Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Caleb is not cool enough to be here.

He really should’ve known that as soon as they rolled up to this giant fucking house. His position in Justin and Trevor’s friend group has always felt...tenuous. Like, sure, he’s a skater and a stoner, and that is theoretically what they are as well, but Caleb’s usually not actually around them outside of the skate park, and they don’t even have any of the same classes.

So, in reality, Caleb probably just shouldn’t have accepted the invite in the first place. But his stepfather was being an extra asshole tonight, so he took any excuse to get the hell out of that tiny house, even if it means he ends up here, in the backyard, smoking alone against the fence like a total loser.

There’s nobody else out here, not this early into the night. The pool, which Caleb assumes is normally the most attractive part of this place, is covered and dark, since it’s the middle of winter and fucking freezing. Beats pound out of the house in front of him, muffled by distance. He didn’t even turn the porch light on before he got out here, too hot and uncomfortable in that din to think straight as he came out. He’s sure nobody noticed he left, anyway. Most people don’t really notice him. Might be best if it stays that way.

He looks at the cigarette in his hand and sighs, taking another drag. He really should’ve figured out where Justin disappeared to before he retreated out to the quiet. Could’ve bummed a joint off him or something. Shit, maybe he should’ve just grabbed a beer, too, maybe he’d be warmer. But that’s all things he should’ve done, and going back in now would be...just weird. Though, come to think of it, he’s not sure how he’s getting out of this situation without being weird. Justin’s his ride. Fuck.

Just as he’s crushing his cigarette under his foot, the back porch light flips on, the glass door sliding open. A short girl steps out, sweeping long, frazzled blonde hair behind her ear. She shouts something indistinct back into the living room, then sticks her tongue out and blows a raspberry before doing her best to slam a sliding door. As her gaze turns toward the back yard properly, her eyes and Caleb’s meet.

“Hey!” she calls out across the pool, digging into the pockets of her jeans, managing to pull out a pipe and hold it up to the light. “Wanna smoke?”

Well, hell, sure.

Caleb waves her over, but she waves back more insistently, and with a laugh to himself he steps around the pool and joins her on the porch, where she’s found a seat on crappy patio seats. She’s loading the bowl by the time he arrives, focused intently on her task until Caleb actually sits down across from her.

“Sweet, smoking alone is boring,” she says, holding the pipe over the table. “Here, greens.”

Caleb raises an eyebrow. “That’s generous.”

“I don’t have a lighter on me, Courtney stole it. I know you do, cuz I can smell you,” the girl says with a smirk.

Caleb laughs to himself, pulling out his lighter and taking in a hit. He holds it for a while, closing his eyes. That’s what he’s been missing. They should’ve pre-gamed, then this would’ve been way easier. As he breathes out, passing the pipe and lighter back to her, she chuckles at him.

“What?” he asks, his shoulders squaring slightly under her hazel eyes.

“You just looked like you really needed that. Or are you always so dramatic when you smoke?” she asks.

“Hey, I can take my lighter and go home anytime, lady,” Caleb threatens, and the girl barks out a laugh.

“Mm, no,” she says simply, flicking the lighter on and off. “Maybe I’ll keep it. Keep the cycle of Bic-theft goin’.”

“Well, shit, don’t know how I’m gonna get two dollars again. Guess I’ll have to stay here.”

She giggles. “You’re funny.” She takes in a long hit, and she’s exaggerating on purpose. Has to be. She holds her breath for a long time, then lets it go with a lengthy aaaah. “So, funny guy, what’s your name?”

“Caleb,” he answers. “I feel like I’ve seen you around.”

“I’m new this year. Rachel.” She passes the pipe back to him. “What brings you out here?”

“Music in there sucks,” Caleb says, which is honest enough. “And I’m not sure where Justin and Trevor went.”

“Oh, they’re in the basement,” Rachel says, waving her hand. “But that place gives me the creeps. It’s unfinished and I feel like the couch has bedbugs or something. Or maybe it just sucks.”

“You’ve been here before?”

“Couple times, yeah. Zach’s dad is like, always out of town. Business trips or whatever. C’mon, it’s freezing out here,” Rachel goads. “Take a hit already so we can kill that bowl.”

“What’re you doing out here?” Caleb asks first. Rachel rolls her eyes and reaches out, but Caleb holds it out of her reach. “Hey, just a sec, jeez.”

Rachel folds her arms and gives him a pouty look until he actually lights up again. She sighs. “Oh, everybody else wants to dance and I wanted to smoke, and I didn’t wanna be in the basement. I asked Victoria to come out here, but no, she wants to do coke in the bathroom. She says the pot harshes that vibe or something.”

The mention of Victoria’s name curls Caleb’s lip. “Seriously? Where’d they get the coke?” he asks.

“Zach’s brother left some here, I think,” Rachel says with a shrug. “Not feeling it tonight. I don’t know. Plus if I’m out here nobody’s making me grab them new drinks or throw their old drinks away or basically just treating me like a maid.”

Caleb chuckles. “Yeah, I remember being a freshman. Vortex Club basically thinks you’re meat. That’s why I don’t really go to these.”

“Yeah, haven’t seen you here yet. Seen you around, though,” Rachel says, her gaze flitting up and down. Caleb feels oddly seen — Rachel doesn’t seem to blink very much even as he passes the pipe back to her. She looks — she’s got a look going for her, the red-and-black plaid flannel, the puzzle-box necklace, her silky, shiny hair. She’s fashionable. In thrift-store clothes and unwashed, ratty, too-long hair, Caleb feels like he might be completely out of his league even talking to her. “Yeah, you hang at the skate park, right? I bet I got pictures of you from one of my photography assignments.”

Caleb laughs, her spell broken momentarily. “Is that how you come onto guys? I’ve got pictures of you already, my pretty,” he says, putting on his best Wicked Witch as he passes the pipe back.

“Uh, excuse me, if I was coming onto you, you’d know it,” Rachel replies, giving him a scowl. “I’m just trying to make conversation, jeez.”

“I’m just messing with you,” Caleb says, waving his hand. “Don’t worry, I’m under no illusions as to my fuckability.”

Rachel pauses with the pipe halfway to her lips, giving him a curious look. “What’s that mean?”

“I mean I’m not exactly a stud, I’m cool with it, don’t try and give me some weird pep talk,” Caleb warns before Rachel can interrupt him. “What I mean is, if I say something like that, assume I don’t mean it.”

“Hmph,” Rachel huffs, taking a long drag off the cherried pipe. “You know,” she says, blowing out puffs of smoke with each breath, “Saying stuff like that isn’t really a ticket in with the ladies. Reverse psychology isn’t a thing.”

“Uh, yeah, I know?” Caleb says, raising his eyebrows. “That’s kind of the point? Way easier to get it out of the way quick so we can just, like, talk. Way more fun to hang out with girls when they’re not expecting any of that crap from you.”

“...huh,” Rachel says, squinting at him. “I just figured it was something you saw in one of those, like, pickup books.”

Caleb recoils. “Ew, don’t put that evil on me, what the fuck! Can’t a guy just not be trying to get in every girl’s pants?”

Rachel breaks down laughing. “Sorry, sorry! Not trying to be a bitch, swear! Well, then, just don’t say it at all, Caleb.”

“Why not?” Caleb asks with a shrug. “‘S true.”

“No, it’s not, don’t put yourself down like that. You’re not ugly, you know.”

Caleb rolls his eyes. “Told you not to give me a pep-talk, geez. Can we not talk about this anymore? Sorry I made a dumb joke.”

“Okay, okay, subject dropped.” Rachel passes him back the pipe with a smile. “So, if the music in there sucks, what are you into?”

“Anything but trap,” Caleb groans before sucking in a hit. “I know it’s hot right now or whatever, but it is trash.”

“I asked what you liked,” Rachel clarifies, though her smirk is back. “C’mon, be a little positive.”

“Oh, like, punk and indie stuff, mostly,” Caleb admits. “Some alt-rock, you know. Things where people play instruments.”

“A synth’s an instrument.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I said, be positive,” Rachel challenges. “C’mon, got any bands you like? Get specific with me!”

Caleb laughs, shaking his head. “You’re really persistent, you know that?”

“This is my weed we’re smoking.”

“Okay, okay.” Caleb leans his head back. “Um, okay, you ever heard of Against Me? They rule. I think they’re coming out with a new album next year, finally.”

“Can’t say I have. You should introduce me,” Rachel says. “Also, pass back.”

“Right, yeah.” Caleb’s head is finally a bit quieter, and it’s easier to relax into this shitty plastic chair. Rachel, admittedly, is helping. As he passes the pipe back to her, she gives him a warm smile.

“You know,” she says, holding the piece in her lap, “I think I could convince the basement crew to let me have a turn at DJing. If you want. I’ve got, like, Blink and Green Day. I don’t know if that’s too pedestrian for you, oh high punk lord, but—”

Caleb laughs. “Pop-punk is fine. Trap just makes me feel depressed, that's all, plus it’s so loud in there and I’m not exactly the dancing type.”

“There’s a table down there. We could set up beer pong.”

“Never played, but sure,” Caleb says. “I thought you said the basement was creepy, though.”

“Oh, it is, but I’m high now, so it’s fine.” Rachel looks up at him, and something in her eyes makes him feel queasy. “You do know I didn’t just come out here to smoke, right?”

“Huh?”

“You were all cute and all alone out here. Now come on.” Rachel leaves the pipe on the table, standing up and stretching. “Or you can stay out here, if you really want, but I think you came here to party.”

“Uh — oh, um, yeah!” Caleb stammers, standing up a little too fast, feeling woozy.

“That’s what I thought.” Rachel winks at him, then leads him back into the house. She grabs his hand to help push through the dancers in the living room, leading him to what he had originally assumed was a hall closet until she opens the door and shows him the stairs.

It is quieter in the basement, though the air’s choked with pot and dust, the cellphone speaker someone brought playing white-boy reggae as Rachel and Caleb descend the stairs. As soon as they enter the floor proper, Justin pokes his head up from over a couch.

“Caleb! Rachel! Dudes!” he shouts, throwing one hand into the air and beckoning them over. “Caleb, man, where’d you go? Totally lost you.”

“I found him smoking alone outside,” Rachel says, putting a hand on her hip. “Dude, Justin, keep better track of your friends.”

“Aah, he’s fine, he does that,” Justin says. “Right, Caleb?”

“Sometimes,” Caleb admits, shifting nervously on his feet. His face is too hot. He clears his throat. “Anyway, Rachel was thinking we’d set up beer pong down here?”

“Shit, yeah,” Justin says, turning back around to the others on the couch, who’re still passing their own pipe back and forth. “C’mon, guys, let’s do something more fun!” he says with a clap as he stands. Rachel squeezes Caleb’s hand, and smiles at him when he looks at her.

Fucking hell.

He wasn’t lying to Rachel, when he said he didn’t want this kind of thing to come up. When he said he knew what he looked like and what he was and that people aren’t, generally, interested, and that’s fine. Usually. So that means this is entirely new territory. Which means he feels like a complete dork.

Luckily, Rachel doesn’t seem to notice or care, as everyone sets about the beer pong project. Somebody has to go up and get the cups and beer, somebody has to find the table leaf, somebody’s gotta find the ping-pong balls. Rachel takes the time to sneakily hook her own phone up to the speaker and change the soundtrack while Caleb is roped into labor.

They play doubles, and Rachel proclaims that she and Caleb are on a team, so they are. They face off against Justin and Trevor first, but as word spreads, other people come down to play, sweaty and jittery from whatever’s going on upstairs. Dana and Juliet make an ass of themselves, too drunk to even get close to their targets (Rachel asks them why they even needed to play, which gets laughed off), and then Courtney and Victoria, who look at the team they’re playing against and curl up their noses.

“What’re you hanging with him for, Rachel?” Victoria asks, sniffing as she steps up to the table.

“‘Cuz he’s the only one here who wanted to do something fun,” Rachel answers with a roll of her eyes.

Caleb sighs. “I don’t need you defending me, Rach, Victoria’s just a bitch.”

“Excuse me?” Victoria asks with a huff. Caleb’s flesh prickles with goosebumps, anger rising beneath his chest. Victoria’s said enough shit to him in the halls that they’ve almost come to blows before, but—

“Ooh, strong words, Caleb,” Rachel says, elbowing him and giving him a meaningful look. “You gonna take that from him, V? ‘Cuz he’s kicked everyone else’s ass.”

“Yeah, Victoria, let’s settle this in the ring,” Caleb says, and gets a smile from Rachel in return.

“Oh, we’ll get you wasted,” Victoria promises, readying her ball, and the game’s on.

They get down to one-and-one, despite Victoria’s constant insistence on re-racks, and Rachel throws the final ball that wins them the game. She whoops in triumph and gives Caleb a double-high five as Victoria poutily takes her final drink, then whips the can across the basement into the recycling like she’s trying to hurt someone. “C’mon, Courtney,” she mutters, grabbing her companion’s wrist and tugging her away. Courtney turns and gives them an apologetic wave as she’s dragged upstairs, which sets Rachel off giggling.

“She’s gonna stew on this for weeks,” Rachel says, leaning against a support pillar. “God, for all the drugs she does you think she’d be less of a tightwad.”

“She’ll get over it,” Caleb says with a shrug. “I’ll watch my back at school, though, never know what kinda shit she’ll pull.”

“You and her got some kinda history?” Rachel prods.

“Nothing as interesting as anything you’re thinking,” Caleb warns, seeing the glint in her eye. “She’s just got a stick up her ass. I’m sure you noticed.”

“Boo, no dirty details,” Rachel sighs, lifting her head to the ceiling in lament. “How’m I ever gonna get all my juicy gossip in hanging around you?”

“You’ll just have to manage, I guess.” Caleb laughs softly at her dramatics, at the way she fixes him with a semi-glare. This night is...turning out all right.

“I’ll go fishing upstairs for a bit,” Rachel tells him, pushing off the pillar. “You coming?”

Caleb looks around, hearing footsteps coming down again — probably more players. “Nah. I can keep doing this a while. Catch you later?”

“Aw, boo,” Rachel says, but she smiles at him anyway. “Don’t get too blasted, all right? I’ll be back down here, promise.”

“Hey, I’m just going with the flow. If you leave and I lose my magic, I’m getting as drunk as the game demands.”

Rachel rolls her eyes, but she leans up and — and kisses him on the cheek. He almost steps back in shock. “All right. I’m leaving my phone for you. Don’t let me forget it.”

“G-got it,” Caleb says, waving her off despite the fact that he feels like he’s about to fall over. “Go ahead, go dance to that crap. You know where I’ll be.”

“Mhm. I better.”

The music stops late, late into the night, and the sudden absence of middle-school jams is the first thing that’s broken through to Caleb’s head in a while. He groans, shifting his weight on the couch, taking in his situation. Justin’s finally passed out from the excessive amount they smoked together, and Caleb’s only not doing the same because Justin’s taken up so much of the damn couch that he can’t lay down. He tries to remember what Rachel said — oh, that’s gotta be it.

He stands up, stretching carefully to get used to moving around again. He thinks he’s mostly just high now, he’d had to lay down after enough rounds of beer pong, especially after he’d gotten worse and worse at it through the night. Now his stomach seems mostly settled — and pretty hungry. Nobody ever brought down snacks to the basement crew. Criminal.

Focus. Rachel needs her phone. He walks over to the end table where she left it, and finds that it’s dead as he assumed. He unplugs it from the speaker and stuffs it into his pocket, heading upstairs to find that the lights are off, sleeping teenagers draped across any vaguely furniture-like surface. He doesn’t spy Rachel among them as he makes his way to the kitchen, finding that there’s still a little left in the bags of chips piled on the kitchen table. As he munches, taking his own phone out to mindlessly browse, he hears stirring somewhere in the living room, and shortly thereafter Trevor plops down at the kitchen table and joins him in quietly eating.

“You see where Rachel went?” Caleb asks after a minute. Trevor squints.

“Uh...hm,” he murmurs, scratching his head. “Think she went upstairs to one of the bedrooms, little before we turned off the tunes. How come?”

“Got her phone,” Caleb answers, taking out the object in question and wiggling it in the air. “Wanted to make sure she got it back.”

“Mm, nice, nice,” Trevor says, nodding slowly. “Uh, yeah, lemme think...Vic took the master, Zach’s in his own...Rachel’s gotta be in Zach’s brother’s. Or maybe the guest. Both of ‘em are at the end of the hall on your right when you go up.”

“Thanks, Tre,” Caleb says, standing up.

“Hey, let me know how it goes, right?”

“How what goes?” Caleb asks.

“C’monnnn,” Trevor slurs, laying back in his seat. “Dude, don’t sabotage yourself, you always talk like nothing could ever happen—”

“Shut up, man, I’m just giving her phone back.”

“All right, all right,” Trevor concedes, raising his hands in surrender. “Fine, don’t do anything, then, faggot.”

Caleb picks up one of the bags from the table and tosses it at his face, leaving him spluttering as he searches for the stairs up. He shakes his head, trying to clear the seed of anger Trevor just decided to plant in his chest. Does he have to talk that way? It’s fucking 2009. Shouldn’t people be over that already?

Once he finds the stairs and heads up, he carefully knocks on the door at the end of the hallway, on the left. Somebody fumbles around in there. “Rachel?” he asks, as quietly as he can while hopefully still being audible through the door.

“No!” two voices shout at once.

All right. “Sorry!” Caleb whispers, backing off the door. Well, process of elimination. He opens the other door and closes it gently behind him, finding himself in what must be the guest room, given the lack of any sign of life in here besides Rachel, curled up under the covers. She stirs as he enters, and rolls onto her back as she opens her eyes.

“Hey,” she murmurs, smiling softly.

“Hey,” Caleb says back, his throat feeling dry. “Brought, uh, brought your phone back.” He waggles the object in question.

“Mm. Thanks.” Rachel sits up and takes it from his hand, stuffing it into her pocket. She holds her gaze steady on his eyes, and he feels almost rooted to the spot.

He clears his throat and looks away. “Anyway, seeya—”

“Hey.” Rachel reaches out and grabs his wrist. “Where are you going?”

Uh. Shit. “I…”

“I’ve got the last bed in the house…” Rachel’s voice sends shivers up Caleb’s spine.

“I — I’ll probably just, stay up for a while,” Caleb says. “I usually can’t sleep at somebody else’s place, anyway.” He turns to go, but Rachel grabs his arm with both hands and yanks, throwing him off his feet and landing him back-first on the bed. He’s immobile, winded, even as Rachel crawls out from under the covers and positions herself over him, hands on his shoulders.

“Hey,” she whispers, rubbing little circles into his chest with her thumbs. “C’mon.”

Caleb swallows. He knows this is supposed to be what he wants. It is what he wants, in a weird way, he can feel it pumping blood through his body, leaving a thin sheen of sweat on his neck. But—

“You’re shaking,” Rachel says, frowning. “Hey, it’s okay, don’t be nervous. If it’s your first time...that’s fine.” She leans down and kisses his neck, making him gasp. “Totally fine,” she murmurs against his skin. One hand starts tracing the outline of his body, moving from his chest down to his hip, and then across to—

He jumps, the force paralyzing his limbs suddenly breaking, and without thinking, without knowing why other than he doesn’t want to be here, he fights to escape. He takes both hands and shoves Rachel off him, so quickly she can’t regain her balance and falls off the bed, landing on her head with a thump. Caleb scrambles off, barely avoiding stepping on her as he throws the door open and heads down the hall, fast as he can go without just breaking into a sprint. His head buzzes, shakes wracking his body, his hands trembling at his sides until he closes them tight in fists.

He pounds down the stairs, finds the door to the backyard and fumbles with the latch, checking behind him to make sure no one’s following, no one has seen. Thankfully, Trevor must’ve fucked off at some point, and he manages to get himself outside into the freezing winter air.

At least now there’s a reason that he’s shaking.

He hugs himself, drawing one hand down his face. He wants to get out of here. He wants to bite his lip ‘till it draws blood. He wants to just throw himself in the empty swimming pool. Why is he like this?

He paces back and forth on the porch, unable to still himself, unable to focus for more than a second. He could just fucking walk home. His phone still has GPS. It can’t be that far back, right? It only took them like twenty to get here. That’s walking distance, sorta. Close enough. Just, anything, to get away from here, to stop thinking about what just happened. But he knows he’s not gonna do that. He’s never been able to do that before.

God, why won’t he stop shaking?

He spots Rachel’s pipe, still out here on the porch, where she left it hours and hours and hours ago. There’s still some left in the bowl. Fuck it.

He plops his ass down into the chair and digs in his jacket for his lighter.

Fuck.

Rachel stole it.

Like she said she would.

Fuck.

He puts his hands over his face and groans. Fucking dumbass. Fucking loser, weirdo, what the fuck? Who does this? Who has a girl on top of him and fucking runs off? He’s supposed to want her there, want her to — to touch —

The door slides open behind him, and he freezes in place. He doesn’t want to turn, see who it is, because it could really only be one person, right? Rachel doesn’t say anything as she pads out, her socks silent on the porch. She circles around where he’s sitting, digging a pack of cigarettes from her back pocket. He looks. He can’t help it. He feels insane.

She lights up, and she’s shaking, too. Probably just the cold. Or something. Fuck. Caleb’s frozen again. He doesn’t know where the hell you go from here. Hopefully, Rachel doesn’t either. That’d be better than...the alternative. Her telling everyone. Victoria and her people having even more ammo against the poorest, saddest fuck in Blackwell Academy. Probably get back to David, eventually, and then who knows what that military Reagan-worshipping motherfucker would say?

Rachel breathes out a long string of smoke before looking over her shoulder at him. “So are you gay or something?”

At least that’s an easy one to counter. “So, what, just because a guy doesn’t want to fuck you it means he’s gay?” Caleb asks, gritting his teeth, trying to get back in control.

“Okay, then what the fuck was that?” Rachel asks, turning around to face him, rubbing the back of her head. “Dude, you look like hell.”

Caleb runs a hand through his hair. He probably does. Probably pale, along with the incessant fucking trembling. “Nice of you to notice,” is what he says, trying to meet her eyes.

“What’s that mean?”

“I was trying to leave.”

“I just thought you were — I don’t know — I thought you were just nervous!” Rachel says, throwing her hands in the air. “You’re a guy. I just — I figured — you’d get over it! Guys usually do!”

Caleb’s fist clenches on the table. What Rachel’s saying is bringing up too much. Too many thoughts that live in the dark of night, when he can’t sleep, lying awake with his mind racing and making no sense. Things he said a long time ago, when he thought he could trust someone, and it turned out he couldn’t.

He breathes out. If he keeps trying to fight her he’s going to say something he shouldn’t. And it’s not her fault, anyway, not entirely, they don’t even fucking know each other.

“Just… leave me alone,” he says after a long minute of silence, putting a hand over his eyes. “Here’s your juicy gossip, okay? Tell everyone in VC about this, go nuts. Get your kicks out of it. I don’t give a fuck anymore. Just go away.”

He hears her suck in another drag on her cigarette. “I’m not like that,” she says quietly.

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m not,” Rachel insists. “I — this — I won’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Sure.”

“I won’t!” Rachel hisses, and Caleb lifts his hand from his eyes. She’s facing him now, shoulders raised in indignance, cigarette burning idly in one hand. “Jesus. I like you. How hard is that for you to get? I didn’t come out here to fuck with you, I just…” She raises her free hand to her forehead and sighs. “I’m sorry, okay?”

Caleb’s eyes widen. “Huh?”

“I’m sorry. I just — I mean…” Rachel waves her arms uselessly around in front of her, as though physically grasping for words. She gives up and sits down, taking another drag off of her cigarette before continuing. “Look, I — you weren’t ready. Right? For...I don’t know, whatever reason you’re not telling me. I shoulda known that. I just...I don’t know.”

Caleb swallows. Okay. This is going somewhere...not terrible. That’s good. “Y-yeah. I’m not. Rachel, no offense, but...did you, like, listen to me at all?”

“Huh?”

“When I said all that stuff out here,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I — I, you know, I’ve never dated anyone before, okay? I haven’t really...wanted to. Been too much shit in my life, and…” He sighs. “I don’t know. Okay?”

Rachel nods. “Okay. Yeah. That’s — that’s okay.” She sucks in a quick drag off her cigarette, breathing it out with a shudder. “Fuck it’s freezing out here.” She clears her throat. “So, um, yeah. What...what do you want from me?”

“Uh, n-nothing?” Caleb tries, shrugging. “I — I’m fine, okay? We don’t have to see each other again or anything.”

“I said I like you, dummy,” Rachel says with a soft smile. “I wanna hang out more, even if...you know. You’re not interested. You still have to introduce me to that band!”

“...oh,” Caleb murmurs, looking down at the floor. “Sorry, guess I just assumed—”

“To be honest, if we’d — I mean — shit,” Rachel says with a breathless laugh at herself. “Look, I actually do wanna, like, be your friend. Most guys I’ve hooked up with, uh...not so much.”

Caleb smirks. “Wham, bam, thank-you...mister? That your usual M.O.?”

“Not on purpose! ...necessarily,” Rachel says, cringing slightly. “Seriously, though. I think you’re cool. When I saw you out here by yourself, I was like...cool, finally I can talk to you. You’re, like, never around.”

Caleb chuckles. “I can only get away from home so much. My stepdad’s a real fucker.”

“And he let you out tonight?”

“No, I just ditched,” Caleb admits. “He had a bug up his ass all day and I couldn’t do a damn thing in my room without him yelling at me for it, so I snuck out the window and asked where Justin was hanging tonight.”

“Pretty badass, Caleb,” Rachel says with a smile. “I can see it now. The punk kid in you. He’s in there, somewhere.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Caleb says, waving her off. “Hey, can I get my lighter back since we’re cool again now?”

Rachel fishes in her jeans and pulls it out, tossing it across the table. She studies him while he lights up his own cigarette. “I’m serious,” she says. “You should dye your hair.”

“He’d lose his shit,” Caleb says, his voice strained before he swallows air again.

“But you have such perfect dying hair. So light and blonde...I’m kinda jealous. I’d have to bleach mine to get anything to stay,” Rachel complains, flipping a lock of said hair behind her back. She clears her throat. “Anyway. Um. You want my number?”

“Oh, uh…” Caleb holds his cigarette between his teeth as he grabs his phone from his jeans. “Yeah, sure. No guarantees I’ll call you or anything.”

“Oh, sure, play the mysterious type,” Rachel says with a roll of her eyes. “If all this is just you playing hard to get…”

“I’m not mysterious!” Caleb insists, holding his phone back. “I’m just a dumbass and I — well, don’t expect me to call you. I’m not good at...you know. Starting stuff.” He cringes, remembers texts drafted but never sent.

“I noticed that,” Rachel says with a quirk of her smile. “C’mon, give it here. I’ll text myself and then when my phone’s charged again I’ll call you, then. Since you’re so fucking complicated and complex.”

“You stop trying to make me a bad boy right now,” Caleb warns, giving his phone over regardless. “I’m not. I’m just an average teenage fuckup, all right?”

“Don’t be afraid to dream big,” Rachel says, her thumbs flying across the surface of Caleb’s phone. “I gotta get a car. Then I can sneak you out places.”

Caleb snorts. “Like where?”

“Portland, duh. I wanna go to concerts there. Nobody here would wanna take me to the shows I wanna see, but I bet you would.”

“Hell, yeah, I’d take any excuse to get out of here,” Caleb says. “That’s — yeah. Good idea.”

Rachel laughs softly to herself. “Dork,” she murmurs, passing the phone back. “Anyway. Wanna kill the rest of this bowl?”

Caleb shrugs. “Might as well.”

“Cool. Hey, one sec, I’m gonna grab that speaker. You can play me some punk.” Caleb nods, taking up the pipe and lighting it as Rachel heads inside. By the time she’s back out, his nerves have calmed a little, and looking at her isn’t so hard. She keeps things light and airy, keeps the talk to just music, and he finds himself grateful that she’s just...okay, with what just happened. That that moment of panic isn’t the start of something worse. Usually, when he gets those kinds of shakes, those — those thoughts he doesn’t name, something bigger has to happen to stop the spiral. He unconsciously smooths his wrists as they finish off their bowl. Nobody’s seen under his jacket in a few months. Better that way.

Once the bowl is well and truly dead, Rachel stands up, stretching with a long yawn. “Okay, I’m heading back to bed,” she says. “You, uh… you wanna come with? I mean, just sleeping. Like...yeah.” She rubs the back of her neck.

“...I’m good out here.” Caleb swallows spit. “I’m just...I don’t sleep well even at my own place, you know? I’ll just wait for Justin to get up. Catch a ride, head home, crash.”

“Okay.” Rachel purses her lips, then walks up to his seat. “Gimme a hug, dude.”

“Oh, all right,” Caleb grumbles, getting to his feet and stepping into her waiting arms. He’s cautious as he hugs her back, as though he might do it wrong. He’s out of practice. She’s...she’s soft. And nice.

She pulls back, looks thoughtful for a moment, then leans up and kisses him on the cheek. She giggles at his blush. “Cutie,” she says, playfully shoving him back. “Don’t be a stranger, ‘kay?”

“No promises.”

“I’m tellin’ you, you can be a bad boy, you’ve got all the pieces,” Rachel says, laughing as she pulls back the sliding door. “Night, Caleb.”

“Night.” The sliding door closes, and Caleb’s left alone, out in the cold. He lights another cigarette, then checks his phone, wondering when it’ll be dawn.

He sees the text Rachel sent herself. “hey its that pretty boy you totally freaked out last night, please bring me out of my shell or ill die. sorry about the concussion also.” He rolls his eyes. He doesn’t have a shell. Rachel’s so full of it. But still…

Pretty. He slumps forward, pushing a hand through his hair. He wishes there was someone he could talk to about...this. Everything that happened tonight. But the guys wouldn’t understand, and the only person who would’ve is gone. Has been for a while. All that’s under her name in his phone is an endless series of unsent drafts, each more embarrassing than the last.

Shit. He hopes Rachel hadn’t looked there.

He opens up the text thread, just because. Because she always comes to mind at times like these, and he always wusses out when it comes to saying anything. Honestly, writing texts to Max at this point is more of a diary than anything else. He knows it’s too late to send anything. And sometimes it helps, just to write things down.

All he manages to tap out is i miss you by the time the sun starts to rise.

Caleb eases the door to the guest room open, as though if it creaks a bomb will go off. He made sure to leave it unlatched when he ‘went to bed’ an hour ago, so now it’s just a tiptoe down the hall to Max’s room. He pushes her door experimentally. Score. She listened.

As he comes in and gently — very gently — latches the door behind him, Max shoots up out of her bed and grins at him. “About time!” she whispers, shoving his shoulder.

“Had to make sure the coast was clear!” Caleb insists, turning around and tackling her into a hug. “Anyway, I’m here now, so let’s finish!”

Max nods, and heads towards the TV at the front of her bed, leaning down to turn on Caleb’s PS2. When she turns on the TV itself, loud static and bright white suddenly fill the room.

“Mute, mute, mute!” Caleb hisses as Max frantically fumbles for the remote. As soon as Max manages to silence the thing, the both of them pause, holding their breath. A door opens in the hallway, and plan B immediately goes into effect, Caleb stuffing himself under Max’s bed and holding a hand over his mouth. Max flips the TV off and crawls back under her covers above him.

Caleb hears the door open. “Max?” It’s Mrs. Caulfield. Caleb relaxes slightly. She’s a little more lenient. Max’s mom and Caleb’s dad, together, make up the easily placated adults, and thank God for that.

“Mhm?”

“I thought I heard a noise in here.”

“Yeah, I accidentally turned the TV on,” Max says. “Sorry if I woke you up.”

“Uh-huh.” Mrs. Caulfield walks around the bed. “So that’s why Caleb’s game is on?”

Crap.

“Uh—”

“Max, I know you want a PS2 too, but you shouldn’t play without him — and you should be in bed, young lady.”

“Sorry, mom.”

“It’s late. No more video games.”

“Okay, mom.”

“Goodnight, Max. Don’t let me catch you again or he can’t bring this over anymore.”

“Okay, mom. Goodnight.” The door closes again, and Caleb waits for Mrs. Caulfield’s feet to retreat back down the hall before emerging and leaping up onto Max’s bed.

“That was awesome, Max!” he whispers, shaking Max back and forth by the shoulders. She giggles quietly.

“I learned from the master,” she says with a guilty grin. “We should wait before we turn it back on, though. She should go back to sleep soon.”

“Yeah, yeah. Hey, scooch over.” Caleb gets himself under the covers too, and Max immediately attaches herself to him, wrapping her arms around him and sighing dreamily. Caleb pokes her in the forehead. “No falling asleep! We’re almost done with the campaign.”

“I know, I know,” Max grumbles.

“So stupid,” Caleb complains. “I wish I was a girl.”

“Huh?” Max draws back, fixing him with an inquisitive look. “How come?”

“‘Cuz then I wouldn’t have to sneak around, duh! So annoying how they’re like, all weird about us ever since middle school started,” Caleb complains. “Plus, boys suck anyway.”

“Boys don’t suck!” Max insists. “You’re a boy!”

“ Well, that sucks too,” Caleb grumbles, heat coming to his cheeks. “I don’t wanna be a boy. It’s...it’s dumb.”

“But if you were a girl we couldn’t get married,” Max points out, sticking her tongue out at him.

“Oh, come on, we totally could,” Caleb says, elbowing her. “We could just move to Massachusetts. It’s legal there.”

“How do you know that?”

“I look stuff up, Max! God.”

Max shifts so she’s sitting up, looking down thoughtfully at him. “Do you really wanna be a girl?”

“I mean...uh...yeah,” Caleb murmurs, looking away from the shine of her eyes. “S-sometimes. Who’d wanna be a boy, anyway?”

“Don’t boys like being boys?”

“I don’t know, Max!” Caleb groans, rolling onto his front and stuffing his face in the pillow. He shouldn’t have said anything. Max is making it weird. “I don’t talk to boys. I talk to you, okay?” he mumbles, his whole face flush, a pit of dread in his stomach.

“Oh.” Max hesitantly reaches out, rubbing his back. “S-sorry.” She lays her head between his shoulders. “It’s okay.”

“ What?”

“You don’t have to be a boy when you talk to me. I like it when that’s...when it’s not something we worry about, you know?” Max says cautiously. “I miss when we were kids. Nobody cared back then.”

“Right?” Caleb sniffs. “Everybody got all weird when we grew up. Stupid.”

Max pauses for a while, then hugs him. “You can play Sun...Sun Shing…”

“Sun Shangxiang?” Caleb asks, turning over.

“Yeah. You can play her when we start again. I know I always hog her since she’s the only girl, but…”

Caleb gets up and hugs her, and she sinks into his arms, smiling against his chest. “Thanks, Max,” he chokes out, feeling weird and stupid and yet, warm, and happy, because Max got it, somehow. “You’re the best. Ever.”

Max doesn’t say anything, but she squeezes him back hard. They wait quietly in the dark together, preparing for their chance to escape back into a simpler world.

Chapter Text

The morning comes into Rachel’s life without permission, the sun glaring through the curtains in the guest bedroom like it has any right. She groans in protest, rolling over in her borrowed bed and stuffing her face into the pillows. Her head’s pounding. She remembers...stuff from last night. Some stuff. Mostly good. Some bad. Pretty okay, all things considered.

A rapid knock at the door jolts her senses and she covers her ears as the pain in her head flares. “Rachel! Cleanup time!” Victoria shouts. Rachel waits. Even harder knocking. “Rachel, get your fat ass out here before I come in there and rip the dick off your little—”

“Okay, Jesus!” Rachel replies at last, throwing the covers off herself and walking up to the door. She pulls it open and crosses her arms. “Just me, okay?”

Victoria’s eyes narrow and she peers around Rachel, her height giving her the advantage. “Hm. Guess he jumped out the window.”

“Fuck off, V,” Rachel says, giving her a smirk she doesn’t entirely mean and blowing a strand of hair out of her face. Victoria glares down at her.

“Come on. We gotta get this place looking halfway decent before we head out. Not that anybody decided to stick around,” Victoria laments. “Justin already bailed.”

“All right, gimme a sec, let me grab my shoes and junk.”

“If you go back to sleep I’m coming back up here with a bucket.”

“Swear I won’t! Just a sec, seriously.”

Victoria puts two fingers to her eyes, points them at Rachel, and then stalks off down the hall, already banging on some other poor bastard’s door. Rachel sighs and closes her door for a moment, unplugging her phone from the charger she stole from downstairs and turning it on properly. The first message on screen is hey its that pretty boy you totally freaked out last night, please bring me out of my shell or ill die. sorry about the concussion also. She smiles, tucking her hair behind her ear. Even though...whatever went on with him last night was a little freaky, she’s glad he let her do this.

He’s been on the periphery since she first got here, lurking at the edges of the skatepark, at the backs of classes. He vanishes when she shows up, usually. That made him interesting. And now he’s more interesting. Maybe she can get more from his friends, now that they’ve seen them together. Or maybe not. Maybe he’s her own little secret. That’d be nice. She adds his contact to her phone.

She heads out to the hallway once she’s gotten her shit together, taking the stairs two at a time to get to the first floor and survey the damage. Victoria’s right — at least half the guests are long gone already, but their mess remains, and it’s up to the remaining Vortex Club juniors to get the trash bags and set about making the place presentable. Victoria hands her one, once Rachel finds her, and as Rachel moves through the house, she spots a few other people doing the same thing. When she reaches the kitchen, she finds Trevor in there, uncharacteristically responsible, wiping down the table and clearing the crumbs into his own bag.

“Anything you need help with in here?” she asks, and he looks up from his task. His eyes light up when he sees her.

