her forearm as she spoke, smacking it with the same hand when she actually felt pain. “You can’t be serious.”

“But I am! Wouldn’t it be amazing?”

“But…your mom.”

“I’ll figure it out. What if it’s our only chance at something normal?”

Emma laughed. “Me? Normal? Here?”

“If I’m with you, what can anyone do?”

“But you’re not,” Emma stated bluntly. It wasn’t meant to hurt Alyssa.

“I will be. If you’re with me, I’ll come out at prom.”

Alyssa didn’t miss how Emma’s eyes lit up. “Are you sure?”

“I am. Just say yes.”

Emma was slightly breathless, but she still managed to utter “Oh my God, yes! Yes!”

Alyssa laughed at Emma’s shock, but their bliss was cut off by the screaming tone of the school bell echoing in the pool room, and immediately, the two of them were forced back into the real world.

“ Fuck , I don’t wanna leave,” Alyssa muttered, reaching for her bra. “What do we do?”

“Me neither,” Emma replied, doing the same scramble to get her clothes on. “You go first. I’ll wait a minute and then lock it behind me. It’ll give you some time to get out of here without us being seen together.”

She thought about that day in chemistry class when she dragged Alyssa here for the first time. Never would she have thought that a few feet between them wouldn’t cut it anymore in these crowded and jammed hallways. If that were the case, even making it to prom without a fuss would be a gamble, and chances are no one could know about her buying a ticket, but it was one she would be willing to take, if only because she desperately wanted to.

“Okay,” Alyssa muttered in reply. Then the pair of them continued to dress in a frantic silence until Alyssa headed out from the bleachers while still shoving her jacket on, at which point she said a quick “Love you!” and ran out.

Only when she grabbed her bag and was faced with a wall of chattering students did she realize what she had done. How could she really face all this noise if it was about her? She had never felt that before, at least not in a way that could genuinely fuck up her life. The more she thought about it, the more she began to panic. Could she really fulfill her promise or was it just a wish she had spoken out loud? 

Despite knowing how the hallways worked after three and a half years at this school, she began to go against the grain just to get to her first class–or, more accurately, the teenage girl sanctuary that was closest to her first class. The bathroom. The crowd seems to part just enough for her to get through when everyone in it realizes it’s her. The simple action makes her cringe because she knows she’s only getting away with it because she’s Alyssa Greene. If it were Emma, she’d be being shoved around and shouts would be heard over the loud, incoherent buzz that was dozens of conversations happening at once asking her what the hell she thought she was doing taking up so much space.

Oh God, what about Emma? If anyone found out about this plan of coming out at prom that Alyssa had admittedly thought up in about 3 seconds, Emma would be taking the brunt of the harassment like she always did. Why hadn’t she thought about it for longer? Even in that state, Emma had enough common sense to know it was a bad idea. Maybe she hadn’t cared enough because it wouldn’t hurt her and deep down she knew that. If how Shelby reacted to her fight with Greg at that party last year was any consolation, she knew she was safe to do more than most girls.

Now it was only guilt eating away at her, and somehow, that was worse. She ran into the bathroom and gripped the edge of the sink so hard it made her sweat. Then she just stared. She just stared at herself in the mirror and wondered what the hell to do now. This was the price she paid for loving Emma, her subconscious screamed. 

Eternal torture. For you and her. You never should have had those thoughts, let alone acted on them. They only make life harder. Maybe everyone was right. You’re dirty now. Who will want you?

“Oh my God,” someone shouted from just outside the bathroom door and it took Alyssa way too long to identify the voice of Shelby, who was sauntering in as if Alyssa wasn’t totally freaking out. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, Lys. Where were you? Did you get here late?” Shelby didn’t know why she asked the second question. Alyssa was never late.

Shelby was student council vice president, and they shared first period. Of course, Shelby would find her here and of course, she’d want to know what happened. Shit, shit, shit.

Alyssa didn’t break her focus on the mirror– how could someone be so vain– and offered a reply that left no explanation. “Sorry.”

Shelby tilted her head in confusion before stepping behind Alyssa to gaze at her friend’s reflection. “Are you okay, girlie? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

This time there was no reply.

Shelby tried temporarily to lighten her tone, thinking that if she tried to joke around it would make Alyssa laugh and she’d come out of this weirdness a little bit. “You did see a ghost! You must’ve run over a squirrel and totally freaked out again on the way here, which I will definitely make fun of you for, but really, it’s not that big of a deal!”

Alyssa found no humor in that. She changed her gaze to fixate on the rusty drain of the sink instead of her face, removing Shelby from her line of sight.

“Too soon? Alright…”

The silence felt like agony to Shelby, who was forever on a quest for knowledge and understanding of the world. She wasn’t unlike Alyssa in that way, except sometimes she used her popularity to get information out of others, and if she wasn’t careful, this meant she was prone to rumors–both starting and spreading them. For instance, Emma’s swim meet during their sophomore year that started this whole mess. This reputation gave Alyssa all the more reason to not admit to anything, on top of literally everything else, but it also meant that both of them knew Shelby would not let up. Speaking of Shelby, she spoke again, realizing the joke approach wouldn’t work. 

“Okay, seriously, are you sick or something? I know how you get like you can’t tell anyone but I’ve been your best friend forever.”

Upon still receiving no reply still, Shelby reached around to feel Alyssa’s forehead. She hummed in concern even when she felt no temperature. “What is up with you?”

“Did you at least enjoy being in charge?” Alyssa gritted out the question, feeling herself begin to shake.

“Alyssa, don’t change the subject.”

“And what if I don’t want to tell you?”

Shelby faltered, not even considering the possibility of that before now. There was a question beneath that one pressing on Alyssa’s mind, but she didn’t dare speak it because she knew it would earn her scrutiny, maybe even disbelief. What if she didn’t know what the right thing to do was anymore? Alyssa had been forced to be perfect for so long that not knowing what to do–something so typical for any seventeen-year-old–felt like it wasn’t in the cards. Breaking away from her facade felt impossible, but she wanted Emma to have something good in this town that wasn’t tarnished by everything she had been through. She didn’t know how the hell she was going to get to prom with this internal battle weighing on her.

“I appreciate your concern, but can we just get to class?”

Shelby shook her head but walked out anyway. Alyssa followed close behind.

Meanwhile, Emma walked out of the pool area and headed toward the back of the school where Winnie’s bus was and where she would come in. The two of them both had a foreign language class first period, and even though they were in different classes, all of the foreign language classes were in the same hallway in the back of the school, showing off just how underfunded the program was even though at least two years of a language were required for graduation. Emma kept doing it beyond her sophomore year if only to spend 40 minutes away from the kids who did the bare minimum for graduation. The kids who often made her life the worst.

As she headed toward the back of the school, she passed through the trophy hall, which encased in glass all of the accomplishments of the various sports teams. Rarely did any of them get as far as she and her friends had once upon a time, she realized as she gazed into the glass. She stopped in front of the case that had Varsity Swim written above it in a rustic maroon that was painted onto wooden lettering, not really caring that it would mean she was shoved around a little extra for it. She stared past her faint reflection at one of the framed photos protected by the glass. The championship of her sophomore year stared back at her. She was still in the photograph. She was still in the year before’s photograph too. She had never bothered to look. She just assumed she’d been cropped out after everything. Trying not to let this get to her in any form, good or bad, she kept walking, keeping her gaze fixed on the wall she was next to so she wouldn’t be yelled at for looking the wrong person in the eye. Then at the end of the hallway, she saw something that she’d seen a thousand times before but never noticed. Painted on the wall tiles right next to the football team’s rather sparse glass case was the question How do you want to be remembered? . It was that question that propelled her forward and gave her something to think about while lame insults that she’d heard a thousand times before were thrown at her by particularly stubborn people who refused to accept that even though she would never be let back into the ecosystem of James Madison, they let her be for the most part now.

She didn’t know the answer to that question anymore. She used to think she wanted to be remembered by this place for her accomplishments on the swim team, but that wasn’t an option anymore. Would it be worth it to be remembered here as the girl who took another girl to prom? After everything she’d been through, she wanted it, but again, she knew those chances were slim.

Finally, she found Winnie at the school’s back entrance.

“Hey.”

“Oh! Hello,” Winnie greeted, surprisingly chipper for seven in the morning after she got over the shock that was Emma actually striking up a conversation in the halls. Emma knew that at some point in time, she was the same way, just excited to get out of the shithole that reeked of alcohol no matter what she and her mother did about it for six to eight hours of the day. She wondered if Winnie had a particularly horrid night the night before.

“I need to tell you something, Emma stated, pivoting around to walk next to her friend as they began the march to her locker.

Winnie blinked a couple of times in quick succession before she replied. “Okay, shoot.”

Emma lowered her voice just to be safe, even in this cacophony of conversation.

“You know that song I was telling you about?”

“Mhm?

“Well, I guess I don't need to worry about singing it to her anymore?” The sentence came out of Emma's mouth like a question, like she couldn't believe it even as she said it out loud.

Winnie’s jaw dropped. Ever the pessimist, her eyes filled with fear. “Wait a minute. Wait a damn minute, you cannot just say that. Why not?”

Now Emma felt as though she was vibrating, or that she might explode, or some other otherworldly expression of joy. It took far too much effort to not scream it to the rooftops that she was madly in love with Alyssa Greene, let alone change what she had to say so it wouldn't totally give away what they were discussing, but she managed.

“Because she did it instead.”

“What! No way!”

Emma watched as a few heads turned to them, looking for the source of the exclamation. All they saw was a scrawny kid with a vague resemblance to Ed Sheeran (As if that joke didn't get old the third time Winnie heard it.There were so many better ways to mock her for being a ginger.) searching desperately for an anatomy textbook in her locker. Emma, leaning against the locker beside hers with one heel pressed against it in an attempt to look just intimidating to not get called a slur while just standing to the side of the halls--like you were supposed to while having a conversation, would have laughed at how quickly Winnie went from being loud to being unassuming if she didn't know how necessary it was. If she wasn't, in a way, doing it right now.

“I know...it was totally out of nowhere,” Emma grinned.

She didn't need to tell Winnie the whole story. It's not like she'd want to know.

“Damn,” Winnie replied with a somber tone, though her identical grin suggested she was just fooling around. “Guess she’ll never know how much of a banger that song was.”

“Shut up, it was probably cringy anyway.”

“Nuh-uh,” Winnie replied, shoving the textbook in her backpack and zipping it up. “You showed it to me. Why would you show me it if it was cringy?”

Emma shook her head fondly. “It was literally called Dance with You.”

“Like a bouquet of flowers is any better? You know me. It's all equally meaningless. But, for the record, I very much enjoyed hearing your song, cheesy title aside.”

“Thanks,” Emma muttered, turning slightly red before changing the subject. “Can we make fun of you now? Because you need to clean out your locker.”

“Shut up. I was nice to you.”

“Still called the title cheesy,” Emma smirked.

“You said it was,” Winnie defended in a grumble, trying not to draw attention to them again.

Emma laughed at Winnie defending herself from Emma messing around. She didn’t stop to think about how this was an act of rebellion, how her existence in this town was rebellion, let alone to be happy and have a friend to share it with. That fact wouldn’t cross her mind for a while. After all, why would it? This high school, this town, was the bubble she had been in her whole life. Anything else was a fantasy that slowly marched closer every day but was still out of reach if only because she knew nothing else. 

“Sure, whatever,” she said, rolling her eyes playfully.

“You can’t even keep a straight face, Nolan.”

“And what about it?”

Winnie couldn’t help but laugh at the entire conversation. Emma laughed in return. For a moment, everything was okay.

Soon enough, something would happen that showed Emma Nolan the world outside of Edgewater, but for that moment in November, she could be completely content with imperfection. She would be content that way until a couple of months from then, when prom tickets went on sale and Alyssa bought two, but Greg also bought one. Emma flew under the radar in this drama for a while. It seemed like no one realized that Emma was still with the girl who she let herself be outed for, or that she might dare to go to prom, so at first, the rumor was that Greg was cheating on Alyssa. As Alyssa expected, they wouldn’t think it would happen the other way around. Eventually, though, they remembered that Greg was related to Emma, and figured out that she was planning to go to prom. Then Emma’s world imploded as she was doing an interview for The Edgewater Gazette. This was the last way she expected her name would reappear in the paper, but it became so much more when it hit the internet, and then major outlets picked up on it. By then, her words were out of her hands, and she was avoiding the news so they couldn’t be skewed any further. However, this meant something happened that she never could have imagined, completely without her being aware of it. 

Her story hit Broadway.

Chapter Text

New York City was the furthest thing from Edgewater that anyone in the tiny rural town could possibly fathom. So much so that Edgewater’s adults would often regard it as the Devil’s city. According to them, the city was a waste-filled no man’s land of heathenry and liberal ideology without an ounce of logic. Once upon a time, Emma regarded it that way, too. Of course, that was back when her sheltered hometown convinced her she was at fault for being who she was. When she realized she was gay, her perspective shifted, and she began to see New York as the pinnacle of a safe haven, full of a wide variety of people who wouldn't care who she was on the off chance that they knew her in the crowd of people. People with dreams like hers, hoping to make it big with their art. Maybe her career plans had changed a bit, and while she could never see her name in lights, writing music was the truest expression of herself; of the human experience.

Somewhere in New York City, a middle-aged woman stared at her name below a brightly-colored marquee, lit perfectly despite the dark of night. She read over the advertisement hanging from the theatre again, an excerpt from an early review from a ridiculous niche theatre review site that not even she had heard of–written in the same shades of blue, pink, and purple that framed the black silhouette above the ad.

BRINGS OLD SCHOOL BACK TO BROADWAY IN THIS ECLECTIC HISTORY LIKE YOU’VE NEVER SEEN BEFORE.

She sighed. Was she old-school now? When did that happen? She supposed it was sometime between now and her last Broadway show. She blamed Hamilton for it. By making Broadway cool with the new generation, her career had been ruined, which was made clear by how empty Eleanor! The Eleanor Roosevelt Musical ’s side of 48th street was. Not a single fan waiting for her in the street. She gazed across the street. Damn Hadestown .

“It’s over, Dee Dee,” a man lamented from beside her, following her gaze to the Walter Kerr Theatre. “They’re not coming. All that work for nothing.”

“No, no,” Dee countered, shaking her head in denial. “They can’t just…not be here, Barry. I mean, it’s me. It’s–it’s us.”

Barry sighed. “Maybe the news already headed to Sardi’s with the ensemble?” He was stating it, but his inflection made it seem as though he didn’t know if or if not it was true.

“Why would they care about the ensemble?” Dee Dee questioned in return.

Barry stammered, silently opening and closing his mouth for a moment until he found an answer that might satisfy Dee Dee’s ego, as well as his own. “No, I mean, the news thought we went too because they were already gone.”

Dee Dee nodded slowly, looking back at the empty street. She was satisfied with that. Barry was too. “Should we go then? Fashionably late and all that.”

“Of course.”

Surprisingly, Barry’s tale turned out to be true. Barry and Dee Dee entered Sardi’s to find a bustling party inside. Alcohol was being poured from the bar at what seemed like a constant flow as the cast and crew huddled in large groups, the room filled with loud and boisterous conversation, layered over some Top 40 hit that neither Dee Dee nor Barry had bothered to know the name of, though some young ensemble members were already beginning to sway to the beat, drinks in hand. In the center of it all was Barry and Dee Dee’s holy grail. A red carpet was set up at the door, leading to a backdrop filled up with repeating logos of the Eleanor musical. There were people Dee Dee and Barry didn’t recognize setting up cameras and holding microphones with the logos of various news outlets on them. Nevermind the fact that Dee Dee had demanded the red carpet or else she wouldn’t show up, this was what Dee Dee loved about New York. It kept her in the limelight, with large cameras taking flash photographs of her and Barry as they strutted to the backdrop. For a moment, wrapped in their arrogance they could forget the nothingness they had seen before. 

“It’s Olivia Keating of BroadwayMania , and we’re here at the opening night of Eleanor! The Eleanor Roosevelt Musical , starring the incomparable Dee Dee Allen and Barry Glickman.”

Olivia Keating asked how Barry and Dee Dee managed to be Broadway mainstays for such a long time. They flew into a discussion of how art changes lives, so they as entertainers have unimaginable influence, tying it back to the Eleanor musical by talking about Eleanor as a powerful public figure who did great things for social justice and America as a whole. As those questions came to a close, Sheldon, who was Dee Dee and Barry’s PR manager, came running. As if on cue, the cameras turned to him, making sure to keep Dee Dee and Barry in the frame.

“Oh, there you are! I’ve been looking for you! Everybody listen up, the first review is in!”

Dee Dee shot off in a ramble, she’d accept anything except a pan, thank you , and the whole company listened attentively, the party falling silent for only a moment. Even Barry, though he knew what the two of them saw. The whole thing really could make someone wonder how desperate they were for fame, while most everyone else was just hoping to make it to the same degree as them.

“It says we’re a hit!”

The room exploded back into celebration, only this time it went from light music and chatter to full-blown bass thrumming through the speakers and exciting dancing beginning over chatter that grew louder and louder. It kept going like that for hours, but it hadn’t quite fizzled out yet when Sheldon ran back up to Dee Dee and Barry, cell phone in hand.

He whispered to them, not wanting to ruin the vibe the actors had created. “Another review is in.”

“Oh, great,” Barry replied, completely oblivious.

“No, you don’t understand, this is gonna kill us. We had shitty advanced sales.”

“Well, how bad could it be?”

Sheldon handed his phone to Dee Dee first, knowing there was no right way to go about it. Stunned, she loudly repeated the words calling her an aging narcissist. As the world around them turned to look, Barry snatched the phone from her hands, lifting it above his head. Counteractively, he stared directly into the bright lights of the bar, but this was the only way he could keep Dee Dee from stealing the phone back as she began to loudly insist she was not a narcissist.

When she got angry, things got ugly fast, even violent at times, so the cast was quick to grimace, even begin to leave, while Barry read over the review, equally perplexed.

“Me? Too flashy for FDR?”

Sheldon sighed and took his phone back, knowing Dee Dee was too self-absorbed to try to take it back from the hands of the man who got her jobs to begin with. He read out an excerpt saying the reviewer would rather their readers buy a rope and hang themself than see their show. Then he looked up, and everyone was gone.

For now, Dee Dee and Barry were too caught up in the review to notice that. “Well–” Dee Dee stammered, incredulous, “Who is this from? Who gets off on saying something so cruel and…and attacking me!”

“The New York Times,” Sheldon couldn’t attempt to add emotion to his voice.

“Shit,” Barry muttered.

Dee Dee took another approach. “Well…maybe we were given bad material! Did they say anything about the rapping?!”

“...Fine. Yes. Maybe they shouldn't have made FDR rap about his affair,” Sheldon conceded, visibly cringing. Suddenly he was wondering why he allowed Dee Dee and Barry to stay in the show once that was added, but he pushed through to his original point. “But it's mostly you! You're so self-absorbed that you can hardly see past your view of the world and it's affecting your ability to do your job.”

“But that is the point of being a ce-leb-bri-ty ,” Dee Dee countered, enunciating every syllable of the word 'celebrity’ as if she were trying to convince Sheldon that she could still do her job. She didn't even have to debate with herself over whether or not she held that title.

“Look! Nobody wants to hang out with a ce-leb-bri-ty!” Sheldon finally snapped, mocking her as he gestured out at the now empty bar.

Dee Dee looked up, a very small portion of the reality of the situation finally hitting her as she squeaked, “Where did everybody go?”

