by Sarah Tomp
“I think you should do large.” Maggie raised her eyebrows suggestively. “I bet there’s not really a difference from medium, anyway. It’s all about ego. But extra-large might look like you have certain expectations. Now, how many boxes?”
Another loaded decision. If she only got one, it might look like she was reluctant. But too many and . . .
“No way, Maggie. There are no right answers.”
“Uh-uh. You mean there are no wrong answers. The fact that you are thinking about it and planning ahead is the right answer. So, what color?”
“There should not be different colors.” Ria laughed and groaned all at once.
“Ooh. How about texture?”
It seemed unnecessarily confusing to have different sizes. Not to mention colors and textures. Did anyone actually try them on? Was there really a Goldilocks concern of too big, too small, just right? If they didn’t fit, could you return them?
“Come on, Mags, pick your magic serum and get out of here.”
“Are you chickening out?”
There was an edge to Maggie’s voice. Ria suddenly wondered what Maggie and Sean talked about when she wasn’t around.
“Why do you care so much?”
“A friend who lets you fail is a failure of a friend.”
That’s what Benny always said, whenever the practice turned grueling. When someone started to whine. He expected them to coax each other on, to push and cheer. Suffering was something done together. No one left behind.
“Do you think that’s what all Benny’s advice is actually about? Like, ‘Halfway only gets you halfway.’”
Maggie laughed.
“Point your toes! Keep your legs straight! Your abs are your friends!”
Maggie said, in her exaggerated nerd-voice, “Could I have your body fluids?” right as an older man came around the corner.
“Come on.” Ria dragged Maggie down the aisle by the hand.
“Don’t be so rough. What about our maximum pleasure?”
They burst out laughing. Wild, hysterical laughter, more about them, and being together, than what they were talking about. It was the way it used to be. Maybe she didn’t have to keep looking backward. There might be something worth seeing ahead.
Twelve
Even though Friday night football games were one of those typical high school experiences Ria had never been a part of, she hadn’t especially minded that she’d missed them. But the size of the crowd made it easy to believe she was the only one who hadn’t cared. The bleachers were full, and more swarms of people milled around the sidewalks between the stands and the Snack Shack.
Sean had stopped texting her every minute, now that he was sure she was coming, but she knew he was sitting in the senior section. Up high and near the end zone.
“Didn’t you say Tony will be here?” asked Maggie.
“Yeah. Why?”
“He’s friends with Sean. So maybe we could double-date. He’s kind of cute, and I don’t want to waste my senior year.”
Ria shouldn’t have been surprised. Maggie had always been better about balancing life with dive practice. They were so different.
In looks, too. Her own dark blond hair was straight and thin while Maggie’s thick red hair went everywhere. There was so much more of her—more height, more curves, everything more, more, more. On the diving board, it had always seemed like more was harder to reign in. Ria had never envied any of the extra inches. Now, seeing the confident way Maggie moved through the crowd, she wasn’t as sure she’d mind.
She followed Maggie up the bleacher steps. They were taller than average stairs, an awkward distance apart, making her aware of each and every level she climbed. She was headed straight for the people she’d been avoiding.
“Prunes!” cheered Maggie, greeting the huddle of swimmers, water polo players, and divers—the ones who lived at the Aquaplex. Their proud nickname was from the way their skin wrinkled from being waterlogged. The result was a very certain look. The fried hair, the tanned skin, honed physique beneath their clothes.
It was the first time she’d been around her team since she quit. Half of the team went to Chappelle, the other high school in the area, and with her minimum schedule she hadn’t even seen Devin or Jillian. She stood in the aisle next to Maggie and scanned her old teammates.
She almost didn’t recognize them anymore. It was always weird to see each other in real clothes. Everyone wore workout gear in the gym and next to nothing at the pool, so any other attire seemed foreign. The tiny Speedos that the boys wore didn’t leave any doubts regarding anatomy, and yet it was seeing them in jeans and tight T-shirts that made them look definitely male. It was the reverse of normal people suddenly seeing each other in swimsuits. “Hey there, Ria.” Temo stood up and gave Ria an awkward hug, then looked her over. She was suddenly glad to be disguised in all black.
