Our Demented Play Date

by Kat Fletcher

Do yellow jackets sleep?

  I turn around and there’s Well Dressed with a smile on his face and a tray full of paper baskets and paper soda cups. “Here you go,” I say holding it open. Sometimes I’m too polite for my own good, but my mom has drilled it into me over the years.

  “I’m Daniel,” he says.

  “Hi,” I mumble uncomfortably looking around. Rach is nowhere to be seen, but his friend is watching the two of us intently.

  “You two here on vacation?”

  “Yeah, with our parents.”

  “Oh, are you sisters?”

  “We’re very close, but not exactly sisters,” Rach slides up behind me, wraps her arm around my waist, and pulls me close into her body. Suddenly I get what the word “swoon” means because I can barely stay on my feet. I can hardly breathe, but I do manage to snake my arm around her and rest my hand on her hip. It just feels so natural, like it belongs there.

  “Oh,” Daniel says, his voice crestfallen. Then a smile plays across his face. “I guess you don’t want to go hang on the beach with Nate and I then.”

  “Afraid not,” Rach says, sounding amused.

  “Well, have a good night I guess,” he sighs and heads back to Jock Guy and breaks the bad news.

  Rach leans in and whispers apologetically, “Sorry, but I thought you would appreciate a rescue. You don’t mind, I hope?”

  “No,” I say, trying not to burst out laughing or worse, let her know how happy I am to have her arm around me. “I don’t mind.”

  Once I’ve said it, my cowardice annoys me. The whole point here is I want her to like me. Am I right? This would have been the perfect time. Stop being so afraid Sarah!

  “Want to wash up before we head back?” Rach asks, letting her arm drop free. I reluctantly withdraw my hand, but it was certainly nice while it lasted.

  * * *

  Back at the cottage, we decide on The Hunger Games and sit at opposite ends of the couch watching the carnage ensue. Her mom and dad have retreated to their bedroom to give us privacy or whatever.

  We’re an hour or so into the movie when her parents come down the hall. “We’re going to bed, is there anything you girls need?” Rach’s mom asks.

  Rachel pauses the movie. “No, I think we’re good?”

  I nod in agreement. Her mom smiles

  “Good night honey,” her dad says.

  “Night,” we both say in unison. He motions to Rachel with a finger to come over to him and gives her a hug and they talk quietly for a few moments, both looking serious, then he goes down the hall, closing the door behind him.

  “Everything okay with you and your dad?” I ask.

  “Don’t worry about it,” she replies in a tone that makes me think there’s something going on.

  I think for a moment about whether I want to ask. It is their house and their business and I’ve only known her a few days. “What is it?”

  She looks me in the face, clearly trying to suppress a laugh. “You don’t want to know. Trust me.”

  “What?” I poke at her, jokingly. “Now you’re being all mysterious.”

  “You really want to know?” she says, like she has some dark secret.

  “Yeah.”

  She raises an eyebrow and looks meaningfully at me. “I had to promise him that you and I are going to be in separate beds, that we’re only going to sleep, and we have to leave the door to the bedroom open.”

  The whole thing hits a little too close to home and suddenly the nervousness and tension I’ve felt all night just turns into something else, and I start to titter and can’t stop myself.

  “What’s so funny?” she asks, looking all serious.

  “I don’t know,” I lie and giggle more.

  “It’s not that funny.”

  “No,” I blurt out between giggles. “It’s not.”

  “Well, he doesn’t know,” she says defensively. “I invite a cute girl to sleep over. Think about it…” her voice trails off.

  That’s exactly what I’ve thought for the last few hours, ever since she invited me over. There’s no way I’m going to admit that though. “It’s okay. It just struck me as funny. I guess your parents have to do something. Does that mean you get a free pass on boys sleeping over?”

  “Not a clue. I’ve never invited one. Think I should?”

  “My mom gets mad at me if I video chat with Justin from bed. It’s funny. He couldn’t care less.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” she rolls her eyes. “Want to finish this up?” She motions at the TV.