“No, no, I’m good. Hey, where’s Caleb at?” he asks.

Fuck.

Rachel lets that moment of shock pass through her, shrugging nonchalantly. “Haven’t seen him this morning.”

“But he saw you last night.” For fuck’s sake.

“Uh, yeah, we set up the beer pong together. That’s not, like, news.” Rachel narrows her eyes at him.

“But he went up to your room. I know he did, I told him where you were.”

Rachel freezes. He didn’t want her to tell anyone. She doesn’t want to tell anyone. But what does ‘telling’ even entail, here? The rumor’s already spinning up, clearly. Wouldn’t it be better if people just thought…?

“A lady doesn’t kiss and tell, Tre,” she says after a moment of pause, winking at him. That’ll do. Trevor snorts.

“All right, all right, just wanted to congratulate him if he was still around. Where’d he go?”

“I’m not tell-ing,” Rachel singsongs over her shoulder as she leaves the kitchen. She hopes that’s good enough, as she works to set this trashed place back in order. Hopefully, it’ll all just blow over.

Sunday ends up being too busy, and Rachel ends up being too hungover, to send Caleb any texts that day. She checks her phone Monday morning, and finds that he’d been telling the truth — he hasn’t sent anything to her, either, not even some kind of acknowledgement or a joke or anything. Well, that’s fine. Rachel’s got his number now, literally, and she’ll do what she implied in that little text. That shell’s due to be cracked.

Her first class of the day is science, and it’s halfway through the lecture that her phone buzzes in her pocket. She ignores the first text, figuring it’s probably somebody else who’s not paying attention and bored in class. The second and third worry her, but Miss Grant’s glaring daggers at her, so Rachel smiles back and doesn’t touch her pocket until the bell rings and she’s out in the hall.

Prettyboy: what the fuck did you tell people

Prettyboy: answer me

Prettyboy: fine. ill come find you.

And just as Rachel looks up, here’s Caleb stalking down the hall towards her, shoving aside some poor freshman who gets in his way. Rachel’s throat goes dry, looking at his face, scrunched up in anger and — and with a fresh black eye.

“Caleb—” Rachel begins as he stops in front of her.

“What the fuck did you say?” he hisses under his breath, sweeping his head back and forth, scanning the halls.

“Nothing—”

“Bullshit,” Caleb interrupts, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “The second I got in today, everyone’s all — look, enough people laugh at you behind your back, you know when it’s happening again. So what did you say?”

“I — I didn’t — “

“Ooh, Caleb, you better back off,” Victoria calls from behind him, and he turns on his heels and glares her down. “Otherwise she might fuck your face up again!”

“Fuck you!” he shouts, stomping over to her.

“Not in a million years, Price,” Victoria replies smoothly, putting a hand on her hip. “Clearly nobody’s gonna, if even Rachel—”

“What’s going on here?”

Everyone in the hall turns to see Principal Wells, standing at the end, his hands clasped behind his back. Caleb hurriedly backs off of Victoria, brushing more hair over his face. Wells walks up in silence, everyone else apparently having cleared out, his leather shoes squeaking on the tile. “Mr. Price?” he asks, looking him up and down. “Is there something I should be concerned about?”

“No.” Caleb grits his teeth. “It’s nothing.”

“That black eye — that’s not something I’ll hear about later, is it? You didn’t get in a fight with another student?”

“Just fell off my board,” Caleb mutters. “No big deal.”

“Well, if Mr. Madsen hears anything differently, you’ll be seeing me again today, I’d suspect.” Wells looks back and forth to the two girls. “He isn’t bothering either of you, is he?”

“No,” Victoria replies quickly. “We were just talking.”

“Swearing is what I heard. You all had best keep a civil tongue in your mouths. I’ll let you all head back to your classes — this time. Stay out of trouble, Mr. Price.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Caleb grumbles as Wells turns away. He shoots a hateful glare at Rachel before heading back to his own classes, and Rachel lets out a sigh of relief. She thinks she knows what happened. Hopefully, after school, she can tell Caleb. And maybe, hopefully, he won’t freak out.

As she heads to her next class, she texts Caleb again.

Me: i swear its not what you think

Me: meet me after school out by the totem thing i can explain everything

Prettyboy: fine.

That’s all she gets for the rest of the day.

Rachel waits by the Tobanga behind the girls’ dorms for what feels like an hour, leaning against it and just barely resisting the urge to smoke. She’s normally not that stupid, but her nerves rattle as she considers just how badly she might’ve fucked up, here. She doesn’t need a reputation for beating guys up and Caleb doesn’t deserve to be known as the dude who got whupped by some girl. Why’d this all get so complicated? Guys are supposed to be easy.

She’s about to text him again when she finally spots him, coming around the corner with that creepy security guy on his ass. The security guy grabs him by the shoulder and spins him around, and Caleb flinches, their conversation inaudible from here. Rachel squints, like that’ll make her hearing any better, but eventually Caleb throws the guy’s hand off his shoulder and storms off, shoulders squared, hands in his pockets. The guard keeps staring after him for a second, but when he spots Rachel watching, he quickly turns on his heel like a soldier on parade and marches in the other direction.

“What was that about?” Rachel asks as Caleb comes up to her, still scowling.

“None of your fuckin’ business,” Caleb snaps. “What do you want?”

“Look, Caleb, I swear, I didn’t — I did not spread any kind of rumor that I beat you up or something, okay?” Rachel swallows. “I think I know what happened.”

“Yeah. And?”

“Um…” Rachel runs a hand through her hair. “The morning after — after the party at Zach’s, I was cleaning up and I ran into Trevor. He said he helped you find my room. He was acting like something happened and I — I didn’t know what to say.”

“Of fuckin’ course,” Caleb curses, rolling his eyes. “Fucking asshole. What did you end up saying?”

“I said...uh…” Rachel thinks back to that morning and cringes at the way this is about to come out. “I said...a lady doesn’t kiss and tell?”

Caleb, to her surprise, laughs. “Oh my God. That was your best?”

“Shut up, it was a lot of pressure!”

Caleb sighs, rubbing his forehead. “Christ alive. That’s really all you said?”

“I swear to God, Caleb, really. I was trying to — you know. Not spread your business around.”

“You don’t know my business,” he points out, though his posture’s relaxed and his tone has softened. Good.

“Yeah, I don’t,” Rachel agrees, looking at his face again, that ugly purple bruise on his eye. “So...then you showed up looking beat up, and I guess people just...put it together. What happened?”

Caleb’s eyes drop to the ground. “Fell on my board. Like I said.”

“Well, okay, what are we gonna say to people, then?”

“Fuckin’ nothing,” Caleb grunts. “Not their business.”

“Look, you want this to go away, right? When’d you get that… you know, the eye?”

“Sunday. After Justin drove me home,” Caleb answers.

“Mm. Okay. So we have a witness that you weren’t looking fucked up in the morning,” Rachel points out. “Then that skateboarding screwup story can actually work. Anyone see you around yesterday?”

Caleb shakes his head. “No. I was home. Didn’t talk to anybody.”

“Okay, then that’s easy. You were out on the backwood roads and some shithead driver ran you off the road and into a tree, then you went home. You were a perfect gentleman that night and all you really did was give me my phone back.”

Caleb looks back up at her, pushing his hair over his ear and laughing softly. “Rachel, I feel like we’re hatching a scheme here or something.”

“Well, that’s me, local supervillain. Think you can stick to that story? ‘Cuz that’s what I’ll be telling next time people bring it up.”

“I — yeah. Okay.” He’s blushing. He really has no idea how cute he is. Even if half his face is swollen from mystery injury. Maybe he’s in a fight club. “Thanks, Rachel. I mean, really. You don’t have to do this for me.”

“What, like I wanna be known as the chick who’ll claw your face in a hookup?” Rachel asks, rolling her eyes. “This is for both of us. We’re managing the damage.”

“All right, all right, you convinced me.” He smiles at her, strained under the damage, but still nice to see. “I, uh — thanks anyway. I’ll see you around.” He turns to go, and Rachel snatches his wrist before he does.

“Hey, c’mon,” she urges. “Let’s get out of here.”

“To where?” Caleb asks, fresh blush breaking out on his cheeks. “It’s Arcadia Bay. There’s nothing to do here. Besides, my stepdad gets off in an hour and—”

“Oh, I don’t give a fuck when he jizzes!” Rachel groans, and Caleb laughs, so, score. “C’mon, I’m new here! Show me somewhere cool. Somewhere you probably think is lame by now.”

“Rachel. I get what you’re going for, but there is nothing cool around here,” Caleb says, tugging his hand away and finding that Rachel’s only tightened her grip. “Look, I’m just gonna grab my board and — “

“Teach me to skate.”

“Huh?”

“I said, teach me to skate. C’mon, we got an hour, let’s hit the park and see how much you can manage.” Rachel keeps her eye contact steady, no blinking, no nothing. He’ll break.

“I — well, fine,” he says at last. “Let’s go, if we’re going. Left mine in the racks at the front.”

Rachel gives him a smile, and follows behind him. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

She hopes she does, at least.

She doesn’t need to tell him that she learned to skate in California, long before she ever took a plane to Oregon. She doesn’t need to tell him that her own board is malingering in the closet back home, abandoned for being too hard to pack on that first trip. Instead, she can stand here and enjoy the process.

“You got it,” he says as she balances on his board at the edge of the park. She wobbles herself carefully. “Come on, you got it, I can tell you’re not nervous. Just hold steady.”

“How do you know I’m not nervous?” she asks, sticking her tongue out at him.

“Because I’ve seen you nervous, Rachel, and when you’re nervous you get weird and homophobic.”

“I do not!” Rachel exclaims, cheeks lighting up. Not fair. She’s supposed to do that at him.

“Mhm. So what was with that weird line of questioning, then?” Caleb asks, eyes shining as he leans over to observe her stance with a hand on his hip. He’s got a disarming kind of smirk. Asshole.

“I was genuinely wondering!”

“Sure. Come on, push off, I know you come around here. You’ve seen how to do it.”

“Can you — I feel like I’m not standing on this right.” Rachel steps off for a second, sitting on the bench beside their starting point. “Show me?”

“Uh, sure,” he says with a chuckle, stepping up to her position and getting on his board, assuming a casual, relaxed pose. He’s steady. “See?”

“No, I mean…” Rachel grunts in irritation, shoving him off and taking his place. “Like this,” she says softly, taking his hand and placing it on her waist.

“Uh.” Caleb swallows, and the ball’s back in Rachel’s court. “So, like…” He adjusts her position with sweaty, shaky hands. Rachel hums to herself, feeling that little spark of warmth in her stomach to offset the brisk winter air. Yeah. This’ll work. “Like that.”

“All right,” she says, giving him a smile. “Let’s see how I do.” She pushes off and flies down into the bowl. That weightless feeling, that she’s almost forgotten here over these long, dull months in the Bay, returns at last, and she finds herself unable to stop. With the wind rushing through her hair and the board in control under her feet, she can’t help it. She shows off. Every little trick she can remember from back home, picking up speed as she skates across the bowl, it all comes back easy. Justin and Trevor, taking a break and smoking across the way from where she started, look up and whoop as she gets her first airtime in months, coming back down smoothly and speeding back towards Caleb, who’s got a shit-eating grin on his face.

As she flies up to meet him again, she pops up and 50/50s her way to the end of the bench next to him, landing sweaty and triumphant. He shakes his head.

“You goddamn liar,” he accuses. “You know we could’ve gotten here a lot faster if you just told me you could skate?”

“Oh, no, I had to put a cute boy’s hands on my waist. How terrible for me,” Rachel says, grinning at him. “My board’s back at home — California? So I couldn’t exactly grab it. How else was I gonna steal yours?”

“You ever heard of asking for things, Rachel?” Caleb says with a dramatic sigh.

“Yeah, I heard about asking for forgiveness and not permission,” Rachel says smoothly, popping his board up into her hands and giving it over to him.

“Coulda guessed that.” Caleb laughs, then pulls out his phone and frowns at it. “Shit, I really gotta get going. Buy your damn self a board next time.”

“We’ll see,” Rachel says, giving him a smile. “Text you later?”

“If you want,” Caleb says with a noncommittal shrug, setting his board on the ground and getting on. “Not gonna be much else to do, but — well. You know. Parents.”

“It’s not even late,” Rachel complains, stepping up to him. “Bullshit that they want you home already.”

Caleb sighs. “Yeah, well, you know. Could be getting in trouble out here with strange girls.” He gives her a slight smile. “Seeya around, ‘kay?”

Rachel leans up on her tiptoes and kisses his cheek. Someday, he’ll get it. He winces and pulls back, rubbing his face. “Still tender,” he objects, though he’s blushing again.

“Catch you later, Caleb.”

He pushes off, speeding down the sidewalk until he hits the road, and Rachel makes her way over to the stoner’s circle across the park. As she sits down in the grass, Trevor passes her his pipe, and she gets to take a hit before anyone even says anything, so that’s nice. But somebody does have to say something eventually, and it’s Trevor.

“So are you and Caleb, like, cool now?” he prods as she passes the pipe over to Justin.

“We were never un-cool,” Rachel says with a roll of her eyes. Time to tell the story they stitched together.

“So — wait, then how —”

“Some asshole drove him off the road when he was boarding,” Rachel replies. “Way after he came to my room — and all he did was give my phone back, you ass.”

Justin nods. “Yeah, he didn’t have that black eye when I took him home, Tre, swear.”

“Oh. Huh.” Trevor sighs. “Well then why’d you say that shit about kissing and telling, Rach?”

“Cuz it was none of your business!” Rachel insists. “God. He literally just came up and gave me my phone, and we went out and talked for a while before I went back to bed. That’s it.”

Trevor snorts. “Hmph. Okay. That tracks more than the other idea, really.”

“And what’s that mean?” Rachel asks. Justin’s eyes are wide, but he’s just sucking on the pipe as hard as he can, as if to avoid this conversation entirely.

“He’s always like that with chicks, is all,” Trevor says with a shrug. “He doesn’t have the balls to make a move.”

“Or maybe he’s just nice, Tre,” Rachel says, glowering at him.

“Maybe he’s nice to you,” Trevor says with a laugh. “You haven’t seen the guy on his bad days. I swear he got in like, five fights last year.”

“Those guys had it coming, though,” Justin points out. “Brayden sure got a lot quieter around him once he got his ass kicked.” The name’s familiar. Brayden. Rich kid. On the football team, but not in the VC. Rachel’s bought a bit from him before — Victoria pointed her his way.

Rachel files that little bit of information away. “So Caleb won the fight?” Rachel asks cautiously as Justin passes back to Trevor.

“Kind of? Caleb was the one who got busted for it, though,” Trevor says. “It was total bullshit, but...well, Brayden had marks and Caleb didn’t. You know how it goes.”

So that’s why the principal was up his ass, Rachel notes in her head. Okay. Picture’s getting clearer. He may be on the periphery, but Caleb’s a local. He’s a part of this place as much as any of the other people Rachel’s met and known. Best to have all the cards in her hand as she tries to navigate...this. Whatever she and Caleb are doing.

“Hey, Rach,” Trevor says, holding the pipe out to Rachel, and she shakes her head.

“Oh. Yeah, sorry,” she murmurs, taking the piece.

“No, I mean — yeah, take the pipe, but...don’t break his heart, okay?”

“Who said I was breaking anyone’s heart?” Rachel asks, putting a hand on her chest in mock-offense.

Justin snorts involuntarily, and Rachel glares at him. She knows the reputation she has. She also knows it’s exaggerated, but that’s not something you can really defend yourself on directly, just makes you look more guilty.

“I’m serious!” Trevor insists. “I give him shit, but he’s a good guy, and he’s had it rough. Whatever happened to his face — “

“I said he fell!”

“Whatever happened to his face,” Trevor continues with a smirk, “I bet the other guy got worse. Hope he did, anyway. That’d be what they deserve.”

“All right, all right, I promise not to break Caleb,” Rachel says, holding her free hand up as a pledge. There’s one easy way to get them to drop this. “Can I smoke this weed now or are you gonna get all gay again?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Trevor says with a laugh, and Justin shakes his head. With a pang, Rachel remembers what Caleb said about what she gets like when she’s nervous but — but this is for him, anyway. He’d get it.

“Just saying, you don’t want me to break his heart, you gotta get there first,” Rachel says with a shrug, finally taking her hit, and Trevor hits her on the shoulder, but the subject is indeed dropped, and Rachel can relax.

She texts him once she’s back in her dorm room and happily, lazily high. She dangles her feet off the edge of her bed and thinks to herself about how to start talking to him again. She won’t let him just slip away like he’s clearly trying to. Shell, meet hammer.

Best to start small. No need to get too deep, too fast.

Me: everything go okay at home? hope u didnt get busted

Prettyboy: i was a few minutes late but stepass let me off for some reason

Prettyboy: not that im complaining. just wanted to lay down and ice my face

Me: hes normally on ur ass for being 5 min late?

Prettyboy: dude hes on my ass for literally everything. idk what gets him so pissy

Me: man do you have to stay with that prick?

Prettyboy: i mean he married my mom and im not exactly swimmin in cash for an emancipation so yeah?

Me: what about ur real dad? cant u hang w him?

There’s a long pause in the conversation, just enough for Rachel to feel something dropping in the pit of her stomach. Shit. Shit. He’s gonna say—

Prettyboy: dead

Fuck! Rachel sits up on her bed and clutches at her hair. Dumbass. You should know better than this. You’re smarter than this. Why does she always feel so transparent with him?

Me: shit im really sorry i just assumed

Prettyboy: its fine

Prettyboy: tbh surprised you didnt already know

Prettyboy: every1 else does

Me: we dont have to talk about that. totally my bad

Prettyboy: its ok

Prettyboy: but thx

Me: so anything ur planning to do now?

Prettyboy: sleep

Me: cmon u gotta do somethin after school

Prettyboy: sleep

Me: not even any homework. juvenile delinquent

Prettyboy: sleep

Prettyboy: also nice vocab nerd

Prettyboy: any other fancy words u wanna accuse me of being

Rachel finds herself smiling at her phone. She wasn’t lying when she said he was funny. Even funnier when she flusters him.

Me: how about gorgeous

Prettyboy: thats not an accusation thats just a lie

Me: this is what happens when u try to give a guy a compliment

Prettyboy: i kno u just like fuckin with me so i have to fight back. rules of war

Me: i swear to god caleb price im gonna force u to like yourself one day

Prettyboy: i think god smites ppl for making false vows

Prettyboy: u better take that back

Prettyboy: dont wanna get smited after all

Me: your impossible

Prettyboy: now u sound like the guidance counselor

Rachel giggles to herself when a knock suddenly comes at her door. She stuffs the phone into her pocket and yells out, “Come in!”

Victoria pulls the door open and closes it behind her, standing above Rachel and folding her arms. “We’re outta weed in my room. You holding?”

“Oh, somewhere in here,” Rachel sighs, getting to her feet and stretching. “Should we be smoking in the dorms, though? Isn’t that creepy guard still out there?”

“Nah, he gets off like an hour after school ends on weekdays,” Victoria says, rolling her eyes. “Jeez, Rachel, pay attention or you’re never gonna be able to get away with shit.”

“I just smoke off-campus,” Rachel says with a shrug. “Easier not to get caught that way.”

“Yeah, well, it’s cold as shit right now, so, no. You holding or not?”

“Lemme check.” Rachel searches her desk briefly before coming out with a prescription bottle she stuffed a few nugs in. “Here, pay me back later,” she says, handing it over to Victoria’s waiting hand.

“You aren’t coming?”

“Well, I should get my homework—”

“Bring it, we can copy Courtney’s answers,” Victoria insists, grabbing Rachel’s backpack from her chair and shoving it into her chest. “Come on.”

Rachel clamps her mouth shut, shouldering her backpack and following behind Victoria with pursed lips. Why this is happening, she’s not sure, but she’s already a bit on the edge with Victoria and her people. Frenemies can turn into actual enemies really quick. She has to tread lightly, here.

When they get into Victoria’s room, Rachel spies Courtney and Nathan as Victoria’s apparent guests for the evening. Nathan sits on her couch, holding a bong in his hands, while Courtney furiously scribbles away at Victoria’s desk. Rachel takes a seat on Victoria’s bed as Victoria posts up beside Nathan, passing him Rachel’s bottle. She shifts uncomfortably. She really does need to study, and the last thing she wants is to get caught cheating off someone else. She’d better find a way out of this, quick.

Her phone buzzes in her pocket, and she resists the urge to take it out, but Nathan looks up anyway with a strange smile on his face. “What, that your boy-toy?” he asks.

“Yeah, people said you were hanging with Price again today,” Victoria says, and, ah. Great. This is gonna be a whole thing.

“Yeah, so?” Rachel grumbles, looking away. “I borrowed his board. I haven’t gotten to skate in forever.”

“Been hearing way too much about that kid lately,” Nathan mutters. “Kind of sick of it.”

“Well, then, try staying out of his business, Nathan,” Rachel sighs. “Did Britney put you up to this, or is this just lower classman drama?”

Victoria snorts. “Brit’s barely heard of him. Better it stays that way. You’re still new here, you know,” she says, narrowing her eyes. “You fucking around with Price—”

“Oh, my god, what did he even do?” Rachel groans. “He’s just — “

“Yeah, that’s it, he’s just, Rachel,” Victoria hisses. “He’s nobody. Nothing. You better not be bringing him anywhere near us.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna be a problem,” Rachel shoots back. “He hates you guys just as much as you hate him. It’s not like I invited him to Zach’s place.”

“Him showing up at a party with Justin and being mostly chill is one thing. All the BS you pulled with him is another,” Victoria says. “He’s been a problem before. His shit with Brayden got Bray kicked out of the Club last year.”

“Oh, really?” Rachel asks innocently. “What shit was that?”

Courtney giggles slightly over her work, and all eyes turn to her. “What?” she asks. “You mean Rachel doesn’t know that he kicked your buddy up and down—”

“Shut up, Courtney!” Nathan shouts, alongside Victoria’s simultaneous “Shut the fuck up!” which sends her head back down to her work real quick. Rachel raises an eyebrow.

“Look, Bray told me he was just messing with him,” Nathan says, idly moving the bong back and forth on his knee. “Caleb’s the one who got all aggro.”

“Not what I heard,” Courtney mumbles.

“Courtney, swear to God—” Victoria begins.

“Didn’t he say something about his dad?” Courtney asks, turning around in her chair. “C’mon, guys, at least be fucking honest with her about what the beef is or she’ll just think you’re being drama whores.”

That silences Nathan, momentarily, and Victoria scowls, but she seems to consider the point. “Look,” she says, slowly. “People like you. I get that. And because Britney doesn’t give a shit about freshman drama, I’m not actually gonna be bringing this to her. This is a friendly warning, Rachel. You wanna stay in VC, you don’t fuck with losers like Caleb. Getting caught doing shit makes everyone look bad and that guy’s got no subtlety.”

“I can handle myself, V,” Rachel sighs. “But, fine, I’m actively trying to not make it a big thing, okay? All that shit that got spread around is just rumors, which I’m trying to get rid of. You know that. We’re just hanging out. No big deal.”

“Fine,” Victoria mutters. “Nathan, you gonna light that thing or what?”

Nathan breaks off his unnerving glare at Rachel to do just that, and Rachel sighs. “So did you want anything else, or should I go?”

Nathan releases a stream of smoke into the air, looking Rachel up and down. “Nah, it’s cool,” he says, a smile poking at the corners of his mouth. “Stay here, maybe we can all chill out.” Victoria elbows him in a way she probably thinks is subtle, and he shoves her right back. Rachel feels douche-chills run down her spine, but suppresses the urge to actually shudder.

“All right, cool,” she murmurs, taking off her backpack and digging into it for her notebook. Smart to bring up Britney, she thinks. She’s only met the VC president a few times, when she was first being considered for the VC, and she seemed mostly bored with the process of inducting freshmen. Rachel supposes that once you’re in Blackwell’s extended senior year program, freshmen feel like children. Victoria and her crew are much more directly above Rachel, but that’s just money, and you can work around money if you know what you’re doing.

Good to know. Rachel can swing this. If she angles herself just right, she might be able to become Victoria’s equal instead, and then they can both be largely ignored by the powers-that-be around here until next year, when everything’s going to shift again. And that...well, Rachel will cross that bridge when she comes to it. Now, it’s time to tread water. Her thing with Caleb can be on the down-low.

It seems like he’d prefer it that way, anyway.

Rachel eventually leaves Victoria’s room stone-cold sober, done with her homework, and with more missed texts in her pocket. She knew she couldn’t bring out her phone with everyone else watching, always with the possibility one of them would take her phone and start reading shit aloud they had no right to, but she does feel a twinge of guilt once she’s back in her room and can look again.

Prettyboy: what did i get too serious or smthn

Prettyboy: so much for making me like myself

Prettyboy: you give up on shit quick huh?

Me: sorry sorry sorry

Me: vic ambushed me and got all weird at me about the stupid rumor n i couldnt get out

Me: nathan was with her too

Prettyboy: lol

Prettyboy: nathans a bitchboy

Me: im aware

Prettyboy: good instincts

Prettyboy: you must rly be in the vc huh

Prettyboy: my condolences

Me: ill be runnin this shit by the end of junior year. then no one can bitch at me abt what prettyboys i may or may not totally fail to seduce

Prettyboy: give urself some credit u only like 50% failed

Rachel raises her eyebrows at her phone. That may be the first time he’s actually admitted to any kind of interest, even if it’s been obvious enough so far. Progress.

Me: o rly

Prettyboy: tbh same tactics will probs work next time u just got the wrong target

Dammit.

Me: well see well see <3

Prettyboy: emoji. gross

Me: that barely counts as emoji!

Prettyboy: still gross. ew. dont let ur cool friends see that

Me: stays btwn us. x my <3 and hope 2 x.x

Prettyboy: ur obnoxious u know

Me: i kno <3

Prettyboy: u kno how i said my plans were sleep? plans got bumped up on acct of this

Prettyboy: also bc i legit cant be makin noise rn & despite everythin u r making me laugh

Rachel flushes, playing idly with her hair. Best not to show it. He does well enough at catching her off-guard in person.

Me: stepass mad again? its only like 11

Prettyboy: early to bed early to rise, dipshits say to normal guys

Me: ooh, ur a poet too

Prettyboy: not a sensitive badboy! normal fuckup! fuck off! goodnight!

Rachel sighs, nestling herself into her pillows. Well. She’ll figure out some way to hang out with him again. Maybe she can make a habit of borrowing the board.

Me: all right all right your totally uninteresting. i dont LIKE you or anything.

Prettyboy: thats right

Me: goodnight, caleb. sleep on ur back

Prettyboy: night

Rachel rolls over and buries her head in her pillows, sighing. She should sleep too, honestly. Still a whole week to go. But it feels weird that it’s Caleb deciding when the conversation stops. She wishes they could just keep talking. Something about him is just...different. Must be whatever the VC kids hate about him.

Suddenly, her phone buzzes again.

Prettyboy: hey not to get sappy or anything but thanks

Prettyboy: for talking and being nice about my weird shit

Prettyboy: i didnt expect it

Prettyboy: okay NOW done talking and totally sleeping

Me: anytime C

Prettyboy: o shes bringing out the nicknames. im doomed now

Rachel smiles to herself, feeling...wicked. Strong. Good.

Me: you have no idea what your in for

Prettyboy: promise?

Me: good NIGHT. dont get in trouble cuzza me! if ur gonna do that it should be for something cooler

Prettyboy: well find some legit way to get busted. then u can see what my life is like

Prettyboy: okay gn for real im literally turning my phone off im being a dork.

Me: yes u r. dont ever change

Rachel waits for a few more minutes, but it seems his last text was actually honest. She gets up and turns off the light, moving over to her laptop to start up some music to go to sleep to.

She already grabbed the album he suggested that night, that she half-listened to while mostly just listening to him. It’s loud, and it’s angry, and it’s honest, and she listens to every word carefully, searching for secrets.

Chapter Text

Caleb’s okay in the morning, until he touches his face.

The first thing he does after silencing his phone’s alarm is look at the last message Rachel sent. yes u r. dont ever change. It’s dumb. It’s cheesy. But he’s not sure he’s even heard that sentiment, let alone the actual words, in over a year. Most people want him to change, including him. It makes him smile like the dork he said he was as he goes through their conversation from the night before. He sits up on his bed, reading back until he reaches the word dead.

He swallows, sets the phone on his nightstand. He rubs his face, absently, and even that light pressure sends a spike of pain through his nerves as he touches his black eye. Worse, he needs to shave, fingers brushing over what feel like thick, irritable wires on his jaw.

He gets up, gathering clothes from the floor to take into the bathroom with him. Last thing he needs is running into Mom or David with just a towel on. Preferably, he’ll get out without seeing them at all. Usually they wake up later than he does. He listens at the door for a moment before he heads into the hall, and the house is blissfully silent. Once he’s in the bathroom, he dumps the clothes on the floor next to the door, stripping off the long-sleeve shirt he’d worn to bed. Once it’s over his head, the mirror confronts him.

The bruising’s fading. A bit. It’s lighter, at least. But he’s still fuck-ugly. He looks down at the sink instead, finds the cream and the razor, starts applying without looking at himself. His hands shake, and he squeezes the razor tight for a moment, trying to block out Sunday morning and focus.

But it’s not working, so he decides, fuck it, starts shaving anyway, and within ten seconds he hisses in pain as he nicks his chin. “Fuck,” he whispers, looking back to the mirror. The blood trickling down his neck confronts him. Bright red against smeared white. He’s still shaking. The sting sharpens his senses, too much. He lowers the razor to the sink, wipes half-heartedly at the cut, coming away with red on his fingers.

He doesn’t shake, when he lowers the razor to his wrist. He holds it there, firmly, and swipes it to the side. It barely hurts. Another rung added to the ladder on his skin. A second. A third.

He sets the razor down.

Can’t bleed everywhere.

He digs in the cupboard under the sink, comes back up with gauze and tape, wraps his wrist and secures it. It’s starting to become routine, now. He finishes shaving, holds a finger to the nick on his chin until the blood stops. He throws yesterday’s shirt back on, tugs the sleeves down as far as they can go. Wets a tissue slightly and mops up spare spots of red on the countertop. Gathers the unused second set of clothes. He’s done seeing himself. He dumps the clothes back in his room, stands at the threshold for a moment. Maybe still enough time for breakfast, if he’s fast. A quick bowl of cereal, and he can hop on his board, hang out around campus for a minute before classes start. Easy.

He steps out of his room, and smells something from downstairs. Hears something. Bubbling butter, maybe. God dammit.

“Caleb, breakfast!” Mom calls. Chills strike his spine. I don’t agree with it, but you pushed him. It’s on both of you. He knows he went too far.

He can’t see her right now.

He ducks back into his room, grabs his jacket and backpack, opens the window and climbs out onto the roof. He drops down at the front of the house, and — and fuck.

The garage door is open, and David’s bent over the junker car he’s been restoring since he moved in. Right next to Caleb’s board, leaning against the inside door.

Options are limited.

Caleb moves as quickly as he can, but his footsteps still alert his stepfather. He looks up from his tinkering before Caleb’s past him.

“Caleb!” he says with a faux-cheer that sets Caleb’s teeth on edge. “Hey, I was thinking I’d take you to—”

Caleb shoulders past him and picks up his board.

“Hey!” David grunts, his voice dropping as he steps directly in Caleb’s way. “Look at me when I’m—”

Caleb turns his body sideways and slides past him, only to be caught by the shoulder. “Caleb, stop—”

“Or what?” Caleb snaps, pivoting to face him, heart pounding in his chest, lungs tightening. “You gonna hit me again?”

“Caleb—”

“No? Okay. Bye.” He tugs himself free and sets his board down.

“Wait, you haven’t even — your mother’s —”

Caleb hops on, pushes off, glides out onto the driveway. He can hear David rushing to catch him, so he leans down further and picks up as much speed as possible as he hits the street.

David doesn’t manage to get anything else out before he’s drowned out by the sound of Caleb’s wheels.

It takes Caleb the whole ride to Blackwell before he can breathe again.

Tuesday’s not as bad as Monday. No more weird, furtive glances from his classmates, no whispers behind his back. It’s still bad, though, because he can barely pay attention. Can barely think. His head’s full of static and lectures can’t overpower the noise. Worksheets and textbooks turn into word searches, useless jumbles of black on white.

He skipped lunch yesterday. Too pissed at Rachel, too pissed at everyone. He considers going today as he files out of his class, last one out into the hall. But as he heads to his locker, like he’s on a programmed path, he thinks about what he and Rachel did yesterday, making up that story, and he’s too blurred to remember the details. He’d fuck it up, and the rumors would get annoying again, and David watches the cafeteria during lunch, anyway, so he might get drawn into another half-assed attempt at apology.

Fuck it. Cigarettes can count as lunch.

He gets out of the main building, sneaks out to the wooded area behind the girls dorms, beyond the Tobanga. He goes far enough in that, hopefully, nobody’s gonna be able to see him. Not that anyone gives a damn about busting smokers if they’re not being too blatant about it, and sometimes not even then. Kids like Prescott get a warning. Kids like Caleb don’t.

He sits down against a tree, digging in his jacket for his pack, his lighter. He manages one drag before his phone chimes.

Rachel: yo where u at

Caleb blinks. He assumed she’d be with the VC kids. Weird.

He’s not sure how to describe where he is, and he’s not sure he wants Rachel here anyway, but he knows any attempt to throw her off directly will result in more of those cheesy affirmations.

Me: i thot u liked solving mysteries

Me: u wanna find me? put some work in

Rachel: ur a jerk! just tell me!

Me: not far. seek the scent of the loser and u will find him

Rachel: u want chips? just stole em off nates plate

Me: mayb

Rachel: then i gotta kno where u r

Me: eeeeh

Rachel: omg. hate u

Me: now ur starting to get it

Rachel: waitafuckin minute i kno where u r. b right there

Caleb raises his eyebrows, sucking in smoke. Well. He’ll see if she gets the right place or if she’s just overconfident.

A few minutes later, he does hear someone stomping through the undergrowth, and then Rachel sits down beside him with a flump. “Found you,” she says, sticking her tongue out at him.

“How’d you know?” Caleb asks, smiling despite himself. She looks good today, a thick red hoodie wrapped around her chest, hair up in a ponytail. And it’s weird, but someone making an effort is...nice.

“You’re a smoker. Most kids do the bathroom thing in winter, but you don’t ever seem to give a shit how cold it is, and I know people smoke back here all the time,” Rachel says matter-of-factly. “Now I’m taking my reward,” she adds, snatching the cigarette from his hand.

“Hey!’ Caleb protests weakly as Rachel sucks on his cig, but she raises up her other hand and tosses a bag of chips into his lap.

She exhales smoke and gives him a smirk. “There. Now I Lay’d you.”

“Fuck off to hell, Rachel,” Caleb says, laughing despite himself. He opens the bag, puts a chip in his mouth, and grimaces. It feels dry and acidic. His empty stomach rolls unpleasantly.

“You okay?” Rachel asks.

“Nah, just — stomach problems,” he murmurs. He manages to swallow the first one, then grabs for his cigarette, but Rachel keeps it out of his reach.

“Eat something, dude,” she insists. “You’ll feel better. Or do I need to go out and bring his highness some foie gras before you get some meat on those bones?” she asks, poking him in the ribs.

A thought, a cruel thought, breaks into Caleb’s mind almost instantly, remembering things said about Rachel behind his back yesterday, sniggering in the halls. Things he could repeat to throw her off, jabs at her by smaller girls, jealous of her figure. But she’s looking at him like that, and she’s pretty, and the softness of her makes her prettier, and maybe she’s right, anyway. He swallows. Coughs.

He clears his throat. “You got water or something?”

“Mm, yeah, somewhere,” Rachel murmurs, sliding her backpack off her back and taking a bottle out of the side pocket. “Here.”

The water feels better, spreads a cooling sensation through Caleb’s limbs. The next chip goes down a bit easier, and Caleb relaxes against the tree, closing his eyes. Pressure wells up behind his eyes, but it can’t escape. There’s always a block, and besides, he can’t do it in front of Rachel, anyway. Can’t do it in front of anyone. Better that way.

He eats mindlessly, gives Rachel another cigarette when she asks for one. He owes her, anyway. He knows he does. They’re quiet for most of the lunch period, Rachel eventually leaning against his side.

“I bitched when I got sent out here,” she murmurs. “But it is kinda nice, you know. The forest, and stuff.”

“You’ll get bored of it quick, Cali girl,” Caleb says with a snort, rolling up his empty bag and tossing as far as he can into the woods.

“Does it ever snow here? I’d like to see some snow.”

“We get shit snow. Slush, really.”

“It’s not even a little pretty?”

“Maybe for an hour after it falls. After that it’s just inconvenient.”

“Well, I’ll make a snowman anyway,” Rachel declares. “And you’ll help.”

“I will, huh?”

“Yep.” Rachel nestles further against him. “I’ll bribe you again. It’ll work. You’ll see.”

“Fine. Better be a good bribe, though.”

Rachel chuckles, her body vibrating pleasantly against his shoulder. “It will be.” She swallows. “Your eye doing any better today?”

Caleb shrugs. “”s fine.”

“You got a little…” Rachel gently reaches up, brushing a hand across the nick on his chin, and he winces. She pulls her hand back sharply. “Shit, sorry, does it hurt?”

“I, ah, no, it’s fine,” because it doesn’t hurt, not physically, anyway.

“Dude, tell the fight club guys to chill for a minute.”

Caleb chuckles. “No fight clubs in the Bay, Rachel, we aren’t nearly cool enough for that. Just cut myself shaving.”