A waiter that Dee Dee didn't recognize came up to them just then, holding a plate of sandwiches. His eyes popped out of his head at the sudden deserted nature of the room. “That's a fantastic question, Dee Dee.”

“I'm sorry, who are you?” Dee Dee asked, turning toward the man as he put down the plate on an empty table and picked up a check left behind. “Had time to leave a tip,” he muttered as she spoke, pocketing the money before he turned to face her as well. “Trent Oliver. We did five shows together.”

That didn't ring a bell, so Barry whispered in her ear. “Went to Julliard, never shuts up about it. “Ah, Trent!…Why are you dressed as a waiter?”

“Let's just say, uh, I've fallen on hard times, with a sprinkling of an identity crisis.”

Then he started monologuing Shakespeare, and God knows how he memorized it.

“Well, the least I can do is pour us a drink.”

“Oh my God,” Dee Dee shouted. “I’m still sober, that's why this sucks!”

So Dee Dee, Barry, and Trent sat at the bar, with Trent pouring drinks, as they continued commiserating about their lives. Dee Dee and Barry continued to be confused about how they were narcissists while Trent went on and on about how he was only known for the beloved sitcom Talk to the Hand. None of them would realize yet how lucky they were for having those things as problems. They would be sunken by alcohol until another voice was heard from the door that already had the red carpet entrance stripped from it. No one who was still in the bar knew when that happened.

“Hey, guys!” Her voice sounded like she was already intoxicated, explaining her out-of-place enthusiasm. She pulled a bottle out of her purse and set it on the countertop as she sat on the barstool

“Angie!”

“Sorry your show closed on opening night…again.”

“Oh, please,” Barry protested. “We don’t need a reminder of the Garfield musical.”

“Now you’ve done it,” Dee Dee muttered loudly, placing a glass she had just finished on the counter rather harshly before beginning to shout. “You didn’t need to say that one! I don’t want to be reminded! You could’ve said Forrest Gump, or even the fucking Goonies, but no! It had to be Garfield!”

“We’ve failed a lot more shows than I remembered,” Barry quipped. In his drunkenness, he didn’t care to understand the implications of that.

Angie brought them back to reality. “Welcome to the world of the unemployed!”

Dee Dee laughed. “Angie, you’ve been in Chicago for 20 years.”

“I just quit! All that time and I’m still not Roxie Hart! My final straw was that they just cast Tina Louise in the role.”

“The girl from fucking Gilligan's Island? She’s still alive?!”

“You know,” Trent butted in, not fully aware of the irony of the fact that he swallowed a sip of his drink before he spoke. “It probably doesn’t help that you always carry around a bottle that size,” he said, gesturing to the newly opened one that Angie had hidden in her purse.

Everybody laughed at that. If only they knew who would enter their lives as soon as they got an idea.

“We don’t have to be like this,” Angie suggested, eyes lighting up.

“How?” Barry muttered, though he suddenly lifted his head up in curiosity.

“We prove to the press that we're not what they think we are!”

“What, aging?” Dee Dee prodded, somehow still oblivious.

“No, narcissists! If we…we take on a cause, we'll look good to them even if we don't really change,” Angie continued her suggestions in a suddenly triumphant shout, shaking her fist in the air to fill the space of her hesitation.

“Like celebri-activists!” Trent said with a giggle.

“We need a cause!” Barry suddenly shouted.

They started too big because, to be honest, they didn't know much about smaller problems that affected people who weren't themselves. They went through a list. World hunger, volunteering with Habitat for Humanity, Angie even suggested protesting to abolish the electoral college, but she was rather astonished when she realized none of her colleagues knew what that meant. She tried to keep going but Barry and Dee Dee were pretending to fall asleep, so after a brief argument, she gave up and the group settled on scouring Twitter.

“Trump, climate change, Trump, climate change…”

The others groaned as she scrolled through her feed. Until.

“Ah!”

What is it?” The trio of Barry, Dee Dee, and Trent all asked at the same time, clamoring around the phone.

“It’s about a girl in Edgewater, Indiana–Emma Nolan–she wanted to take her girlfriend to the senior prom and the PTA went apeshit.”

Finally, there was silence. Tense silence, as none of them could really fathom a world where homophobia was still the norm as they attempted to process the headline; the fact that this was really happening to a kid.

29 years made Barry Glickman an outside observer to his own attempts to go to prom, but reading that it was still going on made him see a flicker of his scared younger self. But this girl was already braver than he had been.

He broke the silence, moved to speak. “I think we found our cause,” he said. He took a pause before continuing and trying to play it off as more lighthearted than it actually was. He didn't want his colleagues to know that he had been through the same thing as this Emma girl, because it still felt fresh nearly 30 years later. He never got closure. What he got was pain and misery and losing himself in gay clubs the second he could.

He was going to give Emma Nolan closure. No, he was going to give her the night of her life that he never could've imagined so long ago, even in New York City. Times were so different, it couldn't be that hard.

“Plus, it's gay, so it's something I can relate to.”

Everyone laughed and Barry felt relief wash over him until everyone realized something. Dee Dee voiced it.

“I'm sorry, how are we getting from here to Who-Knows Indiana?”

Trent had a surprisingly fast reply. I'm going on a non-equity tour of Godspell, and it goes straight through Indiana! We’ll take the bus!”

Sheldon approved of the idea although a non-equity bus was shoddy at best. It wasn't like he had much money after his top clients had been in many commercial failures.

With a plan set in motion, the actors began other plans. T-shirts, picket signs, an anthem they’d sing in a massive stadium with thousands of people watching, which Trent would get Sondheim to write. Little did they know what their golden headline actually needed.

Emma was on her way to her eighth-period class that day, unaware of the nuclear explosion called a culture clash that would make itself known in hardly an hour and a half at the PTA meeting which would take place immediately after school. She never would expect, even if she knew what was about to occur, that it would be both the best and worst thing to happen to her.

Her classmates had seen things. Celebrities tweeting out in support and pro-LGBT organizations trying to spread awareness of what was going on, but Emma was still determined to remain out of the spotlight no matter what she heard. Her only concern was getting to class on time. She could tell herself that, but it didn't change the inevitable sinking feeling in her chest every time someone was whispering about something new they had heard. All it served to do was push everyone away, polarize them all against her and make her into some kind of scapegoat or a cautionary tale. A bright yellow road sign reading WARNING: Don't Be Gay in Indiana or WARNING: People Suck in Indiana . Just as the thought came to mind, she opened her locker and saw three stuffed bears. One of them, bright pink in color, was hanging from a rope tied to the coat hanger in her locker, and the other two were hastily glued to the door, positioned as if they were scissoring. One of the scissoring bears was the same shade of pink as the bear hanging from the noose, and Emma knew it was meant to be her in stuffed animal form. Yet another warning, this one from one of Emma's tormentors. Go fuck your little girlfriend one more time to say goodbye before we kill you for daring to be yourself.

Oh well, she thought to herself, hearing numbness even in her internal dialogue. At least they don't want to kill my girlfriend.

She ignored thinking about how they probably wouldn't want to kill her girlfriend if they knew she was Alyssa in favor of thinking about how she had become numb to this all over again. At that, she cringed, prompting someone behind her to giggle. Emma turned around to find Kaylee Klein and Shelby Gonzales standing there, smug faces like they thought their little trick had done shit. Upon seeing the looks on their faces, Emma found herself slightly bewildered. They could spend their free periods talking to whomever or doing whatever they wanted. They could spend their senior year at the apex of their popularity making memories they would want to look back on so they had something to talk about with the other people in the office who were exactly the same as them, but no. They had to go and hate somebody else. There went the one cool thing they had to talk about.

“Do you like the bear?” Kaylee singsonged.

Emma imagined Kaylee schmoozing with some rich guy whose dad afforded him a job at his tiny company that had never succeeded beyond the area of rural Indiana, which Kaylee would inevitably never leave, and wrinkled her nose at just how easily the image came to her, but also stifled laughter over it.

“This definitely breaks a few laws. Violating my privacy, threatening my life,” she managed to keep it frank.

“Honestly, you deserve it. You got our prom canceled.”

“I didn’t cancel the prom, your parents did. It’s my prom, too.”

Kaylee and Shelby rolled their eyes simultaneously. Kaylee kicked Emma’s bag across the hall as Shelby attempted once more to taunt someone who had already seen everything this town had dared to offer. “Unlike your social life, this is not over.”

Weak , Emma thought to herself. Kaylee had something more aggressive to make up for it. “At least we have parents.”

Emma pursed her lips, glancing around the hall to evaluate the chances that she could escape, factoring in that her locker was wide open and her bag nearly around the corner with people tripping over it as she looked in its direction. Yeah, slim. Until Alyssa, Emma’s knight in shining student council president polo came around the corner. 

“Ugh, there you are. I’ve been looking for you guys since lunch!” Alyssa seemed not to notice Emma at first, and Emma couldn’t lie to herself–she couldn’t tell if Alyssa had actually not seen her or pretending to not notice and/or not care about her was a part of the act. It kind of hurt, even if she knew her girlfriend had good intentions.

“Oh, you didn’t run off to the library today?” Kaylee asked, somewhere on the bridge between teasing and genuinely mean. It made Emma feel awkward, witnessing Alyssa’s double life. The side she didn’t want to see. But now she was standing in the middle of Popular Kid small talk.

“No,” Alyssa replied bluntly, also slightly suspicious, beginning to crane her head around to look at Emma’s locker.

“Well, first time for everything, right?” Shelby joked.

Alyssa’s eyes suddenly widened. “Yeah, and is this what you got up to? Guys, lay off her.”

“Why, are you on her side?” Kaylee retorted.

“No,” Alyssa started. To Emma, time stopped.

Ow. 

Oh my God, it’s fine Emma. It’s just an act. It’s just an act. Just Breathe, Emma.

“I’m just not in third grade. Come on, let’s go.”

Without a word to Emma, Alyssa dragged her friends by the wrists to give Emma a chance to grab the calculus workbook she needed for her ninth-period class and quickly lock her locker, tucking the book close to her chest and concealing it with her arms. If anybody knew she was holding it and didn’t have her bag, she was an automatic target. 

Anyway, she ran as fast as she could, pulling her backpack up off the floor. As she shoved her calculus book in the open pocket that had miraculously not had any books spill out of it, she heard a thud. 

There was a freshman girl on the floor.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry!”

Before the girl could respond out of anger over the bag being pulled out from under her, Emma stuck out a hand. She looked confused for a moment. Emma mentally cursed herself for bothering with trying to help the girl. Emma knew people were going to hate her, regardless of how often they interacted. The girl took another beat before taking Emma’s aid, and they never spoke a word. Maybe it was a sign that things would get better in Edgewater.

After the girl walked away, Emma took a split second to turn toward Alyssa, now heading back in Emma’s direction, and away from Kaylee and Shelby. Alyssa’s next class was in the opposite direction as Kaylee and Shelby’s, and Emma knew that. This meant she had gone out of her way to pull them away from her. She tried to think about that rather than the fact that Alyssa said she didn’t care. It was a lie. Logically, she knew it had to be. But then she started wondering how Alyssa knew to come to her defense. Had things been going around about this prank that she was painfully unaware of? Why didn’t Alyssa warn her?

She couldn’t warn you, her mother’s raving about hating you on the same cameras you’re avoiding.

Before she could fall into the trap of wondering if Alyssa really cared, time stopped again as Alyssa turned around to look back at her for a moment. A glimmer of hope.

She kept walking to class. Today she had swim class, which was an utter cakewalk. Simplified versions of things she had known for years. Usually, she wouldn’t take such a cop-out to earn her credits, but when she had started the regular gym class and the year began with dodgeball, she had been assaulted with the balls before the game began, pinning her up against the wall in the endless onslaught. When she finally had a chance to fight back, she was accused of behaving aggressively toward her classmates and given two options. Take a week’s detention or transfer out of the class. Emma thought just transferring out would be easier for both her and the teacher who was apparently blind, so she wound up back at the pool, being hollered at by Coach Boomer. She thought he would be miserable or enraged that she had returned to his life, especially given the way things ended. Rather, he was at least neutral on her. She was the only one who seemed to care what he had to say in a class only available to seniors. His class in particular often lent itself to the kinds of kids who were trying to find the easiest way to earn their credits. That was the one drawback. A couple of kids in that class were Nick and Kevin–arguably just as insufferable as their girlfriends. 

In class, Emma was trying to find a second to relax before the inevitable trash fire that the PTA meeting about her attendance at prom was going to be, and really only giving 80% effort to what was going on in the class, enough to relax herself the same way swimming always did without unnecessary strain. Nick didn’t see it that way, and he raced up to her, giving his all to keep up, not seeing the irony in that as he harassed her.

“I thought you were a varsity athlete.”

“I am.” Not was. Am. She was, after all, still planning on going D1, even if her career plans had changed.

“You’re not looking like it.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Nick scoffed.

“Then how ‘bout we race?” Emma offered, knowing from past experience how this would go. Nick would chicken out or lose horribly. She didn’t give him an option to choose between the two. “Your dad’s the coach. Make him proud for once.”

The response was an immediate yell, practically a bark, that admittedly reminded Emma of Coach Boomer. “You’re on!”

So they both went to the wall of the pool, and with a quick countdown, they were off on a simple 100-meter backstroke. As expected, when Emma reached the wall, she turned around and found that Nick had not yet figured out how to turn properly. She had to laugh.

“Guess you weren’t paying attention! Did you have to schmooze with Daddy for a good grade?”

“Fuck you!” Nick shouted, giving up on doing a turn the correct way and barreling toward Emma. Emma was still much faster in the water than him, and the moment Coach Boomer blew his whistle to tell the kids to go change, she was out of the water, not needing to rely on the ladder to get out. Once Nick was there as well, he immediately swarmed Emma again, only this time, Kevin was with him, and they were both attempting to ignore what Emma just did.

“So, who's that girl you were gonna take to prom?” Nick asked.

“You don’t know her. She’s new here.”

“Like an exchange student?” Kevin prompted.

“...Yeah?”

“Well, maybe you should exchange her for a guy.”

Emma rolled her eyes. These insults were surprisingly weak today. She walked off without another word, letting them think they were clever and high-five as she headed off to calculus.

As she rounded the corner to her calculus class, she was slightly startled to find Mr. Hawkins at the other side of the doorway. She really shouldn’t have been surprised, as he was her best source of what the media was saying about her and, surprisingly, her biggest advocate within James Madison when it came to her going to prom. It was quite considerate of him to meet her where she was, let alone everything else.

“What’s the new update?” Emma asked him.

“I think we’re going to involve the state. You may not like it, but this is a big deal, Emma.”

Emma just shook her head in disbelief.

“Listen,” Hawkins said with a grin, attempting to calm her down before she could get too worked up. “I’m glad it’s this and not meth. I have a colleague a few towns over who just deals with meth, all day, every day.”

“Well, I’m not on meth,” Emma faked a grin. “Not yet.”

“Don’t even think about it. Next thing you know we’ll have the likes of Eleanor Roosevelt on our side.”

“Great,” Emma managed.

“You know what, don’t think about that.” Finally, Hawkins saw that Emma just wanted to be left alone. “Just get to class. I’ll see you at the PTA meeting.”

“Yep.”

Emma walked into calculus and put her head on her desk, suddenly wishing she was invisible.

About an hour later, her desire to be invisible was only growing. She watched as the entire senior class and their parents got ready to campaign against her, filling the whole set of bleachers on the opposite side of the gym before so much as touching the bleachers where she sat. It was long and torturous, knowing they would do anything in their power to avoid having to confront that they weren't just homophobic, they hated her.

She stared at her shoes, wishing her two allies in this room could be anywhere near her so she didn't freak out. She wished they could argue for her without toeing some kind of invisible line between appearing to not have a stance and risking losing everything that they had. She wished her Gran could have been there. Then at least she wouldn't be alone.

The meeting began shortly after, and it was exactly what Emma expected, becoming a blur she couldn't pay attention to if she wanted to keep her sanity. A cacophony of noise against her erupted before Hawkins could shut them up. He got Alyssa to speak on behalf of the student body and remind the parents that all students wanted a prom. He urged them to see that there didn't have to be a 'liberal agenda’ behind it. He asked Emma what she wanted, startling her out of her misery.

“I just want to go to prom like any other kid.”

Finally, she actually comprehended something that someone said instead of it all being mush.

“I don’t want my son attending a homosexual prom.”

“It’s not a homosexual prom, it’s an inclusive prom, Mr. Hawkins countered.

Emma pressed her fingers against her temples, wishing that somehow the pressure would make her eyes roll back into her skull or make her brain blow up. Then she wouldn’t have to witness them talk about her like she was a monster. That was what was meant to happen to monsters. They were meant to never be understood. Meant to be murdered in cold blood by a strange mix of firey pitchforks and their own inherent feeling of being out of place. She wished she could say that she wasn’t a monster. It didn’t have to be a homosexual prom or an inclusive prom, it could just be a prom. If they could only put down their pitchforks and see her.  

Rather, the opposite happened. Their pitchforks that had only encountered pushback through the hollow window of the internet suddenly found very real opposition as the gym doors burst open, and the gym suddenly lit up a couple of glittery picket signs.

No more Mr. Nice Gay?

Oh, God. Please, no.

Suddenly, Edgewater had an image of the liberal agenda they were fighting against, and they were, evidently, not normal people. What a great look for Emma, who was hurtling face-first into her worst nightmare

“Where’s the lesbian kid?” 

For a moment, there was silence. For a moment, nobody spoke. Then Emma supposed somebody started pointing in her direction because the man holding the No More Mr. Nice Gay sign headed in her direction.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Uh, E-Emma?”

He said his name was Barry Glickman and he proclaimed that he had come from New York City to save her as if she hadn’t already realized that he was painfully unaware of what life was like for her. She resisted the urge to smack him and proclaim that she didn’t need saving. It was now that the rest of the gym caught up with the pandemonium, as four other people entered.

“Who are you people?!” A parent shouted.

A voice that Emma found to be vaguely familiar answered. “We are liberal democrats from Broadway. Come to pry open your tiny little minds to see that there is nothing wrong with being homosexual. And once Dee Dee gets here…”

“Wait, where’s Dee Dee?” Another of the Broadway people interjected.

As if on cue, the lights seemed to change as the door swung open again. Mr. Hawkins seemed to recognize the figure that entered the gym with the motion.

“Oh my God, you’re Dee Dee Allen!”

“You bet your ass I am.”

She proceeded into a rant about how this definitely wasn’t a publicity stunt, she just wanted what was best for Emma as an ally of the LGBQ community. Really, it served only to prove to Emma that this was definitely a publicity stunt, and her chances of being further harassed had just increased tenfold. And her argument about this being genuine really fell apart when she began grabbing some kids’ phones as they inevitably started filming the fiasco, telling their cameras a hashtag to use about the event. #DeeDeeTakesLocalYokelsByStorm.

Trying to ignore the constant attempts by this Dee Dee woman to redirect the attention onto Emma to keep her from looking horribly selfish, Emma began looking up what yokel was supposed to mean. She squinted a little at the words displayed back to her. A naive or gullible inhabitant of a rural area or small town. These people had to realize that as backward as Edgewater could be, Emma wasn’t suddenly not from here just because she was gay, right? Not to mention, insulting people is definitely not a way to get them to like you.

It was pretty self-explanatory when people began walking out on the mess, no matter how Mr. Hawkins tried to quell it. Emma, for once, was not far behind the crowd, worrying that she was going to spiral out of control because this was so not what she wanted. Being put at the center of a bunch of celebrities? Fuck no. 