“Let me in,” said Maggie, settling beside Devin. She must have already forgotten Tony.
“Hey, Ria, I’m surprised you’re not down on the field,” Chrissy said, pointing. “I figured that’s why you quit. To be a cheerleader.”
Ria forced herself to laugh, over the simmer bubbling up. It was a nothing kind of Chrissy comment laced with something sharper. Benny scorned and belittled cheerleaders. Ridiculed their waste of tumbling and flipping abilities.
“Oops, Chrissy,” said Ria. “Your bitch is showing.”
“Better be! I wear it proudly.” Then Chrissy winked. “I miss you too.”
Tears sucked. Damn Chrissy. They’d always been at war. She had the skills to be Ria’s strongest competition, but she wasn’t willing to dedicate the time. It figured she’d be the one to ambush her in public now. Ria moved on down the row and squeezed into the spot next to Sean. She leaned into him, desperate to think about anything but the fact that her team wasn’t hers anymore.
“You’re finally here.” She could tell he’d been drinking by the size of his smile. Whenever he caught a buzz, his teeth seemed to grow and multiply. He slipped his hand around her waist and nuzzled her neck. Then leaned back, eyeing her. “Why are you dressed like Batgirl?” He held out his cup. “Have some.”
“I can’t. I’m driving.”
“Damn right. You’re driving me crazy.” He was kind of adorable, all messy and grinning. Loopy and goofy was way better than serious and romantic.
By the middle of the third quarter, the Rockhounds were winning and Ria was tired of sitting. Somehow, right beside her, Sean had gone from affectionately buzzed to sloppy wasted. His eyes were little more than slits, but his grin was wide.
“Let’s get out of here.” She ran her finger along his arm.
“The game’s not over. Is it?” He stared out at the scoreboard.
“Does that matter?”
Around her, the divers exploded with groans. “Can you believe him?” yelled Maggie, laughing. “What do you think a Drumstick Chorus looks like?”
“It sure as hell doesn’t mean fried chicken,” answered Temo. “And I guarantee the Biscuit Beaters will leave us flat.”
“We’re so gonna be hurting!” Maggie whined.
It was obvious that Benny had sent one of his infamous group texts, letting them know the plan for practice. So typical for him to have tricked them into thinking they had the night off, then hitting them with a warning for what the next day would be like. To keep them focused. Remembering they still belonged to him.
When she checked her own phone, it was blank. Her cheeks flushed hot and red and her eyes stung. Out on the field, a football player ran, all alone, with a trail of other players straggling behind him, slowing and giving up before he crossed the end zone. Around her, everyone stood to cheer.
“Some of us are going to get food,” said Maggie, grabbing her arm.
“Fried chicken?”
“Maybe. I was thinking I’d do a carb-o-load of fries and biscuits.”
“Tough workout tomorrow?”
“Always. You know how it is.”
&
nbsp; She thought she’d known, but it felt too long ago to be certain.
“You could come with us.”
Ria looked at Sean, glassy-eyed and swaying on the bleacher seat. It wasn’t his fault she didn’t belong with the team anymore, but she gestured toward him and said, “I can’t.”
It was painfully true, for plenty of reasons. Mostly because there was no doubt Benny would find out if she went, and she wasn’t sure she was allowed to be a part of their team bonding. Someone would say something, a picture would be taken—there wasn’t any question as to if; only the specifics of how were uncertain. Besides, she barely knew her old team anymore.
As she watched Maggie swish down the steps, she pressed her legs firmly against the bleachers to keep herself from running off to follow. She focused her breathing, imagined her body growing roots, planting herself into this spot. She let herself blend in with the strangers around her, talking, laughing, staring, eating, being. She was only one small part of a bigger picture, a smudge of black within the swirl of colors.