“Ugh, God, so annoying,” Rachel murmurs. “Bad enough on your legs, must be hell on your face.”

“Wouldn’t know,” Caleb says with a shrug.

“Well, I’ll shave your legs for you once it’s summer. Show off those white-boy sticks,” Rachel says with a laugh, patting his thigh. “Then you’ll know.”

Caleb’s mouth goes dry, and it’s all he can do to keep his mouth shut for a minute while he thinks of something to say to that. “You’re gonna have to try harder than that to get my pants off,” he manages, elbowing Rachel.

“Damn, my plot’s foiled again. I’m a shitty supervillain,” Rachel sighs. He looks over at her, which is a mistake, because those hazel eyes meet his right away and he almost gasps like a total loser. Her gaze flickers, darting up and down. “Caleb…” she begins, biting her lip. “What really happened?”

“It’s — it’s nothing. Really. I know it looks dramatic, but it’s...not,” Caleb stammers.

“Okay,” Rachel says softly. She runs a hand up and down his arm. “...thanks.”

“For what?”

“Hanging. It’s nice. You’re nice.”

Caleb chuffs. “Who told you that?”

“I have eyes and ears!”

“You just wait until you really piss me off.”

“Weren’t you pissed at me yesterday?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Eh. I can handle that once in a while. ‘Specially ‘cuz it turns out it's actually easy to get you back,” Rachel teases, shoving his shoulder. “Softie.”

Caleb smiles almost against his will, looking down at his lap — and then the bell rings out across campus. “Back to the grind,” he grunts, standing up and nearly making Rachel fall over in the process.

“Warn me next time!” Rachel exclaims, brushing the pine needles off her hands from when she’d had to catch herself on the dirty forest floor.

“I’m not used to having people lean on me!” Caleb shoots back, shouldering his backpack and still smiling like a goddamn idiot.

“Well, guess you’ll just have to get some practice in,” Rachel says defiantly, giving him a quick squeeze from the back. “C’mon, let’s go in, huh?” Caleb nods, following her as far as she’ll lead him. Even though they have to separate once they’re out of the cold...the second half of Tuesday sucks a bit less.

When Caleb steps out into the open air at the end of the day, he’s not sure what to do next. He sets down his board at a bench out in the quad, pulls out his phone to check if Rachel’s sent anything, when someone grabs his shoulder. He jumps, scrambling out of the grip and facing down the person who had him — and it’s David. Of fucking course.

“Caleb — “ he begins, but Caleb’s already turned around, heat flooding his muscles, fists clenching on their own. Fuck this. Fuck him. Fuck everything.

“Caleb!” David shouts, grabbing him again, and his teeth clench. Fucking fine.

He turns to face David again, shaking against his will as he stares into that dopey, pedo-stached face. “What?” he asks.

“I wanted to talk about—”

“Don’t you have a job to do?” Caleb seethes.

David’s face hardens. “This is my job. You’re a student here too, not just my stepson.”

“Oh? And what am I doing that you need to — fucking, hey!” Caleb sputters as David suddenly lunges forward and picks the pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket of Caleb’s jacket. “What the fuck, asshole!” he says, shoving him and taking a step back, the shakes building now, making his voice waver.

“Why’re you sneaking this shit onto campus?” David asks, shaking the pack. “I can smell it on you all the time, I haven’t brought it up to your mother yet but—”

“I don’t have to explain shit to you.” Caleb swallows, trying to keep his voice more steady than it is. “You’re the security guard, not the counselor. Bust me if that’s what you’re gonna do.”

“I didn’t come over to you to punish you, but you — “ David grunts. “Why do you always gotta make things so damn difficult, Caleb? I wanna apologize, but you don’t exactly make that easy.”

Caleb lowers his voice, sweeping his eyes back and forth across the quad, and thankfully no one’s really nearby. Too cold out, people are huddling just inside the doors, waiting for pickup, or have already gone to their dorms. “You wanna apologize? Quit fucking touching me,” he whispers harshly, grabbing for his cigarettes. David holds them out of reach.

“What else am I supposed to do?” David demands. “Huh? Nothing else ever gets you to pay any attention to me. Why can’t you just—”

“Because you’re an asshole, David!”

“Keep that mouth clean or I’ll—”

“What, David? Hit me? Go ahead, take your best shot,” Caleb sneers. “Do it. Right here on campus. Let everyone see what a cowardly motherfucker you are, beating on teenagers.”

David’s nostrils flare, and he raises the hand with the pack in it, and Caleb steps back, a cold rush running through his body. Like he’s actually gonna—

David smashes the pack to the ground and stomps on it, spraying dry tobacco and paper all over the sidewalk. “I catch you with these again, and I will report it,” he says, breathing hard. “You wanna act like this, fine, you’ll get the consequences. I know I went too far, but that doesn’t mean I’m letting you off again, like yesterday or this morning. Get it together.”

“And the remorse act goes out the window, just like it did every other time,” Caleb says, spreading his arms wide. “Good, back on fucking schedule.”

David steps back, his face twisting. “I — it’s not an —”

“If you ever meant it, something would change. It doesn’t,” Caleb mutters. “I’m going.” He snatches up his skateboard from the ground and hops on.

“This isn’t over!” David shouts after him as he sets off down the sidewalk.

“Never is,” Caleb says under his breath — and then he nearly runs over Rachel as she hops onto the sidewalk from the stairs leading up to the main hall.

“Fuck!” he shouts, barely managing to skid to a halt, tipping over as he turns the board sideways. Rachel manages to catch him, gently pushing him back onto the board and balancing him out.

Caleb gulps. “Woah,” Rachel says, “You good?”

“Uh, uh, yeah,” he stammers, heart still pounding in his chest from the — everything. He looks over his shoulder. David’s still watching him. “Thanks,” he manages, running a hand through sweaty hair.

Rachel follows his gaze. “Sergeant Creepshow bugging you again today?” she asks.

Caleb nods, getting off his board and popping it back up into his hands. “He’s never not. Like I said,” Caleb murmurs. Rachel narrows her eyes.

“Wait — oh, fuck, I’m an idiot,” she groans. “That’s him, yeah? Your stepdad?”

Caleb nods again, throat dry and tight. “Let’s — let’s get out of here. He still looking?”

“Yeah, he is,” Rachel says, and then she does something crazy and puts her hands around her mouth. “Hey, quit perving!” she calls out across the quad. “No free show here!”

“Rachel!” Caleb insists, though a laugh escapes him regardless. “You can’t—”

“Yeah! Yeah you! Look somewhere else!” Rachel continues, her smile growing. “Okay, he’s looking away,” she adds, smiling down at Caleb. “C’mon, let’s bail before he gets mad instead of embarrassed.”

“You’re crazy,” Caleb gasps, shaking his head, trying to get his breath under control.

“Let’s bail, I said,” Rachel insists, grabbing his left wrist, squeezing the bandages beneath it. She pauses, but then tugs him along anyway, down the path until they reach the parking lot. She pulls him off the sidewalk there, into the middle of a bunch of pine trees, and lets him go for a moment. She runs a hand along his shoulder, a frown creasing her features. “Hey,” she says softly. “You okay? You’re breathing like you ran a mile.”

Caleb shakes his head. “It’s — yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

Rachel peers over his shoulder, as though checking for David again, just to be sure. “Is he like that with everyone?”

Caleb swallows, leaning his back against one of the pines. “How — how much did you hear?”

“Nothing, I saw from one of the classes — he was just, like, super aggro with the touching and stuff.” Rachel shudders. “You’re the only one I’ve seen him actually bust, so far. Everybody else—”

“Is smarter and doesn’t get caught that much, yeah,” Caleb grunts, putting a hand on his chest to steady his breath.

“He just has it out for you, doesn’t he?” Rachel asks, her voice low. Her hand slowly traces his around his eye, and something threatens to break through. He freezes. “He did this,” Rachel whispers. “Fucker.”

“I — “ He doesn’t want her to see him like this. He needs to get out of — this. “I gotta go,” he mutters, pushing off the tree and gripping his skateboard tight. “Gotta get home before he does.”

“Okay,” Rachel says as he sets off back towards the parking lot. “I’ll — I’ll text you, ‘kay?”

“Yeah,” Caleb breathes, stepping back onto the sidewalk.

“...be safe,” Rachel says, her voice so soft, and it’s too much. It just hurts.

He sets his board down on the blacktop, and flees.

He lies on his bed, dreading the sound of the garage door opening.

His phone’s in his hand. Rachel’s message, “u ok?” remains unanswered on the lock screen. He doesn’t feel like he can move. He doesn’t know when the fear kicked in. Is it just because Rachel saw? Because she knows now? Or was this always going to happen, once the adrenaline wore off?

David’s never left a mark, before.

Caleb can’t even fucking smoke. Can’t think of a way to occupy his hands that doesn’t also involve thinking, somehow. He rubs the bandages on his wrist. Did Rachel notice that, too? Probably thinks he’s just some sadsack emo kid. Pet project, now. Pitiful. Which is what he is, anyway. So much for any more talks that take him away from this feeling, any more jokes, any more of that flirting that makes him nervous and excited and terrified all at once. It’s all she’ll think about now. This is why he didn’t say anything before.

She’ll leave, eventually. He’s no fun anymore. They all leave in the end.

The rumbling of the garage door makes him grip the phone tightly. He waits. Listens. The garage door closing again. The latch of the inside door, David’s feet thumping up the stairs. And then the door to Caleb’s room opens, without so much as a fucking knock, of course.

“Caleb?” David asks, putting one foot in the room.

“Yeah?”

“Did you know that girl?”

“Yeah.”

“She gonna be a problem?”

“No.”

“Your mother’s picking up food on the way home tonight.”

“Okay.”

“She’ll be home around seven.”

“Okay.”

David narrows his eyes, stepping into the room fully. “Are you high?”

“What? I — no, Jesus, David, I’m just sitting here,” Caleb insists, shifting his weight so his back’s more against the wall. He wills himself to breathe normally.

“I know I’ve smelled it on you—”

“I’m. Not. High,” Caleb says, as clearly as he can, fingers tense at his sides. “Aren’t high people usually relaxed?”

“Not when they got something to hide.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Hope so.” David looks around the room. “Clean this place up. It’s a sty.”

“Sure.”

“And take a shower, for Christ’s sake. Have a little pride in yourself.”

“Whatever.”

“I expect you to be cleaned up by the time dinner gets here.”

“Fine. Can you leave now?”

“I’ll be downstairs,” David mutters, turning to go. “Keep your music down.”

“I”m not even playing any!”

“Don’t start, then.”

“Okay, God.”

Without another word, David leaves, thumping back downstairs. He left the door open, of course. Asshole.

Caleb breathes out a long sigh, shifting up off the bed. He throws discarded clothes in the hamper, wipes off crumbs and ash from his desk, spools up his PS2 controllers and places them on top of the console in the corner of the room. He takes the spare set of clothes from this morning with him into the bathroom, unwinds the bandages around his wrist. He stuffs the bloodied gauze into the bottom of the trash can, under old razors and plugs of hair from the shower. He runs the shower so hot it leaves his skin bright red, his eyes closed the whole while. He doesn’t need to see his body. He wishes he never had to again.

The mirror’s thankfully fogged over as he redresses the still-scarlet lines on his wrist. He gets dressed in the bathroom, takes his old clothes out with him and dumps them in the hamper. He lays down on his bed again, checks his texts. Thinks about responding to Rachel. Doesn’t.

He rolls over onto his right side, so the bruise isn’t pressing against anything. His eyes close on their own, and the next time he notices anything, it’s Mom’s car pulling into the driveway.

Mom calls out his name for dinner, so he goes.

“This one’s yours,” she says as she hands him a Styrofoam take-out container. The Chinese in the Bay isn’t great, but Caleb sits down at the table, starts poking at his food. The dining room’s silent, aside from the clink of silverware, the wet noises of chewing and swallowing. Mom sits across from Caleb, David between them. She clears her throat after a few minutes.

“School go okay, Caleb?”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t need to skip out on us this morning. David was planning to take you.”

“Mm.”

“It’s gettin’ cold out. I don’t want you running that board on the ice.”

Caleb shrugs. “I’ll walk, then.”

“Why don’t you just take the ride? You’d be on time.”

Caleb looks up from his mostly-full plate, meeting her eyes. He hopes the bruise is as ugly to her as it is to him. She swallows, reaches for David’s hand on the table.

“Caleb I know — I know it’s been —”

“I got it, mom.”

“No, I want us to—”

“Mom.”

“—talk about this, as a family, and—”

“Mom!” Caleb shouts, and David looks over at him with a glare. Caleb shrinks down in his seat, eyes going back to his container. “Can we just eat?”

“...all right,” Mom says, finally. “Later, then.”

“Whatever.”

“You show your mother some respect,” David warns.

“Sorry,” Caleb mumbles. He feels sick. He closes his container and stands up, taking it with him.

“You’re done already?” Mom asks as he passes her by, heading into the kitchen to put it in the fridge.

“Yeah. Not hungry.”

“I — okay. You got any homework?”

Caleb shrugs. “Not sure. Have to check my pack.”

“You don’t know?” David asks. “Were you paying any attention in class?”

“Been a long day, just need to check,” Caleb says through grit teeth. “In my room. Alone.”

Mom squeezes David’s hand, and he relents. “All right,” he mutters. “No dishes tonight anyway, I suppose.”

Caleb nods and heads back upstairs, closing the door behind him. He settles back onto his bed, bending down to get his backpack from the floor — and a buzz in his pocket stops him.

Rachel: been listening to that against me album

Rachel: i rly like the one w/ the other singer

Me: borne on the fm waves of the heart?

Rachel: yeah

Rachel: its sad but in like a good way

Rachel: it feels really honest. like you

Me: ur callin me honest when i lied 2 u?

Rachel: you hid but i get that

Rachel: i mean when we talk you always say what you mean even when its not fun to say or hear

Rachel: thats rly valuable i think. i like talking to you no matter what about

Rachel: just wanted you to know that i guess

Caleb sniffs, wiping at his eyes. So it won’t last, this thing with Rachel, but...it’s nice to hear from her, anyway.

His door creaks open, and Caleb hurriedly scrubs at his face, hoping nothing shows.

“Now that don’t look like homework,” Mom says as she pokes her head in. She’s smiling when she says it, though, so Caleb relaxes. A little.

“Just, a, a girl from school,” Caleb murmurs, stuffing the phone in his pocket. “I’m getting to it.”

“A girl, hm?” Mom asks, stepping inside. “Somebody I should know about?”

“You sound like David,” Caleb groans, leaning back on his hands and closing his eyes.

“Oh, no, I don’t mean…” Mom stops in her tracks, scratching at the side of her head. “Sorry. I won’t pry anymore. You mind if I sit, though?”

“It’s your house,” Caleb mutters.

“It’s your room,” Mom points out.

“Fine, just — just you, right?” Caleb asks, cocking his head to see around her, listening for David.

“Yeah.” Mom walks over to the door and closes it. “See? Just us.”

“Okay.” Caleb looks into his lap as Mom circles around, takes a seat beside him on the bed. She puts her hand between them, as if waiting for something, but after a short silence she starts talking anyway.

“You know he’s only like this ‘cuz he’s worried about you, right?”

“Mom—”

“You snuck out, went off to God knows where, come back home looking like you didn’t sleep — hell, Caleb, if I’d been home I woulda been just as worried.”

“So you’d beat the hell out of me, too? Good to know, I guess,” Caleb snaps, his arms tensing up behind him.

“I — I know what he did was out of line. Completely. But you don’t make this easy. Couldn’t you just — not mouth off, at least?”

“Yeah, ‘cuz you’re so good at keeping your cool when someone’s pissed at you,” Caleb shoots back.

“Well, somebody has to be, and David’s had it harder than you,” Mom says, narrowing her eyes at him. “You know what he’s like — I know you do, because you know just what buttons to press. You could use that to make peace instead of war. I know how smart you are, Caleb! I’m your mother, for crying out loud.”

“So you’re putting this on the teenager in the house? Cool.”

“Caleb!“ Mom exclaims with a scowl.

“Look, I’m — I’m really tired, okay?” Caleb murmurs, leaning down and rubbing a hand over his forehead. “Can we not do this? Mom, you — you knew how I felt about him before he moved in. Before you got married. You made this choice, too. You decided this would work.”

“We all need to help out to make it work!” Mom insists. “It can’t just be us.”

“You say that like David’s trying to make things work, instead of just trying to take over.”

“He is! In his...in his way. He just needs some compromise—”

“He needs me to think he’s my dad. He’s not. So he better find a different need,” Caleb says, meeting his mother’s eyes.

“That’s not fair, Caleb.”

“Well, it wasn’t fair for a war vet to punch a fifteen-year-old in the face.”

Mom sighs. “It’s pointless arguing with you.”

“Yeah. I know. Try him instead.”

“Fine. You wanna be left alone so bad, I’ll leave you be,” Mom snaps, getting to her feet. “But don’t think this is over.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t.”

Mom leaves, and closes the door behind her, and lets out a long sigh that Caleb can hear from here. She can deal. Her fault as much as David’s, in Caleb’s mind.

He starts digging in his backpack again, drawing out his books and whatever loose paper he stuffed between their pages. He takes them over to his desk and sets them down, only to be interrupted by another text from Rachel. Thank God.

Rachel: srsly u ok?

Rachel: i wont keep asking if u dont want me 2 but

Rachel: if u wanna talk u can i guess. sorry

Me: its ok

Me: i get it

Me: i just dont wanna think about it all the time u kno?

Rachel: totally

Rachel: we should do something fun this wknd

Rachel: idk what rn. ill think on it. but ill spirit u away somewhere. we should explore

Me: keep tellin u theres nothing here its all garbage

Rachel: everything looks like garbage when ur feelin garbage

Me: damn thats actually p smart

Rachel: yea im a genius

Rachel: ill take u out. u wont feel garbage. well find someplace nice and chill. sound good?

Me: yeah

Me: buy a board tho i aint walkin all over this shit place

Rachel: deal

Me: sweet. i do gotta do hw tho

Rachel: no prob. catch u at lunch?

Me: if u can find me. ill make it harder this time

Rachel: ur on, price

Caleb blows out air from his nose, feeling some of the pressure on his chest lifting away. He has plans. He has goals. Someone, out there, still wants to see him.

That’s enough to get through the night.

Chapter Text

She’s got him.

As the rest of the week rolls on, it gets easier and easier, with Caleb. Despite how he pretends to be ditching her during lunch hour, he keeps dropping hints if she doesn’t show up at his latest smoking spot in five minutes, and he starts to accept the actual food she brings out to him, as well. He’s being careful, walking on those eggshells at home, so they can’t hang after school, but that gives Rachel time to make her appearances at the Vortex Club meeting on Wednesday, in Courtney and Victoria’s rooms for study and smoke sessions.

People ask where she goes at lunch, which means no one’s spotted her running out into the cold to hang out with the violent poor weirdo, so keeping things on the down-low still seems possible, and best for both of them. Rachel can laugh off the questions, and she knows it makes her look more mysterious, and more appealing. Guys look at her with undisguised interest again. It’s better this way.

If no one knows he’s hanging with Rachel, no one can annoy him about it, or question him about it. And he’s so quiet in school that he fades back into the background, like he seems to want. Victoria and Nathan go back to simply ignoring him in the halls, which suits everyone just fine.

She asks around, figures out where to get herself a board. Her cash is running a bit low already, thanks to constantly having to buy weed to keep the VC in stock, or handing money over to seniors so they can get her cigarettes (they always keep the change, assholes.) But she can afford something simple, and when she skates up to Caleb’s hiding place against a tree on Friday (he thinks he can cheat by going off-campus and down the road, far enough from the patrol paths that people don’t get busted, but Rachel knows where the other smoker’s corner is) his face breaks out in a huge smile, even as she tosses a foil-wrapped chicken sandwich at his chest.

“Eye’s looking a lot better,” she says nonchalantly as he fumbles with the sandwich.

“No it’s not,” Caleb shoots back immediately, “And nice board. So, we’re on for tomorrow?”

“Unless you’re chickening out.”

“Hell, no. Sounds way more fun to hang with you than what I usually do,” Caleb replies as Rachel gets off her board and sits down beside him. He sits down in the wet grass and starts chewing on the sandwich, looking ravenous. It’s nice to see. Sometimes when Rachel hugs him, it’s like squeezing a bundle of twigs.

“And what’s that?” Rachel prods. “What do you get up to on the weekends? Daring adventures? Petty theft and vandalism? Drugs, drinking, general debauchery?”

“I smoke weed at the skatepark, Rachel,” Caleb deadpans, shouldering her as she lays against him.

“Well we’ve gotta get that other shit in there now! Obviously!” Rachel insists, purposefully crossing her ankle over his, watching that now-familiar reaction. Tension, color, and release. “You’re allowed to go out, right?”

“Yeah. At least ‘till dinner, you know.”

“You have a specific curfew, or…?”

“Let’s aim for sunset,” Caleb suggests. “Just to be safe. That’s around the time I think they’d, like, notice, no matter what time dinner actually is.”

“Got it. We’ll play it safe, no more excuses for fuckface to slam you. I want my pretty boy back,” Rachel complains, holding up one finger as if to poke him in that fading bruise. He recoils instinctually, and she laughs. “I’m gonna get that fucker for bustin’ up your face.”

Caleb takes a much larger bite of his sandwich than is probably reasonable, and Rachel giggles, and it’s...good. She’s got him, for sure this time. She wasn’t used to...this, the way he is. Different from other guys, but she thinks she gets it, now. She’s just gotta get him comfortable, and show him she cares. Because she does. More than she expected to.

She knows this isn’t what she was sent out here to do. She’s supposed to stay on the straight path here, and she’s already on two separate crooked ones. But the Vortex Club looks good on an application, and Caleb… Maybe she just likes him. Maybe that’s all it really needs to be about. And fuck it, it’s nice to talk to someone who’s so low on the totem pole that he can afford to just be honest, even if his honesty is in hatred of himself and rage at the world surrounding him.

“What are you thinking about?” Caleb asks softly, and Rachel realizes she’s been silent for a while.

“You,” she answers, honestly, and he elbows her in the ribs.

“Cheeseball. Also, liar.”

“Am not!” Rachel insists. “And don’t throw those bony things at me!” she adds, shoving him over, a little too hard, so he lands on his side in the dirt.

“I’ve been defeated,” he gasps, letting the empty sandwich wrapper fall from his hand slowly. “Betrayal…” he wheezes, giving a very convincing death rattle as Rachel stands up and puts her hands on her hips.

“Caleb.”

“I always knew it would come to this,” he moans, writhing around on the ground, and she just barely suppresses her laughter. “Oh, cruel fate…”

“Get up, you sadsack,” she sighs, grabbing for his wrist. No bandages today. She has a sick feeling about that, but she can’t think about it now. “We’re gonna miss the bell.”

“Oh no, what a nightmare,” Caleb says, his dramatic wailing replaced with the usual sardonics as he lets Rachel pull him upright. He rises up right in her face, and for a moment, his height, the ice-blue of his eyes, his smirk, confront her, and she loses her breath thinking that she should just kiss this silly bastard right now.

But she’s got a plan for that, no point jumping the gun here and now. “C’mon, dingus,” she says instead, tugging him back to the path. “Race you to Blackhell.”

She texts him first thing in the morning. She doesn’t care how eager or desperate that makes her seem. It’s not like he’ll be the one texting her first, anyway, and they gotta cement their plan.

Me: wakey wakey motherfucker let us tear this town asunder

Caleb: ur setting ur sights 2 high

Caleb: lets start with finding somewhere not garbage

Me: actually i think were going straight to the garbage. ull like it <3

Caleb: rachel wtf does that even mean

Me: u will c

Caleb: wait is that u using the nickname or u shortening the word see

Me: shut up and meet me by the skatepark, then ill show ya

Caleb: now whos the mysterious bad girl

Me: u

Caleb: im the mysterious bad girl?

Me: hey man u can be the mysterious whatever just get ur lazy ass up and movin. im goin already.

Caleb: damn bitch slo down i gotta get dressed

Me: do u rly?

Caleb: rachel i get that ur flirting to fuck w me again but its still like 30 degrees outside. dont u whine at me if u get there first and gotta wait a sec

Me: i reserve the right to whine whenever i feel like. first amendment

Caleb: omg. now whos impossible.

Me: still u

Caleb: just for that i am also gonna eat breakfast

Me: wow bold and exciting move for you

Caleb: i hate ur ass so goddamn much

Rachel: no u dont

Caleb: no i dont.

Caleb: see u soon

Rachel puts her phone into her pocket and checks herself over in the mirror, having dressed, done her makeup, and put up her hair all while Caleb was probably lounging in bed texting her. She sighs. Fucking winter. She knows she looks better in less, but hopefully Caleb can appreciate the bundled-up-and-cozy look.

She’s not sure how far his house is from the park versus Blackwell, but she made a guess based on him arriving slightly late to home from when he left on Monday, so she should be good. She packs her backpack with the essentials, to be taken out once they’re where they're going. She takes her board from the wall beside her door and is about to head out when her phone buzzes again. She almost ignores it, figuring it’s probably just Caleb sassing her again, but she does take it out and sees that it’s the Vortex group chat.

Britney: Remember. Party at Hayden’s cabin tonight. Asher’s bringing a keg. RSVP by 4 WITH your ride details. Keeping guest list small. First-come-first-serve.

God dammit.

She really should’ve figured, they’d talked about this at the meeting, but Hayden’s cabin is a new spot for a party. He must have a real nice place for a freshman to get hosting duty. Which means Rachel should do her damndest to get on that guest list, which means she needs to arrange transport, immediately. So much more complicated than when they get a place closer to town.

She slows her speed through the hall so she can start arranging a carpool. Victoria’s in, Nathan’s in, Courtney’s in. None of them can drive. Rachel has her permit but not enough hours, and no actual vehicle.

Nathan, thankfully, comes through. Brayden owes him a favor and will drive them out, even pick them up the next morning, but he’ll need gas money along with the cash it’ll take to get his pot, since people are running low. Rachel subconsciously pats her wallet in her back pocket as she emerges into the freezing December air. It’ll drain her current funds, but Mom promised another allowance after Christmas Break. She can deal ‘till then.

Leave by 6. So in order to get back from her destination in time, Rachel’s gotta call it with Caleb at five, which just about matches their plans anyway. Okay. She can make this work.

Putting her phone back in her pocket after sending off what felt like a hundred texts is almost a goddamn religious experience. She wants to go back to when she was just excited about her own plans, so she gets on her board and sets off, letting the chill rip the worry from her skin.

She arrives to an empty skatepark under overcast skies. She wonders if it’ll snow tonight as she posts up on one of the benches, reaches into her hoodie pocket for a pack of cigarettes. Down to ten. Better stretch them out. Harder to keep cool when you’ve got nicotine bitchiness. Maybe she can steal a pack from Victoria. Girl never lacks for smokes, at least.

But it’s something to do with her hands, and it is taking a while for Caleb to show. She checks her phone, realizing she hasn’t done that since she set off from Blackwell.

Caleb: sorrysorrysorrysorry stupid mom had stupid questions about stupid stuff

Caleb: breakfast was a mistake

Caleb: swear im not bailing

Rachel giggles to herself, and it’s all okay. She’s got this.

Caleb rolls up to her spot once she’s done with her cigarette, sweating, but smiling as soon as he comes into view. Rachel hugs him as soon as he’s off the board, before he even has a chance to open that smart mouth of his.

“What’s this for?” he asks, frozen stiff as always.

“You need practice hugging,” Rachel says as she pulls back. “Now, c’mon. Let’s go.”

“I thought the plan was to explore,” he says, a quirk in his lip. “But here you are, dragging me around…”

“Well, you think the Bay’s garbage, let’s go to the garbage,” Rachel says. “C’mon, boy, let’s ride.”

She sets off down the sidewalk, popping onto the street once she reaches it. It’s a long climb from the park to the edge of town, and it leads them through abandoned industrial sectors, falling-down barns and empty factories. There’s a stillness in the winter air that lends a harsh beauty to it, and as the buildings become more sparse and the pine forest closes in on the road around them, the isolation starts to get to her in the best way. She checks over her shoulder to see if he’s figured it out yet, flashing a smile at him, but he just raises his eyebrows back. For as much as he bitches about his hometown, she wonders how far out of it he’s ever gone, if he ever has.

The turnoff finally makes itself known on the right side of the road, the sign greeting her as she rolls up and stops her board. American Rust Salvage Yard. A mass of twisted, rusted metal lies beyond, cars and appliances and unidentifiable rubble. She steps off, pivots, and takes a bow. “Ta-da!”

“Wow, you weren’t kidding,” Caleb says, putting a hand on his hip in that...way of his. He has such an interesting body language, sometimes. “You brought me to garbage.”

“Mhm! I heard about this place from some seniors,” Rachel says, beckoning him forward. “There’s a firepit around here somewhere…”

Caleb follows her through the dirt paths, as she searches for the building she heard about, at the back. It’s supposed to be a storage shed or something. She looks behind her occasionally, only to see him peering at...random shit, examining piles of junk from multiple angles, poking his head into the blasted out window of a wrecked car. She sneaks up behind him while he’s doing the last thing, getting close to his ear before asking, “What are you doing?”

He jumps, bumping his head on the ceiling of the car. “Shit,” he groans, pulling out and rubbing his hair. “You know, for someone who bitches about me getting hurt you sure like to cause me pain.”

“You’re fine,” Rachel says, shoving him playfully. “Seriously, though, you’ve got this...energy going. What’s up?”

“It’s nothing, I just…” He rubs the back of his neck. “Had a friend, a while back. She wanted to be a photographer. I feel like...she’d like it here.”

Rachel feels a chill strike her properly for the first time since she set out from the park. She won’t let it show. “A friend, huh?” she asks with a smirk. “Someone I’d know?”

“I, ah, nobody. Just...kid memories, you know? I picked up stuff when she talked sometimes.” Caleb smiles sheepishly. “I can just see the compositions you could do around here, that’s all.”

“Aww,” Rachel coos. “I knew you had an artistic side.”

“...I’ll show you my sketchbooks sometime, then you can talk.”

“Wait, you have sketchbooks? The fuck?” Rachel asks, putting her hands on his shoulders. “Dude! You’re holding out on me!”

“It’s nothing!” Caleb insists, his cheeks turning even redder. “Just...ideas for tats and stuff. You know. When I’m older.”

“That punk kid is fucking tearing at the walls inside you, Price,” Rachel sighs. “Anyway, c’mon. There’s a place to get warm around here with our names on it.”

She takes his hand, interlacing their fingers, and he’s shaking from the cold. They gotta work up a sweat or something if they actually wanna spend some time here. Luckily, once they round the big fuck-off bus in the center of the junkyard, she spots her goal.

A squat, brick building, its door lying on the ground in front of it, rusty corrugated metal as its roof. Within, she sees pallets and pallets of rotting wood, milk crates and laundry baskets of mouldering clothes. She takes a closer look at the roof, and notes that whole sections are missing; a storm must’ve passed through and ripped them off, and nobody ever bothered to restore them, and the possibility that the shed could be useful for anything at all was lost. She assumes, at least, that it was meant to shield the contents from the weather, that it was meant as a way to preserve the kinds of things people bring to the junkyard when they should’ve brought them to the dump. But it’s a space. It’s perfect.

“C’mon, dude!” she says, picking up speed. Caleb stops, holding fast, and Rachel nearly falls on her ass in the dirt with that sudden jerk.

“C’mon to what?” he asks with a laugh. “Wait, that’s your big plan for today? Hang out in a rusty shed?”

“No, we’re clearing out a rusty shed,” Rachel clarifies. “Didn’t you ever want a hideout when you were a kid? Treehouse? Home base? Underground bunker?”

“Well, duh, but—”

“We’ve got one ready-made for us here, Caleb!” Rachel insists. “All we gotta do is clear out the crap!”

“And what are we doing with the crap?” Caleb inquires, though his smile’s starting to grow.

“Burning it, of course!” Rachel says, throwing her arms out wide. “I told you there’s a firepit around here. Once we’re done, let’s really warm up.”

“So we’re doing trespassing and arson today?” Caleb runs a hand through his hair, and he’s looking downright manic, and it’s so nice to see him so full of energy.

“Don’t forget the drugs!”

“So, wait, which one first?”

“Work first, then play.”

Caleb claps his hands together. “Then let’s do it.”

It’s a long, sweaty process. The clothes, those are easy. There’s some cardboard in there that’s not too much trouble. But the pallets, crates and spools are sometimes two-man jobs, and while Rachel does find the firepit, they end up just setting most of them outside the shack instead, piling them up with the rest of the garbage — Caleb makes the salient point that they really can’t expect to burn everything. They end up leaving a few pieces within the shack to use as seating and tables, junk with flat surfaces that’s not too high, and then Caleb makes the brilliant suggestion of looking for a loose car or bus seat, so that’s a whole thing. They search the junkyard for their prize, and working together in the bus they manage to separate one bench from its rusty roots with a mighty tug. Once they’ve set it down in the shack, Caleb leans against the wall, panting heavily.

“God damn,” he wheezes, putting a hand on his chest. “Christ. Maybe I shouldn’t be smoking if this is what I’m gonna be doing.”

“You don’t mean that,” Rachel says, flumping down into the bench, trying to catch her own breath.

“I mean I’ll still smoke weed. Come on,” Caleb says with a grin, falling down beside her and laying his head back. “Speaking of, we doing that yet?”

“We should set our fire,” Rachel says, but she doesn’t move. Most of her body kind of hurts.

“You really want to be hotter right now? I’m actually glad it’s cold as shit for once,” Caleb says with a laugh.

“Who doesn’t want to be hotter?”

“Okay, I walked into that one.”

Rachel giggles, laying her head on his shoulder with a sigh. “Thanks for doing this, Caleb.”

“Nah, thank you, seriously. You had a great idea. We should figure out some more shit to put in here,” Caleb suggests, looking around. “Maybe find a tarp or something for the roof. Wall decos, I don’t know.”

“Mm. I’ll take you thrifting.” Rachel manages to get to her feet and find her backpack, abandoned just outside the doorway. She grabs her pipe and weed and takes it back to him, and together they share a moment of quiet, passing back and forth and cooling down as the shadows lengthen around them. Once they’re done with their bowl, Rachel brings out the bottle of Fireball she’d squirreled away from the last VC party when no one was looking. As she’s bringing it over to Caleb, he spots what she’s got and snorts.

“Oh, God, don’t let me hold that thing,” he says with a smile. “I gotta board home soon and if I crash, stepdick will be on my ass so hard…”

“Just a shot or two, then?” Rachel suggests, unscrewing the cap. “Then we burn shit.”

Caleb nods, and Rachel fills up the cap and passes it to him, letting him knock it back before taking a swig for herself. She beckons him outside and they behold their pile of crap for a moment.

“So how are we...lighting this?” Caleb asks, twisting his mouth.

Rachel takes her lighter out of her pocket, and he just laughs. “You serious?” he asks.

“Uh…” Rachel rubs the back of her neck.

“What, new to pyromania? We need an accelerant. You got any lighter fluid in that backpack?”

“What do you know about burning shit that I don’t?” Rachel demands.

Caleb laughs. “Dude, if my mom was here she’d tell you all about it. I learned how to burn a lot of shit when I was a kid. I had an accomplice back then, too, we got in trouble so much.”

His photographer friend, Rachel thinks, and she wills herself not to be weird about it. “Well..." Rachel pauses, then holds the bottle of Fireball out over the pile, and Caleb shakes his head.

“Nah, waste of alcohol,” he says with a wave of his hand. “You know what, we’ll be comin’ back here, right? I can snag some gas. Matches, too, we don’t wanna get our hands near that shit when it goes up.”

“I guess you’re right,” Rachel says, though she frowns and folds her arms. “We should do it at night, anyway, sometime when you can sneak out. Fires are way more romantic in the dark.”

Caleb lets out a short laugh. “This is romance to you?” he asks, sweeping his hand across the junkyard.

Rachel takes that in the chest, absorbs it, lets it go. “Could be,” she says, winking at him, bidding him to follow her back into the space they made for themselves. She takes a cellphone speaker out and hooks it up to her phone, placing it on their “table” of wood-palette-and-old-welcome-mat as Caleb comes in behind her. “One more bowl?” she suggests. “I know it’s getting late, but…”

“I got some time,” Caleb murmurs, and when she looks back at him, he’s blushing, looking down at his shoes. Must’ve figured it out, thinks he blew his chance with that crack about romance. Couldn’t be more wrong. Rachel smiles at him and puts on old music from home, Dolores O’Riordan’s voice bathing this moment in melancholy. She doesn’t play this stuff around the VC types, but she and Caleb have shared enough music by now that she knows he won’t judge.

They cuddle up together on their stolen seat, and Rachel takes the first hit. And she thinks of something a boy did to her a while ago, something that set her nerves on fire, and she leans over with smoke in her mouth, presses her lips to Caleb’s as a question. He shakes, but he parts his lips for her, lets her share it with him as she closes her eyes.

When she pulls back, his eyes are wide and dark. “Your turn,” she offers, leaning back, passing him the pipe casually. He falters as he tries to light it, wind starting to whip through the drafty shack. She helps him shield it with her hands, and he mumbles a soft thanks. He takes his hit himself, to her disappointment, and passes it back to her. She gingerly places it on the table, swings a leg over his lap, and watches him lose his breath as she straddles him.

“Rachel—” he begins, but Rachel just wants to touch him, and he stops as she strokes a finger along his chin, stubble tickling her skin. His eyes close, and he shudders, and Rachel puts her hands on his collarbone, leans in, and—

“Wait—”

She doesn’t want to wait, she meets his mouth with hers, and his lips don’t move, his body locked beneath her until very suddenly it isn’t. She doesn’t understand what’s happening until she’s falling, until she’s on her side in the seat and he’s standing over her, fists clenched, panting, shaking again. Their eyes meet for a moment, and he turns away.