As she tried to shove through the crowd, she was stopped by a tall blonde woman with a camera. She tried to block her face, saying that she wasn’t comfortable having a picture taken, but the woman wouldn’t listen, and while Emma was essentially trapped against a wall by her, she felt a wad of spit hit her cheek.

“Oh, this is perfect! Just the right amount of pathetic,” the woman said to herself, walking away without another word to Emma.

Emma now heard laughter right next to her, and somebody grabbed her by the collar as Hawkins left the gym, following Dee Dee. Emma tried to get his attention but it didn’t work. She swore to God if Dee Dee was his celebrity crush she might actually be mad at him for enabling these crazy people, no matter how bad they wanted to help. Whoever had picked her up shoved her into a locker and walked away. Her face burned with both humiliation and pain, but she refused to cry. It would simply be fodder for these people. Rather, she ran off to the only place where she knew she would find comfort.

Barry re-entering the building cut off Mr. Hawkins's conversation with Dee Dee Allen, which was probably a good thing because he was just floundering about what a big fan of hers he was, to which she was surprisingly not receptive. She made some joke about how no straight people liked Broadway, and as lighthearted as he knew it was meant to be, he realized that she didn’t understand how word got around quickly and was often dramatized in a small town like Edgewater, or that this could actually endanger him if heard by the wrong person. Gossip was the greatest pastime of this town. 

“Dee Dee! Come quick! They’re trying to tip the bus over!”

Mr. Hawkins ran out with her, trying once again to quell the situation. Once he managed to shepherd the angriest of parents into their cars, promising an explanation of what had occurred to the entire PTA in an e-mail before school the next Monday,  he gathered up the actors to figure out their motives. They said they wanted to help Emma, simple as that. Hawkins didn’t have the heart to tell them that she didn’t want this to be a big deal. He didn’t know if they could fathom not wanting to be in the spotlight, and he didn’t want to find out.

“So,” Barry asked once they were all acquainted with Mr. Hawkins. “Where’s Emma? I only got to see her for a minute in the gym.”

Mr. Hawkins was silent for a moment, suddenly realizing he didn’t know for sure, but, of course, he had an idea. It would make the most sense to act on that hunch, but the principal, being one of Emma’s only allies at the school, had gotten to know her well over the past year and a half, and he knew she probably wouldn’t want to be bombarded by people immediately if she had suddenly disappeared.

“Uh, why don’t I show you around first?”

Emma sat in the corner of her safe haven under the bleachers, shaking, with her knees drawn up to her chest. She couldn’t believe this was actually happening. She didn’t even have a cohesive string of thoughts about it, just a feeling of restlessness and dread seeping into her. If she had to put a guess to what the feeling was while she was drowning in the sheer strangeness of everything that had happened at the PTA meeting, it would be fear. But she couldn’t quite tell because she felt so on edge. She wished that any of this felt real, but it didn’t. There was no way this was happening, not to her.

There was a soft knock on the hatch, but Alyssa was much too concerned to wait for a response. She pushed open the door without hesitating. 

“Emma? Emma?!”

Alyssa didn’t see her at first until she inexplicably turned around, finally seeing Emma in the corner.

“Oh! Oh my God!”

“Hey,” Emma whispered.

“I cannot believe this is happening!” Alyssa ranted. Apparently, her coping mechanism was vastly different from Emma’s. She seemed restless, to the point where she didn’t notice Emma’s panic.

She’s hiding something.

What would she be hiding?

“I know,” Emma replied, standing from her pathetic position on the floor and trying to act as if she wasn’t beginning to doubt her girlfriend’s commitment.

“It’s insane! My mom’s going apeshit! I got a text from Kaylee saying she’s trying to get the PTA moms to tip over those actors’ bus!”

Emma wondered how Alyssa believed Kaylee after everything, but she forced herself to remember that at this point, anything was possible.

“We have a plan,” Emma tried to convince herself of that just as much as she tried to convince Alyssa.

“It was a great plan,” Alyssa muttered.

She hates you, she hates you–

Emma shook herself from her internal monologue. “You know I didn’t ask for this, right?”

“I know, Emma.”

Emma didn’t get a chance to say anything more before Alyssa’s phone buzzed again, and she looked at the notification immediately. “I should go before my mom goes even crazier. I’ll see you soon, I promise.”

She didn’t say I love you.

Emma sunk back into the corner once Alyssa closed the hatch behind her, waiting until the absolute last second before running out and locking it behind her.

Mr. Hawkins led the group of actors to the glass doors of the pool area and opened one so they could have a better view, talking as he went. “You know, considering the budget cuts we’ve had over the years, we’re very lucky to have this space. Actually, our swim team is one of the best in the state for its size. I’ve tried to convince the school board to increase their budget–I mean, it’s not even 10 kids and they deserve uniforms for their hard work, but the board insists the football team should get the money. It’s a shame, really.”

“I have a question,” Dee Dee chimed in from beside him.

“Go ahead.”

“If the pool is the most interesting thing about this place, why did you save it for last?”

“I took you in a circle from the gym,” Mr. Hawkins answered plainly. If he was going to continue, his answer was cut short by metallic banging, and the figure of Emma Nolan approached them.

“Swear to God you didn’t see that, Mr. Hawkins,” she said once she reached the doorway, panic in her voice.

He picked up on it. “Not a word, Emma,” he promised, asking no further questions. He left that to the actors.

“What were you doing behind the bleachers?” Trent asked meekly, being the first to think of trying to connect to the girl they were trying to help.

“Don't ask,” Emma mumbled, shaking her head a little as she bounced on her heels. Mr. Hawkins watched her tense up and realized that maybe he had to help her break the ice. She wasn't used to many people being genuinely interested in what she had to say, after all.

“Emma was actually on our swim team for a couple of years,” he prompted.

The blonde woman who had tried to photograph her earlier took a sudden interest in the conversation. “Oh, really? Why’d you quit?”

Silence.

Come on, Emma, Mr. Hawkins wanted to say. Give them something.

“You know what, why don't you show them the pool up close, Emma?” Mr. Hawkins prompted once more.

“Are you sure, sir? I…it's not like there's much to see.”

He paused for a second before coming up with a response that didn't make it obvious that he was simply trying to start a conversation between them. “I have no problem with it.”

So Emma began slowly walking around the perimeter of the pool, making a careful watch of her steps out of the corner of her eye as she stared at her reflection in the blue water until the blonde woman spoke again. It wasn't as long as it felt. In reality, it was a few steps.

“I didn't mean to touch a nerve there, kid. I only asked because I used to do this stuff when I was, like, twelve, but my real passion was theatre.”

“Huh,” Emma mused, turning around to face the group suddenly. “You know what, you look like you could swim real well.”

“It's the legs, I know,” Angie replied flatly. Emma giggled. “I'm Angie, by the way. I don't believe I introduced myself.”

“Cool,” Emma replied back, a nice way of saying she hadn't.

“I don’t know jack shit about sports,” Barry interjected, suddenly realizing that Emma wasn't the kind of gay person he was.

In fact, she was rather intimidating at first glance, standing an inch or two above Barry when she was standing, with a much leaner build. She could probably beat him up if she tried. He was glad they were going this route.

“I mean, I don't know jack about big-city theatre people,” Emma replied, doing a shitty attempt at jazz hands. “So I guess we're all learning.”

“I’ll save my lessons on show tunes for later.”

There was a lull, and Emma felt marginally safer. It was something.

Finally, Dee Dee pitched something in, going along with the actors’ attempts at small talk.

“At least if you're doing that all the time, the water's warm, right?”

Emma laughed a little. “Haha, no. I wish. Sometimes you get a nice temperature at a richer school. Not here!”

“How bad is it?!” Dee Dee asked, voice full of horror.

“Oh, it's not bad when you get used to it,” Emma said like it was nothing. “I’ll show you, come dip your toes in!”

Before anyone could argue, Emma was bolting to the far end of the pool and kicking off her shoes. Maybe they wanted to complain, but it was the happiest she'd seemed about the actors’ presence so far, so they didn't say anything, hesitantly following along as she dipped her toes in the water.

“Best spa in all of Edgewater, if you ask me.”

“What makes you a reputable source?” Barry asked suddenly. This was his language.

“I live here,” Emma snapped back good-naturedly.

The rest of the group laughed at the light roast on Barry, also starting to ditch their shoes like it was nothing at all. Like they weren’t in a public high school in the Middle of Nowhere, Indiana. 

“Why’d you choose this, of all things?” Dee Dee muttered the question, pulling her feet out of the water almost as soon as they touched it.

Emma shrugged. “It was a group of people who didn’t have many friends. Thought I might fly under the radar and actually have friends myself.”

She could have also mentioned the appeal of being on a gender-neutral team. She had never gotten on well with the majority of girls from church–the kinds of girls who would play soccer or perform the kinds of flips Alyssa pulled off with ease. There was nothing else behind the thought process.

“But you didn’t,” Barry finished for her instead, voice filling with sudden scorn.

“We don’t have to talk about that,” Emma butted in quickly, glancing over at Trent, who, now that she got a real look at him, also looked awfully familiar.

“Can I tell you guys a secret?” He asked.

“Sure?” Emma replied.

“I can’t swim,” Trent confessed.

Emma tried her hardest to conceal her laughter, pursing her lips and choking slightly on her breath, jolting forward for a moment before covering her mouth with her elbow. Her attempts to fight laughter were still seen through this, light breaths that were muffled by the skin of her arm. Finally, it turned out to be in vain and she cracked, laughing so hard that she fell back onto the grimy tile floor of the pool room.

It wasn’t long after that when the group departed, heading in two different directions, with the actors saying they were trying to organize something for her this weekend. Emma was still hesitant, of course, but she was starting to feel better about the whole thing. All in all, the interaction lasted no longer than 5 minutes, but Emma was hopeful for the first time since word got out that she had bought a ticket to prom.

The only problem, the actors had no idea what they were going to do.

They piled into Barry and Dee Dee’s motel room after the fiasco that was them trying to check in. Dee Dee had demanded to know where the hot tub was, along with a premium room, and pulled both of her Tonys out of her purse to prove to the clueless clerk that she deserved it, but the motel didn’t have a hot tub or a premium room, and the clerk only recognized Trent for his work on Talk to the Hand, so they were all slightly annoyed as they crowded into one non-premium room to figure out what they were going to do. 

“We’ve got to find something fast,” Barry stated as he came through the door, as if the other actors didn’t already agree with that statement. “That girl…she deserves a prom.” 

“So, Trent, how’s that Sondheim coming along?” Dee Dee asked the other man, segueing off of Barry’s desperation as she crashed onto the small motel mattress.

“About that. Turns out Sondheim didn’t even know about my Sweeney Todd.”

A collective cringe ran through the room.

“Fear not, though, I’ve written a song of my own! It only took the bus ride here!” He shouted suddenly, running over to the coffee table in the room to grab a small pile of sheet music. “The Godspell kids are going to help us sing backup.”

Barry squinted at the papers, putting them closer to his face. “You rhymed…bigotry…with…big of me?”

“Take that, Lin Manuel Miranda!”

For a moment, Dee Dee, Barry, and Angie all overlapped in complaints about the song as they glossed over the sheet music until Sheldon ran in.

“Oh, thank God,” Barry proclaimed, dropping Trent’s music all over the floor and running over to his PR manager. “Do we have a venue?”

“Please say it’s a music hall of some sort,” Dee Dee continued. “This place has no culture, and I’m sick of it.”

“It’s at halftime of something called a monster truck rally?”

It was nearly 11 o'clock on Saturday night and Emma was watching the four Broadway actors sing a song about acceptance at a monster truck rally on a grainy, shaky video. A video that happened to have that horrible picture of her in it. Of course, the actors would want to put a face to their crusade. Maybe they didn't even realize there hadn't been a face for it before. Either way, this was never something she thought would happen, and even if she thought it would happen, she never wanted to view such a thing through Nick Boomer’s Instagram, which was otherwise only full of his football escapades and poorly-lit videos of junior frat parties that were backed by loud pop music with too much bass. Regardless of her opinions of the platform on which she viewed the actors’ performance, she didn’t think the song was half-bad, and that was coming from someone with about a year’s worth of songwriting experience. It was an earworm, but it was clear that the performers didn’t get much practice. Nor did they have much knowledge of or appreciation for their audience, probably still viewing everyone in Edgewater minus herself as small-town hicks who knew nothing. In the grand scheme of things, she hadn't been writing songs for very long, let alone writing anything with the intention of letting anybody hear it, but she knew that it was important to understand your audience, especially in a case like this, when it was a direct message to an audience. This disconnect made it seem like the genuinely written 'Acceptance Song’ was a parody. Something out of Glee. That made it sound like she was insulting the actors but honestly…there was no better way to describe it. They had shirts made, for Christ’s sake. Bright yellow shirts that read WE’RE ALL LESBIANS in a bold, blocky font colored solid black. Based on the way the light reflected in the video, she was pretty sure the writing had copious amounts of glitter on it. Barry had one that said I’M A LESBIAN and ran out in a flannel while chanting to the melody the phrase “Accept me!”. That was the peak of Emma’s secondhand embarrassment because she knew that was probably the way Edgewater saw her, even if she was just butch and not otherwise in anyone’s face about it. But the shirts weren’t the craziest part. No, the real kicker was Angie in a black bodysuit that no one from around here would dare wear in public, because it had a cardboard box glued onto it at the pelvis in the shape of a heart, and at the end of the song two of the actors pulled a rainbow banner from its insides.

At least she figured out where she might have known Trent from, with someone in the crowd yelling that they knew him from Talk to the Hand, which was true, but Emma had never watched that show before, only heard about it from friends.

Ah. Shrek.

Emma quickly closed the tab when people in the video began throwing cans of beer. Before she did so, she swore she saw a tomato hit Dee Dee square in the face. She couldn’t help but laugh, bewildered as to who the hell would bring a tomato to a monster truck rally. She had been sitting in slight disbelief of what she was watching for so long that she wasn't even paying attention to the reception the rest of her town had to it.

Secretly, she hoped the actors, and this fiasco, would take the attention away from her.

Even more secretly, she hoped this might do some good.

She didn't have to wait very long to find out if it did. On Sunday morning, she was at the actors’ motel with Mr. Hawkins.

He spoke first. He knew her. “I hope you don't mind, but Emma and I wanted to be the ones to tell you that due to pressure from the state attorney, prom is back on.”

Emma watched them start celebrating until Mr. Hawkins cut them off. Clearly he, too, was unimpressed with Trent’s musical abilities, despite the fact that Emma had heard him say he was a Julliard trained actor in the performance, with several nods to his education crammed in the lyrics. That also didn’t help the feeling that the tune belonged in a musical comedy. “To be clear, it had nothing to do with you.”

“Maybe it was them,” Emma finally found the strength to say something. “I mean…they showed up and really scared people.”

“Don’t sell yourself, short kid,” Barry replied. “It was you that scared people.”

That wasn’t quite the most sensitive way to say it, Emma thought to herself, desperate to change the subject. Luckily, in her desperation, a realization fully hit her for the first time since this started, and she guessed she must’ve blurted it out. “Oh my God, my senior prom isn’t even a week away.”

“What are you gonna wear?” Barry asked. Of course he was eager to know that.

Emma shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe a vintage tux and some high tops? Does it matter?”

Barry pretended to faint, falling backward and gasping, mouth opening and closing quickly. Emma had to admit, she was genuinely concerned for a split second, especially when the other actors played into it.

“Does it matter?! Of course it matters! We have to find you the perfect dress,” he gasped. “We can have a fashion show!”

She wasn’t sure she wanted to wear a dress, but she didn’t want to disappoint him. “I don’t think I have any dresses.”

“Oh, I have plenty! For emergencies!”

Emma couldn’t deny the appeal of a ‘fashion show’, the way it would make her feel just like everybody else trying on outfits for prom. “Okay! We can meet at my house after school tomorrow? I have to make sure I still have a date.”

“Your parents won’t mind a middle-aged man coming into your house and dressing you?”

Oh.

“Emma’s parents kicked her out when she was sixteen,” Hawkins stated bluntly when Emma fell silent and dropped her gaze to the floor.

“Oh, honey…” Barry uttered. “I haven’t spoken to my mother in 30 years.”

“It’s fine,” Emma said quickly, changing the subject. “My grandma’s cool, she likes the gays.”

“And I like the olds.”

“I hate to break it to you, but you are one of the olds.”

Everybody let out a simultaneous Ooh as if she had just told Barry he had to go to the principal’s office.

When Emma went home, she told Betsy about the plan. She also seemed a little skeptical of the idea of Emma in a dress.

“Are you sure you’re gonna want that?”

“I mean, not really, but…”

“But what?”

“If people figure out I don’t want to wear a dress it’ll be a whole other thing.”

“That’s fine. We’ll fight for you,” Betsy replied without a moment’s hesitation.

“There’s no time.”

“The state’s attorney already said–”

Emma cut her grandmother off. “I know, I know. But I don’t want this to be a big deal–or, I guess, a bigger deal than it already is. I just want to have a normal prom night.”

Betsy sighed. “Emma, if I knew they were gonna show up…if I saw anything anywhere, I would’ve been at the PTA meeting. I would’ve defended what you wanted.”

“I know.”

Meanwhile, Mr. Hawkins spoke to Dee Dee as the rest of the actors tried to find something to do.

“You know, I really appreciate you doing this. You know, Emma…she’s had a hard go of it.”

“Anytime, Tom.”

“I, uh, I know all your friends left on you so it might seem…odd, but maybe I could show you some spots in town instead of just wandering?” 

“That would be wonderful. Is there a place to eat here that actually has cutlery?”

Mr. Hawkins laughed. “There’s an Applebee’s.”

So now he was floundering over Dee Dee in an Applebee’s instead of in the hallways of James Madison High School, and for some reason, he was telling her about when he was barely out of college and second acting Swallow the Moon after seeing a VHS bootleg of it. He started asking about her last show, Eleanor. He hadn’t had a chance to look up anything about the opening night since he had been so caught up in getting Emma a prom. Turns out it went horribly and closed on opening night, but he was in such disbelief that Dee Dee Allen was in an Applebee’s with him that he didn’t put two and two together, instead trying to convince her that she had to keep performing, attempting to remind her of the joy that it brought people like him.

On Monday at lunch, Emma found herself waiting on Alyssa again. Just like always, she thought to herself, hating the thought. But she knew it was true. They had spent the past year waiting on fleeting moments now that everybody was suspicious of any girl that Emma hung around with. Alyssa hadn’t even showed up on Friday for lunch, preoccupied with Mrs. Greene’s ranting and raving against Emma’s existence, even though she promised she would despite everything.

What if she was in on the stupid bear prank and didn’t say anything because she didn’t want to get caught with you?

She was sick and tired of waiting. She should just go. She couldn’t stay here all period if Alyssa was going to ghost her again, after all. What if somebody was pulling another joke and she was just standing here, clueless?

In the middle of her train of thought, the metal opened up with a clang. It was funny, in a slightly unsettling way. When Alyssa was around, any doubt she may have had disappeared.

“Hey,” Alyssa said, slightly out of breath.

“...Why are you holding a sombrero?” Emma chuckled.

“Kevin’s promposal,” Alyssa replied.

“I was gonna say, I’m far too white for that.”

“I do have something for you, though–now that we have a legally mandated prom,” Alyssa said, and before Emma could process it, she pulled a small bracelet out of her pocket, made with plastic purple beads. It couldn’t have been more that five dollars, but it meant everything. It was a promise that Alyssa would be there, no matter what.