  “Sure,” I say, hesitate for a moment, and add, “thanks for saying I’m cute. You’re cute too, you know.”

  She watches me as if I’m some kind of mutant, but I swear I see her blushing, maybe a little. I know it’s not sunburn this time because she didn’t have any when I walked in the door. She doesn’t say anything though, just flicks the remote and Katniss is back on the screen.

  * * *

  I shift a little and realize I’ve fallen asleep. I’m not certain when that happened. I remember we ate almost a whole box of cookies and started the second movie, but not much past that. I’m half-sprawled across the couch and there’s something heavy on top of me. A moment later comprehension dawns on me that the thing on me is warm and still smells faintly of sunscreen. When I realize it’s Rachel’s head slumped below my shoulder, it suddenly doesn’t feel nearly as uncomfortable and I bask for a moment at her touch.

  Unfortunately, the angle is awkward and we must have been lying like that for hours. No matter how much I’d like to stay there forever, my body is stiff and cramping. I try to move a little without waking her up, but I feel her stir. Embarrassed, I close my eyes and pretend I’m asleep as she rolls back off me.

  “We need to go to bed,” she murmurs, prodding at me.

  “What time is it?”

  “Late o’clock,” she says, her voice slurring with exhaustion as she stands up.

  I sit up, still feeling dopey and lost. “I can’t make it; you go on without me.”

  She slumps her shoulders, looking irritated at me, but she’s just being funny. I hope. “We have to sleep,” she sighs.

  “I was asleep,” I pout at her. I don’t want to stand up. The room is chilly and I’m feeling all comfortable and warm burrowed into the couch. I’d be happy to slump back over. Twice as happy if she’d slump back onto me.

  “Sarah…” she whines at me and holds out a hand.

  That’s worth getting up to hold her hand, even if it’s only for a moment. I let her pull me off the couch. Standing up I realize exactly how late it is and how tired I am. I refuse to relinquish her hand and lean against her, my boldness mostly coming from sheer exhaustion. We stagger down the hall into her bedroom and I lurch over and collapse onto her bed, giggling nervously.

  “Sarah,” she whines. “My parents would freak,” she says, her voice dropping to a whisper. “That’s my bed. Your bed’s over there.”

  She reaches out and tries to pull me up, but I flop back trying to drag her in with me. “I don’t want to move. Your bed’s so nice,” I whimper back, barely keeping my nervous exhausted tittering from breaking out into full laughter. “And all your clothes are all over the other one.”

  It’s so cute watching her with all her defenses down. Now she’s just a normal girl like me, worried about getting in trouble with her parents. I don’t really want to sleep with her, at least not yet. I know that, but I’m more and more certain she’s interested in me, and it’s so much fun teasing her and watching her get more and more flustered.

  She lets go of my hand goes to the other bed. “Okay then,” she sighs and with a big sweeping gesture pushes all the clothes and the duffel bag onto the floor behind the bed. That’s when I start giggling in earnest. She smiles at me, shakes her head, and collapses with a big flounce onto the other bed. I watch as she burrows into the covers and closes her eyes.

  “Goodnight Rach,” I say. I don’t even think about changing. I’m too tired. I’ll s
leep in my clothes. She doesn’t seem to be moving so I guess our little game is over so I pull up the covers. I can just smell her everywhere and it’s so wonderful.

  Chapter 8

  The cold is what finally wakes me up. There’s a cold breeze coming through the open window and, while it’s not raining, at least not yet, the sky is full of dark clouds. Maybe Rach’s parents will cancel their trip and we can hang out for the day. That would be cool.

  Rach. I’m at Rach’s cottage—in her bed in fact. I look over, but the other bed is empty. I lie back, but I don’t hear anyone else in the house, so I stand up. I immediately experience morning regret that I didn’t change out of my jeans and shirt. My body is stiff and I stretch out, trying to wake up. At least I didn’t leave my sneakers on. That’s something. Isn’t it?

  I drag a brush through my hair and give myself a quick check in the mirror, then wander out of the room to see where Rach has gone. “Hey,” she says as I wander into the kitchen. She’s clearly better in the morning than I am. Hair is flawlessly styled and she’s already in a new pair of jeans and a gray tank that hangs on her just so.