“Caleb!” she calls, trying to get to her feet as he stomps away out of the shelter they’ve made into a new, fresh snowfall. She bangs her shin on the table as she follows. By the time she’s outside, he’s nothing but a retreating back holding a skateboard in a deathgrip. She calls his name again as he heads for the street.

“Fuck off!” he shouts back, slamming his board onto the pavement. He’s off and gone before Rachel can even reach the road, the sound of his wheels fading out into the wind as Rachel stares after him, and then she is alone.

It feels worse, the second time.

She’s not sure how long she stands there, staring into the gray, blinking back stinging tears. She wanders back to the shack in a daze. She wants to turn the music off, and when she does, she sees a new text.

Victoria: where the hell are you

Victoria: party soon. get back on campus and drop the mysterious girl act so we can get ready

Right.

She has somewhere to be.

The act of packing this day back up feels automatic, instinctual. The bottle, the pipe, the speaker, back in the backpack, zipped up and hidden away and slung over her shoulder. She takes her board from the ground. It had been beside Caleb’s on the outside wall of the shack, but it fell off when he took his back.

It’s a long, cold ride back to Blackwell.

She arrives back in time, if soaked through with sweat and melted snow. She drops her board off in her room first, then heads down the hall to Victoria’s, banging twice. She’s still panting from the ride, and when the door swings open, Victoria greets her with an amused eyebrow.

“Jesus, you just get back from a run or something?” she asks, stepping back to let her in and sweeping her eyes up and down Rachel’s body. “You get my last text?”

“Um…” Rachel gives her an apologetic smile and starts to bring out her phone, but Victoria puts a hand over hers with a roll of her eyes.

“I can just tell you. Bray’s running late, so you got some time. Change clothes, I’m not riding with swamp ass,” Victoria states as though it’s a rule of the world.

Rachel lets out a breathless laugh. “Oh, phew, at least someone else is fucking up today.”

Victoria snorts. “I’ll say. Courtney’s trying to cram and Nathan’s looking for harder stuff right now, so you’re all lucky. I’ll text you when he’s here. Where were you?”

Rachel gives Victoria her best enigmatic smile. “Out.”

“Oh, my god, you make my teeth rot in my mouth,” Victoria groans. “Get outta here, see you in a sec.”

Rachel nods, her shoulders relaxing. She heads back to her own room and strips out of her sodden clothes, looking for lighter, nicer wear for the evening. Her flannels and torn jeans are well-loved, but they’re “exploring the town/hanging with the freshies” clothes, not “impressing the seniors” clothes. A light red jacket, leggings under shorts, a deep v-neck. That’ll do it, along with a reapplication of perfume, a wipe across her face to remove the evidence that she’s been physically active today. The clear-out operation still stings in her muscles.

She’s just managed to re-do her ‘natural’ makeup when Victoria’s next notification comes in, and she meets her VC crew out in the parking lot, piling into Brayden’s black SUV. In the front seat, Nathan and Brayden exchange cash and drugs. In the back, Rachel sits sandwiched between Courtney and Victoria, bearing silent witness to Victoria needling Courtney about her study habits (“Just get some Adderall tomorrow, you’ll be fine!”) until at last they reach the point where no one has much to say to each other and the music gets turned up. Nathan passes a pipe around, and Rachel starts to relax, able to sing along to the pop songs on the stereo with the rest of the crew, letting their excitement for the night pass into her through osmosis.

When they arrive, the first person Rachel spies is Asher, a tall, strong boy she’s seen in the VC meetings. He’s lifting a keg from the back of a truck with the help of a few friends. She breaks off from her group as they discuss...whatever they’re planning tonight, following him and his guys inside as they set the keg down in the living room. There’s other people milling around — she spots Britney and a few other seniors messing with the sound system — but it’s Asher she sneaks up on as he dusts his hands off, looking mighty pleased with himself.

She taps him on the shoulder. “Hey.”

As he turns around, he has to lower his gaze to find her. “Hey yourself,” he says, a little smile coming to his lips. “You’re...Rachel, right?”

“You wanna get this party started right?” she asks, raising one eyebrow. “I got an idea.”

“What’s that?” he asks, following her gaze and realizing she’s looking at the keg.

“Keg stand.”

“That is an awesome idea,” he says with a laugh. “I can definitely do that. Hey, gu—”

“No, no,” Rachel says, shaking her head, catching his eye. “I wanna do the stand. Lift me up, tough guy.”

He grins. He calls over someone to hold the tap in her mouth while he gets her legs.

Guys are easy.

Chapter Text

Me: i know you wouldn’t ever do this to me. i know i should tell her.

but i told you. and then you left.

Save as draft?

Caleb stares at his phone. At this long, rambling chain of drafts he’s spent the last...however long composing at his desk in the dark of his bedroom. It felt like the only thing to do after having to sit silently through dinner with all of today screaming in his head. It calmed the shakes, to write, to put down the whole thing into text.

But as he looks it over, he feels that anger rising in him again, the same hot rage that filled him, the fury that overtook fear as he stared at Rachel on her side in the junkyard. Why did she have to fucking do that? Why couldn’t it have just been like the rest of this week? Hell, even after the first time she made a move they’d been able to go back to something that didn’t make him feel like a freak. But she never actually gave up, did she? All that flirting, it was real, and she wants to do things that he just can’t, and she didn’t give a shit that he asked her to stop.

No one ever actually cares what he wants, do they?

They want a happy son, they want a quiet obedient slave, they want a — whatever the hell kind of guy Rachel’s after.

He deletes the entire draft chain. Deletes Max’s number off of his phone. Fuck it. Might as well acknowledge reality.

He considers razors, lighters, blunter instruments. But mom and David are both home, watching some shit down in the living room, and he feels trapped in his room, as though as soon as he steps out one of them will realize he was rolling around in garbage and drugs all day and David will raise his fist again. He presses on the tender skin of his black eye, lets that sting create static in his head, drowning out thoughts.

His phone buzzes.

Justin: holy shit yo check this out

[photo attachment]

Caleb wants to smash his phone on the desk.

Rachel, held upside-down over the legs by the legs by one guy, another feeding the tap into her mouth.

Justin: vic just blasted this to like every1 in her contacts lol

Justin: shes acting like rach is a slut 4 this but u ever seen anything more badass?

Of course Rachel had other plans tonight. She’d had a plan for Caleb, and she’d clearly figured it’d be easy enough to get in his pants, right? Since he’s a guy. Guys usually get over it, after all.

Me: where u at tonite

Justin: chillin at home w/ tre like usual. rachels party is all ~exclusive~ but the rents arent home rn so we makin our own

Me: meet u there

Justin: u sure dude? i kno davids a sunuvabitch

Me: i dont care

Caleb throws his window open, takes his board from the wall. He learned from last time, and he carefully clambers out onto the roof, tossing the board to the lawn below before dropping down. If they check before they head to bed, they’ll know he snuck out. But who cares? He needs to do something, to stop fucking thinking. Hopefully Justin’s got some kind of alcohol on him tonight. He should’ve just taken Rachel’s bottle of Fireball. Hell, maybe he should’ve drank more to begin with. Maybe then he’d act more like a guy. Maybe then he could’ve just — not thought about things that can’t happen and aren’t real and make him feel disgusting.

The night is freezing, but Caleb doesn't feel it. He barely even registers where he’s going, nearly riding straight into oncoming headlights a few times as he navigates Arcadia Bay’s darkened streets. He always swerves away, but each time, he wonders if it’d be better to just let it happen.

He rolls up in front of Justin’s place, a two-story with a minivan in the driveway and lights shining out of the basement window well. He hops down into that well, peering through the cobwebbed window to spy Justin and Trevor on the couch, playing something on his 360. He raps on the window with his knuckles, and Trevor flings his controller into the air. Caleb’s still laughing by the time Justin opens the window for him.

“My dude,” Justin slurs, helping him tuck his legs through the window, dragging his board behind him. “Oof, man, you’re fuckin’ freezing.”

Caleb dusts himself off once he’s on the floor properly. “Eh. ‘Sfine.”

“Let’s warm you up,” Justin suggests, heading back over to the couch and taking up a bottle from the coffee table.

“Gay,” Trevor opines, and Caleb wishes he had something other than his board to throw at the guy. But he doesn’t actually want to hurt him. He accepts the bottle from Justin, looking over the label.

“Ah, shit, Everclear?” he asks. “You guys trying to throw up?”

“That’s what the weed’s for, dude!” Justin says, throwing his arms out wide.

Caleb shrugs and takes a pull straight from the bottle. It burns like a motherfucker and sets his stomach rolling. It’s good.

He hands the bottle back, sits down between them as they start their game back up. He’s not really thinking, not really talking. He’s not even sure what they’re playing. But he takes their weed, and their shitty, overly-alcoholic spirit, and slowly allows himself to fade out.

A “Dude, you good?” from Justin is the first thing he’s aware after a while, a poke at his shoulder. “Did he seriously pass out?”

“He looks like shit, man.”

“You look like shit, Tre,” Caleb grumbles, opening his eyes again. “Sorry, guys. Long day.”

“Oh, he lives!” Trevor announces, shaking him by the shoulder. “You want a turn, dude? My hands are legit cramping up.”

“No, they’re not, I’m just kicking your ass,” Justin corrects.

Caleb blinks, squints, makes out that they’re playing Tekken. He shrugs. “Sure, but I’ll suck.”

“It’s cool, Trevor sucks too,” Justin says, elbowing Caleb as he takes Trevor’s controller. “How come you weren’t at the skatepark today?” he asks as they hit the character select screen and Caleb chooses the first girl he sees.

Caleb swallows. Talking about Rachel is...impossible. Especially with these guys. “No reason,” he mumbles. “Wasn’t feeling it.”

“Aw, too bad. I mean, it was cold as fuck, but we had a decent crowd going.”

“He means Dana showed up,” Trevor clarifies.

“Shut up, dude,” Justin says with a laugh. “You were checking her out too.”

“Hey, at least I’m honest about it!”

“Speaking of chicks,” Justin prods as his character whips Caleb’s up and down the screen, “You still hanging with Rachel?”

“I, uh, nah.” Caleb keeps his eyes on the screen, manages to break Justin’s combo. Tries not to let the chills in his chest spread to his hands.

“Shame. She’s a good boarder. And she’s super into you,” Justin says, shouldering Caleb and throwing off his playing just enough to knock him out of the round.

Caleb doesn’t know what to say, so he says nothing. “What, did something go bad?” Trevor asks.

“Nothing, dude, it’s just — literally nothing happened,” Caleb stammers. He grabs the Everclear again, and both Justin and Trevor make faces at him.

“Nothing happened. Sure,” Trevor says.

“Drop it.” Caleb takes a long drink.

“C’mon, man, don’t puss out on her,” Trevor groans. “Seriously, I hate to see it, you’re always doing this crap.”

“Tre,” Justin warns.

“Come on, Justin, really, you know what I’m talking about, right?”

Caleb sets down the controller, the bottle. He can’t talk about this. Not with them, not with anyone. He’s not even sure why he came here until he stands up and wobbles unsteadily on his feet. He shakes his head as if to clear the blur from his vision. “I gotta go,” Caleb mumbles.

“Nah, dude, come on, it sucks out there and it’s barely 10,” Justin objects. “If you’re sneakin’ back in you should wait till the parents are asleep, at least.”

“I’ll figure it out.” Caleb grabs his board and starts towards the stairs, but Justin gets up and blocks him.

“Dude. Chill out, seriously, you’re gonna crash if you go out there like this.”

“Who gives a shit?” Caleb seethes. “Get outta the way.”

“Caleb!” Justin exclaims. “You’ve already got that fuckin’ shiner, nobody wants to see you get even more fucked up.”

“Don’t gimme that,” Caleb grunts. “Nobody gives a shit.”

“Caleb—”

Caleb shoves him out of the way and jumps up the stairs, ignoring any further objections, static roaring in his mind. He makes his way through the darkened first floor, bursts out onto the street, and rides.

He’s not sure where he’s going. His vision falters and wobbles in the dark, and his path is jagged. He just goes, letting the freeze eat at him, staying on the roads to avoid the gathering snowfall. It might ice over tonight, something for him to skid on, fall and crack his head open on the curb.

He ends up at a playground, behind his old elementary school. The air burns his lungs as he sits down at one of the picnic tables, reaches into his coat, and remembers that he doesn’t have cigarettes anymore. Fuck. He really should’ve stolen a pack from Justin or Rachel when he had the chance, but they’re gone now, so fuck it. He rubs his hands together, glancing around the place he’s decided to stop.

Max broke her wrist falling off the slide here, once. Caleb helped her up, nearly carried her to the nurse himself. People made fun of him for that, of course, but they always made fun of him and Max, because back then boys and girls being friends was a reason for mockery instead of juicy gossip and implication-throwing. And Max was a target anyway, small and quiet and meek. She needed Caleb, back then. But once Dad died, he couldn’t be what anyone needed anymore, not even Rachel.

He thinks of the junkyard, and the pile they left on the ground, something to douse in gasoline and torch sometime. More romantic in the dark. He could go there, do it himself, just to destroy something. Maybe smash up everything they left in the shack, since it was all just some fucking ploy anyway.

Fuck this. He’s thinking too much. He has to move again.

The ride’s getting harder. Snow melts on the pavement, making his board even more unsteady beneath him, and the sidewalks are even worse. Still, he makes his way downtown, flying under the streetlights, watching for cops. He’s definitely past curfew, and the last thing he needs is a fucking arrest. Then his face really will get fucked up.

He manages to avoid notice until he’s down on the beach, stopping at the edge of the parking lot because he sees a light. It’s coming from an RV parked along the edge of the lot under a streetlamp, an SUV pulled up alongside it. Two guys talk between the cars, then the one closer to the RV hands over a baggie.

Shit.

Score.

He waits for the other guy to drive off before boarding up to the RV, where the owner appears to be taking a smoke break under his porch light. Caleb gets a better look at him as he approaches; scruffy, bearded type, younger than he expected. He raises his eyebrows as Caleb stops in front of him.

“Do I know you?” he asks, squinting.

“Don’t think so,” Caleb replies. “Can I bum a smoke?”

“How old are you, sixteen?”

“Fifteen.”

“Pay me then.”

Caleb snorts, but he digs in his back pocket, takes out his wallet and gives the guy a ten. He nods and hands over his pack, a little light, but enough for at least a few days. “Borrow your lighter?” Caleb asks, leaning against the RV beside him, and he shrugs and hands it over. Once Caleb’s lit and taken a drag, he asks, “So who’re you?”

“Frank,” the guy replies. “You a Blackwell kid?”

“In theory,” Caleb replies with a shrug.

“Freshman?”

“Sophomore.”

“Name?”

“Caleb.”

Frank purses his lips and nods. “What’re you doin’ out this late, kid?”

Caleb shrugs. “Didn’t wanna be home.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“You must be fucking freezing.”

Caleb shrugs again. He is, but it’s fine. He looks out at the surf, wondering if it could give him a quick dose of hypothermia. How long it might take to drown.

“Come on inside,” Frank says after he’s done with his cigarette. “Warm up a bit. You look like hell.”

“I’m good out here.”

“...I’m gonna smoke a bowl.”

“Okay, then.”

Caleb follows him into the RV, which is a complete sty, but at least it’s comfortable. A brown puppy snoozes peacefully on the floor by the table, and Frank goes into his room to find his pot. Caleb hovers uncertainly in front of the door until the dog yawns and looks at him, and he gives up and goes over to the table, reaching down to scratch him behind the ears. He sighs to himself. It is warmer in here, and at least there’s drugs, and Frank’s a little less nosy than the guys.

Frank comes back into the kitchen and passes him a smouldering pipe. The shakes in Caleb’s fingers start to calm as he warms up, and they pass it between them without conversation for a moment.

“You get that eye from your old man?” Frank asks suddenly. Caleb blinks a few times.

“Uh...stepdad,” he answers, swallowing.

“Motherfucker. Figures.” Frank takes in another hit. “You going home tonight?”

“...I dunno. Maybe.”

“You can crash here, if you gotta.”

“Really?” Caleb peers at him suspiciously. “How come?”

“Cuz it’d make me a real son of a bitch to send some fifteen year old out into a winter night to head back to his shit-ass stepdad, wouldn’t it?” Frank asks. “Besides, I’ve been you. You know?”

“...if you say so.”

“You’re welcome, kid.” Frank slaps him on the back. “No charge for the weed...this time. I’m gonna go pass out. There’s chips in the cupboard, you wanna eat something.”

“I — thanks. Really.”

“Don’t mention it. And hey, you ever need a bit of money...Blackwell kids buy a lot of my shit. You ever wanna run it, you just let me know.”

Not a bad idea. Not like selling drugs will really increase the risks of Caleb’s life right now, anyway. “Maybe I will.”

“All right. If I don’t see ya in the morning, good luck, Caleb.” Frank gives him a wave over his shoulder as he heads into the bedroom and closes his door. Caleb looks around the place, doesn’t see anything great to lay on, so he finishes his bowl and leans his head against the window.

Weird day. Weird night. But he’s lived through it, so far. He closes his eyes, and rests.

He wakes up with the sun blazing right in his eyes, the puppy resting on his lap.

He has to gently coax the poor thing off of him, get out of here before Frank wakes up. This is too weird. He doesn’t want to talk after it. So he takes Frank’s lighter from the table, and flees.

When he steps outside, he can see that the snow’s already melted, even in this early-morning light. Not much gathers here, anyway. Like he told Rachel, they get shit snow.

His ride back home is quiet. He passes by the Two Whales, and it’s dark, closed up. Shit, how early is it? Early enough, he supposes. He doesn’t have any texts from Mom. Maybe they didn’t realize he snuck out. All the better.

He rolls up to his house and it’s dark and quiet, too, so he might really be able to manage this. He hops on the garbage cans by the garage to get himself on top of the roof, then crawls into his open window. His room is chilly as hell, but he appears to be safe. Maybe this whole sneaking around thing is easier than he thought.

He closes the window as gently as possible, unlaces his shoes, and falls into bed. With some struggle, he gets the covers over himself, shudders as he tries to get warm.

His phone vibrates in his pocket.

DONT ANSWER: im sorry

DONT ANSWER: i wont do it again im so sorry

Caleb snarls, throws the phone face-down off his bed so he doesn’t have to see it anymore. It buzzes a few more times, but he ignores it, wraps the blankets over his head. Fuck off. Go away. Rachel’s just a fucking liar and she’ll just keep hurting you. Whatever she’s doing at seven A.M. to make her want to text him, he doesn’t fucking care anymore.

He hates the thoughts that worm their way into his skull as he lies in the gathering light of dawn. He hates that he knows that, if he was different, he would’ve let Rachel do it. If Rachel was different. If she hadn’t — if she wouldn’t call him things like bad boy, wouldn’t touch his stubble. If he didn’t fucking have stubble or these long legs or this disgusting body. But even if all that was possible, which it isn’t, she wouldn’t want him then, anyway. He’d still be a freak. What’s the point of even thinking about it?

God, he should’ve stolen some shit from Frank, or something. He’s so tired but he can’t sleep, not without something to dull these thoughts. He gets up. Shuts off his phone. Turns his TV on, sets it to mute. His PS2 barely runs, and all his discs are scratched to hell, but he puts in an old favorite, starts a new run to conquer China. Familiar steps. Just enough complexity to blur his mind, not enough to frustrate. It may not be a drug, but it’s the closest thing he has right now. And he can spend a few minutes making a cool new chick to play as, and she can rip up hordes and hordes and hordes of men, and it’s the simple pleasures that he really needs sometimes.

Maybe he can make it through the day. The night might be a different story.

DONT ANSWER: please talk to me caleb

Fuck. Off.

It was a mistake to turn his phone back on, but he’s got nothing else to do, now. He can’t have light shining under the door this late, in case David gets up for the bathroom and busts his ass for playing video games — stupid hobby, according to him, something for children. He types a few more words before the next text comes in.

DO NOT FUCKING ANSWER: i know i fucked up

DO NOT FUCKING ANSWER: i miss talking to you already

He really should just fucking block her number, huh? But working out how to do that sounds hard. It’s not something he’s ever done before. This fucking, faux-pology she’s offering, fuck off, fuck off. She doesn’t mean it, nobody ever fucking means it, they say all this shit and then they just do the same things, over and over again. David, Joyce, Rachel. At least Max left him totally high and dry, didn’t play him like this.

He’s gotta do something or he’s gonna fucking explode. It’s nearly midnight and he’s just laying here.

He grunts, getting up and slipping on his shoes. At least he has cigarettes now. He takes his earbuds from his desk and hooks them into his phone, then climbs out onto the roof again. As he slips the buds into his ears, he scrolls down his music library, wincing at the shit he downloaded on Rachel’s recommendation. Probably best to delete those soon, too. He’s not even sure what he wants to listen to, just...something, so he puts the whole library on shuffle and starts to smoke.

Unfamiliar music plays in his ears, a woman’s soft voice over electric guitar, moody and powerful as the drums kick in. It’s good. It’s Rachel’s. That sucks.

He only finishes off one cigarette before clambering back inside his room. He’s only got like half a pack now, anyway, and he’s not really up for the chill tonight. He lies on top of his covers, staring at the ceiling, letting music wash over him. Waiting for sleep to come.

Dawn arrives first. He’s not sure how. The light pokes at his eyes, makes them sting. He rubs them as he sits up, feeling small, worthless, defeated. It’s Monday already, somehow. Another shitty week has begun, and he doesn’t want to face it.

He should get out of here, before anyone decides to make him breakfast or whatever. Back out the window it is, back onto the board, but—

David will be at school. Rachel too. And even without him telling her, she could always find him.

He sets off for the beach, instead.

He knocks on Frank’s door, and once it opens for him, Frank’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, hey,” he murmurs, rubbing his face. “Caleb. Something up?”

“You said I could run stuff for you?” Caleb asks. “Could use some cash.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. C’mon in, I got some orders you can fill today. Went out a ways yesterday, got some supplies.” Frank motions him inside, and Caleb picks up his board and follows.

Frank brings out bags of supplies from a duffel on the floor, spreading them across the table while he works. He measures out several bags on a little scale, some filled with white powder, others with small crystals, and many with just nugs of weed. Caleb watches him work, mostly in silence, as he scribbles a name and a price on each one with Sharpie and hands them across for Caleb to stuff into his backpack.

“So how do you usually do this?” Caleb asks cautiously. Frank sniffs.

“Ah, you know, I wait for them to come and pick it up. I’m not allowed on campus, got expelled a couple years back,” Frank explains, passing another baggie Caleb’s way. “But that’s slow, and they don’t always show. Too scared of getting caught, I guess. I sell a lot to this one kid — Brayden? — but I’m pretty sure he’s upcharging and selling to other kids, so I’d rather have an actual arrangement with somebody over there. Profit-sharing. You know.”

Caleb laughs. “So that’s where he gets all his shit.”

“Yeah, and he’s annoying,” Frank complains. “Fuckin’ rich kids. I think you won’t be annoying. ‘M I right?”

“Hey, man, your call to make, not mine.”

Frank laughs to himself. “Good point. Now, you'll get five percent off each of these — that’s around a quarter of my profits. I got a ledger, so I’ll know if you rip me off, got it?”

Caleb nods. “No problem. A quarter seems pretty good for just riding around passing shit out.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get caught, and if you do, don’t squeal,” Frank warns. “You know these names?”

“Most of ‘em, yeah,” Caleb confirms. “I can text people if I need to. Had group projects before and shit.”

“Sweet. This could be nice and smooth, you do it right,” Frank says with a soft smile. “And then I can blow all my sweet profit on somethin’ nice. Maybe fix the A/C in this shitmachine before summer comes around.”

“Sounds good. When do you want me back here?”

“Here, I’ll give you my number. Just let me know when it’s cool for you to drop by. If you don’t sell everything today, you should probably drop the rest off with me — nobody needs to catch you with this shit in your backpack when you get home.”

Caleb shudders. “Totally.”

Frank hands him one last baggie and claps his hands together. “All right, we’re in business, Caleb. Don’t stiff me.”

“I got enough problems,” Caleb says with a laugh. “Last thing I need is you on my ass too.”

“See, now that’s a smart attitude.” Frank stands up and claps him on the shoulder. “See you later, kid.”

Caleb leaves the apartment, checks the names on his cargo against the ones in his phone, and smiles broadly.

Me: yo i got ur shit

Me: meet me out by the turnoff to blackwell

Vic: you’re fucking kidding me. ugh.

Me: u want it or nah

Vic: fine. get there before school starts.

Me: b there soon

This might actually be fun.

It’s a long ride, but he checks his phone when he nears the turnoff and Vic will definitely still have time to get to class. He spots her hiding behind a tree, and gets off his board, slinging his backpack across his front and unzipping it as he approaches.

“So Frank’s got you slinging now?” Victoria asks with a snort.

“Yup,” Caleb replies cooly, handing her her supplies. “Price is on the bag.”

“Fine.” Victoria digs into her purse, starts counting out bills. “At least I don’t have to go down to his creepy RV.”

“That’s the spirit.”

“Fuck you, Price.”

“I thought you said that was off the table?”

“Ugh,” Victoria groans, pushing her money into his chest and taking her drugs. “You are so annoying.”

“Love you too, Vicky.”

“I’m leaving.”

“Wait a sec.” Caleb counts out the bills while Victoria taps her foot. All there. “All right, run along.”

“You going to class today?”

“The fuck do you care?”

“I don’t. Bye.” Victoria marches off with great purpose, and Caleb laughs behind her back. Yeah. This is fine. And he’s holding more money in his hands than he’s ever had in his life, so, things seem to be working out.

He stays around the area the whole day, backing off behind the trees whenever cars come by, managing to contact every one of Frank’s customers, either through having their number already or telling their friends to come find him. His phone’s running out of charge by the time he’s done, so he just shuts it off and heads back down to the beach, grateful that his task is already done right as school lets out. Ditching...turned out to be very easy. And maybe now he can keep himself in smokes, for a while, at least.

He knocks on Frank’s door again, and he opens it up with a smile on his face. “Damn, kid, you work fast,” he says, stepping aside to let him in. “Got everyone?”

“Yep, everybody. This a once-a-week thing, you think?” Caleb asks cautiously as they sit down at the table and he starts unloading his wallet for Frank to count out.

“Yeah, usually. I drive around the area every Sunday, since everybody’s hungover that day anyway, pick up my stuff,” he says with a laugh. “We can do this again if you want, but I appreciate the help even if it’s just once. Here. Your share.” He passes over what looks like a few hundred bucks, and Caleb grins.

“Damn, dude, I keep this up I can probably get a car,” he says with a laugh as he pockets the money.

“You be careful flashing it around,” Frank warns. “People will get real suspicious if you, unemployed fifteen-year-old, are suddenly swimming in cash.”

Caleb purses his lips and nods. “Yeah. Good point. I’ll just do the usual thing, buy some smokes once in a while.”

“Attaboy. Never let it show how much cash you have, especially from this kinda work.”

Caleb takes in Frank’s lesson like it’s a message from the universe. He excuses himself to head home, hopefully before David gets there, and spends a few moments squirreling away extra cash in his backpack’s hidden pockets.

He rolls up to his house, and his blood freezes in his veins. The garage door is open. David’s car rests inside of it, Mom's sitting behind the project car. But he doesn’t have anywhere else to go. He just hopes he can bullshit his way into his room before shit gets ugly.

He opens the door, and the first thing he sees is his mother. And there’s David. Sitting at the table just past her, staring right at the door. Caleb grips his board tight as David rises to his feet.

“Where the hell were you today?” David demands, stomping over to the doorway while Caleb takes a step back. He’s seen that look in his eye before, a week ago, a month ago. It came before raised fists and sparks of pain. His mouth dries, his breath catches in his throat.

“David,” Mom warns, wiping her hands on a towel and looking nervously over his shoulder. “We agreed that—”

“Answer me!” David shouts, fists curled up at his sides, towering over Caleb. He can’t get anything out.

“Caleb, we got a call from the school—” Mom begins, but all Caleb’s thoughts are focused on David’s hands, his eyes locked to them.

“What were you doing, huh?” David asks again, but Caleb can’t come up with anything. Static. Noise. Fear. “Fine,” David grunts. “I guess I’ll have to find out the hard way.” And he reaches for Caleb’s shoulders, for his backpack, and Caleb can finally move.

“Get your hands off me!’ he shouts, throwing off David’s arms and taking another step back, down the stairs. “Back the fuck up!”

“You won’t speak to me that way,” David growls, reaching out again, and for a moment there’s a struggle, his hands squeezing tight on Caleb’s shoulders, trying to twist him around, and Caleb’s hand is on his board axle and a cold sweat drips down his neck and his brain is full of static and with the momentum David’s forcing on him, Caleb brings up his arm.

The skateboard cracks David across the face, and he falls.

There’s a moment of silence after David hits the floor, lying on his back, staring up at Caleb in a daze. Caleb’s frantic panting fills the air, his eyes darting between the open mouth of his mother and the wide, fearful eyes of his stepfather.

He turns, and runs.

He slams his board to the road and goes, as fast as he can, as far as he can, until the half-painted facade of his childhood home is no longer visible when he checks behind him. He ducks into the park, hides himself in a thicket of pines. He’s shaking, but he’s warm, hot, his blood pulses in his ears, and he wants to fucking destroy something.

He knows exactly where he can do that. And if he’s just hit David, then, fuck it. She can be there too. She can hear exactly what he fucking thinks.

He takes his phone out. Turns it on. Ignores messages from Mom, from David, from DO NOT FUCKING ANSWER. He opens that thread but he reads nothing she sent. He types out his message.

going to the junkyard. need to burn shit.

you want your fire, you come find me.

Chapter Text

Caleb: you want your fire, you come find me.

Rachel’s cold as she reads those words, her eyes scanning the short messages, over and over. The phone blurs out the surroundings of Victoria’s dorm. He hasn’t sent a thing to her in days, he wasn’t even in class today, and Victoria helpfully informed her that he’s apparently slinging drugs for some loser in an RV. She shoots to her feet, only to find herself caught by Victoria’s hand on her wrist.

Victoria looks up at her with pleading, reddened eyes. “Where’re you goin’?” she slurs. Jesus, she’s smoked a lot. She took three hits for every one Rachel took today.

“Out,” Rachel says with a soft smile, tugging away, but Victoria holds fast.

“C’mon,” Victoria insists. “We don’t haveta do homework, we can just chill. Sorry if I’m... boring.” Rachel squints down at her. Victoria can get a little weird when she’s high, when she drinks, and it’s setting off some tiny alarm, somewhere in her brain, but she can’t figure out what that alarm is for. She almost wants to stay, for a second. To see if she can figure out what’s going on under that bitchy, bitchy shell Victoria wears.

But she needs to see Caleb. She needs to tell him she’s sorry, because she is, and she doesn’t know why she can’t stop fucking up. She doesn’t need to let him down again. Enough people have done that.

“I really gotta go, V,” Rachel says after probably too long of a pause. “I swear we’ll hang another time, okay?”

“Where?” Victoria demands, squeezing Rachel’s wrist tight, nails digging into her sleeve. “What’s so important? Why do you always gotta go somewhere?”

“V, quit being clingy,” Rachel chides, pulling back with all her force and nearly forcing Victoria off the couch entirely.

“I am not clingy, I just think you’re being super weird,” Victoria mumbles, crossing her arms. “Fine. Go then, bitch, see if I care.”

“That’s the Victoria I know.”

“Fuck off,” Victoria groans, throwing her head back. “Later, or whatever.” Rachel heads out into the hall, pulling her phone out again to see if he’s going to send anything else, but her own stupid, desperate texts confront her instead and she winces. Maybe this is all she can expect from him right now. At least it’s something.

In her own room, she grabs her skateboard, her backpack, not sure what to put in it. She grabs a bag of Funyuns. Not exactly a meal, but Caleb never eats. Definitely hasn’t eaten today, knowing how this whole thing must’ve gone down.

Christ. What is she doing?

She doesn’t need to go. She knows that. It would probably be smarter not to. Smarter to forget about Caleb, this kid who’s on the track to expulsion, who sells drugs at fifteen, who isn’t even a somebody at this stupid school. And yet, she thinks of how she’s seen him, why she wanted him in the first place, and she can’t bring herself to stop. Water bottle. Cigarettes. Lighter. Blanket. Pot shit. Speaker? No more room in the pack. Maybe this will be enough.

She slings the backpack over her shoulder, takes in a long breath to calm her shakes. Checks her phone, one last time. Nothing at all.

She heads out into the dark, searching for fire.

It’s pitch-black in the outskirts of Arcadia Bay, so the orange light of Caleb’s blaze is obvious from a half-mile away, bathing the road in flickering shadows. Rachel speeds up when she sees it, panting hard as she approaches American Rust. She skids to a halt in front of the entrance, and Caleb’s visible from here, his silhouette dark against the firelit forest. The fire burns bright at the back of the junkyard, but Caleb’s further away from it, holding something long and solid in his hands.

Rachel steps off her board as she hears the first crash, and looks up in a panic. Caleb digs the bat out of the car window he just smashed, glass tinkling as he rears back for another blow. The dirt under Rachel’s feet turned to mud after the flurry, and it sticks to her shoes as she hesitates to take another step in. Caleb brings the bat back down on the car again, leaves a dent in the hood. She can hear him panting from here as he wipes his forehead. She takes another step in, nearly trips over a tin can on the ground, braces herself on a pile of rusty metal that shrieks when she puts her weight on it.

Caleb looks up, hair flying up from his face with the motion. Rachel freezes, carefully draws her hand back from the scrap she’s resting on, trying to get herself upright and stable. But she can’t see Caleb’s face, in the dark shadows cast across him by the fire. The shine of his eyes, just faintly visible from here, tells her nothing. Stability doesn’t feel possible.

Caleb turns away from her, slams the bat into a headlight. Rachel breathes out. The car rests just beyond the shack. She walks up there, leaves her board by the doorway, like she did before, ignoring the sound of wood hitting metal until she’s standing just behind Caleb.

He doesn’t look at her when he speaks.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, still staring at the car, bat swinging idly at his side.

Rachel blinks. Swallows. “You — you asked me — “

“The real reason,” he hisses, raising the bat again and smashing it against the back window. Rachel jumps. “Since I can’t trust a fucking word you say. Try again.”

Rachel shudders. “I wanted to say I was sorry,” she says.

Caleb hits the back window again. “You already said that. Try again.”

“I — it was only in texts, and you didn’t respond, and—”

“Say what you fucking mean, Rachel,” Caleb growls. Crash. Dent in the roof.

Rachel gulps. She has no idea what he wants to hear. “I’ve been worried about you all day, I’ve been worried since Saturday, I—”

Crash. Door crumples in. Caleb’s breath in the night air, coming out as frost, the only sound besides the crackling fire.

“Please, Caleb,” Rachel begs, her throat closing. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Did you want to try and rape me again?”

Rachel stiffens. Her mouth won’t work. She never thought of it that way, but the way it comes out of him, it’s all he’s been thinking about. Oh, God, what did she do? Why doesn’t she ever—

“Well?” Crash. Handle drops off the door, into the mud. “‘Cuz that’s what I have to think. Happened last time. Time before that. Trying to get me to let my guard down, get me alone somewhere.” Crash. More shattering glass.

“I — I never wanted to hurt you,” Rachel chokes out. Her head feels light. She can hardly breathe.

“Bullshit.” Caleb finally turns to face her, and his black eye is all she can see.

“I swear, Caleb, I didn’t—”

“You didn’t care if you did or not. Nobody fucking does.” Caleb stalks up to her, and she braces, teeth clenching, eyes locked to the bat. But all he does is shoulder past her, heading over to the fire.

Rachel follows, not sure what else to do. She’s back to shaking, but the fire’s roaring, and it’s at least warmer over here. Caleb walks around it, grabs a beer bottle off the ground, leftover from some party long ago. He tosses it in the air, swings the bat, and it disintegrates in a shower of shards, settling in among the scrap.

“So?” Caleb asks, resting the bat on his shoulder, knuckles white on the handle. “That why you came out?”

“N-no,” Rachel mumbles.

“Liar.” Caleb approaches the nearest junk pile, going up to eye-level with the television on top.

“I’m not lying!” Rachel shouts, it comes out too loud and too harsh but she’s sick of feeling like a liar, like some fucking predator, when it’s not what she is, goddamn it, it’s not, she doesn’t want to be that, and she hates that Caleb could think that about her.

Caleb looks over his shoulder at her, and she still can’t read his expression in the gloom. He raises the bat, and the sound of shattering glass, the TV falling from its perch and fracturing somewhere behind the pile, makes Rachel wince in fear. She chokes, thinking of the way he shook underneath her, both times, and her stomach lurches.

She doesn’t realize she’s crying until she tastes salt on her lips, and furiously wipes at her face while Caleb hits — something else, something she can’t see because she has to cover her eyes because she doesn’t deserve to cry. Caleb deserves to cry. But he sounds so cold, so dispassionate even as he rips the place apart around them.

She sniffs, when there’s a gap in the sounds, and she takes her hands off her face to see what he’s doing now. He sits down on a log near the fire, staring blankly into its depths.

“So. Why did you come here?” he asks, and his voice is quieter now, a wet note in the back of his throat. “What makes me worth a shit if you know you can’t fuck me, huh?”

The answer to his question is so simple, so fucking stupid, that Rachel’s afraid to say it. It’ll sound like a lie, even though it’s the only thing that feels true. She sniffs, wipes at her face, and says it anyway.