“I can’t wait for Friday night,” Emma said as she slid the bracelet on. She looked at her girlfriend, and unexpectedly, they locked eyes. She grinned. “It’s gonna be impossible not to kiss you.”

“I don’t even care what my mom is gonna say. She’ll be in public. She can’t freak out.”

After that, excitement poured out of Emma in three slightly breathless words. “I love you.”

Her cheeks were turning a vivid pink at just the thought of prom night with Alyssa. At first, she wasn’t sure if it would be worth the controversy, but now? Now that they had come this far, it was all she wanted.

“I love you, too.”

“Can you stay or will your mom be looking for you?” Emma asked meekly.

“I’ll stay, it’s fine. I’ll figure it out.”

“Can you just hold me for a bit? I’ve missed you.”

“Mhm.”

So Alyssa did stay for another fleeting moment of counting down until the bell rang, and when it did, they executed the expertly crafted plan to not be seen together, which, by now, they had gotten away with so many times that it made sense for them to get a little cocky. For a second, everything was okay. Emma was in bliss for a few days,  unaware of what she and Alyssa had forgotten, believing it to be just a matter of time before their plan went right after all. For Kaylee and Shelby, something was odd as they passed the pool, so even though they hadn't come in here since this year's season had ended, they went in now. They had to admit that it was a good excuse to cut class. Especially when they found a sombrero left on the bottom of the bleachers.

Emma was glaring at the hat placed beside her like it was Kevin himself.

Isn't it a little awkward if we're gonna be making out and that heterosexual ass sombrero is just staring at us?

Not really?

Babe, I can feel it judging me for my sins.

Alyssa conceded to that, laughing hysterically.

Fine, I'll put it outside.

"What the hell is this doing here? Didn't you give it to Alyssa?" Kaylee asked, picking it up and turning to her friend.

"I wanted her to meet me at my locker with it so I didn't look like an idiot wearing it in the cafeteria, but I guess she had other plans."

So a plan would blossom without the knowledge of Emma or Alyssa, and the former of them's excitement built up until Friday afternoon when a U-Haul truck full of dresses pulled into her driveway. If she didn’t already believe that Barry Glickman was a force to be reckoned with, she was about to find out.

Chapter Text

Betsy pulled Emma out of school in the middle of sixth period on the day of the prom, telling Greg to take her car home. She watched all eyes turn to her as her name was called over the PA system, all expecting one of the Crazy New York Liberals to barge in again, or, at the very least, there would be another shocking development about prom. Well, that was what was happening, but it wasn’t the type of development that the average person would care about.

Emma rushed to the main lobby, trying to remember the last time she got picked up from school. It had to be before everything began to change for the worse because by the time she was thrown out of her parents’ house she could drive herself to and from school. This made her reaction make a bit more sense.

“What’s going on?” Emma asked as they walked out. Betsy just took her hand and walked faster, sort of dragging Emma to keep up. She’s in front of her now, hiding her grin from Emma.

Barry said to keep this a surprise. If she said a word, she was afraid she would spill the beans. Oh, it was all so good. Barry was a wonderful man, exactly the person who Emma needed. Perhaps he could fill a hole that Emma's dad had left behind. And she deserved this. Emma and Alyssa deserved this, a thousand times more than all the straight girls.

“No, seriously,” Emma asked as they clambered into her grandmother’s car. “Did we get evicted or something?”

Betsy found it slightly alarming that Emma was making that assumption. “Did you forget about our guests?”

“Oh! Oh, God. They're not all there, are they? Some of them scare me a bit,” Emma admitted. They both knew ‘some’ meant Dee Dee.

Betsy chuckled. “No. Just Barry. That's what you wanted, right?”

“Barry is the least inclined to shove a camera in my face,” Emma replied, a faint grin on her face. That grin widened when she began to regale her grandmother with the story of Alyssa's second promposal, realizing quickly that she hadn't had very much time to talk to her grandmother about anything other than how she had become a total spectacle with all of this. There was something so typical about her and Alyssa that no news outlet had managed to remember, or even bother to know.

There was not anything typical about the sight that appeared when Betsy pulled onto their street. As the house came into view, they were greeted with a large truck pulled into the driveway, and boxes strewn around the concrete. Barry had come onto the front porch as Betsy parked on the side of the road, presumably about to take one of the boxes inside, as Greg was already doing with another, but he decided instead to walk to the edge of the driveway and greet Emma, who was taken aback. Still, she couldn't resist cracking a joke at the unexpected thing she looked at through the window of the car.

“Called it! We are being evicted,” she shouted, voice dripping with enthusiasm and curiosity even as she attempted to make the comment seem wry.

“Shush, you,” Betsy countered, but by the time she looked over at the passenger’s seat expecting a reply, Emma had undone her seatbelt and was halfway to the driveway where Barry stood.

Betsy was in no rush to keep up, watching from a distance as Emma processed what was going on.

“What…what is this?”

“Did you forget about our fashion show, kid?” Barry replied with a grin.

“Well, no–I’ve been looking forward to it all week–but, I thought you were just gonna take me shopping, not take a shop to me.”

“Oh, yeah? And what is there around here?”

Emma hesitated, trying to think up where the other girls might have gotten their prom dresses like a scientist observing a ritual of a foreign species for the first time, and from a long way away, too. The distance wasn’t just found in the way the girls at school refused to sit next to her even though they knew she had a girlfriend. She had been trying to figure out being a girl since she understood what it meant. Watching girls like Kaylee and Shelby, and even Alyssa, trying to figure out how they had taken their changing bodies in stride and gone with what was expected their whole lives.

“Uh, we have a K-Mart?”

“Oh, one of like…5 left? I bet they have great dresses,” Barry replied sarcastically. “I would’ve taken you to Saks, but…we’re on a tight schedule.”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “What the–uh, what’s a Saks?”

Barry didn’t answer, pretending to faint again. Suddenly, Greg came up to them and caught him from behind. “You guys coming? I need all the help I can get.

Emma blinked as Greg picked up another box and turned around, then she shook her head. “How did you get this many dresses?”

“Oh, I have tons of friends who do drag,” Barry stated nonchalantly, even peppering in a shrug. “So I asked them where I could find good ones for tall people,” he giggled, looking up at Emma slightly.

Then he went off in a ramble, explaining to Emma every detail of his conversation with these mysterious drag queen friends. Emma had a hard time imagining  Barry hanging out with a drag queen, but that was only because she had a hard time imagining a drag queen to start with. They were beamed to Emma from the ever-saturated world of the television and consumed by pure osmosis when Gran or her Greg put them on, leading her to wonder, in some metaphorical way, if they were an illusion. Everything about them was the antithesis of Edgewater. The music, the dancing, the raunchy humor, not to mention the playing with the concept of gender itself. She could keep listing things, but either way, she couldn’t fathom it all until it was right in front of her. With Barry here, she supposed it was.

Maybe the actors were the same way. Not money hungry like she was inclined to believe.

“And so they named a couple of stores, but they were all tiny places that custom-make stuff, so I asked them How am I going to get the kid from Indiana there and back with a dress in less than a week? And they were all flaming me– What are you doing in Indiana after the Acceptance Song thing, girl?-- So I just stared at them through the screen for a moment while they laughed, and this is reparations because I think they didn’t know just how much you’ve been through.”

Emma was again stunned for a moment. Barry spoke again. “They said they knew nothing about you being kicked out. And when I thought about it I realized: I hadn’t known either. God, I don’t think anyone saw your face. We were trying so hard to figure out who you were so we knew we were in the right endless rural area.”

Emma fought with herself to not revert to her natural instinct of shutting down or making herself seem like an ass, disconnecting from the world. She even tried not to pull away. Just make it seem totally fine. “That was…intentional.”

“Oh.”

For the first time since they’d met, Barry had nothing to say.

“It’s–it’s fine, Barry, really. You didn’t know,” Emma said with a shrug. “I’ll be fine. But let's get to these boxes before Greg comes to get a fourth box and kills us.” She finished, frankly not wanting to discuss this any further.

“Oh, he won't. He’s a good kid.”

Emma tilted her head, wondering how Greg had presented himself while she was gone. “We got to talking after a few boxes worth of the most painful silence you've ever heard.” Barry supplied, giving Emma the sudden realization that Betsy let him stay home to help set this up.

“How many boxes are there?”

“Oh, about 45.”

“What?!”

“I didn't know your size,” Barry protested. “What was I supposed to do, ask? Let you squeeze into your dress on a night that's meant to be fun? I’d rather measure you myself and then you don't have to see it.”

“I'm perfectly fine with knowing what my size is,” Emma replied.

“Oh, please, it's your prom! I don't even want you to think about that, and this can give us that luxury.”

Barry thought back on his own prom, ashamed of the numbers that came with his tux that he only bought because he wanted to feel like everybody else. It was a locked memory, spurred open by his presence in Indiana.

After a beat, Emma was the one to fill in the silence. “God, thank you for…all of this.”

“Anytime, kid.”

Barry reached out for a hug and Emma surprised herself by not even flinching. Something about it felt natural, but that was fucking crazy. She had only known Barry for about a week.

As Betsy watched this from the car window, she couldn't help but notice how similar the two of them were. They had the same commanding but not at all intimidating demeanor, they would do anything to help people they loved, and they were so passionate about what they loved to the point where it was that thing that drove their every decision. The way their light eyes hit the sun was the same.

Emma's parents both had brown eyes. It was a shock to all when Emma turned out with glittery hazel eyes.

They hauled the rest of the boxes back into the house and into Emma's room along with Betsy and Greg in relative silence. Afterwards she led Barry back into the room, which was across the hall from the upstairs bathroom.

“So, here it is,” Emma said as she gave Barry a proper chance to look at it all, even with all the boxes laying around. “Emma Nolan’s humble abode.”

Barry soaked it in, looking around at the posters on her lime green walls and realizing that he had no clue what most of them were. Lady Bird ? History Eraser? Oh, good Lord, was he an old gay now? Special attention was put by Emma onto her bookshelves, he noticed, eyes suddenly drawn to its neatness when compared to the rest of the room. There was a series of books called Heartstopper over Emma's bed. That sounded like a cheesy title. Barry wondered if Emma liked cheesy romances. He had a hard time imagining it, but it was some escape from this place that was clearly a shithole. His mind snagged on that for only a moment as his eyes kept moving to the shelf where Emma had kept all of her trophies. Despite everything, her book of memories from her time on the team remained there, nestled between her two smaller versions of the state champion trophies. Next to the closet, there was an acoustic guitar on a stand. Barry didn’t know what he expected. Knowing everything she had gone through at school, it honestly wasn’t a normal teenager’s bedroom.

“It’s nice in here,” Barry said.

“Yeah,” Emma replied softly, walking in between the boxes to her bed. Barry followed slowly as she sat down on the bed. The mattress caved in slightly under her weight, making the boxes that were precariously stacked on the bed topple over slightly. “What did you and Greg get on about, anyway?”

“Oh, we were talking about theatre. Turns out he really likes musicals,” Barry smiled. He sat down beside her. More boxes toppled over.

“ Yeah ,” Emma replied again, this time more disgruntled. Barry laughed.

“No offense, but he’s much more my speed.”

“None taken.”

“He was telling me he’s only on the swim team to ogle at the guys, and honestly, I could’ve seen myself doing that if I were more athletic.”

“That would be great if he didn’t end things with the guy he was ogling at when I got booted off the team,” Emma replied, rolling her eyes. “I don’t know why he’s still there.”

“They kicked you off the team? For being gay?” Barry asked suddenly. 

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.”

“Emma, I am gonna worry about it. Because that’s wrong. That’s wrong, and you deserve better.”

“I know, but I’m used to it, honestly. I knew I was gonna lose everything.”

“You shouldn’t have to. Why didn’t you do anything?”

Emma sighed. “Barry, you and I are from completely different worlds. What’s a given for you is a battle for me.”

“But that team was your world,” Barry argued. It was strange. Emma shouldn’t be playing her own prosecution. “I saw it in your eyes when you were talking about it last week, it’s everything to you.”

“Look, I won’t pretend that wasn’t the most soul-destroying thing to ever happen to me, but I had just been outed. The bullying was even worse than it was right before you showed up, and I was convinced Gran was gonna throw me out too if I fucked up once. Or go broke caring for two kids now,” Emma shook her head. “I wasn’t gonna put myself in that kind of danger.”

Every word she has spoken in the past minute since Barry told her she deserved better has unlocked another memory for him until he felt like he was going to implode.

“Your parents throwing you out wasn’t the most soul-destroying thing to ever happen to you?” Barry asked stupidly, trying to ignore how his voice trembled. If Emma could be over the whole thing in a year, how stupid did that make him for hoping his mom would reach out? Was she even alive?

This question is the thing that finally makes Emma resort to pulling away from him a little. “My parents don’t care about me. I don’t care about them. End of story.”

Of course, the story was much more complicated than that. But Barry was so…emotional, and optimistic. She saw the look in his eyes when he brought up his mother. He wanted her back. He would probably tell Emma to forgive her parents if given the chance, just because he wanted that chance so bad. He would mean well, of course, but he didn’t know shit about her.

He didn’t know shit about her . It was supposed to be the perfect mantra for tonight. What actually happened, though, was much worse. He hugged her again. This time, she wasn’t stupid. She stayed straight as a board, refusing to feed into the thought that occurred last time he hugged her.

He noticed.

“Are you okay?”

Emma decided to just be honest, for the very same reason that she was bothered by this in the first place. “I trust you, and that's scary.”

There was a mournful silence that filled the room for a moment. Then Barry shoved it away with a triumphant declaration. “Screw picking your battles, kid. Tonight, you are going to get the night of your life. And it starts here,” he concluded, pulling a dress from its box. He looked at it for a moment, silent. Then he asked, “Do you have any idea what your date is wearing?”

“Um, no.”

Even though he asked it that way, he didn’t seem to think he’d get that response. “Why not?”

“I haven’t been to her house since before we got together,” Emma replied.

“How long have you been together?”

“2 years in July,” Emma replied, grinning stupidly and adding information that was totally unnecessary. Barry would understand what a blessing it was to be able to gush about a partner. “We got together 4 days after I turned 16. Like, officially, I mean. Unless you count that it was midnight, then it would be 5.”

Barry smiled at her rambling, unable to contain his joy at the fact that Emma had trusted him with this. Little did he know, she had hidden anything that might have revealed Alyssa’s identity. She tucked all the photographs that she had printed off the family computer and stuck into frames herself because she couldn’t possibly take them to a printer without everybody finding out into her dresser, not trusting Barry to keep a secret, out of pure love, of course. “Let me guess,” he said good-naturedly. “You spent 6 months before that in total oblivion while somehow being so obviously in love with each other that everyone around you was in agony that you both thought the other didn’t like you that way?”

Emma turned red and laughed. “Pretty much. I’m sure all my friends were in agony. I don’t know how we haven’t been found out by her friends yet.”

“Honey, you’d be shocked how oblivious the straight people here are. You just haven’t been away from here long enough to know. Dee Dee was telling me she went out with Principal Hawkins on Sunday and the PTA president came up to them and called her Mrs. Glickman . I already said in the gym that I’m as gay as a bucket of wigs!”

Emma didn’t even hesitate, not believing she was actually defending the woman who caused all this. Could she even be mad about the drama if it brought her a bunch of music-loving weirdos? And besides, she was still Alyssa’s mother. “Maybe she didn’t hear you. I don’t even remember hearing that.”

“Oh. Well, you get the point, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Anyway, back to the dress. Do you know what you're looking for in a dress?”

Emma shook her head. “I haven't worn a dress since the Sunday before I got outed, and I am not wearing a church dress to prom.”

Barry took this for something more than it was. “See! You know more than you think you do!”

Emma giggled, comforted by the notion. “I guess I do.”

They started off with Barry measuring Emma and not showing her the numbers, just like he said they would. Despite what she had said, she was kind of glad Barry wasn’t going to show her anything. It was quite uncomfortable to stand completely still while a virtual stranger’s hand brushed against her skin. How many times did Barry get this done? It seemed like a rich person thing.

“Okay,” Barry said after an awkward silence, his voice surprisingly chipper for the way Emma had felt about the situation. He stepped back from where he had been somewhat hovering behind Emma as he said this, clapping his hands together with excited determination. Emma let out a quiet breath. “Let's start with…” he rummaged around for a particular box, and then plucked out a dress. “This. It'll bring out your eyes.”

Emma looked at it, an emerald gown that seemed like it would go all the way past her feet. It seemed plain, except for the lace at the bottom of the skirt and at the end of the long sleeves.

“Uh, okay.”

If Emma had any hope that this was going to go well, it was almost immediately quashed. Once she figured out the puzzle that was trying to get into a dress after a year and a half of owning none, she put one arm in the long sleeve and very quickly realized it was stuck.

“Um, Barry?!”

“Yeah, kiddo?”

“Could you come in here?!”

“On it!”

Barry approached her from behind, just the way he was standing before. He realized what was happening just as quickly as Emma had.

“I don't want to rip it,” Emma muttered. Barry watched her practically shrink from embarrassment when she realized he could see her in this dress.

“It's fine if you do,” Barry tried to joke as he helped Emma tug a little at the sleeves. “It's reparations! Remember that!”

Emma chuckled as they continued to pull her out of the dress, and miraculously, it wasn't ripped by the end. She sighed. Barry looked at her for a moment. “...So,” he said, finally breaking a brief silence that was awkward, yet affectionate. “Short sleeves it is.”

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of dresses which Emma found to be mediocre at best. With each dress, Barry and Emma found another element to rule out. First it was the lace, then the gemstones, then the glitter.

Then… it happened.

It was never something Emma would take a second glance at in a department store, but then again, nothing here was. Still, this one was worse. Though it was sleeveless and had none of the frills of the other dresses it was still a long, crimson gown with a deep v-neck. The thought of putting it on filled her with dread instead of just sardonic confusion that the rest of this experience was coated with like a layer of foul dust. Somewhere beneath was the rickety foundation of Barry’s good heart and the promised night of her life. She just had to find it.

It was wrong.

She took a second to stare at it–no, herself, unless she was the it –taken aback by the reflection for a moment, so much so that she felt the color drain from her face, unable to reconcile with the fact that this was her body when she showed her chest, let it sit open to the world’s objections, and, perhaps more importantly, her own. It sat in something that wasn’t a sports bra, meant to be shown. This one night was supposed to go her way, supposed to be the one night when she was allowed to show herself, even if mostly in the metaphorical sense, and she felt sick at the sight of herself. Would Alyssa even like this dress on her, or would she know something was wrong, even if Emma herself couldn’t put a finger on what it was. For a few seconds, she lingered blankly in disgust, confusion, and anguish.

She wasn’t a showy person, even with her closest friends. Even on the swim team. She was all quick showers and the kinds of tops that compressed her chest, even if they were more expensive. It was just another thing she did for the sport. Aerodynamics.

Oh, God.

Her breathing quickened.

She couldn’t be–

Before she could think, she rushed to get out of the dress, and she had only gotten her t-shirt on halfway before she ran out of the bathroom.

“What happened?” Barry asked, suddenly rising from his spot on Emma’s mattress and whipping around to face her with a surprising amount of grace for a man in his mid-forties, looking on in disbelief as she breathed hard enough for him to see prominently the rise and fall of her chest, crashing in on her over and over like waves on the surf.

Emma’s breath hitched for a moment as she tried to speak, and she quickly put her hand over her heart, as if to convince herself that she was still alive. Barry saw the faraway look this gave her, a distant glaze over her eyes.