  “How long have you been up?” I ask, mostly because I can’t imagine how anyone’s look be that-on fleek this early in the morning.

  “About an hour?” she answers.

  The answer is depressing. I am so tired and will absolutely not be that put together even an hour from now. “Is there coffee?” I ask. I’m not sure when we went to bed, but I definitely did not get enough sleep and it’s hard to concentrate on anything with her there.

  “There is,” she answers, looking amused at my morning-fogged questions. She puts a steaming mug in front of me with the words “Cape Cod” and a silhouette map of the cape on it. I reach for the sugar and start to shovel it in, then top the mug off with an unhealthy amount of half-and-half.

  “Thanks.” I pick up the cup of coffee, letting my arm brush against hers in the hope we can continue where we left off last night. The humor is gone though; she doesn’t even give me the briefest smile. We’re back to the detached cool girl I first met a few days ago. Did I overplay things kidding around with her? Was it only fatigue making me imagine things?

  “So what are you guys doing today?” I ask.

  “You know. The family thing,” she sighs. “My mom said something about Falmouth, but I don’t know what they have planned. Probably shopping or something. They made it kind of obvious they wanted me to come along.”

  “Do you know when you’re getting back?” I ask.

  “No clue,” she says, picking up a spoon and slowly stirring her coffee.

  The sliding glass door opens behind me and her parents come in from the deck. “Good morning girls,” her dad says.

  “Morning,” I say, turning to them.

  “Did you get any sleep?” her mom asks, her voice showing an amused tone that doesn’t seem like her.

  Rach and I look at each other. “We slept,” she says nonchalantly.

  I nod, feeling a little out of my depth. There’s a weird tension between Rachel and her mom. It’s nothing they say, but something about how they interact. I can’t quite figure it out, but I’m sure there’s something going on that I don’t understand.

  * * *

  After a second cup of coffee and some Dunkin’ Donuts courtesy of Rach’s dad, I head home. My mom and dad have similar family ideas for the day and after a quick shower and a change of clothes, we’re heading out the door.

  “So can I drive?” I ask, knowing what the answer is going to be.

  My dad puts his hand to his chin as if he’s in deep thought. “Um, no.”

  I cast my gaze down at the ground as if some great tragedy has befallen me and we both start to laugh.

  “You can drive back, but I know where we’re going and it would be too hard to explain.

  “It’s called Navigation dad,” I insist.

  “Sit up front,” my mom adds. It’s not going to make up for not driving, but I guess it’s better than nothing.

  “Where are we going?” I ask as my father pulls out onto the shore road.

  It’s the same road we took back from the Clam Basket last night after getting ice cream. I wonder if Well Dressed and Jock Guy are going to tell their friends about their Cape Cod vacation and the lesbians they tried to pick up. My high school is decent about being accepting, but I know that kind of story would get a good laugh at Sumner.

  It was nice to have Rach paying attention to me, even if it was just pretending.

  As we pass by the restaurant, I realize my dad’s answered me, but I have absolutely no idea what he said. “Sorry, I was thinking about something. Where are we going again?”

  “I wanted to look at some lighthouses,” my mom says from the back seat, and I turn around so she can see when I roll my eyes in answer. I don’t mind as much though. I’m more wondering what Rach is up to and pull out my phone.

  Off to see lighthouses. Rah. What R U doing? I send.

  I hold the phone expecting it to light up, but I’m disappointed. Just as I’m putting it back in my jacket pocket, the screen lights up.

  Sitting in traffic. Yay?

  At least you have me, I reply and add an emoji of a heart and a rainbow.

  Disappointingly, there’s no response. My dad suddenly pulls off the road. We’re not at the shore and there are no lighthouses to be seen.

  “Couldn’t find the lighthouse?” I ask, feeling guilty for the snarky tone in my voice.

  “Surprise,” my mom says.

  “We knew you were bored and wanted to do something you might find more interesting than…”

  “Than lighthouses?” I interrupt.