“I like you.”

“Bullshit. Nothing about me to like.”

“I do,” Rachel whispers fiercely. “I know you — you feel like this, you, you hate yourself, I’ve seen your wrists and, and I know the way you talk, but I like you, I swear. You’re funny, and you’re sweet when you want to be, and can spot bullshit faster than anyone. And I care about you, a — a lot. I hate seeing you like this.”

Caleb lets out a long sigh, hunching over on his seat, and all Rachel wants to do is go over there and put her arms around him. But she can’t. She’s frozen here, at the edge of the firelight, because despite the fact that he told her to come here, she’s not welcome, not at all. And that’s a worse feeling than she can describe.

“I’m so sorry for what I did,” Rachel manages. “I — I should’ve — “

“Guys usually get over it, right?” Caleb interrupts, taking a cigarette out of his jacket. “That’s what you said.”

Rachel tenses. Caleb takes out his lighter, clicks it to life, holds it to his cigarette. “You think if I said that about some girl I wanted, it’d be cool?” he asks.

“N-no.”

“That’s something you do to someone you care about?”

“I—”

“You said you don’t care about guys you fuck. Right?”

Rachel’s eyes sting. Her own words reverberate in her head, in Caleb’s hateful tone.

“So how am I supposed to believe you give a shit about me?” Rachel gulps.

“I don’t know,” she admits, finally, her shoulders slumping. “I…” A sob escapes her, and he finally turns his head, sees her standing at the edge of the space. “I just wanted you to like me,” she says, once she’s gotten her breath back, staring at her shoes in the mud and clenching her fists. “I wanted you to think I was cool, and, and sexy, and confident, because I like you and I wanted you and...and it usually works.” She sniffs, meets his eyes at last. “It’s a fucking shitty way to treat people. Anyone.”

“Yeah. It is.” Caleb turns back to the fire, takes a drag. He sounds, and looks, so tired. He slouches over, and that change in his body breaks the fear that’s been paralyzing Rachel, and she realizes he’s not going to hit anything else for a moment. She takes a step forward, and when he doesn’t move, another, until she’s found the other end of the log from him and sits down, staring into the burning pile of clothes and wood they’d pulled from the shed. To try and make some kind of home here for themselves, when Rachel had romantic ideals of a hideout she shared with a punk boy, a nervous kid, but someone who might just love her.

But he doesn’t love her. Maybe he never will. And maybe...maybe that’s okay. Maybe whatever’s going on in his head, whatever’s stopping him from being with Rachel, just closes that path off to her. But for a week, she had a guy she could say anything to, who she could spend quiet moments in a freezing forest with, who would come out with her and make a dumb little hideout where they could escape the worlds they lived in. She’d kill to have that back.

“Why did you text me?” she asks, still staring into the fire.

“I wanted to yell at you.” Caleb sniffs, wipes his nose. “Wanted someone to hear me. Nobody else does. Sometimes, it seemed like you did. But then you...”

“I did hear you. I know it doesn’t make it better, but...I’m sorry. I liked what we had, before I...before I fucked it up. I didn’t come to try and force you into anything. I came because I wanted my friend back.”

Caleb mulls that over. Burns through most of his cigarette, before tossing it into the fire. “So we were friends?” he asks, rubbing his forehead.

“...yeah. Of course we were.”

“We knew each other for a week and you thought that?”

“Yeah. Why? Did it have to be longer?”

“I thought that too. That we were friends. I couldn’t fucking believe you gave a shit about me after I acted like some kind of freak when a hot girl got on top of me. And when you...when you tried again, I thought I was a fucking idiot, for thinking that. That you might actually care about me and not what you can get from me. You know?”

Rachel nods, her voice tight. “Yeah. Caleb, for me they weren’t — they weren’t separate things. I just don’t usually...mix stuff. You were different. I just...I guess I used the moves I knew, ‘cuz I didn’t know how else to do things.”

Caleb laughs softly, and Rachel feels a weight lift off her chest. She likes his laugh. “I believe you,” he says after a moment. “Does that make me a moron?”

“Might make me one, too,” Rachel ventures, boldly, and Caleb sighs.

He leans back on his hands, stares up into the sky, night-blind by the fire so the stars are gone. There’s only black up there, but he stares anyway, and Rachel can’t help but follow the gaze.

“I hit David today,” he says, and Rachel gasps.

“You — “

“Right across the face, with my board. He tried to go for my backpack, since I’d been gone all day. He would’ve found a shitload of money, but that’s not why I did it. I was sure he was going to hit me again, so I panicked, and I hit him first. And now I’m here.” Caleb sounds so calm. “Can’t go home. Didn’t know what else to do. Grabbed matches and lighter fluid. Texted you. And now we’ve talked, and I believe you again, and I’m tired, and...I don’t know what happens now.”

“...can I come over there?” Rachel asks softly. Caleb closes his eyes.

“I...yeah.”

Rachel scoots herself across the log, heart pounding in her chest as she lays her head on his shoulder. “I don’t know what happens either,” she admits. “But...I know how you’re feeling. You’re not the only one who ever did shit on impulse and ran out of ideas.”

Caleb snorts. “You kidding? Don’t you always have a plan?”

“I have plans. I don’t have follow-through.” It feels good to say this. Her chest lightens, despite everything, because Caleb is here, and warm, and he’s forgiven her. Or at least, he believes her. “You ever wonder why I’m out here in Bumfuck, Oregon?”

“Blackwell’s got a rep. Nice artsy school.”

Rachel shakes her head. “California’s swimming in art schools, Caleb.”

“Then shit, tell me.”

“I snuck into a college party back home. Wanted...I don’t know. Drugs. Beer. Guys. Got ‘em. Police found me in a guy’s room on the top floor. I was too zoned out on his benzos to get out when I heard the sirens.”

Caleb shifts, looking down at her. “Holy shit,” he breathes.

Rachel shrugs. “Mom and Dad have money. They bailed me out, fought the charges. I’m a victim, officially. But I had to be sent somewhere safe. They kept calling me ‘at-risk youth.’ So, Blackwell. Good reputation, small town, no drugs, no alcohol, right?”

Caleb laughs, but it’s tight, high. “They don’t know shit, huh?”

“Yuppies usually don’t. They think their city is the only place in the world anyone gets E.” Rachel swallows. “I haven’t told anyone that. I just say I came for the rep, to look good on a resume. People wanna believe this place is special, that Blackwell means fuck-all. It’s just some fucking boarding school. It’s nothing.”

“So you hate this place as much as me,” Caleb murmurs.

“I dunno. I wanted to find somewhere nice. Somewhere I wouldn’t hate. Thought I did, with you.” Rachel nestles further into his side. He needs a shower. “You think we can still have that?”

Caleb takes a few deep breaths, his eyes closed. “Caleb?” Rachel asks gently.

“Just...just so we’re clear,” he begins, “No more. Okay? No more trying to — make something happen. It can’t, and when you try it’s…”

Rachel’s throat closes up, remembering the word he used, searing into her brain. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. I thought I saw signals, but...but I guess I was wrong.”

“...You did see signals,” Caleb says, after a pause. “But it can’t happen. Get me?”

Rachel nods into his jacket. “Okay. Is….is there a reason, or—”

“Don’t ask.”

“Okay.”

“Thanks.”

Rachel pulls back for a moment, looking over him quizzically, not even sure why he said that. He has no reason to thank her. All of this is her fault. But maybe no one’s ever respected him saying not to ask, and maybe it’s not her place to find out. Not until he actually feels ready. She nestles into him again and asks, “How about this? Is this good?”

“Yeah.” He says it like it hurts. “Just ask. I know you do the forgiveness-before-permission shit, but...ask.”

Rachel nods. “I will.” She lets out her breath, and the weight of the evening falls from her shoulders, and now they’re just two kids, sitting in front of a bonfire that smells absolutely rank. At least it’s warm, and Caleb isn’t shaking under her, this time. He looks so tired, though, his eyes glassy as he stares into the flames. Rachel takes off her backpack and digs into it, finds the blanket she packed, and throws it over their laps. Caleb looks down in confusion and laughs when he sees the print.

“This is so you,” he says, lifting a corner to his eye, moving it back and forth in the firelight, glitter stars sparkling as he does.

“That an insult?”

“A little. You’re cheesier than you think.”

“You just wait. I haven’t even tried to do your birth chart yet.”

Caleb chuckles to himself. “I’m never giving you access to my mom.”

Rachel smiles into his shoulder, and they wait for the fire to die down. Eventually, she gets out her dumb little bag of Funyuns, and they share it silently, trading swigs from her water bottle. A few cigarettes disappear between the two of them, taken evenly from Rachel’s backpack and Caleb’s jacket, whichever one they find easier to reach at the time.

When most of the lighter fluid’s burned away and all that’s left of the pile they made is scraps of carbon, Caleb gets up. He wraps the blanket around his shoulders like a cloak before kicking dirt over the firepit, stifling the smouldering ashes. Darkness and cold come down on them like a stage curtain, and it takes a minute for Rachel’s eyes to adjust to the dark now that their light is gone. Caleb sits back down next to her, shivering, and while Rachel could stay here beside him all night in the summer, the chill’s seeping into her bones, and they have to go somewhere.

“Is there anywhere you can stay?” Rachel asks, after she feels Caleb begin to shake too.

“I don’t know,” he mumbles, taking out his phone and holding down the power button. “I...I stayed with Frank on Saturday.”

“Frank?”

“Drug dealer. Lives in an RV down by the beach. Just sorta...ran into him.”

“So that’s how you ended up selling to Victoria. She was so mad about that,” Rachel says, smiling before she realizes it’s really not too funny. “...be careful with that, okay?”

“Yeah.” Caleb peers at his phone. “Well, Frank’s a bust.”

“Oh?”

“Apparently the cops were sniffing around down there. Somebody must’ve seen me downtown buying the lighter fluid and shit. Frank’s warning me off, says he really doesn’t need the attention. Guess Mom filed a report or something.” Caleb runs a hand through his hair. “Shit. Guess I’m at-risk youth now, too.”

“...you can stay in my dorm,” Rachel offers cautiously. “Just...I’ll be on the couch, or whatever. I’m not leaving you out here tonight.”

“I...yeah. Yeah, that’s the smart call,” Caleb says with a sigh, looking around at the junkyard. “We gotta get sleeping bags or something. For...for next time.”

“You think…” Rachel swallows. “You think this’ll happen a lot? You not being able to go home?”

“I don’t know,” Caleb admits. “Just...you know, in case. Maybe someday I’ll just have to blow this whole town.”

“Well, let’s start with getting somewhere warm.”

“Yeah.” Caleb stands up, stretching out his arms. “Let’s hope the roads haven’t iced over.”

Rachel’s head is fuzzy and her lungs are on fire by the time the two of them finally roll into the Blackwell parking lot. When they reach the sidewalk, she stops, throwing out a hand, putting another on her chest. “Let’s just,” she gasps, “Let’s just walk the rest of the way.”

Caleb nods, pulling his board up into his hand, taking Rachel’s for her. The roads weren’t iced over, but Rachel’s still so tired. She’s shocked he’s still on his feet. How does the boy keep going with no damn fuel in his body? At least home, warmth, is only a few minutes away down the path, and with David apparently hit across the face with a goddamn skateboard, it’s not like they’re gonna be caught. The only thing Rachel might be worried about would be some kids seeing them, but — well, fuck it. Reputation isn’t anything next to keeping Caleb safe. At-risk youth and all that bullshit.

Rachel gets them inside the dorm before she sees anyone else, and takes the stairs up to the underclassmen area. And naturally, that person would be Victoria, just coming out of the bathroom and turning around at the sound of their footsteps.

“Rachel?” she asks, squinting at the two of them. Rachel pulls out her best glare, and Victoria’s next words seem to die in her mouth. She just huffs and turns away, head held high, and that’s something to deal with in the morning. Caleb barely seems to notice the interaction, the only sign that he saw Victoria at all a slight smirk on his lips.

They get into Rachel’s room with no further interruptions, and before Rachel can think, she’s thrown herself facefirst into her bed. Caleb laughs behind her, then the bed sinks as he sits on the edge. His coat rustles as he takes it off and throws it to the floor, then he falls down beside her, the two of them parallel.

“I am so fucked,” he murmurs softly, and Rachel rolls over so she’s facing the ceiling too. She stuck glow-in-the-dark stars up there, her first week here, so that it looked more like her room back home. Caleb’s staring up into them like there’s answers carved in that fake piece of the night sky Rachel made.

“You’re not fucked,” Rachel says, gently reaching for his hand, brushing her fingers against his until he gets the hint and intertwines them. “Today was insane, but...things can go back to normal. Mostly. Even after shit like that. You know?”

“I guess you would.” Caleb glances over at her. “Thanks, by the way. For telling me about...about what happened to you.”

Rachel nods, her throat tight. “I really should’ve told someone a long time ago, but…”

“I get it. Really.” Caleb sniffs. “Sorry. I was...I was fucking scary tonight. I know. I did it on purpose. But...we can make this work. Right?”

“Yeah. We can.”

Eventually, they have to get up, to get their shoes off, at least. Rachel changes into pajamas while Caleb averts his eyes. She puts on an old, chill playlist on her laptop, and pauses, looking back at Caleb.

“...we can share the bed, if you’re okay with that,” she offers, and he ducks his head, his hair hiding his face.

“No, no, I’m — I’ll take the couch.”

“If we’re splitting, I’m on the couch. You’ve done enough shit to your body today.”

“Rachel, I smell like a fucking tire fire, I’m not getting that all over your sheets.”

“Then take your clothes off first, I don’t give a fuck!” Rachel groans, closing her eyes and pinching her nose. “Just let me be nice to you? Please?”

“...I’m still taking the couch.”

“Fine,” Rachel sighs. “Smoke a bowl before bed?”

“Now that is a good plan.”

Rachel opens up the window, points her box fan out, and they have a moment of peace. Joni Mitchell makes any moment feel calm, and she’s needed that all night. When they’re done, Rachel shuts off the light and crawls under her covers. She listens to Caleb breathing, and she’s so glad he’s here. It’s nothing like Sunday morning, with Asher on top of her, drooling drunkenly on her chest, her stomach revolting until she ran to the bathroom and tried, desperately, to get Caleb’s attention again, because it turned out that one guy wasn’t much like another at all. Even separate, she feels like they’re in this together, and that’s not something she can ever remember feeling.

They wake up together, in the morning, and Rachel shares breakfast with him, a couple Cup Ramens she has lying around. As he finishes his off at her desk, he looks over to her.

“So how am I gonna sneak outta here?” he asks.

“Dude, just go to class. It won’t be the first time some boy walked out of the girls’ dorms,” Rachel says with a laugh.

“What about the whole cops-are-looking-for-me thing?”

“Deal with that when it comes up. You’ll be here, at least, and that’ll give your stepshit less ammo on you, right?”

Caleb shrugs. “Maybe. Still don’t know what the fuck I’m gonna do tonight.”

“...I think you have to go home. I can’t hide you here forever,” Rachel admits. “But whatever happens, you can talk to me, okay?”

Caleb nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess that’s how it has to be.” He stands up, takes his backpack from the ground, and starts pulling out bills from every pocket. “Here, hold onto this, ‘kay? If I’m going home, David can’t find this shit on me.”

Rachel gets up off her bed and takes the cash, counting it out quickly. “Damn, dude.”

“I know, right? Crazy.” Caleb clears his throat. “I’m gonna head over to the guys’ dorms, see if I can bum a shower off Tre. I feel like shit.”

“Hey, look at you, taking care of yourself,” Rachel says, a soft smile on her face. “You got this, okay?”

Caleb laughs, putting his jacket and backpack on. “I so don’t. But thanks anyway.” He heads for her door, and Rachel jumps over to him.

“Hey,” she says, and he stops as he’s about to open the door.

“What?”

“Kiss for luck?”

“No,” he says, though he’s smiling. “That sounds like a jinx if I ever heard it.”

Rachel almost leaps up to kiss his cheek anyway, but...she agreed she’d ask, and that means letting him say no, so she just shoves his shoulder. “No fun.”

“Maybe not, but you’re the one who brought me in here,” Caleb says with a shrug. “See you around, I’ll let you know...how things go.”

“You do that.”

Caleb leaves, but he does it with a smile on his face, so that’s good enough for Rachel.

She takes what’s left of the morning to quickly finish up last night’s homework before heading for her own shower. But almost as soon as she leaves her room, Victoria comes out of goddamn nowhere, passing into her field of view right in front of her face and backing her against the door.

“Get back in there,” Victoria hisses, and Rachel raises her eyebrows.

“Uh, V, I do have to like, shower.”

“We need to talk and I’m not doing it out here,” Victoria whispers, glancing back and forth down the hall. Rachel almost shoves her off, but also, this is interesting. Caleb had claimed whatever history was between him and Victoria was nothing, but maybe it’s not.

“Fine,” Rachel says with a dramatic sigh, turning around and unlocking her door again. Victoria slams it behind them once they’re inside.

“I told you to stop fucking around with Caleb,” she seethes.

“Yeah, and I believe I told you I didn’t care. So? You got some reason I shouldn’t that you didn’t already say?” Rachel challenges.

Victoria’s nostrils flare. “I can make you stop.”

“Oh? How?”

“I know he’s gay.”

Rachel blinks, almost wanting to laugh. Whatever’s going on with Caleb, it’s not that simple. She’s caught him looking enough times to know that much. “Oh? And how do you know that?”

“I mean, he didn’t fuck you, right?”

“Kind of none of your business.”

“I know he didn’t.” Victoria puts her hands on her hips. “He’s gay. I know it. And I’ll tell everyone if you don’t stop bringing him around.”

“How’d you come by this information, V?” Rachel asks, as sweetly as she can manage. “I mean, if nobody else knows, you must have some story…”

Victoria snorts. “Uh, duh, I tried to hook up with him and he said no? He’s gay?”

Rachel can’t help it. She breaks down in laughter, and Victoria’s shushing only makes it worse. “When?” she manages through her giggles.

“I — shut up! I get why you’re into him, okay, he’s got that — you know what, shut up, I thought it’d be fun, we talked a little really early in the year and —”

“And you thought he’d just jump into bed with you?”

“Most guys would,” Victoria states, like it’s a fact, cocking out one hip.

“Victoria. I love you,” Rachel lies, “But this isn’t the bulletproof tactic you think it is. Especially now that I know all this. You try and spread that rumor around, I’ll let everyone know exactly where you got that idea.”

Victoria pales. “Wait—”

“So maybe shut up and let me hang with whoever I want. Got it?” Victoria’s mouth opens, closes, opens again, and then turns into a furious scowl. She tears the door open and stalks down the hall, leaving Rachel nearly breathless with how fucking funny that was. God. A little levity like that, something so easy to turn around in her social favor, that’s exactly what Rachel needed this morning, after all the terror of last night, the hesitant re-establishing of her and Caleb’s friendship, the anxiety that today might go really badly for him, and the fact that she has no idea how anything’s gonna shake out. This, she can focus on, can laugh about. She grins as she takes out her phone.

He’s never gonna hear the end of this.

Chapter Text

Me: yo u up?

Trevor: barely. something goin on

Me: can u let me in the dorms? ill explain in a sec

Trevor: sure dude

Caleb taps his foot impatiently, sweeping his head back and forth across the lightly frosted quad. Maybe this is a dumb thing to be doing, but he does feel like absolute ass, and a shower will help him get his bearings for the rest of the day. Good thing Blackwell classes start so damn late.

Mom’s text thread still sits unopened on his screen. As long as he doesn’t look, he doesn’t have to know.

Trevor appears behind the glass doors in a moment, and as he swings it open, he does the same scan Caleb did. “All right, cool, get in here,” he says, ushering him inside with a hand. “Dude, you look like ass. Where the hell have you been? Your stepdad was completely off the shit yesterday.”

“You didn’t hear?” Caleb asks, flashing him a grin he doesn’t really feel. “I was selling drugs.”

“Oh, shit,” Trevor laughs. “I thought Vic was just making that up. What’re you doing here so early?”

“I...wasn’t at home last night. Got in a fight with David,” Caleb admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “I stayed with Rachel, but I can’t exactly get a shower in the girls’ dorms, you know?”

“Dude, you’re in hot shit,” Trevor says, but he starts down the hall to the stairs anyway. “Yeah, sure, I’ll loan you my caddy and shit, you smell like crap too. Where’s that, like, burnt plastic smell comin’ from?”

“Set a fire.”

Trevor squints. “You’re not joking, huh?”

“Nope.”

“Well, damn. I’d loan you my clothes but you don’t need Vic saying any more shit about you — or me,” Trevor notes with a laugh as they ascend the stairs. “I’ll spray you down with my deodorant once you’re done in the shower, though. Sound good?”

“You’re a lifesaver, Tre.”

“Eh,” Trevor says with a shrug. “Feel kinda bad about being on your ass about Rachel on Saturday. You seemed really messed up. You all right?”

“I really don’t know,” Caleb answers, running a hand through his hair. “I gotta go home tonight, I have no idea what’s gonna happen.”

“Well...shit. Let’s get you through school today at least, I guess.” Trevor slaps him on the back. “So that eye...David did that, huh?”

Caleb sighs. No point lying now. “Yeah.”

“Son of a bitch,” Trevor curses as he opens up his dorm room door. “Well, I hope you got his ass good last night, then.”

“I don’t know how good I got him, I just hit him with my board and ran,” Caleb says.

“Shit, guess we’ll see today when he comes in.” Trevor grimaces. “You, uh, you’re not gonna tell him I helped you, right?”

“What do you think I am, a narc?”

“No, guess you’re definitely not a narc,” Trevor says with a laugh, taking down his shower caddy from the hook behind the door, along with a ratty green towel that he drapes over it as he hands it to Caleb. “Drug dealer.”

“Eh. That feels too heavy for me,” Caleb says. “I was a middleman at best.”

“Okay, drug middleman. Go get clean. Clean as you can, anyway. I’ll be here.”

Caleb gives him a nod and heads out, and the shower does help. Scrubbing a layer of sweat, grime, mud, and carbon off his skin is a big relief, even if he can’t look at himself while he does it. Trevor’s got some shitty three-in-one formula, but it’s enough to get the grit out of his hair. Getting back into his sweat-stained, smelly clothes afterwards ruins the effect a bit. He steals some of Trevor’s mouthwash too, savors the alcohol burn as a cleanse before spitting it into the shower drain and taking in a deep breath. He can do this. Like Rachel said. She’s been through some shit too, and even if she ended up out here, she’s had a pretty normal time of it, at least until Caleb came along.

He heads back to Trevor’s room, and as promised, Trevor takes a can of Axe and blasts him full-force with it across his body. Trevor takes a sniff. “Well, the burnt plastic is at least a little lower in the mix,” he says with a laugh. “Where’s your board, man?”

“Left it at Rachel’s,” Caleb says. “I’ll get it after class.”

“What’s goin’ on with you guys, anyway?” Trevor asks, squinting. “I thought you said there wasn’t anything, but — you know what, nevermind, last time I asked it was dumb.”

“That’s right,” Caleb says, patting Trevor’s shoulder. “You don’t ask.”

“All right, all right.” Trevor chuckles to himself. “Glad you came by, man, really. Good to see you’re okay.”

“Thanks, Trevor. Seriously.” Caleb pulls out his phone, checks the time. “All right, I’m gonna get to class. Let you know if I can go to the skatepark like...ever again.”

“Good luck, Caleb.”

Caleb finds his way out of the boys’ dorms, and right as he steps out into the morning air, his phone buzzes in his pocket. He winces, thinking it might be Mom again, but he checks it and sees that it’s Rachel, and that’s a good thing again.

Rachel: VICTORIA TRIED TO FUCK YOU??????

Caleb stifles a laugh.

Me: we just hung out a little at the start of school. i gave her cigs

Me: she got all weird w me and then she joined the vc and became a megabitch

Me: she tried to like bootycall me at 4am after some party and i was like. no

Me: and now she hates my ass. theres ur juicy gossip at last

Rachel: oh my god love it

Rachel: this is the best present ever. she blabbed to me abt it and now ive got that on her. lmk if she gets shitty at u and ill release the hounds

Caleb laughs to himself. Maybe he’s not as alone as he felt last night, Saturday, Sunday. Maybe every adult in the world is a pain in the ass, and even his friends can be bastards and hurt him on accident, but some people are really in his corner.

He heads into the main classroom building with that feeling in his chest, only to immediately get it snuffed out when he hears someone call over the crowd, “Mister Price.”

He winces, turning to see the source, and finds Principal Wells standing out in front of his office with his arms crossed. He raises two fingers and beckons Caleb over, leading him into the office and shutting the door behind him. “Sit,” Wells says, and Caleb sinks into the chair in front of his desk as Wells walks around it, still standing as he clasps his hands behind his back.

“I was informed this morning that you were missing from your home,” he intones. “It appears you have elected to attend classes today, despite not doing so yesterday. Is that correct?”

Caleb nods. “Yeah.”

“And you plan on returning home at the end of the day?”

“Y-yeah.”

“If that is the case, I will inform the Arcadia PD that you have been found and are safe, and all search efforts will be abandoned. However, if at any point today you are reported absent from a class, that will change. Am I clear?”

“Totally,” Caleb says, holding up his hands. “Um...where’s David? Haven’t seen him today…”

“Mister Madsen has called in sick today, so myself and the other teachers will be watching the halls,” Wells says. “Your absence yesterday is noted, and further ditching will be punished with suspension, followed by expulsion if the situation does not improve. Am I understood?”

“Yeah. I get you.” Caleb swallows. “It’s — sorry.”

“I’m not interested in your story or your excuses — and I’m glad you’re not offering any. Your personal life is none of my business, though if you wish to speak to our guidance counselor, she is available. I am simply here to inform you of the situation you are in, as regards this academy.” Wells clears his throat. “You may go to your classes now, but remember — you are on notice.”

“Got it.” Caleb stands up again, and Wells sits down behind his desk, not watching him as he leaves. Caleb lets out a long sigh once he’s out in the hallway. Okay. Two problems down, or at least, delayed. He has no homework to turn in and no idea what went on yesterday, but at least David’s not here, and he can float through until lunch.

It’s at lunch that Caleb takes a moment to finally, finally check Mom’s texts. He’d better know, anyway, and it’s a moment of freedom in the woods before Rachel inevitably finds him.

Mom: We just got back from urgent care. David’s okay, though I suppose you probably don’t care. No permanent damage from what you did.

Mom: Please come home. I don’t know where you are. I don’t know where you’ve been. I don’t know what you’re going through, but I promise, if you come home, we can talk this out.

Mom: I know why you did what you did. David does too, even if he won’t say it. But there will have to be consequences for this, Caleb.

Mom: Where are you?

Mom: Please call me.

Mom: If I have to, I’ll call the police.

Mom: I put out the report. Please just come home.

Mom: I was really hoping I’d find you in your bed this morning. Where are you?

Mom: The police just called me at work and told me you’re at school, that you’re coming home tonight. I hope that’s true. I’ll be taking off early to see you. Please be there, Caleb.

Mom: I love you.

Caleb hates that that last text works, that it feels like a sickness in his stomach. It really wasn’t that long ago that he could hug his mom, not that long ago that he was one of her boys, and while she was always a bit of a stricter parent than Dad, it did feel like she loved him. But then, so quickly after Dad died, she shacked up with the worst person Caleb’s had the misfortune to meet, and all she’s ever done is defend him. No matter what he does.

He sighs, takes a cigarette from his jacket, notes that it’s his last for now. He hopes that a buzz of nicotine in his lungs might clear the dread from his chest. As he takes his first drag, Rachel falls down beside him, and he doesn’t even jump. He’s glad she’s back. He’s glad the thoughts that stewed in his head since Saturday weren’t...entirely true. She really never wanted to force him into anything.

She leans against his side in silence, passes him a full lunch tray for him to take. A lump grows in his throat, and Rachel’s hand strokes up and down his arm, weaving between his fingers, and he closes his eyes, trying to stop any tears. He’s so damn tired.

“You okay?” Rachel asks softly.

“Managing,” Caleb replies.

“You got this.” Rachel pats his shoulder. “You’re tough, dude. Now eat some lunch.”

The pressure in Caleb’s chest breaks, and he eats some lunch, and Rachel brings out her earbuds to share. He recognizes it, one of Rachel’s old folk singer ladies. He wonders, vaguely, where she picked them up. Their voices are always so powerful, strong and sure. He listens to a lot of screaming, needs to do a lot of screaming in his time. But sharing time with Rachel means hearing this, and that’s a nice change, too. It steadies him long enough for the bell to ring.

The toll of the final bell sets a quickening in Caleb’s heart, and it’s all he can do to stay steady, going back to the girls’ dorms for his board. Rachel meets him at the door, and quietly brings him up to her room. She almost reaches for his hand as they walk, her hand darting out nervously, but when Caleb doesn’t meet it, it returns to her side. It’s once they’re actually in her room that she turns and wraps Caleb in a tight hug.

It shouldn’t shock him, her affection. She’s made it pretty damn clear how she feels about him, bizarre as that seems to him. But he still freezes when she does it, and she pulls back quickly.

“Sorry, was that okay?” she asks, and Caleb chuckles, his muscles relaxing.

“Yeah, it’s fine, sorry.” He swallows. “Just...you know. Really nervous. With David staying home today, I better get back quick, and Mom’ll be there too, and just…”

“Yeah. I know how that feels,” Rachel says with a wince. “But...you’ll make it. You know?”

Caleb nods. “I know.” And he hugs her, and she accepts it gratefully, and it’s...yeah. This will work. Now that they’ve talked it through, as much as Caleb can manage right now, it’s working.

He leaves the dorms with his board in hand and blood pounding in his ears. His chest tightens as he rides the streets of Arcadia Bay. It all blurs together on his sides, this familiar route from school to home, something he’s done a thousand times yet feels so tense and difficult today.

But soon enough, he reaches the house with the half-done paintjob. He takes his board in his hands and approaches the door, taking in a deep breath. He takes the knob and finds it unlocked, and as he steps inside, his mother’s head snap-turns to him from her position at the kitchen table. She rises quickly, and Caleb instinctually tenses as she heads over to him, flinching until —

Until she wraps her arms around him.

He steps out of the hug almost immediately, backing himself against the door, board still tight in his grip. “Where’s David?” is the first thing he asks, and Mom’s face falls.

“He’s in the garage. I wanted him to rest today, but…” Mom bites her lip. “I guess he needs his distractions. Caleb — we need to talk, and there’s no gettin’ out of it this time, no matter how much lip you give me. Got it?”

Caleb nods slowly, fear ebbing away, replaced by a lump in his throat. “So he doesn’t wanna talk to me himself, huh?”

“I think it’s best you two don’t talk for a bit. David and I worked something out, now I wanna work something out with you. Get me?”

Caleb nods again. “I...yeah. Okay.”

“Leave that thing there, let’s sit,” Mom urges, gently taking Caleb’s skateboard from his hand and laying it against the wall. She heads up the stairs to Caleb’s room, and the two of them take seats on the edge of the bed. It’s...weird. Mom’s usually not this close to him, not anymore, but the air is so charged that he feels like he has no way to object, or avoid her, or do any of what he would normally do in times like these. Because the situation has changed, for the first time in months, and that’s a strange and uncomfortable feeling.

It was fucking terrible, before. Caleb wonders if it can get even worse.

Mom takes a deep breath before she starts. “So, like I said, David and I have been talking. I’m not gonna let yesterday slide, neither of us are. But it’s obvious we need to be...we need to think things through as a couple, a little more. I wanted us to talk to you as a team yesterday, and he overrode that, again, and — and I know he’s hurt you before.” Mom looks away, and Caleb feels some anger surge in him again.

“And you never stopped him,” he says under his breath. He can’t help himself.

“That’s — I know. You wouldn’t have hit him if he didn’t hit you first. I know the way you are. Even when you get in fights, you don’t usually start ‘em. Hell, I remember your first suspension, back when you knocked that kid on his ass for pickin’ on Max.” Mom smiles faintly, and Caleb’s fists just tighten. She talks about it like it’s funny or endearing or something.

“Didn’t stop you from punishing me anyway,” Caleb mutters.

“Yes, Caleb, because we don’t solve our problems with violence!” Mom insists.

“Tell your husband that lately?”

“Yes!” Mom starts to continue, closes her mouth, and breathes out. Once she’s calmed, she continues, “Yes, Caleb. Like I said. I understand why you did that. But you hit him really hard. We’re lucky nothing’s fractured. And you still just — Caleb, I was worried sick when I found out you didn’t show up for school, and then last night, you just…” She swallows wetly. “You were gone. You never responded to me, and I have no idea where you spent the night, or what you were doing, and…”

And she sobs, and Caleb’s able to look at her again.

She reaches for his hand, and though he tenses, he lets her take it, lets her gently run her fingers along his wrist. “Caleb, I…” She swallows. “I do worry about you, okay? I know I — I can be hard on you. But I’m trying to help, and you just don’t let me. You wouldn’t even talk to the counselor, you kept skipping your meds, and…”

Caleb feels a chill in his spine, remembering that abortive attempt at therapy after his father’s death. The impossibility of confronting everything, of trusting a strange man with his feelings when he couldn’t even trust his mother, when she was already talking about this nice man who kept coming into her work. He can’t quite figure out what to say, only getting as far as “Mom—” before she interrupts him.

“And I just need you to be safe, and we talked about it, and we decided we can’t let you keep your skateboard if you’re going to use it like this.”

Caleb’s blood flash-freezes in his veins. He hears something downstairs, the inside door to the garage opening.

“Wait,” he begins. “Mom—”

“Not only are you using that thing to — to keep yourself distant from us, you used it as a weapon. I can’t let you have it if this is how you’re going to use it, if having that opportunity means you take it and avoid us. We have to start getting along, and—”

The front door opens downstairs, and Caleb rushes to the window and throws it open, Mom’s words fading into buzzing noise behind him as he looks out to the front. David walks out to the curb, Caleb’s board in his hands. Caleb whirls and starts for his door, but Mom stands up and blocks his path.

“Caleb, this is for the best—”

“Dad gave me that board, what the fuck is David—”

A crack echoes down the empty streets outside, filtering in through Caleb’s window, and everything slows down.

Caleb rushes back to the window. David takes the two broken halves of Caleb’s board from the street and turns, and Caleb can see his face for the first time, swollen and purple and ugly. David throws the remains of the board into the trash can beside the garage, dusting off his hands like he’s fucking proud of what he did.

Caleb closes his eyes. His body’s on fire.

“Get the fuck out.” The words come out of him as poison, spilling from his throat. His nails dig into his palms.

“Caleb—”

“Get. Out.”

“You have to under—”

Caleb turns and stomps up to his mother, shoving her back against the wall beside his door. “I said fucking leave!” he shouts in her face, “Or is this not my room anymore too, huh? Gonna fucking tear the door off, now?”

Mom loses her breath, shaking under his gaze. “Caleb — “

“Leave.”

“You’re scaring me—”

“Good. Leave. Now.”

Mom glances at the door, and Caleb hears David come back inside. He must’ve heard the shouting.

But he goes back into the garage, and Caleb’s still staring his mother down. She’s alone in this. Good. See how she fucking likes it.

“Caleb, I’m — I’m not doing this to hurt you,” Mom stammers. “You can’t, you can’t speak to me like this—”

Caleb considers it. Raising his fist. Showing her what it’s like to really be afraid. He’s taller than she is now, and David’s already proved he’s not as fucking tough as he thinks he is. His hands shake at his sides.

“Get out,” he seethes, “Or I’ll push you out.”

“You’ve been doing that for years, Caleb, I don’t—”

“I fucking wonder why.”

Mom swallows. “I’ll come back when you calm down. Then we are gonna—”

“Leave!” Caleb shouts again, and she backs away, standing outside the threshold to his room, and though she’s opening her mouth to try to get the last word in again, Caleb just slams the door in her face. He paces the small length of his room, and everything is shit, and he’s trapped in here, and he just wants to fucking scream. Raised voices filter up from below him, and good, they should be just as fucking pissed off as he is, they should hate each other the way he hates them. David’s a fucking coward, turns out, just like Caleb thought.

But it won’t be enough for Mom to leave his ass. Beating on her son wasn’t enough, after all. Mom will just keep on going, thinking she can fix what she broke when it’s all ashes and blood, nothing to stitch back together. Nothing changes. Not for the better.

He slams his fist into the wall above his bed, and he’s shocked when the drywall breaks under the force and his hand is trapped within. Cursing, he manages to pull it free, pain in his knuckles bringing some level of relief. Fuck it. Why not break apart his room? It’s the only thing that actually belongs to him anymore, isn’t it? Might as well destroy it in that case. Nobody else cares about his things, nobody else respects his shit, so why should he?

He wants to just leave. Bolt out the window and run. But that’d only make things worse. Maybe next time it’s bars on the window, or they’ll actually take his door, or they’ll do some other horrible fucking thing because to them he’s not a person, he’s a problem. Maybe he could solve that problem for them. Out the window, down to the sea, into the surf, let the saltwater fill his lungs and let his body wash up beside the next beached whale, bloated and rotting.

The buzz of his phone in his pocket breaks through the noise in his skull. Rachel. Who else could it be?

And now he can’t even do anything with her. Can’t escape this place. Can’t fucking breathe. He stands, paralyzed, in front of the damage he’s done, and can’t see any future, only the hole in the wall.

The house is quiet. Mom and David must’ve stopped arguing. Anything else he does will be heard. Everything is monitored, and nothing is his, and he doesn’t know what to do.

His phone buzzes again, and this time, he takes it out.

Rachel: everything ok?

Rachel: probably not huh.