“I don’t…I can’t–Barry, I can’t–”

“Hey, it’s okay. Come sit.”

Emma obeyed.

“There’s no crying on prom night,” Barry told her,  and she chuckled despite herself and Barry smiled softly. It was comforting. Emma felt her breathing slow. “At least not until you see her dress, okay?” He conceded before she could formulate a response, recognizing that the moment would be a big deal. It would mean the girls finally got the only thing they’d ever wanted. He imagined what it might look like–the two of them dancing together–and realized he may not get to see it because Dee Dee would want to hit the road as soon as possible. And that would be in just a few short hours.

Against every impulse he’d ever had, he didn’t want to leave.

“Does every girl feel like this?” She asked as if Barry, a grown man, might know.

“Well, sure. Everybody wants it to be perfect. It’s prom, y’know?”

That wasn’t the answer she was looking for. She didn’t push. Neither did Barry.

“Do you want to try another dress, or do you need a break?”

“No, it’s fine.”

Barry was hesitant to continue even though Emma had said she was fine. “Um. Okay,” he said shortly, gaps between the words. He hesitated again before leaning over and reaching into the box beside him. “Uh…how about…”

He rummaged for a moment to find something. “This? The complete opposite of the other one. I think it’ll bring out your eyes,” he suggested, bringing the dress closer to him to check his claim before holding it out for Emma to see.

Emma looked at it. Plain and modest, with a skirt cut off at the knee. Even if she wouldn’t have ever worn it otherwise, it wasn’t bad. The color was a pretty, vibrant, aquamarine.

“I could wear this,” she commented, reaching out to touch the fabric. It was mediocre, unforgettable at best, but that did nothing to deter the tone of her comment, which was neutral throughout the comment, and the feeling of the fabric.

“That’s it?”

Emma’s eyes flitted upwards to look Barry in the eyes, though she was still looking down to do it.

“It’s the best you’ve gotten out of me so far, isn’t it?” Emma answered dryly.

“Yes, but–”

She cut Barry off. “Then that’s good enough for me!”

She never told him about the Feeling. That every other dress had given her the Feeling, and the red dress was just an explosion.

This one was fine, and if the Feeling was there she could ignore it. It would be so easy to ignore when she was with Alyssa, so much so that she might even forget about it. Hell, they’d had sex and she’d not cared, what’s the worst a dress could do?

“Is it the one?

“I like it,” she forced out, just to appease Barry. Just to make the Feeling go back into her head for just one night. She used to be so good at getting It to go away. Every Sunday at church, at sleepovers or on the playground with the girls, in the locker rooms nearly every day. She’s just forgotten how to make It go away, and this is the night she had to realize it.

“Oh, you look beautiful,” Barry cooed, and she realized it would be harder to forget It with everyone else watching. “We should give you a pearl necklace, oh, it would be so beautiful.”

She much preferred looking handsome.

“Absolutely not.”

Barry laughed at her abruptness. “You didn’t answer the question, did you?”

“Not yet, but…sure, why not?”

 Barry found that an odd response, but he took it. “You know, I wanted to wear an aquamarine tux to prom. Well, the bowtie anyway. The suit jacket would’ve been silver.”

Emma pictured the ensemble on herself as he spoke, even if it was selfish. She liked the idea of it a whole lot better than this dress, even though she thought that the suit would be tacky. “God, that’s so you.”

“Thanks.”

She let him do her makeup, as long as it was neutral, and then they left her room. Betsy just looked at her as she walked down the hallway. She didn’t seem to have a comment on the dress, just telling Emma to have fun. Then Barry had one last surprise. He had rented a limo for them.

The next thing she knew, the other actors were cooing over Emma just as hard as Barry had been.

“You’re sure it’s not too girly?” Emma asked, trying way too hard not to think about It.

“Just the right amount of girly,” Angie answered.

“What are you waiting for?” Barry asked her in return. “Go. Have the night of your life.”

Emma took a moment before nodding to him. As she did it, she hoped it conveyed everything she might want to tell Barry. Every way that she wanted to thank him even if she didn’t know the words to thank him with that might make it mean anything she needed it to mean. She turned to the door and put her hands on the push bar before a feeling jolted her. She felt nauseous. A sudden premonition that she truly hoped wouldn’t play out.

“Wait,” she said suddenly, taking her hands off the door as if it had just burned her, the motion to touch it an accident, and turning to Barry. “Will you walk me in? I’m a little nervous.”

“Of course,” Barry replied softly. He walked over and took her arm before she could thank him for somehow understanding, though if anybody would it would be him. He didn’t seem to have the same feeling as Emma had, because he put his hand on the door with no problem. 

“Hold on tight.”

Then he pushed the door open.

Chapter Text

Sheldon followed a few paces behind the pair, even though he'd been given explicit instructions to stay out of Emma's sight while they were still on the bus to Edgewater. He couldn’t help himself. He had to go against what he was told to do his job. After all, it was perfect fodder. Now that everything had fallen into place, he could be there to capture the look on Emma’s face when she saw her prom; her girlfriend, perhaps passing himself off as a photojournalist from CNN. He had seen the news trucks, all on the hunt for the elusive Emma Nolan. Perhaps that was a bit dramatic, though. All he really needed was a shot of Emma and Barry, and suddenly the previous struggles would come to a head. He could already hear the others congratulating each other and themselves, planning where they might get drinks to celebrate, and he was starting to think they could slip out before any of the hillbilly kids saw them.

At least that last part would turn out true.

Barry pushed open the door and there was nothing. Well, it was decorated, but not like a prom should be. It was lazily thrown together and the very definition of half-assed. A folding table with only a single bag of chips and one measly Bluetooth speaker was shoved in the corner of the room. The temporary paper covering the walls of the gym in a foul attempt to give this sorry excuse of a prom a theme was peeling as if it hadn’t been properly put up, to begin with, already halfway off the wall as they took it in. He had to look up to see the balloons, free-floating and stuck in the ceiling of the gymnasium. 

Sheldon backed up almost as quickly as he followed, whispering to the others: “What’s the theme of the prom, death row?”

Alarmed, they followed Barry and Emma, creeping into the gym as if a car wreck lie beyond its doors.

It was almost as if it wasn’t really a prom at all. He hoped it wasn’t true, but all of his hoping was utterly destroyed by Emma’s reaction.

“I knew it,” she whispered, so quiet only Barry could hear. There was a beat, filled only with the pair’s pure horror and sadness, then Emma pulled herself off of Barry so forcefully that he could feel himself being jostled. “I knew this was going to happen. Why did I let you let me think it wouldn’t?”

“I didn’t know, Emma,” Barry whispered. It was weird to hear a man usually so boisterous whisper. He tried to think of something to comfort her, but he came up empty. “I didn’t know,” he repeated after a moment of agonizing silence.

“None of us knew,” a voice called from the back door, which suddenly closed shut. “The PTA organized two proms behind our backs.” The voice was Mr. Hawkins, who, Emma realized once she could focus on anything but the shitty decor, had just gotten off the phone. She picked up hints of his baffled expression as he drew closer but she felt herself begin to sink into herself anyway, and instantly she was burning up.

Even if she had the prom of her life right now, she'd still feel the burden of this dress. The feeling that she'd need to appease to the rest of her class by showing up in it. And she'd still have to stand there and watch with a plastered smile as Alyssa was inevitably crowned prom queen–because voting happened the day after prom was declared back on–and she got stuck dancing with some jerk that wasn't Emma. Or worse, Alyssa would be shunned of the title in an act of pure humiliation and she'd finally understand why Emma had triple-checked that she was sure about their plan.

Their plan. Well, fuck. That had fallen apart.

It finally hit Alyssa when she and her mother reached the overly embellished doors of the Elk’s Club. She was honestly surprised she hadn't recognized it sooner, with it being a popular schmoozing place for nearly all of her friends’ parents. She blinked in disbelief as she took in the unexpected change.

“What?” She stammered to her mother. “Wait, what’s going on? Why are we here? I don’t understand.”

“Oh, there was just an unexpected change in plans, don’t worry about it. Go have fun.” Mrs. Greene responded with an overly saccharine smile. Alyssa didn’t trust it, and she couldn’t hold herself back anymore.

“What about Emma?”

Mrs. Greene sighed, making it seem clear that she hadn’t wanted to tell Alyssa the truth. 

“We followed the State’s Attorney. We gave her a prom. We just…gave her one to herself in the gym. And yours is here.” 

Alyssa’s eyes widened in response and Mrs. Greene rushed to defend herself. “I mean, we…we had to. That way you and all your friends could have a normal night, without having to worry about the news, or the State’s Attorney, or those actors, or her causing a scene.”

The way Mrs. Greene referred to Emma, not even by her name, and uttered it like a curse, made Alyssa’s blood boil. It made it seem like she was worse than the actors, when they were the ones who barged in without knowing anything. Emma was a part of this town, and her mother was trying to act like she could pretend she didn’t exist.

“I, uh–I…”

She couldn't say it.

“So don't worry about any of it. Go have the night of your life.”

When time slowed down for Emma, it suddenly sped up for Alyssa, becoming a messy blur of trying to sort things out with people and the worst mental state she'd been in her whole life. She bumped into Kaylee and Shelby–or, rather, they cornered her almost at the door, insisting they were protecting her. At a loss for words, she chased Greg down through the dance floor, which was a mess of entangled bodies, which were so fucking hot, and pungent drinks which were definitely spiked even though it was still only six fucking thirty and she didn’t understand why anyone found this a good way to spend the night which was supposed to be the best in their lives. Only assholes peaked in high school, she thought to herself as she bumped into a couple that had jammed themselves against the wall, tongues shoved in each others’ mouths. Ew, ew, ew. She would never understand these people. So privileged to be doing this frankly nasty shit while completely unaware of what a privilege it was. As the thoughts came into her head she suddenly breathed in sharply, trying to keep herself from really thinking about any of it while her mother was here. With the sudden refresh of air came the musty, slightly sweaty smell of Axe and she was right back where she started, realizing that was Jake, a senior on the football team whom Alyssa didn’t particularly like because he was dating, and currently eating the face of Abby, a freshman on the cheer squad. He was probably going to threaten her later for bumping him.

There he was.

“Greg! Greg!” Alyssa shouted over the thrum of bass.

He turned to her, the grin he flashed only momentary when he realized what was missing.

“Where is she?!”

Alyssa swallowed, suddenly beginning to shake.

Instantly, he came closer. “Hey, hey,” he tried to comfort her. “What’s going on?”

“She’s not here,” Alyssa gasped with a shuddering breath. “She’s–she’s at school. They lied to us.”

Greg grabbed her hand and pulled her gently back through the crowd, a move he had perfected with Emma years ago at family gatherings back when no one knew why she was the way she was. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend the judgemental stare from Jake was actually the ever-angry, ever-disappointed Uncle Mike. He could look at the whispering figures of the rest of the cheer squad, probably saying something like She knows he’s cheating on her, right? And pretend they were his many aunts, all whispering about how badly behaved Emma was. When he thought of it that way, he could easily muster a cold stare at all of them and then turn to Alyssa and soften, while never breaking his resolve.

He tried to text Emma, and she didn’t respond, within seconds, Alyssa was desperately trying to call her.

Dee Dee Allen’s ramblings about what a PR disaster this was might’ve angered Principal Hawkins, but they fell on Emma’s deaf ears. The only thing that shook her out of the feeling that she was sinking and melting into the floor was her phone ringing.

“Alyssa?”

“Emma, I swear, I had no idea.”

“How could you not know? You were on the prom committee,” More than being angry, Emma’s voice filled with a solemn dread. Almost mournful.

“It was Kaylee and Shelby,” Alyssa begged in return. “They figured out we were together and didn’t want me to find out.”

The words were painful. Emma felt like she’d been stabbed in the chest. Maybe she just couldn’t breathe, but she could practically feel the doubt she’d had in Alyssa before prom got reinstated swelling within her. A few seconds stretched on, silent. Then. “I don’t believe you.”

“...Do you think I would do something like this to you?!” The question was desperate.

“I can’t,” Alyssa’s voice broke as she shot a glance at her mother. Currently, she was talking to the other PTA moms, but that would not last. “My mom–she’s watching me every second.”

“Then tell her you’re gay! Tell her we’re in love! That was the plan, right?”

“I…can’t.”

“You can’t, or you won’t?”

“I’m sorry, it’s not like I thought it would be, Emma.”

“Great,” Emma replied, voice breaking now too. “You’re sorry. Like that fixes everything! Have fun at the normal person’s prom.”

“Wait–”

Emma cut her off by ending the call. Her whole body felt stiff. She couldn’t take her eyes off the floor. 

Barry cut into her thoughts, finally coming up with anything good to say. “Okay, this is what we’re gonna do, we’re gonna get in the car and drive to that prom because they cannot keep you from your senior prom and we will raise Hell–”

Emma cut him off too, unable to hear any more. “No! Just…just stop! Leave me alone! You failed , okay? You made everything worse, so stop trying to help me!”

She wanted to do something. She wanted to run out of the gym but her legs failed her, and when she tried to move she collapsed to the ground.

The next thing she could remember that wasn’t a cloud of self-hatred that bordered on suicidal ideation, she was rushing to take off her dress, Angie watching her closely.

“God, you’re gonna rip that thing open, sweetie.”

“I don’t care,” Emma grumbled. “I hate dresses.”

It was reparations anyway. Or something. Fuck, she guessed it didn’t matter now.

Angie looked at her oddly, taking in this information quietly before she spoke. “...Okay. At least let me help you with that?”

“Fine.”

No comment was made on the thin pink line on Emma’s shoulder. Angie just passed an old, faded t-shirt to Emma. Once Emma had gotten the shirt on, she glanced at her reflection and visibly relaxed. She didn’t say anything more, clambering into her bed, facing the wall, and hiding her face under her blankets. She felt Angie’s weight press into her mattress.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

The silence lingered.

“Barry told us some things,” Angie admitted, voice tender. “That weren’t in the paper?”

Emma shoved her pillow on top of her, pressing its ends onto her ears. It didn’t do enough.

“Honey, I know it’s hard, but I just thought…if you wanted to talk about any of it, I’m here, okay? I get it.”

“How would you know anything about any of this?!” Emma finally snapped, her heated grumble muffled by several layers of fabric.

“I’m transgender, Emma,” Angie confessed, surprised by the ease at which it came off her tongue after decades of saying nothing about her transition just so she could guarantee a career. She supposed Emma was just so honest about who she was that it became easy. “If there’s someone teenagers hate, it’s someone not adhering to expectations.”

The information sat between the two of them for a moment, hanging suspended in the air between the two ends of Emma’s bed. Though this confession seemed to grab Emma’s attention, she said nothing for a moment, and the air which entrapped the words began to grow foul and thick. Impossible to break through until Angie received a response. Yet she sat completely calm, believing in Emma’s openness.

“That doesn’t mean shit when I can smell the alcohol on your breath.”

“What? It wasn’t anything, Emma. Just a few glasses to celebrate you getting to go to prom…um, I mean, not that that aged well.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything about it, but it’s real fucking hypocritical of you to tell me if you wanted to talk about any of your trauma while you’re like that.” Emma ranted, suddenly revealing her face and sitting up while she imitated Angie’s overly-sweet voice. “A few glasses? You aren’t even acting drunk.”

“I drink all the time, Emma. Didn’t even have anything else with it, it’s not a big deal.”

“Didn’t even? So that’s not a big deal either?!” A pause. “You know what, don’t answer that! I don’t want to know!”

Then she left the room, hoping desperately that Angie wouldn’t follow. She didn’t run, however badly she wanted to. She also wanted to look composed. Look like it didn’t affect her anymore. That was what she told Barry, after all, that she didn’t care. She hadn’t until these people had the gall to remind her she deserved better than Michael Nolan had ever been able to be. Didn’t they know she was trying to get out of this place without being completely ground down? 

It was hard, now, not to think of him with Angie just up the stairs. She paced around the living room, half of her waiting for Angie to come. She did not. Emma blinked. The action was intended to hold back her tears but seemed to have the opposite effect, summoning them to her.

He would’ve jeered at her as she came into the door. You think you deserve a prom? You think they’d give you one? But at one point, a long time ago now, he would’ve done everything Angie had. It was hard to reconcile with her actions, because his were defined by the very same casualness around alcohol. It was like she couldn’t wrap her mind around someone like him being…good.

God, she wished her Gran was here, but she’d probably gone to the prom to raise bloody hell on the PTA. She should’ve known she would, but, God, she just wanted someone she thought she could cry in front of. She wanted to be held and comforted, the same way one might hold a kindergartener sobbing on their first day of school.

She was sobbing now too. She didn’t realize that.

Angie must’ve heard, though, because she raced down the stairs, somehow not falling in her several-inch heels. She must’ve been wailing, anger finally giving way to inconsolable sadness.

“Oh, sweetheart…”

Emma didn’t move. She found she couldn’t, again.

Angie wrapped her up in a hug.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Emma rushed, losing track of her words.

“No, I’m sorry. I should’ve thought.”

“I just don’t want anything to happen to you. You’re so good, I don’t want you to change.”

Angie didn’t press on the statement. “Trent texted me,” she said instead, changing the subject. “He said he’s gonna sneak some ice cream from the motel.”

“Why not Barry?” 

Why a stranger?

“He’s…taking it hard.”

“Oh. Right.”

A beat.

“I don’t care that you’re trans, Angie.”

“I know.”

Emma went back up to her room, Angie following closely once again. She practically refused to leave the younger girl’s side this time. This would have to do, for now.

When Angie was in the bathroom, Emma opened Instagram, scrolling for a moment through the girls from schools’ Instagram stories, seeing pretty dresses and high heels and elaborate makeup, social rituals she’d never understood. Her chest burned with The Feeling again. Suddenly, she left the app and went to Google.

not a boy but not a girl either

Chapter Text

Emma awoke with a start, head throbbing and completely disoriented. Her body was sore from sleeping in such a curled position and her first comprehensible thought was that maybe she had fallen asleep crying. 

She straightened and rolled over, muttering wryly, “Oh, God.”

At the motion, her phone fell from her lap. It was still atop the covers until that moment, confirming her previous theory, and she was all but helpless to watch it hit the carpet floor face-up. Instead of displaying a black screen, it somehow showed her phone at less than five percent and no notifications. Somehow ever the optimist, she reached down to grab the phone in a way that would block the screen from Angie’s view, in case Alyssa chose that exact moment to text her.

There was no need. Angie’s long, slim fingers wrapped the phone and handed it back to her. Emma looked up at her tiredly and rubbed her eyes at Angie, who was sitting with perfect posture, one leg crossed over another, eating a pint of ice cream.

“Did you even sleep?” Emma mumbled.

“Why’d you think I’m eating ice cream at nine in the morning?”

“Because everything sucks ?” Emma groaned.

Angie stifled a giggle expertly. Emma was just such a cute girl, even when she wasn’t trying to be. Angie felt like her mother, trying to coax her out of bed.

It was a strange thought. Her mother wasn’t any good, after all.

“Maybe. But hey, we’ve got Häagen-Dazs in the fridge,” Angie whispered, like an elementary school teacher giving a crying student a pep talk and trying not to let the others hear. “...It’s fancy ice cream!”

“I know what Häagen-Dazs is. …Where’s my grandma? Why are you still in my house?”

“Well, the plan was to leave you, your cousin, and your girlfriend to the house, for a gay little afterparty ,” Angie replied honestly after a second of helpless hesitation, a sad note to her soft voice as she made air quotes. “And, well…she’d made plans she couldn’t get out of.”