Thirteen
Sean was the drunkest Ria had ever seen. Not only the drunkest Sean, but the drunkest anyone. Talking to him made her feel like she was dealing with someone with multiple personalities. Or all the personalities were Sean, but at different ages. It was like reasoning with a three-year-old Sean who had ten-year-old Sean’s sense of humor while seventeen-year-old Sean groped her butt and old-man Sean wobbled and teetered, completely off balance.
“Stay with me, Ria. You wouldn’t leave me, would you?”
His question annoyed her, seeing as she was obviously here, holding him up. Charlie and Tony were the ones who’d left him behind. She was alone trying to get him to her car.
Drunk Sean was heavy, with no sense of direction. When he started weaving and wandering, crashing into people as they left the stadium, Ria threw her arm around his waist and braced her leg against his. Instead of keeping him moving in a straight line, the reinforcement made him crumple. He leaned on her as if his skeleton had turned soft and rubbery. At this particular moment, it was hard to believe he was any kind of athlete. Or someone who could speak without spitting.
“You know I love you. Right? Don’t you? Do you know that I love you?”
That was such a weird way to say it. Like it was all on her somehow to get right or wrong. Heading along the sidewalk and seeing the security guards ahead, she said, “Walk.”
Behind her, she heard a familiar clipped voice. Almost monotone, but with its own distinctive rhythm. She looked over her shoulder and finally, with a huge surge of relief, like she’d just this second raised her head above water, she spotted Cotton.
“Ria! I’m so glad to see you!”
She waited for him to explain why. To follow it up with a reason. A question. Something he needed to tell her. But his greeting seemed to be the end of his point. She was glad to see him, too. Except she had plenty of reasons. Maybe it was the way his eyes opened wide to meet hers. And the smile that followed, as if had been trailing behind. Or it could have been the way his crazy whirl of curls went every which way. Mostly it was that he hadn’t simply up and disappeared.
“Do you need help?”
“I’m good,” she said, even though “good” had been left somewhere in the stands before the start of halftime.
“She’s good, Cotton Talley,” said Sean, too loud. The effort of his protest made him lose his balance again. He staggered and fell to his knees. “Shit, Ria. You dropped me.”
“What’s wrong with him?” Cotton asked. “Is he having a medical emergency? I know first aid.”
“I don’t think so,” she said.
“He smells drunk.”
“Yeah.”
“Shhhh!” Sean spit and sputtered. “Come on, Cotton Talley, be cool.”
“Cool,” said Cotton.
Ria looked down on her noodled boyfriend, then up at Cotton, who actually looked like the definition of cool—as in calm and collected. Not impressed or disgusted. Neutral. “Can you help me get him up again? My car is still a ways down the row.”
“Yes.” But then, instead of holding out a hand, Cotton circled Sean, looking at him from every angle, all the while his hand flapped against his thigh. She wasn’t sure if he was studying him or performing some kind of ritual. Either way, Sean was still on the ground, now with his head hanging between his legs. She had to try again.
“Come on, Sean, get up.” She held out her hand. He grabbed it, then pulled, almost dragging her down until she braced her legs. Finally he was on his feet again, but swaying. She slid under his arm, so as to hold him up, but then Cotton stepped in front of them. “We need to walk that way,” she said. “Maybe you could be on his other side.”
Cotton reached for Sean with both arms—for an extremely weird second Ria thought he was going to hug him—but then all of a sudden, Sean was lifted in the air and slung over Cotton’s shoulder. It was the same way he’d carried his duffel. Sean was either groaning or laughing, but at least he was in motion.
And Cotton still managed to bounce when he walked.
At her car, Cotton dumped Sean into the back seat. He promptly lay down, groaned, and closed his eyes. Ria reached around him and buckled the seat belt. She didn’t bother moving the strap off his face, but she grabbed his phone out of his pocket.
“Thanks, Cotton.”
She scanned Sean’s phone for messages with his mom. She obviously thought he was staying at Grover’s and didn’t expect him home until tomorrow. The last text she’d sent said Make good choices!!!!! Maybe she thought the extra exclamation marks would hold him up.