He breathes out. Sits on the edge of his bed and runs his hand down his face, coming away with sweat on his palm.

Me: no

Rachel: shit. how bad?

Me: david smashed my board

Rachel: that fucking motherfucker

Rachel: i think i actually want to kill him.

Rachel: but you left money here. we can get u a new one

Me: no if i bring it home they’ll ask where i got the cash and probably take it anyway. they planned it it wasnt like an anger thing theyre TRYING to make sure i cant fucking leave or go anywhere or do anything because im such a fucking troubled fucking youth

Me: my dad gave me that board

Me: and mom just let him do that

Me: i fucking hate them both

Rachel: im so sorry caleb. i really dont know what else to say. this is such bullshit

Rachel: any chance playing it cool for a while might make em back off?

Me: i dont fucking know

Rachel: we can buy a board and keep it at my room at least. just dont let em see you using it i guess?

Caleb sniffs, and realizes he’s choked up, the anger fading from his body, replaced with congestion, pressure in his head. He wipes at his eyes, takes deep breaths. Mom’s clattering around in the kitchen downstairs. David must still be trying to get his extra shitbox to run. He closes his eyes for a moment, lets himself rest before sending anything back to Rachel.

Me: yeah. we can try that

Me: thanks, rachel.

Rachel: yeah of course

Me: idk when ill be able to get out of here next. ill be careful. im not talking to them for now

Rachel: anything i can do?

Caleb takes in a sharp breath. His chest hurts.

Me: no

Me: just talking is enough

Rachel: anytime

Caleb looks around at his room, his surroundings able to come into focus again, his heart slowing. The door is closed. The house, for now, is quiet.

Rachel: hey if you cant leave can i just come over sometime?

Rachel: or are you like not allowed to have friends at all

Me: tbh idk

Me: havent had a friend over to my place since david moved in for good reason

Rachel: i still wanna see you

Rachel: lmk how things go, okay? im sure u need some time to yourself, but keep me in the loop?

Me: yeah. i will.

Me: thanks again.

Rachel: be safe

Caleb sighs, standing up and taking stock of his room, his life. He’s got homework to do, and he needs to cover up that hole he punched in the wall. Despite everything, life goes on.

When dinner comes around, it starts quietly. The television fills the air, some crap cop show David was watching before Mom served them all, just running in the background. Caleb eats lightly, ready to bolt. Neither of them will meet his eye.

Mom clears her throat as she finishes her plate. “Caleb, I want you to ride in with David in the mornings from now on.”

Caleb’s grip tightens on his fork. “And if I don’t?”

“I’m not letting you walk miles to school at the crack of dawn in the middle of winter,” Mom says, though her tone is shaky. “You don’t have to like it, but you do have to do it. You’ve proven we can’t trust you to travel on your own.”

Caleb bites back an insult, an attack. No point. “Fine. As long as David behaves himself too.”

“Excuse me?” Mom asks, and Caleb gives her a withering glare.

“You know what I’m talking about. Right, David?” Caleb challenges, trying to meet his stepfather’s eyes.

“I’ll keep my cool if you do,” David grumbles. “This doesn’t have to be hard.”

“See? It’s that simple. And I expect you to be home when he comes home, too,” Mom continues. “Take the bus or walk, either way. Or stay after school and ride back with him.”

“Okay, can I do anything on the weekends, or do I just sit in my room like a prisoner?” Caleb asks.

“Home by dark. No matter what.”

“Fine.” He takes in a deep breath. “What if I wanna have someone over?”

David snorts, and Mom shoots a glare his way. “Something to say, David?” she asks, and Caleb’s almost surprised at the anger in her voice. Maybe David actually destroying the board — and not even coming to back her up against Caleb — wasn’t part of her plan.

“Do you have friends?” David asks.

“Wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t,” Caleb replies, gritting his teeth. “What, do you think I slept on the streets last night?”

“I don’t know, Caleb,” David shoots back. “So who’d you stay with, then?”

“Why would I ever tell you that?”

“Boys,” Mom warns, and the both of them drop their shoulders, avert their eyes from each other. “Caleb, you can have your friends over if they behave — and if their parents are all right with it, of course. Right, David?”

“Yeah, just keep it down,” David mumbles.

“Fine. We done here?” Caleb asks, standing to leave.

David glances at Mom, and she shakes her head. “You can go,” she says softly. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

That phrase makes Caleb want to shout fuck you as loud as he can, but he swallows it, leaves without another word. He lets Rachel know the situation before he falls into bed.

So they’ll have to sneak around. They’ve been doing that anyway. Maybe Caleb can get better at not getting caught. And even if he doesn’t...well, it’ll get worse at some point, anyway, whether he does anything or not. It always does.

The morning is quiet. Caleb slashes new lines into his wrists after his shower, dresses them, hides them under jacket sleeves. Normal enough. Mom takes the early shift, so there’s no home-cooked breakfast, just cold Pop-Tarts while David fucks around in the garage, the two of them always separated by a wall if they can help it. But David has to come in sometime, emerging into the living room to shout out, “Time to go!” just as Caleb slips his plate into the dishwasher.

Caleb doesn’t look at him, if at all possible. He still looks like shit. Closer up, it’s obvious where the board hit him, and David probably is lucky that Caleb didn’t cause some kind of serious damage to his jaw. They don’t speak until they’re already on the road, Caleb staring out the window. Nothing on the stereo. David sure knows how to make every moment as uncomfortable as possible.

David clears his throat halfway through the drive, and Caleb tenses up. “We haven’t really talked, man-to-man,” he begins, and Caleb contemplates throwing the door open and taking his chance with a tuck-and-roll. “Not since it happened.”

Caleb stays silent.

“You know, I’m actually proud of you.”

“What.” Caleb spits the word out without thinking..

“You took a stand. May not have been the right stand, but you took it. Some pride in yourself, that’s a good thing,” David, looking straight ahead at the road. “And you took the consequences. Maybe not without a little whining, but—”

“Just stop,” Caleb grunts, putting his forehead in his hand.

“No, Caleb, I know I haven’t been the easiest guy to get along with—”

“Oh my God,” Caleb groans. He’d probably be fine if he jumped out at a stoplight, right?

“—and we’ve always been on the wrong foot, but if we talk to each other, as men—”

“Cut it out with the fucking man shit!” Caleb shouts. “Holy shit, dude, I’m fucking fifteen, and you’re a goddamn adult. There is no fucking man-to-man talk we can have.”

“You’re gonna be a man soon, Caleb, and it’s best you turn into a good one, so listen—”

“No. Stop.” Caleb’s teeth grind against each other. “We’re sitting here with giant fucking bruises on our faces, from each other, and you wanna talk about being men? You wanna talk about maturity or something? Give me a fucking break.”

“Keep that language in check!” David’s voice rises as he speaks. “If we’re going to discuss maturity, then—”

“That’s the point. We aren’t discussing anything. You don’t get to lecture me about maturity when you hit kids,” Caleb seethes. “You see how fuckin’ easy it is to get a rise out of you?”

David growls, a low sound in his throat. “I may not always have the best handle on my temper—”

Caleb laughs aloud, and David slams on the brakes, pulling them over to the side of the road. The Blackwell parking lot’s visible from here, so before David can even start his next stupid fucking rant, Caleb gets out and slams the door behind him, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he heads for school. David opens his door and hangs out of the side of the car. “Caleb!” he calls, “We aren’t done talking about this!”

“About what?” Caleb shouts over his shoulder.

“God dammit,” David curses behind him, and the car starts moving again, but Caleb’s sprinting for the sidewalk. By the time David’s parked, Caleb’s taking the steps up to the classroom building. He doesn’t look back as he starts the school day. If David’s got such a hard-on for pride, at least it means he won’t be following Caleb around and making himself look like an idiot.

He shudders. Man-to-man. Of all the kinds of talking you could do, that sounds like the worst one. As he escapes into his first class of the day, his phone vibrates. When he checks the message, he’s finally able to smile.

Rachel: AHAAHA YOU REALLY FUCKED HIM UP GOOD JOB

Rachel: now i know who to call the next time i need to ice some motherfucker

Me: when has that ever been a need of yours rachel

Rachel: aim high, caleb, aim high

The teacher catches him laughing, makes him put his phone away, but even that little exchange was enough.

At the very least, Rachel is here.

Chapter Text

Things are finally, finally leveling out.

It does feel good to see David’s fucked-up face on Wednesday, and Rachel’s able to breathe a little with her and Caleb’s relationship talked out and stable. They meet up for lunch, and it’s like it’s last week again, only better because Caleb can trust her. It feels good to be worthy of that trust, so Rachel stops pushing. At least for now, they can chat about music, make fun of the VC kids, and David doesn’t even have to come up — though Caleb does tell her in great dramatics about the absolutely bizarre conversation they had in the car this morning.

She misses him after school, but he texts her once he’s home. No real updates. Caleb’s walking light, and David is too, and his mom is apparently always kinda pissed but not saying it. Which may be the best way Caleb’s ever described his home life to her, so she counts it as a win, and gets back to her business.

With no money, she takes a backseat to VC plans, and since finals are coming up there’s not a lot of those to even go around. Britney’s busy, and she’s the only one with real pull to get shit organized, so fractured plans are made for the weekend across the grades. The freshmen are left drifting in the wind, with most of them having no transportation or much in the way of money or ability to get their hands on much alcohol. Nathan comes through, eventually — his parents apparently just took off to their winter home in California, leaving his place ripe for the trashing.

But it’s gotta be small, contained. Victoria, Rachel, Nathan, Courtney, Hayden. Nathan’s sister’s gonna be their ride. Friday. Which leaves Saturday and Sunday open, and likely, the Vortex Club kids too hungover to care where Rachel spends those days. Perfect for time with Caleb.

She texts him Thursday night, once all the plans are in place.

Me: so im thinkin we get you a new board saturday

Me: ride it around a bit, stash it at my dorm, then we go to your place?

Caleb: i really dont get why you wanna come over here its like a hellscape

Me: bc until we get ur ass a car and some way to keep ur parents from taking it its the only way i get 2 see u at night

Me: unless you think we might b able to hide your board in your room

Caleb: fat chance. stepshits just about convinced mom its time to search my room for drugs and shit

Caleb: i gotta stop smellin like cigs and weed when i come home or im about to be even more fucked

Me: hm. we needa get you a smoking jacket or somethin then. we can stash whatever in my room, nobody actually patrols the dorms around here. RAs are all in VC lol

Me: lets do thrifting too then!

Caleb: damn how early r we starting? thats a lotta walkin

Me: gimme ur address and ill just come find u, wake u up then

Caleb: u rly wanna meet david that bad? hes really not fun.

Me: well work it out. im very charming

Caleb: overconfidence gonna get u killed one day rach

Me: ooh hes givin me the nickname. im winning

Caleb: i rly hate ur ass sometimes

Me: see you saturday nerd

She sighs, opening Victoria’s text thread again, knowing she needs help with her studies, even if she doesn’t say that specifically. Victoria’s very good at photography, but some subjects just frustrate her. Courtney’s not around tonight, a date or something. Victoria needs Rachel there even if she couches the request in an offer of smoke. Rachel wonders how much of her classwork has ever been her own.

They meet Kristine Prescott in the Blackwell parking lot, as she pulls up in a beatup minivan. Nathan takes the front seat and leaves the rest of the kids to pile in the back. Rachel makes sure she can see Kristine, overly curious about the mysterious older sister, soon to finish college, yet ferrying highschoolers to her father’s place to get smashed.

She’s pretty. Blonde, like Nathan, but with a down-to-earth style, her clothes thick and lived-in. Manicured, short nails on the steering wheel, green earrings dangling from her sides. Victoria sidles up next to Rachel, squeezes into the middle between her and Courtney while Hayden takes the back seat.

“You could go in the back,” Rachel teases, elbowing Victoria.

“I would, but I know Kris has something for me, right?” Victoria says loudly, reaching up and tapping Kristine on the shoulder.

“Only ‘cuz you’re Nate’s bestie,” Kristine replies, digging in her winter coat and drawing out a small piece of folded tinfoil, passing it to Victoria. “But the rest is to share, everyone.”

“What’s the party favor, Kris?” Nathan asks.

“Picked up some acid from my guy. My treat. Anyone stuck in this dead-ass town needs an escape,” Kristine, Kris, replies, with a laugh that feels like Caleb’s. With a tone that reminds Rachel of his. It’s a strange sense of familiarity, washing over Rachel, but she laughs with the rest of the car at the news.

“You guys drop when we get to our place,” Kris instructs as she starts off down the road. “I’ll be your tripsitter. Because I love Nathan, and also I wanna make sure nobody breaks shit and gets the cops called.”

Nathan laughs. “C’mon, Kris, you know that’s not, like, a real problem.”

“Dad’s not here,” Kris reminds him. “We play it cool.”

“Fine,” Nathan moans, throwing his head back. “Ah, well. You guys ready to party?”

A cheer rises and Rachel joins her voice to it, but she’s looking at Kris all the while.

Nathan makes the introductions, and Kris nods like she hears them but isn’t going to remember. That’s fine. By the end of the night, Kris’ll know Rachel’s name.

Kris turns up the music and gets everybody hyped as she drives out to the edge of the bay, to a beautiful house on the cliffside overlooking the ocean. It has a goddamn gate. Kris slaps the sunglasses compartment to open it, parks next to a much nicer car than her own. As the kids get out and start to head inside, following Nathan, Kris hangs back, leans against her car, and brings a pack of smokes out of her pocket. So Rachel stays too.

“Mind if I bum one of those?” she asks, leaning beside her, and Kris looks down at her like it’s the first time she’s ever laid eyes on Rachel.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, sure.”

“Thanks.” Rachel lights up with Caleb’s lighter. She stole it from him today at lunch, to his sputtering objection. She’ll buy him a new one tomorrow. Well, with his drug money, but still. “Sorry, I’m flat broke.”

Kris laughs. “Oh, shit, Nathan’s making non-rich friends? Perish the thought.”

“My parents make money but I’m super out. I’ll ask for a bigger allowance after break,” Rachel says with a shrug. “This place is expensive.”

“You mean the Vortex Club is expensive,” Kris says with a grin, elbowing her. “Yeah, I remember that shit. It wasn’t quite as rowdy back when I was in Blackwell, but it was definitely...yeah, expensive. Frank had the hookup back then, but then he got his ass expelled.”

Rachel laughs. “Wait, you knew him in Blackwell? He’s still selling.”

“No shit? Poor guy. The best part of college is being outta this shithole,” Kris says with a sigh. “At least Nathan’s doing okay right now. I think. At least he’s outta the house.”

“Something wrong with the house?” Rachel asks, cocking her head.

“See my car?” Kris asks, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. “No, not the minivan. The other one.”

“Yeah?”

“Apology from Dad. What he thinks an apology is, anyway. I didn’t want it, so now it’s...here.” Kris laughs softly to herself. “Shit, I don’t — mouth shutting now. You’re Nathan’s friend, it’s his job to tell you about our shitty dad.”

Friend might be stretching it, but Rachel takes it in stride. “Don’t worry about it,” she says with a shrug, sucking on Kris’s cigarette. “People tell me about their fucked-up lives all the time.”

“Oh yeah? Got a gift for it?” Kris asks with a laugh. “That’s too bad, you’re, what, fifteen? Too early for that shit. At least wait ‘till college to be everyone’s therapist, that’s when that’s supposed to happen.”

Rachel shrugs. “Hey, I like knowing people.”

Kris peers over her curiously. “You must be Rachel. Right?”

“I did say that was my name, yes.”

Kris laughs to herself. “You gotta be the Rachel Nate’s all into.”

“Oh no,” Rachel groans. “He’s been telling you about me?”

“Yep. I think it’s sweet. He probably just wants pictures of you.”

“Not creepy at all, Kris.”

“I only just realized how that sounded,” Kris says with a chuckle. “Anyway, we should probably—”

“Yo, Kris!” Nathan shouts from the open doorway. “Quit stealing my girl and give us drugs!”

“I’m not a fucking cradle robber, Nate!” Kris shouts back, though she’s laughing. She stomps out her cigarette, and Rachel follows her inside, and Kris indeed gives them drugs.

The next time Rachel and Kris have a chance to talk, it’s late into the night. Acid is pretty fun, Rachel has decided, though Kris obviously underdosed them. Barely any visuals to behold, but there’s a lot of nervous energy in Rachel’s body, and Nathan’s dancing started to get a little too close.

So now she’s out in the backyard, looking out over the sea. Kris sits in a lawn chair beside an unlit firepit, smoking, like before.

“You know, if you lit this thing, it’d be warmer,” Rachel says as she takes an adjacent lawnchair, holds out a hand for a cigarette.

“I’m not starting a fire with five tripping freshmen in my house,” Kris replies. “Also, if you’re gonna be out here, look up at the sky at least. The stars out here kick ass on psychedelics.”

Rachel makes another gimme gesture, and Kris gives in at last. And Rachel looks up at the sky, and Kris is very right. The visuals, they’d mostly been on patterns in the house, tile and ceilings. Out here, the stars waver and shift, form images in the sky, the constellations Rachel knows by heart lighting up and moving before her eyes. “Wow,” she breathes, and Kris giggles.

“Right? Glad you came out. I kept telling people to chill, but I guess Nate’s a harder partier than I thought. Mixing acid and alcohol this early is a waste of good acid,” Kris laments. “Just wanted to give him a nice time. He always sounds so stressed when we call.”

“You guys are close?” Rachel asks.

“Close as we can be, with six years between us,” Kris says with a shrug. “Do my best. You know.”

“So what was that shit about you stealing his girl?”

"I, ah,” Kris stammers, and right now Rachel wishes she had the fire so she could see what Kris is looking like, how she’s feeling. “Dammit. Never should’ve told that little shit I’m bi.” It clicks. Rachel’s heart thuds against her ribcage. Remembers kids back home who stayed at the backs of classrooms, met at the edges of the cafeterias, in clubs after school. Kids who always seemed interesting, but Rachel couldn’t just wander over to the GSA without it becoming a whole thing. It’s not like she’s gay, anyway, so what would be the point?

“My bad, totally. Don’t worry about it, I swear I’m not angling for freshman pussy,” Kris says with an awkward laugh. She swallows. “Not a, a big deal or anything.”

“Hey, I’m not judging,” Rachel says with a smile, willing herself to not be weird. “Figured it was something like that.” Her phone buzzes, and she checks it curiously.

Nathan: racccchheeeelelllellelelee

Nathan: where da fuck did u go

Nathan: stupid house too big and we wanna do drinking games

Me: youd have even teams without me anyway right?

Nathan: vic says to stop being weird

Me: oh well if vic says it

Rachel stands up, finishes off her cigarette, enjoys the cold seabreeze on her skin. She closes her eyes, letting the colors that live there pop and swirl. Might as well enjoy the acid before Nathan makes her drown it in booze.

“Goin’ back in?” Kris asks.

“I am being summoned,” Rachel intones gravely. “Apparently it's drinking game time.”

“Well, shit,” Kris says with a grunt, standing up herself and stretching. “Better keep an eye on you guys.”

But Rachel keeps finding herself keeping an eye on Kris.

“All right, guys,” Kris says with a big yawn as she shuts off the stereo in the living room. “I’m going to bed. Keep it down, I know you’ll be up ‘till dawn, but watch a movie or something.”

“Got it, Kris,” Nathan says, walking over to her and giving her a big hug that actually looks rather sweet. “‘Night,” he mumbles, and she pats his head affectionately before she wanders off towards the staircase.

“Anyone got movie ideas?” Hayden asks as he sinks into the couch across from the absurdly large TV. “And, uh...anyone got movies?”

Victoria stands up, starts rummaging through the entertainment center. Rachel finds a seat next to Hayden, and Nathan cuddles up next to her almost immediately, laying a possessive hand on her thigh. She’s tired and drunk enough to lay her head sideways onto Hayden’s shoulder, and that’s nice enough. She closes her eyes. The colors are gone. No fun.

“Here we go,” Victoria announces. “At least you listen to something I say, Nathan.”

Nathan laughs. “I knew we’d need it sometime.”

Rachel opens her eyes, sees the DVD that Victoria’s holding up. Princess Mononoke. Hayden whistles. “Great choice!” he says. “Fuck yeah, blood and guts and big monsters.”

“I mean, yeah,” Victoria says irritably as she sets up the thing to play, “But also pretty animation.”

“Nerd,” Rachel says with a smirk, and Victoria shoots her back a drunken glare.

“You will learn to appreciate art, Amber,” Victoria insists, wagging her finger at her.

“Don’t let her make you watch Elfen Lied,” Courtney warns, off somewhere to the left — Rachel pushes herself up a bit to see she’s sitting on the long part of the sectional couch — and Victoria joins her there shortly, surprisingly close.

“Fuck you, that shit’s a masterpiece,” Victoria grunts. Courtney meets Rachel’s eyes and shakes her head slowly, mouthing it’s not.

Rachel giggles to herself, settles in, though she’s not sure she’s actually going to be able to pay attention to the movie. Not with the way Nathan’s paying attention to her. His hand snakes up and down her thigh before the opening narration is even finished, and Rachel wills herself not to make a scene. Hayden’s eyes are closed, Courtney and Vic are watching the movie, this should be — fine. Nathan’s...fine. Annoying and loud, but he gets drugs, made this little party happen. And apparently, he’s into Rachel.

She gasps against her will as he moves too far up, and he grins at her and she feels like she’s gonna hurl. She gently lays her hand over his, cocks her head at the surrounding teens, like, hey, we’re in public. But he’s still smiling, still moving, and Rachel has to find a way out of this. Another time, fuck, a few weeks ago, maybe this would be okay, but —

Not now. Not him.

She stands up. “Gonna hit the bathroom,” she says. “No need to pause.”

“You’re gonna miss the best part,” Victoria grumbles, her face in Courtney’s shoulder.

“I’m sure I’ll live.”

“Hurry back!” Nathan shouts after her as she retreats in the same direction Kris went. She heads upstairs, doesn’t flip on any lights. Just listens, to see if she can figure out which of these many stupid rooms is Kris’. She needs an escape. Maybe Kris is cool enough to keep it quiet.

Soft music draws her ear near the end of the hall, and she listens at a door, finds where it’s coming from. She knocks twice, and Kris opens the door a second later, and she looks like she hasn’t really gotten ready for bed yet, so it’s all good.

“Rachel?” she asks. “Something up?”

“You mind giving me a ride?”

“Party’s boring now, huh?” Kris asks with a gentle laugh. “Yeah, sure, let me get my shoes on. Smart to catch me before I slept.”

Rachel gives her a smile, and Kris finds her shoes in the corner of her room and slips them on. “There a way outta the house without passing the living room?” she asks as the two of them step out into the hall.

“Ooh, trying to sneak away?” Kris asks, smirking. “Yeah, sure, this way.” She leads Rachel back downstairs, finds a backdoor that Rachel didn’t even know was there. They circle around the house back to Kris’ minivan, and once Rachel’s in the front seat with the seatbelt fastened, she pulls up Caleb’s address on her phone’s GPS.

As they set off towards their destination, Kris clears her throat. “So how come you’re leaving?” she asks quietly.

“Like you said. Boring now,” Rachel replies, staring out the window at the darkened streets.

“...and why didn’t you wanna see my brother?”

Rachel swallows. “Just...wanted out.”

“Hey, if he was being shitty at you, you need to tell me,” Kris insists. “I’m his big sister, I have the right to tell him off for being bad to girls.”

“It’s — it’s nothing,” Rachel murmurs. “Just not in the mood for it tonight.”

“Well, he should’ve picked that up, then,” Kris grumbles. “Where am I taking you, anyway? This isn’t the way to Blackwell.”

“Friend’s house. I promised him we’d hang out tomorrow. Or...today,” Rachel notes, checking the dashboard time display.

“You are gonna be so damn tired,” Kris says. “Good luck staying awake. And a friend, hmm?”

Rachel sighs. “Just a friend. Seriously. He made that...pretty clear.”

“Ooh, ouch, sorry. But you’re still rolling up to his house at one A.M.?” Kris asks, cocking her head.

“Hey, I’d be nothing without my mystique,” Rachel shoots back. “Besides, we’re cool.”

“All right, if you say so.”

A message pops up on Rachel’s screen as the GPS drones its instructions.

Nathan: wtf whered u go

Rachel: out :3

Nathan: aw man did you ditch to another party? respect

Nathan: well ill see ya later. thx for hanging anyway

Rachel ends it there. Let them make their own assumptions; they’re more fun and more useful than the truth.

As they drive, Rachel knows they could talk more. There’s questions in Rachel’s mind, but she knows they’d come off stupid, the kind of shit dumb kids say, not cool teenagers. Do you have a girlfriend? How’d you know you’re bi? Dumb shit to wonder about, let alone ask. Being cool — that’s more important than indulging weird curiosities, especially if she wants to leave a good impression on Kris, and make sure nothing gets back to Nathan. She has to choose her questions carefully.

“So how come you’re in town and ferrying us high schoolers around?” Rachel asks. “Did your winter break start already or something?”

“Not exactly,” Kris sighs. “Parents don’t know I’m up here, it’s just a weekend trip. College isn’t far from home, and Nathan was complaining about not having a way to party this weekend, so I was like, hell, I’ll skip studying for a night or two.”

“That’s actually kinda sweet,” Rachel says with a smile.

“I just wanna make sure he’s got a better time at Blackwell than me,” Kris murmurs, taking their last turn according to the GPS.

Kris pulls the car to a stop in front of a house with a half-done paintjob, quiet and dark — except for blue light flashing in one of the upstairs windows. Gotta be him.

“Hey, Rachel,” Kris begins, leaning over and putting a hand on Rachel’s shoulder. “You sure everything’s cool? I can totally bitch out Nate for it later if you tell me what happened.”

“Nothing really happened,” Rachel lies, because getting known as a narc isn’t the point here. “Just...I made this guy a promise, you know?”

“Sure, sure. Sounds like a whole story, Rachel. Hope he appreciates you banging on his door this late.”

“Oh, I’m not banging on the door,” Rachel says, spotting a path up to the lit window. “Thanks for the ride, seriously. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Hey, I got in my share of trouble at Blackwell, coulda used an older kid looking out for me back then,” Kris says as Rachel opens up the door. “Take care, Rachel.”

“You too, Kris.”

Rachel climbs out of the car, then hops up onto one of the trash cans near the garage before managing, with some struggle, to lift herself up onto the section of roof that leads to Caleb’s window. She looks back down once she’s up there, and Kris is staring at her and laughing into her hand, so Rachel gives her a goofy two-finger salute before turning around and rapping lightly on Caleb’s window.

He’s in there, all right, sitting on his bed and staring at his TV, so when Rachel knocks he jumps and nearly drops his controller. He comes over to the window and pulls it open while Rachel giggles.

“What the fuck?” he whispers through a smile.

“VC party sucked,” Rachel informs him, clambering over his desk. “Plus this way we can start tomorrow way early.”

“You’re a crazy person,” Caleb says, shaking his head with a chuckle. “You know they can’t find you in here in the morning, right?”

“We’ll work it out. I’ll be stealthy.”

“I’ll trust you on that. But I’m also shoving you out the window the second David knocks.”

“Deal.” Rachel gives him a quick squeeze. “So what’re you doing up?”

“Old video games,” Caleb sighs, heading back over to the bed and gesturing vaguely at his TV, paused on a frame of a woman with an absurdly large sword smashing through a crowd of guys. “Not super exciting.”

“Totally chill. I’m still on an acid comedown so I’ll just watch, ‘kay?” Rachel asks, sitting down beside him. “Share some music?”

“Sounds great.” Caleb smiles down at her. “...thanks. It’s good to see you. Even if you have like, no regard for boundaries.”

Rachel shrugs. “Hey, you didn’t have to let me in,” she says as she brings out her earbuds from her pocket. “We should look for a headphone splitter tomorrow, too. Better for sharing music.”

“How much of my money are we spending?”

Rachel pats her back pocket, the wallet she’d stuffed with Caleb’s dealing money but hasn’t spent yet. “Whatever we got. It’ll be worth it.”

“If you say so.”

Rachel hooks up her earbuds and passes one to Caleb, then kicks off her shoes and orients herself so that her head’s hanging off the end of the bed, watching Caleb play his game upside-down. The volume’s off, of course, so it’s just music that she hears. Quietly, together, they wait out the insomnia.

Rachel wakes to the sun streaming through Caleb’s window, and realizes that she’s still upside-down on his bed. She groans as she lifts her sore neck, seeing that Caleb apparently faceplanted into his pillows at some point after she fell asleep. She takes her phone out to check the time and curses — she’d kept the music running all night, so the damn thing is dead. She crawls up the bed, finding Caleb’s phone docked with a charger, and keys that to discover it’s about seven in the morning. Caleb snores softly as she settles down beside him, rubbing his back with one hand. He’s cute like this, all discombobulated, still in his clothes. Must’ve been too nervous to get undressed with a girl in his room.

She kisses his forehead — what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right? — and steals his charger for her own, resting her head on the pillows and taking the chance to glance around his room. She quickly decides it needs more of a personal touch. There’s not much on the walls, and what character is there is mostly Caleb’s mess. There clearly used to be stuff on the walls, lighter patches and sticky glue remnants, but he must’ve taken them down and never replaced them. He clearly doesn’t do much cleaning, or thinking, in this room. She checks behind her head and notices that one of the posters, for Alien, looks like, isn’t level. Like it was moved recently.

Curiously, she lifts the poster, and there’s a big fat hole in the drywall. She swallows when she sees it. Did Caleb do that, or David?

Well. She can make it fun.

She gets up and finds a Sharpie on his desk, then lifts the poster again and draws an arrow to the damage. She labels it. HOLE TO ANOTHER UNIVERSE. Caleb can escape through it the next time his shit-ass stepdad bothers him.

A knock at the door makes her jump, almost dropping her pen on Caleb’s sleeping body. “Caleb!” his mother, presumably, calls through the door. “Breakfast!”

Caleb shifts and groans. “Coming,” he mumbles, muffled, into his pillow.

“You say something?” Mom asks again.

“Be there soon!” Caleb shouts, rolling over and raising his eyebrows at Rachel. “You gotta get outta here,” he whispers, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

“Got an idea,” Rachel replies, finding her shoes and tugging them on. “Anybody out front this early?”

“David might be in the garage, but he usually sleeps in on weekends,” Caleb informs her.

“Sweet. I’m going out the window, then I’ll knock on the front door. Think your mom will have enough breakfast for me?”

“She always cooks too much…”

“Kickass. Stealth mission go.” Rachel heads over to his desk and opens the window, climbing out. He follows and they look at each other through the window as he closes it. Rachel presses a kiss to the cold glass, and Caleb just rolls his eyes and walks away.

Rachel shuffles off the roof and lands well enough on frosted grass, then hops up and brushes herself off before going up to the door. When she knocks, a big, tall blonde woman answers, her hair done up in a bun, wearing last night’s pajamas. “Hello?” she asks, squinting at Rachel.

“Hi, Mrs. Madsen!” Rachel says, putting on her brightest and cheeriest I-didn’t-party-and-then-sleep-in-your-son’s-room voice. “I’m Rachel, Caleb’s friend. We were gonna hang out today.”

“...huh,” Mrs. Madsen says. “I think this is the first time he’s brought a friend around since...well, for a while. How’d you get here?” she asks, leaning out of the door and looking over the street.

“Caught a ride from a friend who was heading out of town this weekend. Figured we could start the day early.” Rachel puts on a show of sniffing the air. “That smells delicious.”

Mrs. Madsen grins at her. “Flattery. Obvious flattery. But fine, come on in, I’ll serve you up a plate once Caleb gets his lazy bones down the stairs. No reason to leave you stranded out in the cold.”

“Thanks,” Rachel says, hopping up into the house as Mrs. Madsen holds the door for her. “Need any help in the kitchen or anything, Mrs. Madsen? I know I’m a little early.”

“You’re fine, darlin’, and please, call me Joyce,” Joyce says, patting her on the shoulder. “Now, you wouldn’t happen to be the friend Caleb stayed with Monday night, wouldya?”

Oh — oh, no, nobody knew where he was,” Rachel lies. “I was worried about him.”

“Ain’t everybody,” Joyce sighs wistfully, heading back into the kitchen while Rachel locates the dining table just beyond and sits down. “How’d you two meet, anyway?”

“I found him at the skatepark a while back. He loaned me his board for a while since I left mine at home, then we just...started talking.”

Joyce looks a little downcast at the mention of skating, but she chuckles. “You must really have a thing for him, coming over this early.”

“I — no, we’re just friends, really.”

“Didn’t buy it from the last girl, not buyin’ it from you,” Joyce says with a wink as she scrapes a few pancakes off the griddle. “You keep him outta trouble, okay?”

“You say that like it’s easy.”

“Okay, point goes to you,” Joyce concedes, digging in the cabinets for dishware. “You know he don’t get to skate anymore, right?”

“Yeah. He told me what happened.”

“Sounds like you’ve got opinions on it.”

Shit, forgot to tone-switch. “...none I’m going to bother you with,” she says carefully.

“Smart girl.” Joyce sets the plate of pancakes on the table, then goes to grab another stack. She clears her throat as she works. “David, Caleb! You boys get your asses down here before the food gets cold! We got a guest!”

Caleb comes down the stairs like a stampede, grinning at the sight of Rachel at the table. “Damn, you’re early, Rach,” he says with a wink. “You guys have a nice bonding session about how fucked up I am?”

“Language,” Joyce scowls as Caleb takes the seat beside Rachel. “And I happen to like her. You keep this one around, she’s smart.”

“Yeah, listen to your mom, Caleb,” Rachel says, smirking at Caleb. He rolls his eyes and starts serving himself pancakes, while Joyce runs upstairs to properly wake her husband.

“Can’t believe that worked,” Caleb whispers.

Rachel elbows him. “Later,” she mutters under her breath.

David and Joyce come back down a minute later, and David stops cold when he sees Rachel.

“Hey, Mr. Madsen!” she says, giving him a friendly wave.

“I know you,” he replies, narrowing his eyes. “Didn’t you yell at me once?”

“I didn’t know you were Caleb’s stepdad,” Rachel says. “I just thought you were creeping on him.”

Joyce lets out a laugh, and David shoots her a glare. “It’s my job to discipline students and watch out for misconduct. I’m sure you know that, Ms…?”

“Amber. Rachel Amber.”

“Well, Rachel, I assume you know the rules,” David mutters, sitting down at the table and stabbing his pancakes like they’ve personally wronged him.

“Yep! Back before dark, promise. I’m just taking him shopping.”

“That right.” David squints at her. “Aren’t you in the Vortex Club?”

“Junior member, yeah. Everybody’s getting ready for finals right now, though.”

“Hmph. You kids get away with more than you should.” David stuffs a piece of pancake in his mouth, and Rachel squeezes Caleb’s free hand under the table. She can navigate this. Him.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Rachel says.

“Yeah. You do.” David grunts. “Well. Behave yourself.”

“You don’t have anything to worry about from me.”

“I’ll just bet.”

“Quit giving her the third degree, David,” Caleb sighs.

“Caleb—”

“It’s fine, David,” Joyce warns. “Let the kids get some breakfast in ‘em. At least Caleb’s eating.”

Rachel decides she likes Joyce. Mostly. At the very least, she’s easier to please.

She and Caleb step up their eating, and in a few minutes they’re getting ready to leave, Caleb getting his shoes and backpack from upstairs, Rachel reclaiming her phone. Just as they’ve almost escaped the house, Joyce stops Rachel on her way out the door.

“Hey,” she says, her voice low. “Since Caleb doesn’t always remember to charge his phone, you mind if we swap numbers? You know. In case he doesn’t make it back today.”

Rachel nods. If she says no, it’ll look way too suspicious. “No problem, Joyce.” She recites her number aloud once Joyce pulls out her own phone.

“You’re an angel, dear. You kids be safe,” Joyce calls as Rachel finally joins Caleb out on the porch. The door closes before they have to answer, and they breathe a simultaneous sigh of relief.

“You need to teach me to lie like that,” Caleb says once they’re on the sidewalk.

“People really aren’t that hard to figure out, especially parents,” Rachel replies with a smile.

“Told you before, that kinda thinking is gonna get you in trouble, Rach,” Caleb warns with a chuckle.

“Already has, but who has time to learn from their mistakes or whatever?” Rachel elbows him. “Now come on. We’ve got drug money to spend.”

“So what exactly is the plan today?” Caleb inquires as Rachel stops to check her phone for directions.

“Head downtown, first the sports shop for a new board, then thrift store,” Rachel informs him. “Gotta grab you a smoking jacket or two before we smell up our clothes today. Plus we can look for stuff for the hideout!”

“Think we’ll make it out there before dark?” Caleb asks, checking the time on his own phone.

“Let’s play it safe. Once we’re done being out on the town, stash everything at my dorm and if we’ve got any daylight or money left, we can snag some weed.”

Caleb gives her a smile. “You weren’t kidding about having plans. Got any follow-through this time?”

“We’ll get you home tonight, hit the junkyard tomorrow. Really make that place our own. Sound good?”

“Yeah.” Caleb pauses, then wraps Rachel in a hug. “You’re the best. Seriously.”

“We’ll see. For now, we got a lot of walking to do.”

It is a lot of walking. It’s not slow, per se, but it takes time, and stopping by all the shops and getting what they need proves more difficult than Rachel anticipated. They just barely stretch their funds to cover the board, a headphone splitter, lunch, and a jacket for Caleb, leaving them staring forlornly at bizarre knicknacks, unable to truly acquire them for themselves.

As they leave the thrift store, Caleb stretches. “Well, mission partially successful,” he admits, “but we need more cash. Two hundred looks like a lot of money when it’s in your hand, but…”

“My parents should be giving me some over break. I can spend a little to make the hideout nice,” Rachel notes. “And, hey, maybe you can sell a little more if you’re more careful.”