Emma lay unmoving, silent. Thinking.

Angie was quiet for a moment, soaking in the sight of it all.

Emma pulled the covers back over her eyes.

Angie couldn’t help but sigh at the pity that overwhelmed her. Finally, she stood up, realizing the harshness of the pain in her legs from sitting all night and guarding Emma like a hawk as she did so. It gave her the sudden urge to move, if only because it was better than sitting there feeling sorry for them all. It was doing something .

She was a dancer. By trade, by choice, by simply the knowledge that it had gotten her through so fucking much. When she needed to move like she found the need to now, she danced. She was almost certain Emma felt that way about swimming, and she relished in the sweet irony of it all. The thing Emma loved most was the thing that made her younger self hate himself.

Well, she couldn’t bring the girl a swimming pool.

She could get her ice cream, and maybe, just maybe, after she’d been pried from her sheets, Angie could convince Emma to do something bigger than stalking up and down the halls of her living room.

“You ever hear of a little thing called Zazz?”

“What?” Emma asked bluntly.

“Oh, you’re in for a treat, kid.”

It was the Monday after the double-prom fiasco, and Principal Hawkins sighed as he hung up the line and put his work phone back in its place. All day he had been inundated with calls. Calls from advocacy groups, news networks that nobody here watched, and most importantly, the state attorney, all asking him how he could let this happen. Some might say it wasn’t his fault, but at the end of the day, it was. He was supposed to keep the PTA in check. Unbelievably, though, this last call wasn’t about that. This one was about a group of senior boys who put a pound cake in the urinal and ate it. Senioritis. It got worse every year and, somehow, he was grateful for it at this moment. He was just about to get on the PA system to handle the situation when the door burst open, startling him.

“God, don’t you ever knock?!”

“Tom, I wanted to talk to you about Friday night.”

“Which part? Watching Emma have a panic attack, or you only caring about your image? Either way, I’m not too keen.”

It was the truth that Dee Dee was the last person Tom wanted to speak to.

“You’re honestly mad at me for admitting this was PR?”

“Yes,” he said bluntly.

“This was the one thing that could fix my career–which you encouraged me to fix–and now you’re mad?”

“I didn’t think you fixing your career meant abusing someone else’s real life to look good!”

“To be fair I didn’t think I had to do it. I thought my talent should speak for itself,” Dee Dee defended, batting her eyelashes slightly.

“It should’ve,” Tom agreed.

Dee Dee gasped suddenly. “So you’ll forgive me if I let my talent speak for itself!”

“Wha–”

Before Tom could do so much as enunciate the final vowel of his confusion, Dee Dee burst into song and dance right there in the middle of his office– The Lady’s Improving, straight out of his favorite show and being performed immaculately, as if Dee Dee last sang it on Broadway yesterday, loudly enough that the noise seeped through the walls of the office and out of the gap between the floor and the door. He didn’t want to give her a second chance–especially if this was how she was going to beg for it, but there was a certain desperation that it seemed she could only convey through song, emphasized by the way her arms flung around and knocked things off the nearby shelves, flourishing as she hit the final note.

“There,” she shouted as Tom was still staring at her in disbelief. “That’ll do it; forgiveness won.”

“Dee Dee…”

“What?” Dee Dee asked him, completely oblivious.

“Kindness…” Hawkins started, unbelieving that he even had to say this. There was a reason he didn’t work in an elementary school, after all. “Isn’t transactional. You don’t be kind to win people over, you do it because it’s the right thing to do.”

Dee Dee deflated. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that.”

Maybe it was the completely genuine way she said it, maybe it was the absurdity of it needing to be said, maybe it was the song after all, but Hawkins broke into laughter and smiled. “Seems like you’ve got a lot to learn,” he said.

“Maybe you could help me out with that?” Dee Dee asked. She had managed to make her voice sound all helpless–like a child, almost. And something about it made Hawkins crack, against his better judgment.

She was asking for help; that was a sign of promise.

“Maybe I could,” he agreed.

“Apples and the Bees?”

He laughed again. “Sure.”

And he agreed to it because he knew it was the right thing to do, but he very quickly realized that if he could make Dee Dee see the value of doing something nice for the sake of anyone but herself, he could solve his problems with the state attorney.

They were both learning from each other. 

Meanwhile, just down the hallway, Alyssa was grabbing her books from her locker. Today had been strange. People came up to her all morning, congratulating her on winning prom queen and asking why she hadn’t been around to claim the crown. She had no answer for any of them–and it wasn’t as though it mattered, anyway. Anyone she might have wanted to speak to was going out of their way not to. Greg and Emma were ignoring her texts, and she was too scared to face Kaylee and Shelby–who had, shortly after her phone call with Emma went horribly wrong, grilled into her about the fact that they knew and they were just trying to protect her from a life of sin–from the sort of person they believed Emma to be.

Turns out Kaylee and Shelby weren’t too scared to face her, as when she turned around after shutting her locker, they walked up to her.

“Uh, hi,” Alyssa muttered.

“Hey,” Shelby breathed.

“What are you doing here?”

“Thought we could walk to class,” Shelby answered, like it was the simplest thing in the world. Like Saturday night never even happened. “Like we always do.”

The fear in Alyssa’s eyes was palpable. She knew that; she wasn’t even trying to hide it. Silently, her gaze shifted from Shelby to Kaylee, the latter of whom was yet to speak, and back to Shelby.

“Fine.”

They didn’t say anything as they walked down the hallway, clearly battling the unspoken tension between them. That was, of course, until they began to hear singing coming from Mr. Hawkins’ office.

“What the hell is that?” Alyssa asked, eager to keep the conversation away from the elephant in the room. Unfortunately, Kaylee’s answer did the opposite.

“Probably just one of those actors.”

Alyssa groaned, uninterested in what she assumed her friends’ opinions would be on that. Though they hadn’t broached the subject, she was, at the very least, free to express her real sentiment towards the aggressive homophobia in Edgewater around them.

“The Talk to the Hand guy actually did the same thing yesterday,” Shelby admitted.

“What?”

“Yeah,” Kaylee confirmed. “A bunch of us were hanging out by the seven-eleven and he came by and started singing about love thy neighbor.”

Alyssa was silent, confused.

“We were wrong about you, Alyssa,” Shelby blurted out. “Being gay isn’t the worst sin and we never should have judged you as if it is. We’re not the ones with the power to judge at all, even, and I am so, so sorry if anything we ever said or did hurt you. I’m so sorry I ever thought telling them to make two proms was a good idea.”

Alyssa took a moment to process it all. “...You didn’t tell anyone about… me , did you?” she asked, just barely above a whisper. She hated that her first instinct was so selfish, but that didn’t stop it from coming out of her mouth that way.

“No,” Shelby confirmed. “We thought we could change your mind if not everybody turned against you. But that was wrong.”

Alyssa felt her phone buzz in her pocket as Shelby finished talking. It was a text from Emma, asking if they could talk. Alyssa let her friends watch as she replied and slipped her phone back into her pocket before answering them.

“Well then, let’s face it, I’m not the one you need to apologize to.”

For what it was worth, Alyssa had some apologizing to do as well.

For the first time in the nearly 2 and a half years Emma and Alyssa had been meeting here, it felt claustrophobic in the space under the bleachers, even though it was still just the two of them. She tensed immediately as she looked at Emma for the first time in three days. How had it only been three days? They had been the longest three days of Alyssa’s life, but unlike Alyssa, Emma wore it on a deeply distressing facial expression she didn’t even let Alyssa see in full. Even from the obstructed profile, though, Alyssa had never seen her face so stony…and that was saying something.

“Hey, thanks for still wanting to talk to me,” Alyssa tried by way of introduction.

Emma didn't turn to face her. “Yeah,” she muttered.

Alyssa felt a chill down her spine. She exhaled shakily, the tension of this and every moment since the actors showed up pressing on her via the mere atmosphere and threatening to crush her bones, drag her to her knees, and make her beg for forgiveness. From God or Emma, she didn’t know anymore.

She was pretty sure neither of them would’ve worked–she’d be in Hell and alone.

“I guess you want me to…explain myself.”

Emma said nothing. Alyssa took that as a yes.

“I didn’t know, seriously. Kaylee and Shelby did everything behind my back.”

“Why didn’t you tell them the truth, then?”

“I…I couldn’t. I was too scared. You weren’t there.”

“What would they have done, not vote you prom queen? Oh, no, how tragic.”

“Emma, you know what could’ve happened. It happened to you.”

“But I was never the golden child,” Emma stated bluntly. “I was never student council president, never the valedictorian, never the captain of the cheer team. I’m nothing like you. I’m an awkward, butch-y nerd with an anxiety disorder and an alcoholic father, for God’s sake. They like you. They never liked me, even when they thought I was straight…they never even thought I was.”

“Are you saying I have it easier? Even now , with all these news trucks everywhere?”

“No, I’m saying you have the choice I never did, and half a chance for it to go well, and you won’t even make it.”

“I can’t! I–I don’t know what to tell you, Emma, I can’t do this.”

“Do you want to hide forever?”

“No! Obviously not, but–”

Emma interrupted her. “Well then I don’t know what you want me to do, because this place is never going to change. It’s never going to change and I can’t keep hiding.”

“You’re not even the one who’s hiding!”

“Yes, I am,” Emma said instantaneously, before she paused for a moment to gather reasoning that wasn’t everything she had been googling since the night of ‘prom’. As she spoke, she turned towards Alyssa, letting her see the circles under her eyes and the bright red trail of tears on her face. “I’m hiding how I feel about homophobic abuse every day. I’m hiding the fact that for the past year and a half I’ve been living in terror, wondering if someone will snap and fucking kill me. But the more important thing to me is that I’m hiding who I love, the most important person in my life.”

“I’m…really sorry.”

“I know.”

“Then can’t we be over this?”

“I needed you, Alyssa, and I get that this should be at your pace, but you couldn’t even text me after the fact to make sure I didn’t try to cut myself again.”

At this declaration, Alyssa sobered, putting aside all of her desperation to convince Emma that she was sorry. In her attempts to appease everyone else, she sure hadn't acted like it.

The lone scar on Emma’s shoulder was something they'd spoken about briefly, a few weeks after their first time. Of course Alyssa had seen it sooner–the day that they'd first had sex, in fact–but she hadn't wanted to scare her by pointing it out and make her not want to do anything. She'd had other things on her mind, and, to be perfectly honest, she had no clue how to handle that subject until fervent internet searches on incognito mode had told her what to do. Emma had said it was a one time impulse spurred by the stress of being outed and the sheer amount of homophobic bullying going on. It had been over a year since then when they'd talked about it, let alone now, and Alyssa had been so afraid for herself that she hadn't even thought about that happening again.

“You didn't…did you?”

“No, but I thought about it. I thought about it a lot. I probably would have if it weren't for me imagining the look on Barry Glickman’s face.”

“I didn’t realize you had gotten so close,” To him and to doing that, Alyssa was saying both simultaneously. "I can’t believe I missed that.”

“You missed a lot of things…you missed me in a dress,” Emma said with a lackluster smile.

To her shock, Alyssa cringed. She had expected this to be something she was at least a little upset about. “Oh, that's so not you.”

Despite herself, despite her expectations that this argument would have been the end of them, Emma laughed at the remark. She felt a little bit more assured that if they got out of this, Alyssa would be fine with whoever she was.

Whoever they were.

“No, but, seriously,” she said. “You wanna know the craziest part of all this?”

Alyssa nodded slowly, not really knowing where this was going.

“I thought I’d hate them. The actors, I mean. I thought they were everything I wasn't. But I was wrong about them. Underneath all of their…” Emma makes a broad, chaotic gesture with her hands. “They’ve got more empathy than I’ve ever received here. They reminded me that…I’m not subhuman.”

“Where are you going with this?” Alyssa blurted out.

“Look…I might be talking about not wanting to hide, but it wasn't you that spurred that. It was them.”

“Okay,” Alyssa replied, drawing out the a for just a second.

“And I don’t want to pressure you, but I can’t do this forever and my clock is running out.”

“Okay,” Alyssa repeated. She was scared–far more scared then she had been at prom. She was about to make another promise, even inhaled shakily to find the air to make it, but before she did, Emma’s phone chimed. It was probably for the best. She couldn’t let her down again.

Emma whipped out her phone and quickly scanned the screen.

“Gran wants me home,” she said. “I gotta go.”

The actual contents of the message–one from Angie Dickinson, who insisted after the events of the weekend that she be able to reach her, just in case–were too bizarre to be used to end this conversation.

“She's never like that,” Alyssa argued. They had so much more to say. They could've talked all day and still had more to say. She hadn't realized until now just how distant they had been since all of this.

“I think she's worried. It's fair enough.”

Alyssa looked down, pursing her lips. “Yeah. Go, I’ll see you soon. I love you.”

Emma smiled faintly, and then turned to leave.

Alyssa stood alone under the bleachers.

Verbalizing even a fraction of her thoughts on the matter of the past few weeks had moved Emma to a kind of inspiration that she hadn't felt in what seemed like forever. So, when the Broadway actors offered her a TV slot, she declined. She was going to do what had been terrifying before and say her piece, her way, with nothing to buffer or misconstrue her.

When she got home from that, Betsy hardly got a one-word reply to How was your day? before Emma had bolted up the stairs, and grabbed her guitar.

Some hearts can conform…

“Yeah, you were right, this was a way better idea than the Eddie Sharpe Show,” Barry told her, wiping tears from his eyes as he smiled, having watched her song through twice now. 

From the other side of the computer, Dee Dee glared at him.

“What?” he countered. “Not my fault you signed away your Hamptons house before asking Emma what she wanted.”

“The Hamptons are overrated anyway,” Sheldon Saperstein–who was apparently the actors’ PR person, which was news to Emma–chimed in. “People buy properties next to summer camps and then tell the kids to be quiet…assholes.”

“I was unaware that made me an ass,” Dee Dee retorted.

They–meaning the actors, Sheldon, Emma, and Mr. Hawkins–were all crowded in his office around the computer to see what she had done. And it already had millions of other viewers.

“So,” Trent chimed in. “When does Emma get her happily ever after?”

“I don’t know,” Mr. Hawkins answered.

“What? How is that possible?”

“I could easily get around the PTA by hosting another prom in the gym, but we don't have the funds for that.”

“How much would you need?” Barry offered immediately. “For a real prom, not just a dinky, poor person's prom.”

Emma and her principal looked at each other, knowing full well that they, and the whole town, were, by all accounts, dinky poor people, and that a dinky, poor person’s prom would be good enough for Emma after all this. Still, Hawkins knew she deserved more than that, so she gave him a high estimate.

“Maybe around 30 grand?”

The next thing Emma knew, the actors were assembling to pay all of that, ending with Dee Dee Allen paying up about two-thirds of the sticker price. Of course, this was not without her threatening to strangle the teenager. However, Emma had endured far worse physical threats, and sometimes actual violence, so all things considered, she was just thrilled to be here.

When all the logistics were sorted, Emma asked Barry to be her backup prom date, just in case. She believed in Alyssa Greene with her whole heart, but she wasn’t about to go to prom without someone to be happily gay with. Not after all this.

Barry agreed, but she was still thankful when her backup plan turned out to be unnecessary.

On the way into the second emergency PTA meeting of the month, Emma passed Alyssa as she tried to find an empty seat on the bleachers. She was watching her video. It was doing precisely what it was put on the internet to do.

“Aren’t you tired of watching that?” she overheard Ms. Greene asking. 

“8 million people have seen this,” Alyssa answered.

Not too long after that, proceedings started, with parents arguing they didn’t want to pay for it, (Not a problem! Thanks, private donors!) or that their kids would have a problem with it. (They don’t need to go, they had a prom already. Plus, Trent had tentatively changed a lot of their minds, much to Emma’s shock when she received hugs from Kaylee and Shelby.) And all seemed well and good until someone argued, What if after all this attention the secret girlfriend decided it wasn’t worth it to be gay?

For a moment, there was silence. For a moment, Emma was glad to have had a backup. But then, Alyssa stood.

“I’m sorry, can I say something?”

No one argued.

Then, Alyssa walked into the middle of the gym and announced: “I’m the secret girlfriend. I’m…I’m in love with Emma Nolan.”

It was much easier to say that, than I ’m a lesbian .

The gym exploded into pandemonium, but Emma kept her eyes fixed on Alyssa and Ms. Greene, who was rapidly approaching.

“No, you don’t know what you’re saying! You’re just confused! You’re a confused kid and you don’t know any better!”

“No, I do, mom, I’m gay. And I get how you were raised–that you were taught to be afraid of different people. But I don’t want to be part of that. I can’t watch you try to degrade the girl I love anymore.”

Ms. Greene started saying something else, but Emma couldn’t hear it over the chaos. All she knew was that Barry ran up to them and started gently pulling Ms. Greene away, saying something in what must have been a far more normal tone of voice, because Emma couldn’t hear him either. 

With her out of the picture, and no one watching anymore, Emma watched as Alyssa fell to her knees in the middle of the gym. Overcome with emotion, Emma rose from the bleachers and ran to her, dodging the confused crowd as she went.

“You did it,” she said, panting.

Alyssa nodded with a sharp inhale.

Emma quickly got on her level, getting on her knees. “Hey, it’s okay. Deep breath, Lys.”

Alyssa obeyed, looking Emma in the eyes and letting her see the unshed tears in them. “What do we do now?”

“Now? We go to prom together.”

“What about my mom?” Alyssa warbled.

Emma looked over at her, deeply engrossed in a conversation with Barry and silently hanging on to his every word.

“I think it’ll be okay. Just give it time.”

“What if she doesn’t let me go to prom?”

“Then I’m driving you anyway, because you didn’t do all this just to not go,” Emma assured her.

Alyssa smiled a broken sort of smile.

“But that’s the worst case scenario,” Emma pointed out. “We still have a few weeks of planning to do, yeah?”

Alyssa nodded quickly, trying to convince herself to have Emma’s optimism. How she had remained so optimistic after all this, she had no idea.

“Oh, c’mere,” Emma told her gently, and they embraced right there on the gym floor, still on their knees, and Emma stroked Alyssa’s hair as she placed her head on her shoulder and cried.

It wasn’t the joyous sort of celebration Emma had imagined, but she was so, so grateful to celebrate at all.

Chapter Text

“Hey,” Emma mumbled into Alyssa after 10 seconds of them being practically glued to each other.

“Hmm?”

“I love you, but I need to get out of this gym, like, now.”

Alyssa pulled away in an instant. “Are you okay?”

Emma didn’t know how to express that the answer was yes and no at the same time. Of course she was fine. She loved Alyssa so goddamn much and finally got to show it, but she was incredibly uncertain about doing it around the people who had made her life a living hell over the past year and a half and could feel the terror mounting in her that something was going to go wrong with every moment they spent in here.

That would become a theme As would her crying that the moment was too intense for either of them to notice right that second.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to ruin your big moment…I just…” unable to articulate it, Emma simply turned to the mass of people in the gym.

“Oh, stop. The big moment wouldn’t have happened without you. Let’s go.” At that, Alyssa stood, and Emma followed, dipping and weaving around the crowd to expertly avoid Ms. Greene.

Outside the gym, Emma registered that she had begun to cry, too, but unlike Alyssa, she didn’t let it truly flow until it was quiet, and they were alone.

“Did I do something?”

Emma laughed, a peculiar sound when it was strangled by sobs. “Of course you did something, you told everyone you love me.”