Ria turned to Cotton. The contrast of the field lights left this part of the parking lot in the shadows, with everything coated in a soft and fuzzy glow. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t shown up.”
“I’m glad to help. It was clear he was in the midst of a gravity storm.”
She laughed.
“Shhhh. Make that noise stop.” Sean groaned in the back seat.
They were both quiet while all around them cars drove out of the parking lot. In the distance, cars honked to each other, loud and insistent, announcing the win.
“How are you getting home, Cotton?”
“Leo. He and my sister Flutie are over there.”
Ria saw him a few rows down, standing near a green minivan with a tall, thin girl.
“How about if I give you a ride? That way you can help me with Sean. I won’t be able to move him without you.”
She waited, knowing he needed time to adjust the plan in his mind. She could tell he was evaluating, making sure the variables were acceptable. Finally, he said, “Yes. If Leo agrees.”
Judging by the way Leo was nuzzled next to Flutie, she was sure they wouldn’t mind if she borrowed Cotton.
Once he’d talked with them, Cotton climbed into the passenger seat. His knees barely fit without hitting the dashboard.
After she parked in her driveway, Cotton carried Sean from the back seat, following Ria around her house to the backyard.
“Put it there. I mean him. Put him there.” She pointed at the lounge chair on the patio.
He dumped Sean on the chair.
“I love you,” said Sean.
“I love you too,” said Cotton. “But as a fellow human. Not in a romantic way.” He looked at Ria. “What? Do you think he was talking to you? I’m the one carrying him.”
She giggled, trying to keep her voice down. But it must not have been enough, because there was Dad standing in the patio doorway.
“Hi, Dad. This is Cotton. And”—she pointed in the direction of her passed-out boyfriend—“you know Sean.”
“Hello, sir.” Cotton held out his hand. “My name is Connor Talley. But everyone calls me Cotton. I live over on Quartz. Sorry to disturb you. I know it’s late. I can leave.”
He was so earnest. Extremely stiff and slightly awkward. Probably nervous. Somehow it added up to cute.
“You don’t hav
e to leave,” said Ria. “Right, Dad? Can Cotton stay for a while? And Sean, too?”
“Are you sure he’s okay?” Dad peered over Sean.
“He’s tired. I think he had a super-intense practice.”
Sean sat up suddenly. “I’ll have her home by midnight,” he said, then fell back again.
“Well,” said Dad. “He kept his word. You are home. . . .”
“Exactly.”
“Okay. You two have fun. But keep the noise down.”
“Your father is very accepting of intoxication,” Cotton said as Dad slid the door shut.
“Or completely clueless.” Ria added, “You don’t have to stay. I can take you home if you want.”
“I don’t want. Is that a trampoline?” He pointed across the yard.
Ria laughed at the marvel in his voice.
On the trampoline, she resisted the reflex to jump, waiting as Cotton sat on the edge and swung his legs around with a grunt. He rested for a second, as if getting his bearings, then rolled sideways onto the springy part.
“This is huge. Isn’t it? Isn’t it bigger than a normal trampoline?”
“It’s better for working on tumble sequences and hurdles.” She did an aerial into a front flip to show him. “My parents got tired of me bouncing on the furniture when I was little. Plus, it’s a good way to release stress.”
Awkwardly, as if he wasn’t sure where his legs ended, Cotton moved into a crawl position, then finally lifted himself to his feet. He stood with his legs slightly bent and his back curved forward. He slid his feet across the surface, slowly, his body stiff and holding his hands straight out. Then, suddenly, he threw his hands up over his head and said, “Ta-da!”
“Very nice.” She laughed, moving along the edge.
“It’s been a while since I’ve been on one of these.” He tilted and turned his head, as if he was looking at it sideways. “I thought I used to be able to flip. But now I can’t see how that could be true.”
“That might have to do with your center of gravity. It changes when you grow. How long has it been?”
“I don’t know. It was part of my sensory therapy. I wasn’t very good at being a little kid. I had to learn how to finger paint, chew bubblegum, and roll around on a trampoline.”