Caleb nods. “Yeah. No skipping school for the whole day, at least. Might take me all week to actually finish the deliveries, especially with no board, but…” He shrugs. “Not like David can be in every bathroom, or checking the woods during lunch.”

“Aww, I’ll miss our hangouts.”

“You can sell drugs too, missy,” Caleb informs her, poking her side. “Unless it’s that embarrassing to be seen with me.”

“Hey, I was keeping it quiet for your benefit,” Rachel informs him, only...half lying. “But I think everybody knows we hang out now. Fine, I’ll stick around, but only if I get to make fun of people.”

“Maybe you could pick up and I could deliver?” Caleb suggests as they sit down at the empty bus stop. “Take your board in the early morning and find Frank?”

“Ooh, I like it, we’re partners in crime.” Rachel lays her head on his shoulder, brings out their brand new headphone splitter. “Now let’s stop incriminating ourselves in public for a minute, ‘kay?”

Caleb laughs, but he pulls out his earbuds too, and they remain connected as they take the bus back up to Blackwell, his new board in his arms. They cross the campus without incident, head into the girls’ dorms with their prize. Caleb puts the board down next to Rachel’s, and the two of them fall onto her bed, staring at the unlit stars. Sun’s getting low. Too bad. And they have no money.

“So what now?” Rachel asks airily.

“Play it safe, I guess,” Caleb mumbles. “Unless you wanna come back for dinner, which, I won’t blame you if no.”

“I should really sleep here tonight,” Rachel sighs. “Do homework and shit. Annoying as that is. I’d smoke you out but I’m totally dry, I’ve been bumming off Vic and Courtney.”

“Guess that VC membership is good for something, huh?”

“Plus I have to keep an eye on Victoria. She’s really funny. Not on purpose, but she’s funny.”

Caleb giggles, a sound Rachel’s not sure he’s ever made before, and she’s filled with a familiar desire to just get on top of the boy. He punches her lightly in the side. “You are such a bitch.”

Rachel swallows, keeps her shit on lock. Just friends. Right. “Yeah, but I’m your bitch.”

“You are not anybody’s bitch, Rachel, that much I know.”

“Ugh, words have too many meanings.”

“Bitch is a great word! So versatile.”

“Yeah, but it’s easy to make it good and bad within a sentence!”

“That’s why it’s good!”

Rachel snorts, running a hand through her hair and sighing, glancing over at him. He looks...happy. Really happy. She’s glad to see that side of him. Their Saturdays have, traditionally, ended in him being the exact opposite. She could get used to this. This could really work. And if she wants to keep him happy...she’s gotta make sure he stays on even levels with his family. So, with a heaving sigh, she says, “I guess you should catch the next bus, huh?”

Caleb nods solemnly. “Yeah. But...thanks. For keeping the board for me, and stuff. It’ll be good to have some freedom again. Riding with David is the worst.”

“God, I can imagine. Sorry I’m not gonna be here over break, but, you know, parents wanna keep an eye on their delinquent.”

“Hey, I’ve spilled my guts on my shit family,” Caleb says, sitting up and looking down at Rachel. “Just think of it as a chance to vent right back at me.”

“Is that optimism? From Caleb Price?” Rachel sits up and runs dramatically to the window. “Huh. World’s not ending…”

“You know I can go back to being an emo bitch at any time,” Caleb threatens.

“You were never an emo bitch, Caleb,” Rachel says, walking over to where he’s sitting and putting her hands on her hips. “You were a troubled and misunderstood—”

“If you say bad boy I’m going to deck you with my brand new skateboard.”

Rachel breaks down into giggles. “All right, all right, bad girl then, whatever.”

Caleb chuckles, looking down at his feet, a blush growing on his cheeks. Is that just because of the joke, the callback? Another little alarm, somewhere in the back of Rachel’s brain, starts to ring, but like the ones Caleb’s set off before she can’t quite connect it to an idea. “I refute the statement that I’m a mysterious anything,” Caleb says after a moment. “I'm a pretty on-the-surface basic poor bitch.”

“You are not. Tell you what. We might not have any fun thrifted stuff, but bring some Sharpies tomorrow, at least. And your sketchbooks. We can get spraypaint another time, but we should start marking the place up.”

“Ooh, vandalism. I love this crime spree we’re starting.” Caleb checks his phone, then stands. “All right. Adventure’s over for today. Thanks again for like, everything. It’s been weird, but...good.”

“Weird but good. That’s exactly the vibe I’m aiming for.” Rachel smiles at him, then throws out her arms. “Hug for the road?”

“If I must.” But he feels warm and full in her arms, and he comes away smiling, and damn it is so fucking hard not to just kiss him. But she controls herself. Gives him a wave as he heads out the door, lively as he puts his earbuds in and practically dances away down the hall.

Rachel falls back down on her bed, the day, the last three weeks, spinning around in her mind. What is his block? Is it just that he doesn’t like himself, that his shitty stepdad has spent the last however long tearing him down, that he’s still in mourning for a father Rachel’s never heard about?

Because this could be so simple. This could be a basic-ass, fun as hell, whirlwind romance with a guy who utterly deserves that kind of adventure. She could take him and lift him up and get him into the big leagues, the VC and beyond, like it’s Grease or Pretty Woman with genders reversed or something. If they were together. If there wasn’t something in Caleb that screams and tears at him, that makes him shake and sputter and lash.

She feels like she’s so close. But none of it adds up. If he was gay, he wouldn’t look at her like this. Maybe his stepdad’s done something even worse to him? Or that old girlfriend (girl friend? Was there a space or not?) that he and his mom brought up in vague allusions. There must be a story. There must be a reason. Something she can fix. She likes to think she could be someone who can fix people.

She’ll get it out of him eventually.

People really aren’t that hard to figure out, after all.

Chapter Text

Rachel uncaps Caleb’s Sharpie with a flourish, heading over to the wall of their shack. “We gotta start by claiming it,” she declares, writing out Rachel was here on the exposed brick. She tosses the pen to Caleb and brings him forward by the waist as he swallows, nervously twirling the Sharpie between two fingers.

Rachel nudges him. “C’mon. You were here too.”

Caleb falters. Remembers another dedication, chipped into the bark of a tree. A lie. BFF, it says, somewhere up there, and forever turned out to only last a few short months. Not only that, but...

“You okay?” Rachel asks, her voice softening. She puts a hand on his shoulder.

He takes in a deep breath. “Um, I don’t — I don’t really like my name,” he admits. “I might change it sometime. I don’t know.”

“Really? I kinda like it,” Rachel replies with a shrug. “Cay-leb. Has a sort of weight to it, you know? It’s Biblical, right?”

Caleb snorts, some of the tension broken. “Yeah, I bet I strike you as a real Bible-loving type of guy,” he says, elbowing Rachel. “God’s really been on my side lately.”

“All right, all right,” Rachel says, putting her hands up in surrender. “You got another name you’re thinking of, then? Your middle or something?”

“Not really,” Caleb admits. “No ideas. Just don’t like it.” It feels like a lie, even though it isn’t, because he’s leaving out the why of it. Hardly matters. Lies of omission are the main kind he tells.

“Well, how about this,” Rachel offers, getting up in front of him with her hands on her hips. “We leave some space above your name. You change it someday, we come back and fix it. Plus, that’ll be punk as hell, right?”

“How’s that punk, exactly?”

“Taking control of your life. Your name’s a big part of that, you know? You deserve it.” Rachel sounds so certain.

“...and what if we don’t come back?”

“We will.”

Caleb bites his tongue. A familiar promise, waiting to be broken. But Rachel’s gaze is unwavering, her eyes solid on his, and he shrugs. “All right,” he says, taking the Sharpie, mentally mapping the wall in his mind so there’ll be room above his letters, should that day ever come. He writes in all-caps, blocks, CALEB WAS HERE, offset by Rachel’s softer script above. He ends up liking that little tableau once he pulls back. It’ll definitely do, for now.

“Cool,” Rachel says with a slight smile. “Plus, like...if you do change your name, and we don’t come back...you were still here when you were Caleb, you know? You left your mark here. That matters.”

“It does?” Caleb asks with a light chuckle. “Dude, it’s just Sharpie in a junkyard, we’re not rearranging the stars.”

“Not with that attitude, we’re not. Now, c’mon, let’s look at your sketchbooks. Find some inspiration.”

Caleb steps back from the wall and heads back to the bus seat, finding his backpack at the foot of it and opening it up. “I just brought the one,” he says as he pulls out the notebook in question, something he swiped while Mom was shopping a while ago. He could’ve asked, but he didn’t, because the last thing he needs is her asking to see what he’s drawing, or otherwise pretending to have an interest in his life.

“How many do you have?” Rachel asks as she sits down beside him.

“This is all the most recent stuff. The rest is...you know. When I was a kid. Not stuff I wanna look back on.” Certainly not the stuff he drew for Max, Christ. He clears his throat. “Anyway. Here.” He passes the book over to Rachel, and she gets a look on her face like he just handed her a million-dollar check. “Don’t look so fucking stoked,” he says, elbowing her. “It’s not—”

“Ooooh,” Rachel coos as she flips to, admittedly, one of his favorite attempts at tattoo design. “I like this one. The vines and the skull, decay creating life…”

Caleb can’t help but smile. “I, uh, yeah. Thought it might make a nice sleeve, you know, someday.”

“This needs color,” Rachel declares. “It’d look great with color. Maybe some blue somewhere.” She taps on the page. “Maybe add some butterflies, like morphos…”

“Oh, you wanna make the metamorphosis thing more obvious?” Caleb asks, laughing to himself.

“I just think blue’s a pretty color!” Rachel insists.

“Rachel, I’ve never seen you wear a blue thing in your life.”

“It’s not my color,” Rachel sighs dejectedly, sinking down in her seat and flipping to another page. “Red’s my color. I know that.”

“I dunno,” Caleb says, cocking his head at her. “I could see it as an accent somewhere.”

“I think it’s your color,” Rachel shoots back, her eyes meeting his.

“And what’s giving you that idea?”

“Dude, have you seen your eyes?” Rachel reaches for his face and he briefly stops breathing as she regards said eyes. “Seriously,” she murmurs. “So pretty.”

Caleb jerks his head back and rolls his eyes. “I mean—”

“Don’t argue with me, I’m the preppy girl here,” Rachel interrupts, flipping another page. “Yeah. Yeah, we should mark this place up. I like the barbed wire and vines aesthetic you got going on here, C. You got any other colors in your bag?”

Caleb does.

They etch lines into the corners of their hideout, bring a small speck of life into the edges with greens and blues. Most of it they leave blank, though, the wider expanses preserved for the theoretical future when they can thrift themselves a tapestry or something. Still, by the time the sun starts to set and they have to start for Blackwell to hide Caleb’s board, the former shed does start to feel like a home. They've worked for it, they’ve claimed it. It may be the only thing in his life that truly feels his.

Sharing that feeling with Rachel, with anyone, really, feels like a throwback. He doesn’t say any of this to her, of course. The last thing she needs is more ammo against him. He’s told her enough.

Dealing drugs is surprisingly easy.

Granted, Frank’s handling the majority of contact, and trading pre-measured bags for set prices for specific people is about as little intellectual labor as Caleb’s ever done in his life. But still, it kind of shocks him throughout the next week how easy it is for him and Rachel to pass along Frank’s stores during lunch and bathroom breaks. It takes longer than it did when Caleb posted up and spent all day doing the same thing, but it doesn’t even feel risky, really.

The cold war at home continues. Caleb makes his silent appearances at breakfast, in David’s car on the way to school each morning. Follows their rules as exactly as possible. It’s tense, but there’s breathing room — at least David hasn’t tried to start another man-to-man talk again since Caleb rebuffed him, and Mom’s just letting her anger bubble under the surface while she’s in peacekeeping mode. By Friday, Caleb’s black eye is finally no longer visible, and David’s bruise is starting to fade too, so at least everyone’s starting to look normal.

Rachel announces her arrival at Caleb’s lunch spot by declaring, “All drugs sold, drug-seller!” as she sits down beside him on the frosted grass.

“Real subtle, Rach,” Caleb replies, holding out a hand expectantly, which she fills with one of those gross premade PB&Js, but hey, it’s food. “I’m done too,” he adds, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet, handing over his half of the cash. “Bring this down to Frank and he’ll sort us out.”

“Think he’ll give me some free weed if I bat my lashes at him?” Rachel asks.

“Ew.”

“I know. But at least he’s got a puppy. Did you know he named him Pompidou?”

Caleb nearly chokes on his bite of sandwich, and Rachel cackles at him. “Right?” she asks. “He told me this whole sob story about him when I asked for pictures — apparently there was a fucking dog-fighting ring in Arcadia Bay? And Pompidou — “ Rachel has to stop to giggle. “Pompidou was apparently gonna be raised up into it before Frank busted up the place.”

Caleb snorts. “You really believe that?”

“It’s a nice story. But I bet he just picked up the dog on the side of the road and wanted to come up with a cool origin.”

“Trying to impress high school freshman girls. We’re working with a total peach.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna let him give me anything but weed,” Rachel says, nestling into Caleb’s side, like usual. Strange how routine it’s become, sharing space like this. She sighs. “I’ll make sure to give you your cash before I leave tomorrow. Break’s gonna be so boring.”

“You’re telling me,” Caleb says with a grimace. “Two fucking weeks of hanging out with nobody but, like, David. Since campus is closed…”

“Oh shit,” Rachel groans. “Oof. Didn’t even think about that. You think you’ll be okay?”

Caleb shrugs. “I’ll manage. Gonna suck not having my board, though. Getting to the junkyard would take forever.”

“We need a car,” Rachel laments. “I think I’ll be able to get my license over break if I bug my parents for enough hours.”

Caleb groans. “Fuuuck, I need to learn at some point, don’t I?”

“Yup. Maybe…” Rachel chews at her lower lip. “I know this is an insane thing to say, but maybe ask David?”

“What?”

“Well, you two have the same schedule. He probably considers it some kind of duty — fuck, he’ll make you drive stick — and it’ll get Joyce off your back if you try and get some life skills, right?”

Caleb squints at her. “You’ve been thinking about this.”

“Maybe? Look, I just want...like...I don’t know,” Rachel murmurs. “I wanna feel like when I’m not around, you’re gonna be okay. Your whole home...situation, it really scares me, C.” She pulls away a bit, and meets his eyes, and Caleb almost gets lost in them. “I wanna help.”

Caleb swallows. “I...yeah. Yeah, it’s not a bad idea. He’s got this junker he’s been fixing up for like six months. Maybe I can have it whenever he actually gets it working, or…”

“Or?”

“Well, my dad actually taught me some stuff about cars. A little before he died. I can probably...actually help.” Caleb coughs. “I can’t believe you’re making me think of ways to patch things up with that asshole. Mom’s right, you’re an angel or something.”

Rachel snickers. “I have to tell my parents about that. Hey guys, did you know your total fuckup daughter is somebody’s angel? And not even in a stripper way?”

Caleb wants to laugh, but something stops him, that sour note that’s entered Rachel’s voice. “Hey, um...are you gonna be okay at home, you think?” he asks.

Rachel slumps down against him. “I dunno. Nobody from home really talked to me after I got arrested. Mom and Dad barely look at me. Not like they really did before, but…” She sighs. “It was the summer before high school, you know? And I never got back in with my friends before we all went to different places. I never got the chance to explain, and all their parents think I’m a bad influence. So...I think I’ll mostly just be bored, but…” She sinks further against him, rubbing her cheek into his shoulder. “I’ll let you know, I guess.”

“Same back at you. At least we have phones.” Caleb gets his own out. “Found a new album today. You down?”

“Always.”

Rachel: im here but i gotta go soon

Me: b right down

Caleb doesn’t take the window, for once — Mom’s out early for work and David’s snoring loud enough to hear from the hallway, so he’s good to just head downstairs and out the front door like a human being. Rachel’s waiting for him on the front step, and in the rising sunlight she glows. Angelic.

Caleb shakes his head, rubs at his eyes. Not enough sleep. She giggles at him. “Morning to you too, C,” she says, glancing behind him. “Everybody asleep?”

“Or gone, yeah.”

“Cool.” Rachel digs in her back pocket and brings out her wallet, emptying it into Caleb’s hand. “Don’t spend it all at once.”

“Hang on,” Caleb says, frowning. “At least some of this is yours.”

“Nah,” Rachel says with a shrug. “Dude, I’m getting Christmas money plus allowance over the break and my parents are loaded. How do you think they afforded sending me to Blackwell in the first place?”

“...if you’re sure,” Caleb mutters, stuffing the cash in the pocket of his sweats for now. “Just feels weird, with you doing most of the work.”

“I’m fine, really,” Rachel promises. “I get to go and pet a puppy and get smoked out for free. That’s my payment.”

“So you did bat your eyelashes,” Caleb says carefully.

“Not even! Gross. Nah, I just caught Frank during his wake-n-bake,” Rachel explains. “And you don’t just toke up without offering people some, you know?”

Caleb laughs. “All right, all right. Just, you know, you, older men, drugs…”

“Ugh! You sound like my parents.”

“I’m just getting you back for your family life advice,” Caleb says with a grin as Rachel gets closer to him, an unreadable look in her eye.

“Yeah, well. Maybe we can keep each other out of trouble, we try hard enough,” she says softly, tracing a hand down his arm. “Only get in trouble with each other. Responsibly. No cops.”

“Cops won’t be a problem for you with the VC.” Caleb feels himself shaking lightly at how close Rachel is right now, the way she’s looking up at him. She hasn’t pushed, for a while, but—

She laughs softly. “Yeah. I know. Nathan’s dad owns half this stupid town. I’m pretty sure Britney’s family owns the other half, but she brags less.”

“You got that right.”

“Mm.” Rachel finally just embraces him, pulls him against her, soft yet firm. He relaxes. Nothing out of the ordinary. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“Same here,” he admits, and it feels good to let their back-and-forth drop for a second. He reaches up, runs a hand through her hair. “But...I’ll be good. You’ll be good. We got this.”

“Yeah.” Rachel nods into his chest.

A thought occurs, suddenly and without warning, and Caleb’s already doing the mushy shit so he just lets it out. “You think you’ll be here all five years? You know, do the super-senior program or whatever?”

“Honestly? I dunno,” Rachel answers, pulling back slightly but keeping her hands on his waist. “I’m not sure what my parents’ plans are, if they’re gonna be like okay, come back to Cali once this year’s done with. If I’ve been a good girl or whatever.”

Caleb nods, a lump in his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, I — okay.”

“I’ll still talk to you even if that happens,” Rachel says.

Caleb steps back. He won’t tell her she’s a liar, even if he knows it. He just clears his throat instead. “You better.”

“I will. These last few weeks have been insane, but...but, well. Like I said. I like you a lot, and you’re the only thing I’m really looking forward to coming back to.” Rachel’s eye contact is still unnerving, the way she can just hold his gaze the way she does, and Caleb believes her. At least, he believes she believes what she’s saying, and that’ll have to do.

“The only thing, huh?” he says, giving her a halfhearted smirk. “That hurts, Rach. I’m just a thing.”

“Oh, shut up, you ass, that jab’s not even good,” Rachel says with a chuckle. “Anyway. I really gotta go and get ready to take my stupid Greyhound. Take care of yourself, okay, C?”

“No promises.”

“I know.” Rachel steps back and hops up onto her board. “I’ll bring you something for Christmas,” she tells him before she pushes off. “So you better come up with something for me.”

“Ooh, extortion.”

“That’s right.” She pushes off, dropping off the curb onto the street. “You owe me big, Price!” she shouts as she rolls away.

Caleb knows that he really does.

As he heads back inside, drug money in his pocket, plans in his head, he feels almost...okay. Like Rachel really meant what she said. And then David’s door opens upstairs, his heavy footsteps sounding in the quiet of the early morning, and he tenses up.

He shouldn’t be scared. He fought back, and in a way, he won. David knows that as much as Caleb does, and there hasn’t been a raised voice between them since their ill-fated first drive to Blackwell. David’s backed off, and while Caleb may not be as strong as David, Caleb as the cornered animal can stand up to him. But that doesn’t stop the flash of fear that runs through him every time the garage door opens, every time he realizes David is awake and alert.

Rachel’s idea is good. It sucks that it’s so good, because it means he actually has to try to force past the revulsion that rolls his stomach when he thinks of speaking to David. It means he has to do what his mother’s always wanted, ever since David rolled into the house like a thundercloud, just under a month before the anniversary of Dad’s crash.

It’s not just that David took that place in his life. It’s what David filled into that space. Anger and authoritarian discipline, where once there had been...understanding. Acceptance. Caleb said things to his father that he had only ever said to Max, and he’d always understood. And now they’re both gone, and in that hollow squats David.

Caleb breathes out. David comes down the stairs, stops in his tracks when he sees Caleb standing around like a weirdo in the middle of the entrance hall. “Oh. You’re up,” he grunts, and Caleb’s heart starts beating properly again. He turns to face his stepfather, clears his throat.

“Uh, yeah. Rachel came by to say goodbye,” Caleb explains. “She’s going home for break.”

“Huh. Girl sure likes to get up early for ya.” David smiles, a completely unnerving image, especially with his face still pretty fucked up. He claps Caleb on the shoulder as he passes through to the kitchen, and Caleb shudders.

He steels himself. Right. Asking about driving. Might as well start now. He follows David into the kitchen, grabs himself breakfast so he doesn’t look like a complete lunatic, but when he actually sits down at the table with David, David gives him an extremely confused look.

“Something...on your mind?” he asks carefully, cereal sitting dry in his bowl as he regards Caleb.

“Uh, yeah,” Caleb admits. “Me and Rachel were talking about driving, and...she pointed out that you’d probably be the best person to teach me. Since our schedules line up, and stuff.”

David squints at him. “Really.”

“Look, I’m asking, all right? I gotta get my license sooner or later and I should probably start now,” Caleb says, sitting back and folding his arms defensively. “If the answer’s no, just say it.”

“I — no, no, I could do that, it’s just…” David rubs the back of his neck. “I didn’t expect you to talk to me at all, if you could help it. Something bringing this on?”

“Just what I said.” Caleb grabs the milk, since David’s still staring at him like he sprouted a second head, and he is hungry, and he has to use his hands somehow.

As Caleb pours, David contemplates. “Yeah, we can get started today. There’s an abandoned lot outside of town we can practice on. We’re gonna have to get you a real permit before we get on the roads, though.”

“Yeah. Fine. You know more about the whole thing than me.”

“Right.” David coughs. “Get showered and dressed and we’ll get started. Shouldn’t be...shouldn’t be a big deal.”

“Yeah.”

They eat their breakfast in silence, and it’s weird to be in the same room with him for this long, but it’s...fine, as long as they don’t talk. Caleb showers as fast as he can, avoids shaving so he doesn’t hold the razor. Once he’s dressed and ready, he finds David in the garage, they get into his car together, and silently they drive through the early morning streets of the Bay. God, Caleb wishes David would just play some music once in a while, even if it sucks. Just something to keep him from having to think the whole time.

Once they get to the parking lot David talked about, overgrown and abandoned in front of what must’ve been some attempt to bring a big-box store to this dead-end town, it’s...well, it’s not easy to learn from David, but it’s not hard, either. David catches himself before he raises his voice, and while irritation rises in Caleb’s chest whenever David barks a correction or worries way too much about how soon or how fast he’s braking, nothing dramatic occurs. It’s tense, but...manageable. Caleb actually feels like he’s in control of the car by lunchtime.

Still, both of them are on edge, and the excuse to stop is welcome when Caleb’s stomach growls. David takes them through a drive-through, and eating fills the space between them on the way home. It’s...fine. It’s all fine. But Caleb’s definitely ready to bolt by the time they pull into the garage, and of course, that’s when David decides to say something.

“We oughta get you a haircut,” he says, reaching over as if to touch Caleb’s hair, and he recoils instinctually.

“It’s fine,” Caleb bites off, unbuckling his seatbelt as quickly as he can.

“It’s just unbecoming of a young man,” David continues as though Caleb fucking cares. “That girl of yours might—”

“Oh my God,” Caleb mutters under his breath, unlatching the door and jumping out of the car.

“Hey, I’m serious, Caleb,” David insists, climbing out of the car as Caleb attempts to retreat into the house. “You know, if you clean up a little—”

Caleb stops in front of the inside door and groans as loud as he can to drown out the rest of David’s stupid-ass life lesson. “David, for Christ’s sake, can you just fucking not today?”

David looks confused, probably because he’s a fucking moron. “Could I not what?”

“Do this,” Caleb says, turning to face him, bracing his back against the door. “Just...God. Let it be, okay? We managed not to shout at each other, or fuck each others’ faces up, can’t that just be enough for you for a minute?”

“Now, son—”

“Don’t call me that.” Fucking pointless. Why bother trying to get through to him? Apparently, only violence works, and Caleb isn’t really feeling violent, just done. Caleb turns and wrenches open the door to the house, and David’s right on his heels, and God dammit.

“Caleb—” David starts, grabbing him by the shoulder, and instinct slams into all of Caleb’s muscles at once and he whirls around, one fist raised. David jumps back, staring at him with wide eyes, his own hands tightening into fists, shoulders squaring.

Caleb closes his eyes and breathes out. He still needs something from David, and getting in another fight will only make things worse. He slackens his posture and opens his eyes again, staring into David’s. “Just stop,” he says, as firmly as he can. “We’re good today if you just stop for a second. ‘Kay?”

“...all right,” David says at last, averting his eyes. “But you look like a girl.”

Caleb rolls his eyes. He really just can’t fucking help himself, huh? “Yeah, worst thing I could ever be, right? Real glad you’re with my mom if you think that way.”

“You know I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Do I?” Caleb asks.

“You—”

“Rhetorical question, God.” Caleb turns around. “Bye.”

David almost speaks up as Caleb thumps up the stairs, but luckily he seems to think better of it, and Caleb escapes into his room with no more attempts at parental guidance. He puts his back against his door once he’s in, running his hands through that too-long girly hair of his, sweeping it back from his face. His stubble itches.

Okay. Lesson one of...however many, down. Only sort of ended in a fight.

Christ. This is gonna suck.

It does suck. But it’s manageable.

Before Christmas arrives, they manage to get down to the DMV and get a learner’s permit for Caleb, and while that means an unfortunate amount of time spent with David, he does make progress. David actually does back off, to his surprise, probably because Caleb is very much not even capable of properly getting in trouble with no board and no friends in town. No cigarettes and no drugs and no booze. Torture. Rachel texts him intermittently, but they don’t have too much to talk about. Rachel’s parents are “fine.” Apparently just one old friend contacted her when she returned, and they’ve been on-and-off hanging, but “it’s nothing big.” So everything is mostly just boring and lame, which is better than being in a house full of dynamite, so Caleb takes it.

Christmas arrives with a total lack of fanfare, just a fake tree dragged out of storage and a few gift boxes underneath it. Mom’s not close to her family, and David’s got his own Christmas morning due later, so it’s almost purely a just-them thing, which, well, sucks. Not nearly as exciting as when Caleb was a cute kid and had extended family all over him, pawning off their gifts, or when the Caulfields would come over to share the celebration because with their kids so close, the parents had to get close too.

So Christmas of 2009 starts late. Everyone sleeps in, especially Mom — coming downstairs only to find David alone, making coffee, makes Caleb feel like he’s in some weird dream state. David looks up at him as he enters the kitchen.

“Let her get her beauty sleep,” David says at Caleb’s confused look. “She’s been working her ass off for a while now. I keep telling her she doesn’t need to take all those shifts, but…”

“...are we, like, okay?” Caleb asks carefully, leaning over the divider between hall and kitchen. “Money-wise?”

“We’re managing, s — Caleb. She’s more worried than she ought to be.” David sighs as he pours a cup. “We’ll be fine.”

“Sure.” Caleb doesn’t believe him one bit.

“You want some?” David asks, taking the cup and waving it in Caleb’s general direction.

Caleb makes a face. “Not unless you’re cutting it with Red Bull.”

“You kids are disgusting,” David says with a roll of his eyes. “Well, take it up to your mother, then. Maybe that’ll rouse her.”

Caleb nods and takes the cup upstairs. He knocks on Mom’s door, and when that fails to create a response, he cracks it open and sticks the cup through the gap, letting the aroma waft into her room.

“Mm,” his mother murmurs, and Caleb hears the shifting of covers. He snickers to himself. “Caleb?” she asks.

“Nope, just a sentient cup of temptation.”

“Get in here, you little idiot,” Mom sighs.

Caleb opens the door fully and finds her sitting up in bed, hair mussed and bags under her eyes, her nightshirt rumpled up. She reaches groggily for the coffee, and as he gives it to her, she reaches out her other hand and grabs him by the wrist. “Come and sit a sec, I’m not gonna bite,” she insists.

Caleb’s suspicious, but he sits down beside her in David’s spot, crossing his legs beside her. She leans over on his shoulder. “I’m glad you and David are getting along,” she murmurs, sipping at her drink, her eyes barely open.

Caleb snorts. “You call what we do getting along?”

“You’re doin’ something together and nobody’s slapping anyone. That’s gettin’ along.”

“If that’s what you think getting along is — “

“Oh, hush,” Mom says, reaching up and mussing his hair. “Take the compliment, Caleb, Lord.”

“And that’s what you think a compliment is?”

“It is too damn early for your sass, young man.”

“It’s like, nine.”

“It is?” Mom squints at her alarm clock. “Huh. Oh.” She yawns. “Guess I needed more sleep than I thought.”

“Yeah, you’ve been picking up a lotta shifts…”

“Just wanna save up some,” Mom murmurs. “You’re gonna need a car someday.”

“You don’t trust in your wunderkind husband to get that thing in the garage mobile?”

“I love the man, but David’s not as much a mechanic as he thinks he is,” Mom says with a sigh. “He thinks a big toolbox is all you need…”

“He sure is a big tool.”

“Caleb—”

“Sorry, didn’t mean it,” Caleb lies, “You just totally set me up.”

“Who the hell gave you that mouth?” Mom accuses, drawing back. “Wasn’t my William. Man never had a bad thing to say to nobody.”

Caleb’s chest stings at the mention of Dad, but he wants to keep this at least a little light. “It was all you,” he says, pushing lightly against her shoulder.

Mom purses her lips. “Hate it when you’re right.” She sighs. “Thanks for coming in, Caleb. I can see you’re tryin’ lately. I can. That Rachel girl’s a good influence on ya.”

Caleb chuckles. She definitely wouldn’t think that if Rachel wasn’t so good at her whole...thing.

“I mean it!” Mom insists. “You ain’t been this active since Max was around. I miss that girl.”

Caleb swallows a lump in his throat. “Yeah. Me too.”

“Oh.” Mom looks down at her lap. “Sorry, Caleb, I—”

“It’s fine.”

Mom swallows some of her coffee, then pats his shoulder. “All right, let’s get our gifts outta the way so we can be lazy some more.”

The two of them head downstairs and start the whole gift-unboxing process, and it’s mostly mundane. Stockings stuffed with sweets, a few scattered t-shirts, CDs for Caleb, DVDs passed between Mom and David. “One more,” David announces once the space beneath the tree is bare. “Had to hide it away.”

Caleb is immediately suspicious, but he waits while David heads out to the garage and comes back in with a pretty huge box. “This one’s for you, Caleb,” he says, handing it to him on the couch.

The box isn’t giftwrapped, so Caleb just takes the lid off and...and it’s a skateboard. Brand new.

“I was...rash,” David begins, as Caleb just stares at the ‘gift.’ “Your mother made the good point that I ought to make it up to—”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Caleb says, his muscles clenching.

“Caleb!” Mom hisses.

“My dad gave me my first board,” Caleb says, looking up and meeting David’s eyes, “And you smashed it, and now you’re replacing it like you replaced him? Is that the fucking idea here?”

“I — now hold on,” David says, eyes widening as Caleb’s words wash over him. “I didn’t—”

“We’re just trying to—” Mom interrupts, but Caleb can’t hear it, this is all so fucked.

“So if I do something else wrong this time, you gonna destroy it again? Or since it’s yours, instead of his, is it more precious than that?” Caleb seethes, staring into David’s eyes.

“I’m not gonna break anything!” David says, his voice rising. “I am trying to be a better man, Caleb, but I will take it again if you start—”

“So it’s another thing you can use to control me.” Caleb flips it off his lap and stands up. “No thank you. You want it so bad, it’s yours. Have fun.” He storms out of the living room, towards the stairs.

They don’t follow him up to his room, not right away, and he’s grateful for that, stupid as it is. He sits down on the edge of his bed and musses up his hair, face still hot. He knows he’s being dumb and angry but he can’t help it, it’s all too fucking familiar. David’s done this shit before, acted like he could actually be a dad to Caleb after each hit, and it usually lasted about this long before things got bad again.

Maybe tomorrow. Or by New Year’s, definitely. It’ll all go bad again, like it always does.

He’s about to text Rachel, get some venting in, when a knock comes at his door. “Fuck off!” he shouts, gripping his phone hard enough to shatter the stupid thing.

There’s silence for a minute, then his mom cracks the door open anyway, and he’s ready to fling his phone at her when he spots her. “It’s still yours,” she says softly. “I’ll leave it out here for you. When you’ve calmed down.”

Caleb’s about to say something, but it catches in his throat. No yelling, no threats, nothing to respond to or escalate. And having it back would be nice, even if he just blew a lot on another board. Maybe it can be a backup. He breathes out, closing his eyes. “Okay.”

“We didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Sure.”

“Caleb—”

“Mom.”

“All right,” Mom whispers. She clears her throat. “Me and David are runnin’ down to his folks’ house. We’ll see you when we get back.” She closes the door again, and she’s gone.

He falls backwards onto his bed, and Rachel texts him first.

Rachel: so was ur xmas a complete disaster

Me: eh. partial.

Rachel: tell me everything.

And Caleb does.

By the time his parents return, he can breathe a little easier, and he takes the board into his room for safekeeping. Might as well, after all. Mom puts a lot of effort into the dinner, and he thanks her for that, and nothing more is said of the morning. At least this time, nothing’s flared up and made the cold war hot again, and he lets the rest of the week slide by in much the same way the first did.

He still misses Rachel, though. Even with a new skateboard that he can truly call his own, he doesn’t return to American Rust. It’s not his place. It’s theirs.

It’s near midnight on New Year’s Eve, and Caleb’s out on the roof, staring at the stars.

He’s got cigarettes again, though he’s been careful about smoking them. Frank laughed at him when he asked, but he did give them over. But Caleb doesn’t really have contacts in town who are over eighteen, let alone twenty-one, so Frank’s his best option. The pack sits beside him on the roof, unopened; the smell would rouse the parents, who are staying in for the night, marathoning movies and drinking red wine.

He’s welcome with them, in theory. But it’s not his scene. This’ll do just fine. Caleb, some smokes, a little shooter of vodka. And Rachel.

She sends him a photo as he pulls from the tiny bottle. Her, sitting on a nice white leather couch, beside a brown-haired bespectacled girl who’s got her head reared all the way back, mouth wide open and eyes shut tight. lmao mags is such a lightweight, the text accompanying it reads, and Caleb snorts.

Me: couldnt even make it to midnight?

Rachel: nope. now its just me and half the big lebowski to finish for the night.

Rachel: cant believe im saying this but i wish i was in arcadia bay lmao

Me: wow i cant believe california is that lame

Rachel: cali’s fine. my house? bad.

Rachel: mom and dad are out at some work thing. im glad mags came over, she gave me some new music, but like. fucking dull

Me: know what u mean. nye alone is bullshit

Rachel: wonder if i can scam my folks into letting me come back for nye next year

Me: dorms dont open till the 1st

Rachel: id stay with u. duh

Me: you handled urself pretty well one time but idk how long even u can last against davids endless tide of gender bullshit

Rachel: im a girl, c. my whole life is gender bullshit

Me: fair point. whos isnt

Rachel: well, its almost midnight. should i give mags the kiss or save it for someone?

Caleb chuckles to himself. Now that Rachel has actually learned something, the flirting is harmless and fun again.

Me: you cant save nye kisses. you cant save kisses generally

Rachel: well i will fucking try. you watch me.

Rachel: happy new year, c. i cant wait to see you again. we can go thrifting properly this time

Rachel: AND i gotta give you my gift.

Me: im telling you your projecting the entire mysterious bad girl thing on me. its u. its always been u u fuckin cheeseball

Rachel: im just your average teenage fuckup. thats what u said right

Me: we are both average teenage fuckups

Rachel: guess thats fine. but im still making a punk out of you. youll see.

Caleb thinks back to his own gift idea, something he had to haltingly ask Mom to help with and get teased a lot for, sitting unfinished on his desk. He’ll get back to them soon, probably. Just needs to find another perfect bluejay feather like that.

Me: u do know punk is an attitude right. not an aesthetic

Rachel: well fuck u ill add the aesthetic to ur attitude! u deserve it!

Me: punk urself up bitch!

Rachel: maybe i will. maybe once we get a car we fuckin actually go somewhere for once

Rachel: we got adventures ahead, c. i know we do.

Caleb sighs, lying back on the roof, crossing his hands over his chest. 2010. Two years since Dad died. Two years since Max left. Two years since it felt like his world collapsed.

But Rachel promises adventure. And together, they’ll build a new world to hide away in. Even as...well, normal as this week has been, Caleb still needs to hide things away. He might need to, for the rest of his life.

He hopes, one day, he can tell Rachel.

She won’t understand. But he’ll tell her anyway. And if it all collapses, may it bring him down with it.

Chapter Text

Rachel doesn’t let him know when she’s back in town. That’d be too easy.