  “I wasn’t so big on the lighthouses either,” my dad offers and my mom purses her lips at him.

  “So what are we doing?” I peer around. It’s a crappy looking industrial building, but there’s a little trail down to a river and racks of kayaks and canoes along with a few of those paddleboats you move with pedals down by the water. “Kayaking?”

  “Unless you want to see the lighthouses,” mom says from the back seat.

  “No!” I insist in a joking manner. “Kayaking is just fine.”

  OMG we’re going kayaking! I message to Rach, wishing I could rescue her from her boring day.

  “Leave the phone in car, I’m not paying for a new one if we go down like Rose and Jack,” my dad jokes.

  I give him a fake pout, then a smile so he knows I’m joking and put the phone in my bag. The sun is peeking through here and there between clouds and the air is filled with a soft smell of green things from the river.

  Down near the water, my dad starts poking around one of the paddleboats. “We’re not that old yet,” my mother snarks, and taking his arm, leads him over to the kayaks.

  “Double at least? Then you can paddle,” he asks.

  I roll my eyes and try to pick between the purple and red singles sitting next to the dock. In addition to a little safety lecture about wearing your life vest, there’s a little lesson on how to hold the paddle. Really? Like who doesn’t know how to paddle a kayak? I hadn’t needed a lesson when I’d gone with Justin and Sierra last summer It seemed so obvious. I resolve not to complain and just be happy that if I can’t hang out with Rach, at least I’m doing something fun and not looking at lighthouses.

  We hit the water and I realize I was wrong because my dad starts out trying to use only one blade, like a canoe. I glide over. “Dad? Like this.” I show him holding the paddle in the air.

  “Okay, okay,” he says, giving me a forced smile, but he seems to get the hang of it.

  We head upstream. The river is wide and the current very gentle. We turn a corner and it widens into a small pond. Stalking gracefully through the lily pads and pond grass, there’s a huge white bird with long legs. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s beautiful.

  I paddle quietly to my parents and point, “What is that?” At least at home, my mom keeps feeders in the backyard and knows all
the birds.

  “Some kind of egret?” she says, not sounding quite sure.

  “Very nice,” my dad adds.

  “It is,” I nod, letting the current push my little red boat silently. Suddenly, there’s a scream from behind us and a group of boys comes roaring into the pond. The egret stretches its long neck, extends its legs, and leaps into the air. It drifts lazily away as the group splashes through the pond, oblivious. They’re about my age and I know they’re having fun, but it’s just plain embarrassing. I think idly it would be a great time to come out to my mom with a joke. Hey mom! Don’t worry, I’m never going to bring a boy like that home. Because I like girls!

  Obviously, I don’t say that, but it’s fun to contemplate. Would making it all sound like a joke be a good way to come out? I should really ask Rach for more details about how she actually did it. Except I guess if I did that, I’d be coming out to her wouldn’t I? Despite flirting with her and, oh God, I did kind of beg her to get into bed with me didn’t I? Despite that, I still haven’t actually told her I’m gay. I think she knows. She must know. She’s been teasing me. She doesn’t know know though.

  Why am I so afraid of this? I know why I’m afraid with my parents, but why her? It should all be easy right? In my heart, I know why though. Liking girls in general doesn’t mean she likes me in particular. It’s easier to hold onto the fantasy that she’s interested in me than plunge into the possibility that she doesn’t.

  I’m lost in my thoughts, watching the big white bird as he—I’ve decided it’s a “he” for no particular reason—disappears from sight when I’m jolted by my kayak running aground. I stick a paddle blade into the mud, push back off, and catch up to my parents. We take it easy, paddling slowly on the pond, until the yelping of the boys disappears, and then we head farther up.

  The pond narrows again into a wide slow river, which eventually comes out into a bigger pond surrounded by houses. There’s even a few sunfish bobbing next to docks. Thankfully, the loud guys are nowhere to be seen, but I catch sight of their kayaks pulled up onto a little beach. I’m guessing they’re in the woods either drinking or going all 420 in the woods.