“Well, I do. Of course I do. You’re my girlfriend. My girlfriend who I’m taking to prom.”

Suddenly Emma felt a foul swoop in her stomach, and she realized Alyssa didn’t know about everything she suddenly realized on the night of the first prom. She’d never told her. She should do that. She should, but she finds herself paralyzed by fear and the gentle murmur of conversation on the other end of the door, and the fact that she doesn’t even really know what she wants to do about it. She couldn’t even confront it in her own inner dialogue. That definitely made the scene in the gym all the more terrifying.

“Okay, now I definitely did something. What’s going on, my love?”

“Nothing…” Emma started, only to come face to face with Alyssa’s knowing gaze. “Okay, not nothing. I just…can we not do this now?”

“I’d be a massive hypocrite if I forced you to talk about something you’re not ready for,” Alyssa answered. “So your wish is my command.”

That made Emma smile enough to take her mind off whatever had been going on in her head, so Alyssa was happy. Then, just because she could, she cupped Emma’s face in her hands and kissed her. Again and again. She wasn’t sure how long they were borderline making out, but she did know it was interrupted by a wolf whistle, at which point Emma practically jumped away from Alyssa.

“Geez, what are you so worried about, kid?”

“Barry, my brain is hardwired to handle homophobia, you of all people should know what that feels like,” Emma said to the older man, standing maybe 5 paces behind Alyssa with his posse of actors.

Alyssa turned to face him as he replied loosely. “Nah, I’ve forgotten what that feels like.” In no world would he dare tell Emma Nolan that she had unlocked those memories in him.

“You must be Barry Glickman, then?” Alyssa presumed, sticking out her hand for the man.

“Emma’s told you about me?” he asked as he shook it. 

“Nope,” she answered. “Haven’t gotten there yet. We’ve been a bit busy being emotional and all that.”

The actors could all tell they had both been crying, but Barry made the deft choice not to emphasize it. “And making out,” he filled in instead.

“And making out,” Alyssa repeated awkwardly.

“But if you must know, that was the guy who put me in a dress,” Emma filled in.

“Oh,” Alyssa managed. “I should rescind my handshake, then,” she joked.

Barry’s pleasant expression dropped slightly, and as he looked from Emma to Alyssa and back to Emma, he realized he’d made a horrible mistake in trying to give Emma the prom he’d wanted. The dress was his wish, not hers.

Despite this, Alyssa’s introductions to the other actors went smoothly enough that she felt she could be serious with Barry. 

“Can I ask you…what did you tell my mother to keep her from storming out here to try and break us up?”

“Don’t worry about it. What’s important is that she’ll come around.”

“You’re certain?”

“Absolutely.”

Barry had a sort of paternal way of being able to make anyone believe anything that he said just by tone of voice. It may not have fully worked on Alyssa yet, but she was, at the very least, comforted by his soft assurance.

While she was being her usual social butterfly self, unphased by the crowd of people, who found that no resolution they wanted would come to fruition, that were finally leaving the meeting, Emma tensed up again.

“Hey, Em, you wanna come with me and get some air?” Angie asked, appearing to be the only person who noticed this.

Emma nodded, and they stood on the sidewalk in silence until absolutely no cars besides Emma's were left in the lot they were facing.

“Are you okay, sweetie?”

“Yeah.” 

“You look a little anxious.”

“Well…yeah.”

“How come?”

“I, uh…”

“It's okay. I won't tell anyone.”

“I don’t feel like a girl.”

“Oh.”

Emma just nodded, as if trying to prove it to herself. It was real because she said it.

Angie wrapped her in a delicate hug.

The next week was almost nothing more than elaborate planning for the prom–starting, of course, the same way it started on the infamous night of the first prom (if you didn’t count even more of Emma’s fervent googling): Barry and Emma in Emma’s room, surrounded by boxes and boxes of clothes–albeit less of them. It would be a lot harder for Emma to discern between the smaller pool, given what was in them.

“Kid,” he said as he brought the last box in. “Before we get started, I just wanted to apologize to you.”

“Why?”

“You told me what you wanted last time we did this, and I was so caught up in my Queer Eye fantasy that I didn’t listen to you. That’s on me.”

“I mean, not really. I didn’t exactly stand up for myself,” Emma mumbled.

“That’s not on you,” Barry argued. “You’re used to not even being able to. I should’ve noticed how uncomfortable you were. I should never have projected my perfect prom onto you.”

“I…I really appreciate you admitting to that, Barry.”

“God, I show you a shred of human dignity and you’re over the moon,” Barry remarked, rolling his eyes.”

“However bad you think the kids are, the adults are generally worse.”

“Your parents…” Barry said suddenly, eyes widening with the realization. “They weren’t good people even before you came out, were they?”

“No,” Emma answered, in such a tone that made it clear she assumed Barry knew that already. She rubbed her thumb across her neck. “And, besides, they fucked off to Baltimore without me.” She stopped then, and Barry watched as a far away look came across her eyes, as though she were processing this information for the first time. As quick as it came, it was gone, she realized where she was and winced.

Barry was left to try to be casual about this. “Oh, screw that. I’m your dad now.”

“Barry,” Emma said, laughing, like the previous 10 seconds never even happened. “You’re kidding.”

“...Nope,” Barry assured her after a hesitant moment. “And it starts tonight–we’re gonna dress you up in the finest suit in Indiana and make them miss the kid they left behind.”

Emma didn’t miss that Barry said kid and not daughter. Then again, he referred to every high schooler in town as ‘kid’.

“No, don’t make it about them. This is about me.”

“You’re right. So…we’re gonna dress you up in the finest suit in Indiana and make you the most handsome girl in the whole state–hey, what’s with that look?”

That look was Emma’s eyes brimming with tears. “I–thank you,” she told him.

“No need to thank me. It’s what I came here to do.”

Emma chuckled. “So it wasn’t a publicity stunt?”

Barry faltered. “It wasn’t…not a publicity stunt,” he admitted. “Dee Dee and I were in a bomb of a show, got slandered in the New York Times, and wanted to fix up our image. We just found you on Twitter. But it never would have happened if I didn’t care…you have to believe me."

“Why would you care?” Emma asked, not like she didn’t believe him, more like she was confused as to why he would. “You’re nothing like me.”

“I used to be. I like to forget it, but I was.”

“Oh,” Emma mumbled lowly.

“Enough sad junk,” Barry told her, suddenly perking up again. “We’ve got a new and improved fashion show to host!”

New and improved, it was. In this context, Emma was an entirely different person, unable to choose anything because she simply couldn't pick what she liked better. Barry wondered why he hadn't noticed this before–why he had ignored it. But he had apologized, he supposed, therefore the past was in the past.

Emma was plagued by such intense decision paralysis that Barry wound up calling Alyssa on her phone.

“Hey,” Alyssa answered after two rings, a breathy, laidback syllable.

“Hi Alyssa, this is Barry Glickman.”

Barry introduced himself with the exaggerated tone and cadence of a game show host, and yet, Alyssa tensed immediately. He heard some fumbling around before she spoke again, louder. “What?! Is everything okay?”

“Relax, kid, I’ve got your girlfriend with me, and you're on speaker.”

“Hi,” Emma shouted exuberantly from a distance. “Barry insists on being dramatic like when people refuse to look at their bride’s wedding dress, but it's not like my speaking voice is going to give anything away,” she explained just as loudly, giving Barry a teasing glare.

“Don't act so surprised, Nolan,” Barry retorted. “Anyway, we're trying to coordinate a suit, and I figured it might be kitschy to do a matching ensemble. Do you have any clue what you're wearing?”

“Uh, yeah…” Alyssa answered slowly. “It's purple.”

“Wait,” Emma interjected suddenly, charging forward to take her phone from Barry, who was powerless to stop her on such short notice. “Why do you sound so confused by that?”

She was silently glad that there was no way Alyssa could see her over the phone, because with this new knowledge of the color of Alyssa’s dress, she felt silly in a tie covered in sunflowers.

Before Alyssa could answer, Barry wrestled the phone back from Emma. “I have to maintain the dramatics,” he said, rushed. “That was all we needed from you, thanks!”

He hung up, then looked at Emma.

“Aren't you glad I did that?” he asked her.

“Yeah,” Emma confessed, sounding a bit like a child who didn't really want to agree with their parents. “I do like the flowers, though, can we find a way to keep those?”

“I think I have a tie with violets on it, let me see.”

Alyssa couldn’t help but laugh quietly to herself as the line went dead. She hadn’t heard Emma so enthusiastic since…well, apart from the last time they had sex, (Which was…too long ago, she realized suddenly.) it had to have been 2 months ago, when Emma accepted an offer from a D1 school in Brooklyn.

Babe! We’re gonna be in New York together! Emma was squealing, dancing around under the bleachers. Alyssa joined her, picking her up and spinning her around.

Alyssa had remembered wondering how anyone could hate her for being who she was. Who she was had always been so beautiful, so captivating. And yet, here they were, having a do-over of prom. At least this do-over had a chance of going better.

She and her mom were yet to have a conversation about it–she imagined they would put that to the last possible moment, as they always seemed to do. But nothing was better than constant arguing, or worse, what Emma had been through, though she realized that involved extenuating circumstances as well, even if it meant they hardly said anything more than hello and goodbye. Silence aside, Alyssa was pretty sure Barry had put some gay hex on her mother, because yesterday, the prom dress of her dreams–one they had previously argued about whether or not it was appropriate–had suddenly appeared on a hanger on her doorknob, with no further context, and nothing said of it. How she had managed to find or afford it was beyond her.

 As Barry was rummaging around the boxes of ties, he noticed something that had previously blended in with every other trinket. He picked it up so gingerly it was as though he intrinsically realized its importance.

“Why have you got a toy taxi in here?” he asked, eyeing it closely.

“It’s actually a model taxi,” Emma corrected pretentiously, voice dripping with sarcasm. She laughed to herself just because she imagined Alyssa laughing along, and the precise way her face crinkled when she did. “And it’s a long story.”

“Okay,” Barry replied, going back to the ties as quickly as he had diverted his attention from them.

“Did you know I’ve never actually seen a real one with my own eyes?” she added, because he was never going to get over the sheer amount of culture shock he had being here.

“I have to change that,” he said soberly.

“ I’m changing that myself in September.”

“Oh yeah?” Suddenly Barry realized how little of Emma he actually knew, apart from the fact that she was gay and had dealt with some serious homophobia in her short life. He hoped to know more of her.

“My college is in New York,” she told him, trying to seem nonchalant.

“Any degree of joking intent I had with the dad comment is now gone,” Barry replied, expression stone. “I am now totally serious. How far do I gotta drive to get to you?”

“Uh, it’s in Brooklyn. LIU.”

He nodded intently. “Are you swimming there?”

“Miraculously, yes, they took a chance on the kid without a coach,” Emma said before stopping suddenly. She hadn’t thought about her recent revelations yet–not in that context. “And it’s D1, so…”

She couldn't explain to Barry how much that meant. How hard she'd worked over the last year and a half to prove Coach Boomer wrong when he'd said nobody would take her. She didn't know how to put it into musical theatre terminology, after all.

“What are you studying?”

“Music Technology.”

Barry gasped. “I’d better show you around a Broadway pit when I book again.”

“I’d love that.”

“Will you and Alyssa be long distance?”

“No, she got into Columbia, so…obviously can’t pass that up.”

“Ooh, smart girl!” Barry said with a flourish.

Emma chuckled, and a smile bloomed on her face, accompanied by a reddening blush. “I know,” she said, voice dripping with pride.

“Oh–” Barry said suddenly, and Emma remembered she was still in Indiana preparing for prom. “I found the tie.”

Not even 24 hours later, the boxes were cleared out and Emma and Alyssa were lounging on Emma’s bed, saying nothing even though they knew they had too much to say. Emma's head was on Alyssa’s chest, and she was running her hands through Emma's blonde hair, doing nothing but ruin it.

Things progressed quickly, the way they do with teenagers. Alyssa's hands quickly trailed from Emma’s hair, to her jaw, and down her torso, peppering kisses as she went–between them she was murmuring nothings about how excited she was to take Emma to prom. Somewhere in the entanglement she fumbled them around so Emma was on the mattress and she was on Emma. Finally, her hand bunched at her shirt and began to teasingly pull it upwards, silently asking for permission to remove it. Instead of the usual enthusiastic yes, though, Emma faltered, grabbing Alyssa's hand and letting out a small whimper.

“I–sorry,” she choked out.

“It's okay,” Alyssa uttered, moving her hands back to Emma’s jaw, still on top of her. “You've had something on your mind,” she whispered, intonation like a 

question.

Emma hummed in the affirmative.

“You don't have to tell me if you don't–”

“No, I should,” Emma interrupted sharply. “I’ll feel like a massive liar if I don't. Just…give me a second.

Alyssa pulled away, confused.

“I'm, like, pretty sure I’m genderqueer.”

“Oh,” Alyssa breathed with an air of relief. 

“You know what that is?” Emma asked her.

“Obviously,” Alyssa answered. “I covered all my bases during my Am I Gay Quiz research so when I met another real gay person, they wouldn't think I was a bigot.”

God, that was just so Alyssa that Emma was taken out of the moment and had to laugh. “You're not a bigot,” she said with a lazy smile.

“Thanks.”

“You're not mad?” Emma whispered once she sobered, like she was afraid of the answer. “I know we've just established you're not a bigot, but being friendly with someone and dating them are two different things.”

“I’m not allowed to be mad at you for figuring shit out,” Alyssa argued.

“I know, but…you want to date me even if I’m not a girl?”

“You're still my Emma.”

Emma made a small sound that sounded almost like a scoff, but it wasn't, because it was disbelieving rather than pretentious. “You don't even seem surprised.”

“I'm not, really? I mean, I wasn't going to go around speculating cause I know that’s not my place, but now that you say it, it makes a lot of things make sense.”

“Oh my God,” Emma said, mostly to herself. “I got so worked up over nothing, didn't I?”

“It's not nothing,” Alyssa countered. “You've never had the chance to come out when and how you wanted; of course it's terrifying.”

There were a handful of exceptions to the rule, but at large, Alyssa was right. Emma let the affirmation wash over her as she put her head back on her mattress.

“Speaking of what you want,” Alyssa said, and Emma looked up at her again. “How should I–pronouns?”

As much as Alyssa was not surprised by this conversation, she was certainly not prepared for it. Especially not when she imagined she'd be having sex right now.

“Oh. I wanna try they/them. No different name right now, that's too much at once. Not too much for you–I mean, maybe it would be, I don't know–but for me, it's like–”

“Emma.”

“...Yeah?” They asked weakly.

“I get what you mean, love. It's okay. You're okay.”

“You're sure?”

“What do I have to do to convince you?!” Alyssa begged. It was a lighthearted, joking plea, but a plea nonetheless.

Emma couldn’t answer. They knew their thought process on this was irrational, and maybe nothing could convince them.

“Should I just…go back to what we were doing?”

“Quickly, Emma stammered, realizing automatically as they said it that it was unironically the answer.

Alyssa wasted no time with that. Her hand hovered momentarily over the hem of Emma’s shirt once more before she skipped over that and pulled Emma’s pants down just enough to get access to their entrance. Then, with both of them otherwise still fully clothed. She slid her tongue into Emma’s clit. It was rushed, it was a mess. It was theirs. 

Not 10 minutes later, Betsy Nolan returned from the grocery store.

“You know,” Emma breathed, panting and laughing at the same time as Alyssa scrambled to open Emma’s bedroom door so they wouldn’t get in trouble. Their cheeks flushed from the vivid, typical, teenage-ness of the moment. “We should do that on a bed more often.”

Alyssa turned, taking in the sight of Emma this way. They were trying to force their boxers up without having to stand as they laughed at Alyssa for rushing around the room, which she found ironic, but she didn’t have the heart to snidely retort to it. Instead, she just smiled, imagining next time, and how much sweeter it would be to watch a scene like this when she had the time to unravel Emma completely and the two of them would be laughing together as they raced to get their clothes back on.

The day of prom, Barry and the rest of the Broadway gang, along with Mr. Hawkins invited Emma and Alyssa to help out with setting up–a task that every last one of them found surprisingly tiring.

Currently, as the adults were clambering on ladders and pinning New York City themed decorations onto the walls, Emma and Alyssa had created a small assembly line of pronoun pin creation, with Emma drawing rainbows on, and then writing pronouns onto, the circles of paper, and Alyssa operating the machinery to make the small paper circles into actual pins. This was much better than hauling countless boxes into the gym, and it was an effort that would actually be noticed by the fellow attendees of the prom. The pins they were making were one-to-one with the actual guest list, custom made for everyone coming through the doors.

Finished with the last pin, Emma quickly dropped the black Sharpie marker they had been writing with and shook out their wrist as they turned to Alyssa, who pressed the machine one last time and pulled out the last pin.

“Perfect,” she said, holding up the she/her pin.

Emma didn't say anything.

Alyssa really didn't want them to be thinking about this all night.

“Barry,” she called out after a moment of reading the expression that had befallen on her partner's face. “We're done with the pins.”

“Great,” he replied.

“And just to clarify,” she  tagged on quickly. “People don't have to wear them if they don't want to, right?”

“Well, I really think they should. Just to be inclusive, but I guess I can't force anyone.”

Alyssa looked back at Emma, who was chewing on their lip. She tried to read their expression again, but realized she failed miserably when they said, “Hey, I have an idea. Come with me.”

“What?”

“Hey,” they said suddenly, directed at any adult who would listen. “Can I borrow these Sharpies?”

No one was paying that much attention, so they all waved Emma off, and they grabbed all the markers with one hand and Alyssa’s hand with the other. “Come with me,” they told their girlfriend, smiling.

“What is going on?”

“Follow my lead.”

The two of them took the familiarly short route to the pool hand-in-hand through the empty hallways and Emma led them through the glass doors and to the familiar bleachers, which Emma unlocked with the trusty hairpin that they were shocked hadn’t yet snapped in half.

“Emma, what is this?”

Emma didn’t say anything; they just turned to the wall–the wall that they both constantly forgot had the initials of couples long ago–and found a blank brick. Alyssa looked at them from over their shoulder, watching as they dropped to a knee and gently placed the rainbow colored markers on the floor. Then they stood back up, uncapping the black marker with a shaking hand before turning back to Alyssa, awaiting her approval.

Alyssa smiled. “God,” she uttered. “I love you.”

“I’ll take that as you letting me do this?”

She stepped next to Emma. “Yeah.”

They were silent as Emma drew a heart on the wall. Then Alyssa looked down at the rainbow markers set down meticulously a few inches from her feet. “Wait,” she said. “Did you want to–”

“Denote that we’re gay?” Emma inserted, not even letting Alyssa finish the thought. “Yes.”

They watched as Alyssa’s face fell for a brief moment, not yet used to the fact that she was out, but then it morphed into something more curious. “Why? Didn’t we do all this just to be normal?”

“If this was about us being normal, we would’ve gotten the markers to do this over a year ago. It’s not like anyone would’ve known–with it being just first initials and all.”

Alyssa, so afraid of being found out, hadn’t thought of that. She listened intently as Emma explained the logic as to why they never brought it up, given that was true.

“I always thought about doing it this way, even if it was in secret. I just thought…things here are just starting to change, but for a while I was worried they would never. And if someday another gay kid had to come here to escape the homophobic abuse of this place, I wanted them to know they weren’t alone.”

“So…why do it now?”

“Because Edgewater can’t change overnight. Even if it could, it wouldn’t. I mean, think about it. If I told anyone about…my other stuff…”

Alyssa considered that for a moment. She had to admit, it was a fantastic argument–gay people knew exactly how to tug at one another's' heartstrings, girlfriend or not.

She conceded, and they colored in the rainbow together, alternating colors, before Alyssa–designated by Emma as the one with nicer handwriting (A truth Alyssa refused to rebuke, at the sacrifice of her partner’s pride.) pencilled in each of their initials.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠟⠉⠉⠛⢦⡀⢀⣴⠛⠉⠈⠙⠻⣄

⠀⠀⣼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣦

⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⡠⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿

⠀⠀⠿⣆⠅⠉⠨⠀⢚⠂⠀⡕⠒⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡆

⠀⠀⠀⢻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⢀⡼⠃⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⢦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡴⠛⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠶⣄⠶⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

A few hours later, Alyssa was pacing around the living room in her purple prom gown, practically staring out the window, and only then did it occur to Veronica Greene, who was watching on from around the doorway of the dining room, that she had never seen her daughter act this way.

Well.

She had.

“Someone’s excited.”

“Yeah, and?”

“There’s gotta be someone on that team besides Emma that you’re thinking about.”

That second realization came with an unsettling creep that perhaps she had been blatantly ignoring her daughter out of ignorance, hatred, and a refusal to believe she could be like that .

She stood, as if to finally attempt to voice this regret to Alyssa so she could enjoy her night without the judgments of her own mother on her mind, but right then a pickup truck pulled into the driveway and she froze again, watching as Emma Nolan came up to the door and Alyssa rushed to greet them.

“Hi, Em,” Alyssa stammered as she pulled open the door, before she seemingly could not find words.

“Hi,” Emma answered, blushing.

“I…sorry, I just–you look so good right now.”

Emma was smiling, but Ms. Greene watched as their gaze slid to her, hesitant to answer.

They chuckled. “Thanks…you ready to go?” they asked, shifting their weight from foot-to-foot.

“Duh,” Alyssa answered.

Finally, before they stepped out, Ms. Greene worked up the nerve to say something. “Hang on…Alyssa?”

Alyssa turned around, the skirt of her dress flowing with her. “Yeah, mom?” she responded. It was quiet; the slightest of pauses situated between both words.

“Have fun tonight. I love you.”

To Ms. Greene’s shock, Alyssa ran over to hug her. She wasn’t sure Alyssa would ever forgive her for everything she had done. Maybe she still hadn’t. The only thing that mattered right now was her mother’s approval, and that she was seeing her off to her senior prom without having her foot on her neck. The way it should be.

“I love you too, Mom. Thank you.”

Then they pulled away, and Ms. Greene could see the repressed sadness on Emma’s face.

“Go,” she said to her daughter, and so they went.

There were tears brimming in Emma’s eyes as they turned away from Alyssa’s porch together. The moment brought them back to the first night that they told Alyssa they were gay.

“Are you okay?” Alyssa whispered as they went.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Tell me if it gets to be too much tonight, okay?”

“I will,” Emma answered, voice rich with good-natured exasperation as they opened the door to their truck. “God, you’re not even leaving me any room to tell you how gorgeous you are.”

“Why didn’t you do that 2 minutes ago?”

“Your mom,” Emma told her plainly. “...But I guess that’s not much of an issue.”

Alyssa waited until they’d both buckled into her truck and locked it up before replying. “Emma. I know how your dad was, and I know your mom was complicit in it, but it’s okay to miss them. It’s okay to wish they were here.”

Then, and only then, did Emma respond in a way they wouldn’t have dared to with anyone else, even Barry Glickman– especially Barry Glickman. “Thanks,” they uttered, barely audible. “I think I kinda needed to hear that.”

Alyssa leaned from the passenger’s seat to the driver’s seat to place a kiss on Emma’s jaw. Emma moved to kiss her back, but Alyssa pulled away.

“We have all night to do that,” she said, clearing her throat. “Let’s not accidentally have sex in my driveway.”

“Yeah,” Emma agreed dumbly, face turning crimson. “Can’t mess up your makeup before prom.”

“No, you cannot,” Alyssa said matter-of-factly as Emma began backing out of the driveway.

“I swear I won’t.”

“You gotta get us in the doors before you make that kind of promise, Nolan, you don’t know the effort this takes.”

“Goddammit,” Emma countered. “We are literally driving to prom and you’re acting like I know nothing of how amazing you are.”

For a moment, Alyssa didn’t say anything. What Emma couldn’t see was that she was staring at them adoringly. Finally, realizing Emma was keeping their eyes on the road, and for good reason, she spoke. “We’re going to prom,” she shouted, loud enough that had the windows been rolled down, the whole block would’ve heard her.

“We did it!”

“Everyone knows I love you!”

“And I love you, Alyssa Greene! Not that I was ever any good at hiding that!”

Now, this. This was what Emma had dreamed would happen in the gym. But having the moment to themselves made it that much sweeter. In just a few short minutes, they’d have a do-over of that anyway.

Chapter Text

They got there early. It made sense, because Emma was the ticketed face of the event, whether or not that was intentional, or anything they would have wanted. (It was not–it just happened alongside the virality of their story and the subsequent virality of Unruly Heart.) Preferring to ignore this fact, Emma chose to pretend that it was an excuse to mingle with the actors and Mr. Hawkins–to thank them for their efforts and their dollars one last time before they inevitably lost sight of one another in the swarm of gay kids.

Holy shit.

They were about to be surrounded by more gay people than they ever had before.

Not wanting to forget about the gay people they already knew, the night before prom, Emma opened the contacts that they hadn’t in months–all of their messages ending abruptly a year and a half ago with some variation of Don’t take any kind of fall for me –to ask if they were coming to prom. 

Foster and Salix were.

Noah skipped out, and to be honest, Emma couldn’t blame him, knowing that his ex-boyfriend would be gallivanting around prom as well. They’d just have to catch up another time. He did, however, tell them that Jess–though she had quit the swim team following her absolute failure of a captain hood at the end of her junior year–would be around with her girlfriend, and that Winnie’s family had managed to skip town in the middle of the chaos.

Horrible news wrapped up in a bittersweet reunion. Yay!

Emma wondered why Winnie hadn’t told her this weeks ago. After deliberating on it, they decided it wasn’t worth worrying about that night. No story can end perfectly happily , they reasoned, and there was no point working themself up over something they couldn’t change on a night they desperately wanted to go well. Winnie had been avoiding them since the whole thing began, anyway, and they had no way of knowing why. It was a problem for tomorrow. At least it wasn’t a horrible, earth-shattering betrayal. Unless it was. It was a Schrodinger’s Winnie, if you will, and Emma refused to open the box.

As for the thing with Jess…well, they were pretty sure they were both keen to avoid each other.

Back to the present, Emma and Alyssa stepped into the gym hand in hand, taking in the elaborately decorated gymnasium.

“Holy shit.”

“I know, right,” said a voice beside Emma, who was startled and had to consciously remember that they could keep hold of Alyssa’s hand.

“Jesus, Barry!”

Barry giggled. “Sorry kid. You know me though,” he said with a theatrical smirk and a sing-song voice. “Only the best for you!”

“I know. Thank you,” she looked up and down at him–he was in a teal ball gown and a full face of makeup. “You look beautiful.”

“As do you,” he said with a curtsy. He turned to the other actors in a swivel–one that must have been difficult to pull off on the linoleum and his small heels. “See that suit?” he asked them, a prideful look on his face. “That was my work.”

They gave brief, obligatory comments to Barry before turning to Emma and Alyssa and fawning over them with all the praise in the world.

“Alright,” Emma said finally. “Cool it. You’re gonna make me cry.”

They did not, in fact, cool it, and instead they wrapped Emma in a giant group hug.

“Barry,” they muttered through their teeth, which was hard with 5 highly dramatic actors, plus their girlfriend, embracing them all at once. “Whatever happened to ‘No crying on prom night?’ Why are you encouraging this?”

“Sorry,” Barry answered, stepping away. “I forgot.”

“Yeah, enough sappy stuff,” Trent butted in suddenly. “We’re here for a party!”

Suddenly, from seemingly nowhere, Trent produced a bottle of vodka. When Emma didn’t say anything, and Alyssa started muttering to him about What if Hawkins comes in and sees, he prompted them further. “Can’t have a prom without spiking the punch, huh?”

Emma instinctively grabbed Alyssa’s hand. Concerned, she glanced at a barely straight-faced Emma’s face before turning back to Trent. “And you’re the guy everyone wanted to be a teacher?” she asked him harshly.

“I’m not taking the job. I’m going back to New York. With Barry.”

For a moment, no one said anything.

Finding the silence to be awkward, Trent continued, smiling widely, like he couldn’t have contained it even if he tried. “What?” he asked the group, putting a comical amount of emphasis on the question. “I’m just gonna give acting one last shot.”

More silence.

After an excruciating few seconds, he spoke one last time “Okay, Barry and I are together,” he admitted, so fast it was barely intelligible.

Angie was the first to respond to this. “Okay,” she said bruskly. “That news aside, we are absolutely not doing alcohol at this prom. And if it happens, it will not be our fault, do you understand me?”

“Geez, Ang,” Trent answered meekly. “You’re usually the first to agree to alcohol.”

“Not here,” she retorted firmly. “Ideally not ever again, but we’ll see if I can stick to my guns on that.”

“It’s not that big a deal. I mean–we all know you’re an alcoholic, but you’re a lowkey alcoholic, you can hold down a job–”

“No, I can’t.”

“What?” Trent whispered, just barely audible.

“I didn’t quit Chicago. I showed up drunk and they fired me. I just…I was just drunkenly trying to seem better than I actually was,” Angie confessed. “So, yes, it is that big a deal, and if you have anything to say about it, take that shit outside. And don’t call me Ang.”

This silence was even more unbearable than the last. Barry, desperate to look anywhere but the two sparring parties–especially his own boyfriend–turned his gaze to the two kids of the group, and found a strange sight. Emma had let go of Alyssa entirely in favor of clamping their hands over their ears, and fixed their head firmly to look at the floor–or, they would be looking at the floor if their eyes weren’t clamped shut. Alyssa was in front of them now, holding them by the shoulders and trying to say something that they clearly couldn’t hear.

“Trent, hon,” he stammered. “I–we should, uh, we should step out. All of us.”

Somehow, he wrangled all of the men and Dee Dee out of the gym, leaving Angie, Emma, and Alyssa alone. Only then did Angie focus her attention on Emma. She knew that if she’d done so any sooner, it would’ve drawn more attention to the reaction that the others would’ve found confusing and over-the-top–and for the most part, they wouldn’t know how to be tactful about that.

“Hey,” Angie whispered. “You’re alright, okay? We’ve got you.”

“I’m sorry,” Emma said tightly. “This is stupid. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t say that. I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was gonna do that. If I had…I’d have fuckin’ punched him in the mouth.”

Emma laughed shortly. It sounded like a gasp. Slowly, they began to blink open their eyes, though they didn’t look at anybody. “You’re…you’re actually gonna get sober?” they asked hopefully. “You’re not just saying that?”

“Once I get back to New York, I’m checking myself into rehab. You really changed my perspective on things, kid.”

Emma was silent, mulling over their father, Baltimore, why they couldn’t make that work until Emma was gone, and…the Facebook profile they’d searched for the day after the first prom.

The one with nothing left to show but an obituary that was 4 months old and contained no reference to Michael Nolan’s kid, or even the fact that he had ever been a father.

Emma wondered if when they got to Baltimore, they pretended to be childless old people. Emma may as well have not existed, anyway, if Ms. Nolan couldn’t even call her own child to say that their father was–

Emma lurched forward to embrace Angie Dickinson, and only then did Alyssa let go of them. “Thank you,” they gasped.

“It’s the least I could do,” Angie murmured, ruffling Emma’s hair. “Can you breathe for me?”

Angie managed to calm them down before Principal Hawkins arrived back in the gym. “Administrative crap is finalized,” he said to the room, before realizing half the adults were missing. “Where is everyone?”

“Handling something outside, I think,” Angie answered.

“Prom starts in 15 minutes, people will start showing up any minute,” he commented to Angie rather exasperatedly, before turning to Emma and Alyssa. “Looking wonderful, girls.”

They mumbled their thanks as he turned back to the adult in the room. “Any idea how long they’ll be?”

“No clue.”

“I’ll text Dee Dee,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“How do you have Dee Dee’s number?”

Hawkins pursed his lips deliberately for a moment. “In the interest of remaining professional, no comment,” he said, and then he was gone.

Angie swiveled over to Emma and Alyssa, eyes wide. “And that’s how you’re supposed to do that,” she said to them.

Not long after, the others returned, with Barry muttering an apology to Emma.

“It’s fine,” Emma answered. “I’m fine.”

“Are you kidding? That was the shittiest relationship announcement I’ve ever had.”

To his shock, Emma laughed at that. “I’d like to know how that happened.”

“Too long a story,” Barry told her, “You know how Trent is.”

“Later, then.”

“Sure,” he agreed before moving his attention to Alyssa. “Thank you for coming out so I didn’t have to have two dates.”

Emma laughed at that, because she knew that if it came down to it, Barry would pick them in a heartbeat.

The actual prom was a blur–and that was without alcohol. Emma and Alyssa talked to anyone in sight, had way too much sugar, danced until their legs hurt, and, as Emma predicted, didn’t see the actors the whole night. That was probably a good thing, as they weren’t prepared to watch Barry and Trent make out. Emma even had the chance to reunite with Foster and Salix, the former of whom had taken up the mantle of swim team captain. They had thought that the conversation might be awkward. Somehow, it was anything but.

“Hey Salix,” Emma finally got a chance to ask them, though it really should’ve been the least of their concerns. “You ever get a nickname yet?”

“X.”

“Just X?”

“We couldn’t figure out what to do with it, so it became the joke.”

“Inception!” Fox exclaimed. 

They talked all things swim. Who were the new recruits, what were the new times to beat, what Emma was doing next.

“We knew about that already,” Fox replied when she told the pair about LIU.

“You did?”

“You put your commitment post on Instagram,” Salix filled in. “Did you think we weren’t interested in your life anymore?”

“I kind of told you to fuck off,” Emma replied. In no way did it answer that question, but it was a defense.

Salix shrugged. “Cutting people out was probably a good survival strategy,” they conceded. “But you don’t have to do that anymore.”

It was a sweet moment. Not 10 minutes later, though, it was spoiled by Jess Monae.

“Hey, Emma, I wanted to talk to you–”

“That makes one of us,” Emma interrupted uncharacteristically.

Jess frowned. “No, listen, I wanted to apologize to you.”

At those words, Alyssa seemed to spontaneously reappear at Emma's side, having previously been leaving them to their own devices to reunite with their old friends while she crammed as many pastries into her mouth as possible (Being denied them every other day will absolutely decimate one’s self control when such a moment as prom presents itself.) and secretly engaging anyone she could find with they/them on their pronoun pins in an effort to be the best girlfriend possible to Emma. But this interaction called for her presence; she knew precisely what Jess had done to them.

Emma cocked their head to the side. “I don't think an apology makes up for anything you did to me.”

“I was just keeping myself from being outed, I don't–”

“You convinced me I was a horrible person,” Emma muttered, tears springing to their eyes. “And twisted our whole friendship like it was a lie.”

“I had to! If I didn't and my dad still thought I would be your friend in secret…” Jess trailed off.

“I don’t care,” Emma spat. “You already took everything I loved from me and he knew that. That was betrayal enough for him, I think.”

“Well how was I meant to know what was enough?” 

“You used my dad to try to convince me you were in the right.” Emma pleaded with her to understand, voice shaking. “You know what he did. You know who he was.”

“...Was?” Jess asked hesitantly, suddenly looking terrified.

“He's dead,” Emma answered, voice just above a whisper. “All that shit killed him. And you wanted to convince me I was in the wrong for doing everything I could to not have to be tied to that house.”

“Oh, I didn't–”

Just the way the conversation began, it ended. Emma interrupted Jess. “Fuck off, Jessie. Go back to your girlfriend. Have a nice life.”

Before anything further could be said, Alyssa dragged Emma out of the gym by the hand to find they were sobbing, and sat them down on the nearest bench.

“Since when has your father been dead?” she asked them, bug-eyed.

“Since January.”

“I mean, I get that you don't like to talk about him, but how did I not know…?”

“I only found out maybe 2 weeks ago? And so much has happened in that two weeks, and now that it's over–”

Alyssa watched helplessly as Emma continued to sob. She didn’t say anything. There was nothing to be said. She couldn’t fix this magically. She never could fix anything magically, and as it turns out, her being out didn’t do anything to change that. A few people looked over to the tragic scene on the bench and rubbernecked them as they walked by. Alyssa stared them down, glaring as if to say Keep walking. She waited in silence until Emma calmed down–their face red and blotchy.

“Shit, I’m sorry. This sucks.”

“Hey,” Alyssa rebuked. “At least I can do this in front of people now.”

“You don’t have to be such an optimist, Lys, I ruined prom for us.”

“No. No you didn’t.”

Emma buried their face in Alyssa’s hair. “Don’t lie to me.”

“Tonight has been incredible, and we have so much time left if you just wanna take it easy for the rest of the night.”

“You should hate me for this.”

“Never,” Alyssa answered immediately. “I’m in love with you.”

“Well, I’m in love with you too, but–”

Alyssa cut Emma off by taking them by the face so that they were looking at each other again. Then she trailed one hand down their jaw and kissed them.

By the time they went back into the gym, after several minutes of making out, the slow songs were beginning, and X and Fox cornered them at the doors, scanning Emma’s face for any kind of an understanding of what just happened. But their expression gave nothing away. “I’m good,” they said. “I’ll be okay.”

“So…is it or is it not an appropriate time for a present?” X asked.

In reply, Emma’s jaw dropped. “What are you talking about?”

Suddenly, Fox produced a gift bag from behind their back. “For you,” they said with a flourish.

Emma took the bag from them, and from it, they procured a letterman jacket. Maroon with gold stripes and cuffs on the sleeves, a C stitched onto it, and ‘NOLAN’ stretched across the back.

“No way.”

“Way, dude.”

“How did you do this?!”

“Magic!”

“No, but, for real,” X butted in. “Coach got us together after it was confirmed we were having this prom and Jess came out to him. He asked us to give it to you.”

“He paid for it?”

“I know you were always too prideful to make him do that, but you weren’t there to argue.”

Emma let out a sarcastic chuckle, admiring the stitchwork of the jacket as they did.

“He wanted you to know he’s glad you proved him wrong.”

At the end of the day, it shouldn’t have really mattered. Emma was leaving James Madison and Edgewater, Indiana, behind in a few short months. They’d never attend a meet in this jacket, and it would probably rot in their closet as soon as they got to Brooklyn. But, the thing was, it did matter. This jacket was the only fairytale ending they’d ever wanted for the longest time. They’d never been brave enough to imagine going separate ways with their parents, being out, having a girlfriend. But now, they had everything. And it didn’t change anything that happened to them, or any of the trauma they carried, but it was enough nonetheless.

It was just a high school dance, after all. After this, the entire world was at their fingertips.

Quickly, Emma shed the blazer of their tux and replaced it with the letterman, not missing a chance to wear it.

“May I have this dance?” They asked Alyssa when the next song came on. 

Alyssa obliged, not even caring that Emma now looked like a fish out of water and that their matching ensemble was now effectively ruined. In a sea of every color of the rainbow that  could possibly be found in rural Indiana, it was the last thing on her mind. And if that dance very quickly devolved into another makeout session, that was their business.

They had the rest of their lives to dance together, anyway.