Instead, she hoists herself up to his window, leaving her board behind the trash cans for now. She peers inside, knees protesting about being perched on the shingles, and sees that Caleb’s still asleep, the lazy bum. She raps her knuckles on the window, watching him stir, and she grins at the sight. It’s only been a few weeks, but it’s good to see him again, especially all sleepy and cute.

He’s just groggily starting to get up, so Rachel taps on the window again, and that gets his attention. His pretty blue eyes nearly pop out of his skull, and Rachel can’t stop a giggling fit as he comes over and wrenches the window open.

“You bitch,” he says, though there’s a smile on his face. “I can’t believe you.”

“Yeah, you can. I do this shit all the time,” Rachel says airily, pulling herself through the opening past him before pivoting and wrapping him in a crushing hug. He chuckles softly, bringing his hand up to stroke through her hair, and she shivers. He doesn’t do that very much. She forgot how much she likes it.

She pulls back to stop herself from doing something stupid and friendship-ruining, giving him a smile instead. “So, we’ve got a junkyard to properly decorate,” she says, putting her hands on her hips. “Figure we’d better get started early.”

Caleb turns and squints at his alarm clock. “Huh, yeah, we got a few hours. Days are getting longer, too...wonder how much we’ll be able to stretch that loophole.” He clears his throat. “I mean, I gotta get dressed and stuff, but…”

“Not yet!” Rachel declares, bouncing on her heels. “I gotta give you my gift!” She takes her backpack off her shoulders and unzips it, bringing out her prize: a bottle of electric-blue hair dye, recommended by Magdalene back home as she pored over the aisles. Mags claimed her friends used the brand, so Rachel had to trust her word. Looking at the lightness of Caleb’s hair, this should work brilliantly.

Caleb squints to read the label and his eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, so you want David to kick my ass, huh?”

“Is there a rule you can’t dye your hair?” Rachel challenges.

“...guess not, but —”

“So, fuck it. He’ll deal. Assuming you’re down?”

Caleb laughs, brushing some of his hair over his ear. “I mean…” He swallows. “I just don’t like, usually...do stuff with my hair. Or my anything, really.”

“Well, you should start,” Rachel argues. “You’d feel better about yourself if you actually work on your looks, you know. Not that you need help, but making your look your own is like, a whole thing.”

Caleb laughs. “Where’re you pulling that advice from, Rach?”

“It’s something girls know and guys always think is too gay to do,” Rachel says with a groan.

“I’m not worried about seeming gay, Rach.”

“Yeah, I know, Mr. Turns-Down-Hot-Girls-As-A-Hobby. But you absorb that shit anyway, you know?” Rachel says, waving her hand noncommittally. “Come on, please, let me make you cool? Cooler?”

“...yeah, all right,” Caleb says, smiling softly at her. “So how do we like, do it?”

“Take off your shirt.”

“What?!” Caleb barks, jumping back, and Rachel stifles a laugh.

“Dude, do you want dye all over your clothes?”

“...explain a little more so I’m sure you’re not just trying to get me to…” Caleb swallows. “You know.”

“Dude, we have to rinse your hair out and that’s gonna drip blue everywhere. Seriously, this stuff is gonna stain, and I don’t want it on my skin, so I am not trying to get in your pants, okay?” Rachel explains, hands held up in surrender.

“...okay. Yeah, makes sense.”

“So take your shirt off and we’ll head to the bathroom. I got gloves and stuff in here too.” Rachel slings the backpack over her shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get you punked up.”

He takes his shirt off, and with his habit of wearing long sleeves and jackets over those to begin with, seeing his body is a bit of a shock. He’s still so thin, pale, and it’s easy to see the scars on his wrists. Some look fresh. They haven’t talked too much since New Year’s, and Rachel wonders how he’s been, but she blocks the thought out of her mind and tries to stop staring.

She leads him into the bathroom, first having him wash his hair properly, bent over in the shower so the rest of him doesn’t get wet. “Kneel down for a second,” she says, once he’s dried off. She uncaps the Vaseline she prepared and traces along his hairline, over his ears. He stills, and Rachel wants him to not be nervous, so she talks.

“Anything happen you didn’t tell me about?” she asks carefully.

Caleb swallows. “Uh, nothing, really. Not since New Year’s. But David’s been needling me a bit more lately, even during the driving stuff. Just...dumb shit he says.”

“Like?”

“I — it’s nothing, Rach. Just fuckin’ weird passive-aggressive shit.” Caleb chuckles. “I think he wants me to go into the military.”

“Ew.”

“Right? Like, no way. I’ve seen what service did to you, asshole.”

Rachel chuckles as she finishes her work, setting down the Vaseline and going for the plastic gloves she’d packed. Once those are snapped on, she takes the dye and rubs it through his nice, soft hair, from roots to ends. Once she’s finished, she takes the ratty old towel she’d stolen from home and wraps it around his shoulders.

“Thirty minutes,” she announces, taking out her phone and starting a timer. “Anybody gonna come home soon?”

“Mom and David are having a day out or some shit,” Caleb says as he gets to his feet again, looking at himself in the mirror. “Huh. Good color choice.”

“I told you blue’s your color,” Rachel says, taking out a little plastic cap and standing on tiptoes to get it over his hair. “Let’s not make any stains if we can help it. We can clean the shower later with hand sanitizer. ‘Least that’s what Mags said.”

“So what’re we doing while we wait?” Caleb asks.

“That’s your job, for once,” Rachel says, taking off her gloves and poking his bare chest. “I always make the activities around here. What do you got?”

“Thirty minutes,” Caleb muses, humming to himself. “Down to just, like, sit down and watch a show?

“Sure. Show me something I haven’t seen,” Rachel challenges.

“I got just the thing.”

“Just the thing” turns out to be an old British sci-fi comedy show, Red Dwarf, that Caleb digs out of his dad’s old collection to show her. It makes for a good distraction while Caleb’s sitting out in the open with his chest bare, and the way he laughs is good to hear. The show’s dark enough that Rachel gets why he likes it, and funny enough for her to enjoy it too, and it’s nice to share something besides music with him. As they head into the bathroom to rinse him off again, Rachel considers. Maybe they could spend more time here, or in her dorm, watching things. They can cuddle a bit, and maybe, after enough time...maybe he’ll kiss her, first.

She shakes off those thoughts, focuses on the task at hand. It takes a while before the blue stops coming off of Caleb’s hair, but once the rinse is finished, they behold their work in the mirror, and Caleb grins.

“Dude. Fuck yes,” he says, running his hand through it. “Anything we gotta do to maintain it?”

“No hot water on your hair, and I’ll leave the rest of the dye here,” Rachel says. “Rub in a little with your conditioner when you wash your hair.”

“Sweet.” Caleb chuckles, blushing and looking at his feet. “It’s...it’s kinda nice to have a girl around to help out with this stuff. I mean, I’ve thought about doing shit with my hair, but like...who was I gonna ask? Justin?”

Rachel smiles. “Well, that’s what I’m here for. I told you I’d break you out of that shell.”

“I don’t have a shell.”

“Yeah. Not anymore.”

He laughs, looking at his reflection in the mirror like he likes it, and Rachel wraps herself around him, rocking him back and forth. She presses her face to his back and smiles, unable to help herself. It’s so good to see him happy. That’s the whole fucking point of it all.

She presses a daring kiss to his skin, and he freezes. She pulls back as quickly as she came in, and lets him relax for a second. “All right,” she says, trying to shatter the mood as quickly as possible. “Let’s get out on the town, get some stuff!”

He laughs, running a hand through his brand-new blue hair. “I should probably get dressed, unless I wanna stab someone’s eyes out with my nipples.”

Rachel collapses into giggles, and Caleb turns to her and smiles. She leads him back to the bedroom, but before she can think of another way to fluster him, she spots a most curious thing on his dresser. A blue feather, a perfectly gorgeous one, pleasingly round and unfrayed. As she approaches the desk, her target obvious, Caleb breaks out stuttering.

“Uh — Rachel, that’s—”

Rachel picks it up, and then she realizes it’s dangling from a loop. An earring. Oh.

“You made this?” she asks, turning to face him. She means to be teasing, means to be silly, but she can’t help that it comes out like a prayer. He swallows, and nods.

“I found the feather on my windowsill, and I thought about…” He looks away at his feet. “When we talked about colors, you know? That you could have a blue accent. I was gonna make another one, but I…” He rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t know, I didn’t make it down to a craft store for another feather.”

“Mmm,” Rachel hums, watching the feather sway on its loop. “I kinda like just the one...I don’t know how long a real feather will last, but it’s super sweet, C. Seriously.”

“I — it was just an idea.”

“A good one.” Rachel reaches up to her left ear, undoing the little quartz pin she usually wears when she doesn’t have a strong earring look for the day. She places it on his desk before putting the gift in. “So how’s it look?” she asks, tilting her head so that it dangles the way it’s supposed to. Caleb blinks a few times before he responds.

“Like you stuck a part of a dead bird to your face.”

“Price,” Rachel groans, and he laughs, all tension broken, and it’s fine.

“Sorry, couldn’t resist. Mind getting out of here while I change, though?”

Rachel rolls her eyes and gives him the finger as she walks out of his room. She finds herself twirling the new earring between two fingers, her chest full and warm. But he comes out eventually, and they set off for town, and the year begins in earnest.

As the days grow longer, as rain replaces Caleb’s “shit snow” and the streets become wet and dangerous to traverse, the hideout continues to grow.

They drape a tarp over the roof, pin it down with camping stakes. Thrifted tapestries and doodads coat the walls, stuck with bluetack, and more graffiti is added in the gaps. A scoreboard for the dartboard, LALALAND THIS WAY —> pointing out the window, and some of Caleb’s anguished declarations of hatred for this fucking town, on his bad days.

He doesn’t have...too many bad days. The hair thing goes down with nothing more than weird passive-aggressive comments and an insistence he keep the shower clean. He doesn’t show up with any more bruises, and when he does have arguments with his parents, they resolve themselves without violence or new restrictions. Eventually, he starts driving David’s car to school, though he never drives it back — while his parents insist he ride with David, they can’t stop him from boarding back home. Rachel teaches him how to properly sneak around campus, and they basically never catch sight of David except during passing periods when he’s inevitable. They make their money with Frank, and spend it cautiously, and Caleb doesn’t get caught.

But occasionally, Caleb comes to American Rust with a shadow over his face, and he drinks more than Rachel would like. Occasionally, he gets home too late, and has to grovel, and it makes him come back the next day even less happy. Even if there’s still a ceasefire at his home, it’s not good for him. Rachel doesn’t visit it often. They watch movies and stuff once in a while, when Rachel gets the itch to get off campus, and it’s really nice. Nothing like the rest of her social engagements.

The Vortex Club continues as it has, and Rachel’s surprised how...monotonous it can be, organizing and attending parties where a bunch of underage kids do drugs. There’s the occasional joy to be found in a good dance, a good batch of E, a good fight breaking out for her to gawk at. But each time, as the night winds down, and everyone settles into either passing out or coming down, getting cranky and irritable, she finds herself wishing Caleb could join her. Wishing she could have those moments with him, like she did at Zach’s house, where they step out and create their own atmosphere for a while, even with people all around them.

It takes two months for the opportunity to come up. But when it does, she pounces.

“I think David’s gonna buy me a gun.”

Rachel’s whole face screws up, and she lifts herself off of his lap (which she’d fallen into after the second bowl and not really bothered to leave) and sits upright again, squinting at Caleb across the bus seat.

“What?” she asks, as eloquently as she can.

“Yeah, he’s going to a gun show next weekend and I heard him and Mom arguing about ‘appropriate age to learn to defend yourself’ or some shit,” Caleb says with a laugh. “Plus it’s my birthday next week, so, putting shit together—”

“Hold on hold on hold on,” Rachel interrupts, holding up one finger. “Dude. It’s your birthday next week?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s whatever. But like—”

“We gotta get you partying down!” Rachel declares, throwing her hands in the air. “Fuckin’ Christ, dude, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

Caleb shrugs. “It’s no big deal.”

“Of course it’s a big deal.” Rachel pokes him in the nose and he swats her hand away. “It’s your sweet sixteen and your bitch ass motherfucker of a stepdad is gonna be out of town!”

“Guys don’t get sweet sixteens, Rachel,” Caleb murmurs, looking down at his lap.

“Of course they fuckin’ do. Jesus. Fuck.” Rachel groans and flops over on the bench, stretching her legs over Caleb’s lap. “Don’t you ever let someone tell you anything like that. Fuck that shit.”

Caleb chuckles. “Where’s this coming from?”

“You talk a lot about things like that and it makes me sad, you know?” Rachel says, staring up at the tarp above. “You’ve got more options than you think, Price.”

Caleb pats her shin, rubbing his hand back and forth. “I — yeah. Okay.”

“So, we going out to party? There’s a thing at Zach’s this weekend. Should be chill.”

“I feel like you’re ignoring the fucked up thing about my stepdad buying a sixteen-year-old a gun,” Caleb points out.

“You think he’ll actually let you like, hold onto it?” Rachel asks, frowning. She’s not sure she likes that thought.

“I dunno. He’s got a gun safe. He probably just wants me to like, go to the range with him.” Caleb grimaces. “Oof. Bad enough he has to teach me one thing.”

“Just tell him no.”

“I...it’s not that easy, Rach.”

“...I know,” Rachel sighs. “I wish it was.”

“Me too.”

“But we can at least distract ourselves with a party,” Rachel goads, and Caleb chuckles.

“All right, all right.” He leans his head back. “You win, Rach. Again. Spent another shitty year in this stupid fuckin’ town, might as well mark the occasion, right?”

Rachel leans up, searching his face. His hair needs to be re-dyed, but she kind of likes the way it fades towards the roots. It covers his expression, so she just has to guess, and maybe just say what’s on her mind, anyway.

“It wasn’t...all shitty, was it?” she asks, pulling herself together and trying to find his eyes.

“I...no.” He tucks some of his hair behind an ear. “Not...not all of it.”

Rachel hums, leaning forward on her knees and kissing the top of his head. “That’s what I thought.”

“Get off,” he says with a laugh, shoving her back. “Jesus, we need to smoke more.”

“You know as well as I do that I only get more touchy when I’m high,” Rachel says with a giggle.

“Well, maybe if I’m more fucked up I’ll be cooler with it,” Caleb shoots back, and Rachel’s heart kicks.

She ignores it. Don’t get your hopes up, Rachel. She’s done forcing things on him; things have gone so much better with her pulling it all back, letting it just be. So she leans over and grabs the pipe like he asked, and they don’t talk about it.

Justin’s car creeps down Caleb’s street, lights turned off despite the dark as Rachel leans her head out of the driver’s side back window, watching for her boy. His window opens up as she watches, and Caleb clambers out onto the roof, then jumps off and rolls with practiced finesse — after they started using that escape route more often, Rachel and Caleb both got better at falling. He pops up to his feet and throws his hands up at the car, and Rachel scoots over as he runs across the street and pulls open her door.

“Fuck yeah!” Justin announces from the front, holding a fist back for everyone to pound. Trevor, beside him, joins Rachel and Caleb in the celebration, and they all raise their hands up with a cheer as Justin flips on the lights and screams down the street.

“Happy birthday, dude!” Justin says, reaching over to the glovebox and pulling out a bag of weed, tossing it back into Caleb’s face.

“Very on-brand for you,” Caleb says, smirking at the gift in his lap.

“Hey, man, you don’t want it…”

“No, no, I want it,” Caleb laughs, handing it over to Rachel so she can stuff it in her backpack at her feet. “Thanks, man.”

"Oh, yo,” Trevor murmurs, getting into his own backpack and bringing out a game case. “I know your ass hasn’t played this, and that’s fucked up,” he adds, handing it back to Caleb. “Found it at the used games store so if it doesn’t work you let me know, I’ll return it and get a different one.”

“Shadow of the Colossus,” Caleb reads off the front. “Well, if you say it’s cool…”

“Badass as fuck,” Trevor confirms. Rachel takes that from Caleb too, and Trevor spots her doing it and laughs. “You his mule for the night, Rach?”

“I’m always his mule,” Rachel says with a smile. “He can’t keep shit on him at home, so…”

“That your gift?” Trevor goads, and Rachel rolls her eyes.

“No, this is,” she says, digging in her backpack and taking out a white box. She turns it so Caleb can read the label — Piercing Needles, 100 Count, Individually Sterilized.

Caleb raises his eyebrows, his cheeks flushing. “You, uh, gonna give me a hundred piercings?”

“No, but everybody back home was piercing each other,” Rachel explains, putting the box back. “I got this left over, so tomorrow we’ll stick ya. Got some earrings in here too.”

Trevor chuckles. “That is such a girl gift.”

“Yeah, but I’m already dyeing this fucker’s hair,” Rachel says, reaching over and mussing up said hair. “He needs to get more punked up!”

“Careful, Caleb,” Justin warns. “You don’t watch out, Rachel’s gonna turn you into her own personal Billie Joe.”

“Eh. Could be worse,” Caleb says with a smirk at Rachel.

“Oh, he likes it,” Rachel insists, pushing Caleb back playfully. “Somebody’s gotta let him go wild, and if it’s not his parents…”

“Then it’s gotta be you, yeah, sure,” Trevor says with a snicker. “Dorks.”

“Oh, we’re the dorks?” Rachel challenges. “You’re the one who gave him a video game.”

“Touché, touché.” Trevor looks back to the road. “So the party’s a VC thing, but we’re colonizing the basement again, right?”

“Hell yeah,” Caleb agrees. “Beer pong and weed was great last time. Plus we should be able to kick everyone’s ass again.”

“Coalition of the badass,” Justin declares as he pulls the car to a stop outside Zach’s house. “Let’s rock this party.”

The evening is going great.

Caleb throws his hands in the air and Rachel jumps up to meet them as they win what feels like their thousandth consecutive game. The high-five leaves Rachel’s palms stinging in a good way as their opponents grumble and finish off their beers, wandering back upstairs after their humiliating defeat. Caleb pushes his hair off his face and smiles.

“Dude, we are not gonna get drunk at all at this rate,” he declares.

“Come over and smoke!” Trevor calls from the couch, but Caleb shakes his head.

“Nah, I’m goin’ upstairs for a few shots. Rachel, come with?” Caleb asks.

“Of course.” Rachel takes his hand and drags him up the stairs, through the living room and into the kitchen. The hard liquor lines the countertops, and Caleb sets to work immediately, finding the shot glasses and pouring one for him and Rachel. But before she can toast, he’s already downed his.

“Dude!” she says, shoving his shoulder. “Rude! We gotta cheers!”

“Oh, yeah,” Caleb says, smiling nervously. “Well, better get another shot then.”

“Yeah, you better.” Rachel waits for him to refill his glass, then clicks hers against his. “To you, C. I’m so glad I know you.”

Caleb’s cheeks flush, and he downs his drink, presumably to avoid feeling emotions. Rachel giggles at him. “All right,” she says, “Let’s—”

“No, wait, hold on,” Caleb insists, pouring himself another shot. “I gotta toast you, too.”

Rachel rolls her eyes. What a sap. “All right, all right,” she concedes, letting him pour her another.

“To you, Rach,” he says, his smile a bit shaky as they clink glasses. “Not sure if you saved my life or completely fucked it up, but I’m glad I know you too.”

Rachel flushes at the praise, and understands immediately why Caleb drank after she said that, because she does the same thing. It’s hard to think straight with all that warmth flowing through her, all those — God, she shouldn’t feel this way. Shouldn’t have this weird...hope. That maybe something will happen tonight.

She takes in a deep breath and lets the alcohol settle in her stomach. “Come on,” she says, “Let’s go kick some more ass.”

“Kay, one sec,” Caleb mutters, and as she looks back he’s already knocking back a fourth shot. Rachel raises her eyebrows.

“Dude, you weigh less than me,” she warns him, and he just shrugs and smiles goofily.

“Yeah, but I’m tough.” He takes in a deep sniff. “All right. Let’s do it.”

He stumbles a bit as they make their way back to the basement, but, what did Rachel expect? Son of a bitch just took four shots. She giggles as he wavers around beside her, getting into position against their latest opponents — Dana and Juliet, again, and this time Caleb is definitely off his game. He takes the loss with grace, bowing deeply to the girls as they giggle, and Rachel slaps his back.

“All right, man, you’re definitely wasted enough,” she says, and Caleb nods repeatedly, still smiling.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grunts, standing up to his full height again. “So, what now?”

“Smoke!” Trevor yells, and Caleb laughs.

“Sounds good, man,” he says, looping an arm around Rachel’s waist and bringing the both of them over to the couch. Rachel thrills at the contact, and sinks into his side and closes her eyes as they sit down, Justin passing them the pipe. Rachel relaxes against Caleb, heart thrumming as she listens to Trevor’s music playing over the speakers down here, happy that they’ve claimed a space for their own, just like she wanted. She idly twirls the feather earring between two fingers, like she often does. A nervous tic, but something that reminds her of him, too.

Caleb takes in his first hit, one arm around Rachel’s shoulders, and he taps twice with his fingers as he breathes it in. Rachel opens her eyes and she sees he’s looking at her, eyes blurry but staring right into hers, and she loses her breath as he leans in. Trevor and Justin cheer as their lips meet, as Rachel greedily takes in the smoke from his mouth. When he pulls back, he’s smiling, though the arm around her trembles slightly as he presses the pipe into her hands, settles back like he didn’t just rock Rachel’s world. The air feels electric. Rachel takes the next hit, considers doing the same thing back to him, but nerves, memory, stop her. It doesn’t seem to bother him as he sends the pipe back to Trevor’s end of the couch — in fact, he relaxes a little, and it’s enough for Rachel to just lean back into his side.

Until he shifts and gets up, stretching. “Back in a sec,” he replies to Rachel’s wordless whine, and Justin and Trevor give her raised eyebrows as he heads upstairs.

As soon as the door swings shut behind him, Justin goes, “Dude, he is so fucking in love with you.”

Rachel covers her face with her hand, burning up. “You think so?” she asks, and both of them laugh at her, which doesn’t help the blushing situation.

“Dude, you’re like the only thing he talks about these days,” Trevor says, giving her a smile. “You are, like, together, right?”

“I...no, we’re not,” Rachel murmurs, curling up with her knees to her chest. “It’s, like...complicated, guys.”

Trevor chuckles as Justin takes his hit. “Yeah, between you and Caleb I’m sure you can manage to make any basic-ass thing complicated. Total weirdos, both of you.”

“Lay off ‘em, Tre,” Justin comments, blowing out smoke with each word. “I mean, yeah, you’re weirdos, but we love ya.”

Rachel chuckles. “We’re not that weird.”

“You two sell drugs to half the school and disappear for hours without warning,” Trevor notes. “And also, you dyed his hair blue.”

Rachel sniffs and tucks some of her hair back behind her ear. “Okay, so we’ve got mystique,” she says, looking over as Trevor takes his own hit. “Town could use a little more of that, you know?”

“Town could use something,” Justin agrees sagely, nodding slowly. “You guys’ll figure it out. We got your back. And if those VC assholes—”

“If those VC assholes what?” Courtney interrupts as she reaches the bottom of the stairs. She puts a hand on her hip. “There you are, Rachel. Ugh. Pass that piece,” she says, walking over to the couch and taking up the last spot, on Rachel’s other side.

Rachel shrugs and takes her hit before passing it over to Courtney. She exhales smoke and sighs. “Thanks. Had to get away. Victoria’s being weird again,” she complains, giving the pipe back to Rachel so she can pass it back to the start of the order.

“Weird how?” Rachel asks, heart jumping. Courtney may have come down and just completely shattered the vibe, but this is juicy.

“You know how she gets, right?” Courtney asks, rolling her eyes. “Get a few drinks in her and she’s all fuckin’ touchy. Left her upstairs with Nate and your boytoy, she can get touchy with them.”

Trevor laughs. “Wait, Caleb’s up there with those two? Like, voluntarily?”

Rachel blinks a few times, trying to decide which thread to pursue. She decides it’d look too weird to ask about Victoria, so she goes to Caleb. “Yeah, I thought he was just hitting the bathroom or something,” Rachel admits.

“I mean, we were just doing a round of shots and he walked in, he’s not like, our friend or anything,” Courtney says, giving Rachel a quick glance. “But we weren’t gonna kick him outta the kitchen or something, that’d be such a party foul.”

“I see my statement about VC assholes remains correct,” Justin opines, holding the lighter to his pipe again.

“Ugh, whatever, we don’t have to invite you to these things, you know,” Courtney shoots back.

“Yeah, you do, because I actually keep my weed in stock and don’t run out every Friday,” Justin says with a smirk.

“Fuck you, Justin.”

“Try it!”

Rachel laughs with the rest of the couch, even though her mind’s upstairs, on what Caleb’s getting up to. She swallows, but the pipe’s already making its way to her, and in the haze of her crossfade, she falls into a rhythm with the group, with the little sniping session between Courtney and Justin continuing in mostly good fun. She lays back eventually, just passing on the pipe passively, until she realizes Caleb’s been gone for, like, a while.

She brings her phone out, letting the conversation fly over her head.

Me: whered you go???

C: ops

C: srruys had 2 layydown

C: in uestroom

Me: restroom?

C: GEUST rom

Me: ill come gt u drunkie

Rachel gets to her feet, stretching out. “Going somewhere?” Courtney asks.

“Yeah, just gonna go check on Caleb,” she says. “Think he might be a bit wasted as fuck.”

Courtney snorts. “Figures the guy can’t hold his drink…”

“I mean, I saw him take four shots before he even went back up there,” Rachel says with a shrug. “And stop talkin’ shit about him. Do that on your own time.”

“Woah, jeez, just joking,” Courtney replies, holding her hands up in surrender. “All right, seeya.” Rachel gives Justin a fist-bump as she passes by him, then heads upstairs. The party’s already winding down, which she supposes makes sense — she’s not really been paying much attention to time, to be honest. There’s a few people passed out on the living room couch, including Nathan and Victoria, cuddled up tight and looking, somehow, angry even in their sleep. She giggles at the sight, but she’s got a mission.

She remembers where the guest room is, of course, and her heart pounds as takes hold of the doorknob. Remembering the last time she and Caleb were in this room, and she thought she’d had him all figured out, all to herself. She doesn’t want to screw up again. But if he starts something...she won’t say no.

She takes in a deep breath and enters the room, clicking the door shut behind her. She finds Caleb face-down on the bed, stirring slightly as she enters. His jacket’s on the floor, so he’s just in a t-shirt, which feels kind of weird to her, honestly. She lays down beside him on her side, rubbing her hand between his shoulders. “You good?” she asks softly, and he turns to face her with a bleary smile.

“Heeeey, Rach,” he slurs, smiling broadly. “You came and found me.”

“I said I would, dummy.” Rachel can’t help but smile. With his bright blue hair a mess and his dimples showing and the unfocused but loving look in his eyes, he’s just so damned cute.

He struggles with his phone in his pocket for a minute, squinting at the bright light when he unlocks it. “Hm. You did.” He repockets it and shuffles closer to her, bringing an arm around her and pulling her in. “‘Snice. Thanks.”

“For what?” Rachel asks, feeling a light sweat break out on her skin now that her nose is touching Caleb’s chest. “I just came up to find you. Not some great sacrifice.”

“For everything.” Caleb presses a kiss to her forehead and warmth spreads through her body, tingling at her fingers and toes. “You’re really great, you know? Even though…”

Rachel knows exactly what the even though is, and the guilt hits her like an icewater bucket to the head. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, tearing up. She wishes she didn’t have his words from the night of the fire still ringing in her ears, all these months later. That she hadn’t caused them to happen.

“Nonono. ‘Sokay. Imma guy, right? You...you know,” Caleb mumbles. “You didnt know. You don’t know, still. ‘Sfine.”

Rachel pulls back, looking into his eyes. The streetlights out the window don’t provide too much light. There’s enough to see those gorgeous blues — but not enough to read them. “What...what don’t I know?”

Caleb closes his eyes, shakes his head just a little. Rachel reaches out, traces his jaw. “Hey, what—”

And then he kisses her.

He pulls them flush, and his lips taste so good, and maybe he doesn’t have any experience and maybe he’s drunk and maybe Rachel’s high but it’s bliss. Rachel feels herself melting into it, the warmth of him, the love that everyone can see, and she lets her instincts take over, because this has to be it, right?

Each time she thinks he’s about to pull back, he closes his lips on hers again, and each time, it feels like fireworks in her chest. She wraps her arm around him too, and then she rolls on top of him, and feels him against her, and she’s lightheaded as she looks down on him. The only sound in the world is their panting breath, the only thing that matters is Caleb, and she has to tell him.

“I love you, Caleb,” she breathes, her hands on his shoulders, his eyes on hers.

And, somehow, in the instant after she says it, she knows it’s the wrong thing to say.

He doesn’t panic, this time. His shakes aren’t so dramatic, they don’t feel like he’s about to break apart, but Rachel feels them anyway. He averts his eyes from hers, and the change in mood feels like a knife in Rachel’s spine, but she will not try to push past it, not this time. She will do better.

So she rolls off of him instead, and he takes in a deep, staggered breath. “I…” she says, her throat tight. “Caleb, I…”

He sits up, putting his head in his hands, and Rachel shuts up. He has to say something.

“I’m sorry,” he says, so quiet and blurred it’s almost impossible to understand him. “I t-thought I could do this, but I, I can’t.”

“Caleb—” But he’s standing up and wrenching the door open, and then he’s down the hall. Rachel tries to get up to follow him, but just as she reaches the doorway she sees the bathroom door further down the hall slam shut — and then she hears him retching, and she feels sick herself.

She can’t help him.

She closes the door and throws herself back onto the bed, burying her face in the pillows and trying to stop the stupid high-pitched whines building in her throat, trying to keep the tears from leaving her eyes, but it doesn’t work, and she stains the pillows anyway. She doesn’t know what’s wrong with her. It’s all her fault, it has to be. He’s drunk out of his fucking mind and she still thought this could go anywhere? Anywhere healthy? And he won’t tell her, maybe he won’t ever tell her, what she doesn’t know about him, and that hurts so much, too.

She wants his trust. She wants all of it. But somehow, she hasn’t earned it. And it has to be her fault.

She’s not sure how long she lies there, chest and eyes and throat all burning and constricted, before she hears something from downstairs. It’s faint, but she hears it, the sliding door out to the back porch, just like the last time this happened, and she figured out where he went in the same way. Does she even have the right to go and find him again? Or should she just stay here and let herself be punished, for her complete fucking inability to reach him, or deserve him?

He told her to ask, first. She’ll do that, now. Maybe that’ll be enough.

She rolls over and takes her phone out, wiping at her eyes.

Me: im sorry

Me: do you want me to coem out with you or no

Me: if no i wont bother u

Me: im so sorry

She waits.

And waits.

And there’s nothing.

He’s not even angry at her anymore. That’s obvious. Maybe he’s just sad that she did this to him again. Disappointed. That might be worse. That maybe she’s broken his hope in her completely.

She doesn’t want this to end this way. She has to at least see him.

She scrubs at her face and stands up, putting her phone away. She takes in a deep breath before she leaves the guest room and heads downstairs. She approaches the sliding door carefully, afraid he’ll see her first, afraid he’ll run, or do something worse than run.

As she looks out into the night, she sees him as a silhouette against the lawn, standing at the lip of the swimming pool, a handle of rum in one hand. He throws his head back and takes a long, deep pull from the bottle, and Rachel’s hands tighten into fists. He stumbles back as he lowers the rum again, putting his other hand to his head. The handle drops from his grip and shatters on the concrete, and Rachel puts a hand over her mouth.

He teeters in place, and then falls.

Thankfully, he falls backward. His head hits the grass, and not the concrete, just barely clearing the boundary where the lawn turns into the pool’s surroundings. But in the pale moonlight, she still sees blood, and in a blind panic she throws the door open and runs out to him. He groans softly, lifting his arm, and shards of glass glitter in Rachel’s eyes.

“Oh my God,” she whispers, kneeling down on his other side. His eyes are closed tight. She shakes him by the shoulder. “Caleb? Caleb!”

He moans again, rolling away from Rachel, and she freezes as he starts to raise an arm to hoist himself up. “No, no, no!” she insists as he’s about to put his hand directly on a pile of glass, grabbing him by the other wrist and yanking him away. His head rolls, but he manages to blink his eyes open as Rachel drags his (surprisingly heavy) body away from the mess.

“Fuck,” is the first word out of his mouth once Rachel lets him go, sitting on the ground with him and panting. He raises up his left arm and grimaces at the blood flowing down the back of it. Rachel’s head is spinning.

“Caleb, can you — can you get up? We need to—”

Caleb turns his head and throws up.

Not much comes out — mostly just the rum he drank, along with an unidentifiable smattering of greenish chunks. But it sets Rachel’s heart racing.

He could be dying.

She has no idea what to do.

Caleb breathes heavily in the stillness of the freezing night, and Rachel doesn’t know if he’s going to die. She knows it can happen, and he’s been drinking so much, and he’s barely responding to her at all, and—

And Rachel needs an adult.

It’s not a need she’d ever thought she’d have, but there it is, she just, she needs someone who might know fucking anything, because she certainly doesn’t, and she needs to get Caleb the fuck away from this house, to the hospital, or, or fucking something, so she knows what to do with that feeling, and she pulls out her phone and calls Joyce.

“....hello?” Joyce asks, after too many rings, too many chances for Rachel to let her mind spiral away from her, looking at Caleb curled in the fetal position with vomit on his collar.

“Joyce? Joyce, it’s, it’s Rachel,” she stammers. “I need you to come and pick us up.”

“Us? Wait — Caleb’s with you? Where?” Joyce asks, her voice taking on a sour note. “What the—”

“He, he drank a lot and I’m not sure he’s gonna be okay, please, Joyce, I…” Rachel chokes back a sob. “I’m scared.”

“Oh, hell,” Joyce says, her voice softening. “Where are you, honey? And what’s happening to him? Tell me exactly.”

“I’m...we’re at Zach’s place. You know where that is?”

“I’m familiar, dropped that kid off there once in a while back when he and Caleb got along. Can Caleb get up? Is he passed out?”

Rachel swallows and shakes Caleb by the shoulder. “C?” she asks carefully, and he turns his head to face her, tears streaming silently down his cheeks. “He’s, um, he’s awake,” Rachel says. “C, can you — can you please get up?”

Caleb reaches out a hand, and Rachel takes it, pulling them both to their feet. He wavers, and Rachel has to support his weight, but he’s standing. “I’ve got him up, Joyce,” Rachel breathes.

“Okay, that’s good news. He’ll probably be okay, honey, but—”

“He, he fell in some broken glass.”

“We got first aid at home, but is there anything at Zach’s house you can use?”

“I don’t know,” Rachel murmurs. “I don’t think other people should see him right now, he’s...he’s not talking, and…”

“All right, where are you two?”

“Back yard.”

“Got it. Bring him around to the front and stay with him. I’m gettin’ in the car now, okay? Can’t talk more, but you keep him up and about, he’ll be fine. We’ll get him home and get him some water and bandages. And then we can talk about how this happened. You understand?”

Rachel sniffs. “Yeah. Yeah.”

“Meet you out front, Rachel.”

“Okay.”

Joyce ends the call, and Rachel manages to convince Caleb to move, through the back gate and around to the driveway. They lean against Justin’s car, and Caleb still hasn’t said anything, looking like he’s just trying to keep the contents of his stomach where they belong, occasionally picking a shard of glass out of his left arm. Rachel ends up getting behind him, and pulling a small bit out of his back, too. Christ. They’re all shallow cuts, but...Christ.

She’s flooded with relief as Joyce’s headlights sweep over them. Thank God. Someone who knows...fucking anything. Joyce parks the car in front of them and steps out, coming over to them and looking over Caleb.

“Caleb, you there?” she asks, waving a hand in front of his face, and he winces.

“Uh...hi, Mom.”

“You okay, hon?”

“...no,” Caleb mutters, hanging his head.

“All right, let’s getcha home.” She pats him on the shoulder. “Go ‘head and lay in the back, I’ll drive slow.”

“...thanks, Mom.”

“We’ll talk tomorrow. Rachel?” Joyce says as Rachel helps Caleb walk over to the car, pulling the door open for him. “In the front. With me.”

“I figured. I’m not leaving him.”

Joyce looks her up and down as if re-appraising a piece of art. “Huh. Smart girl.”

Caleb manages to get into the back, laying himself carefully so his left arm hangs down between the seats and the bits of his back that got hit aren’t resting on anything. Rachel straps herself into the front seat, bringing out her phone, because little things need to be taken care of, too. She tells Trevor that her backpack and Caleb’s jacket were left behind, to bring them back to her tomorrow, whenever she gets home. They had to bail.

He doesn’t respond. Probably asleep. Joyce drives slowly, carefully, not looking at either teenager. It’s clear she’s waiting for some kind of opening, and Rachel doesn’t even know what to say.

Caleb, to her surprise, speaks up first.

“Mom?” he asks from the back.

“Yeah, Caleb?” Joyce replies, her eyes focused on the road, fingers tapping irregular patterns on the steering wheel.

“If I was a girl, what would my name be?”

The question is so fucking random and out of nowhere that Joyce turns to Rachel, their eyes meeting, and Joyce just looks weirdly frozen. Rachel swallows, and shrugs. She doesn’t know, either.

“W-well,” Joyce stammers, turning her eyes back to the road, “Before we knew what you were, your father and I picked out Chloe for you.”

“Thassa nice name,” Caleb murmurs. “Pretty.” He closes his eyes.

“Yeah,” Joyce says, licking her lips, running a hand through her hair. And then it’s quiet again, and Rachel plays back the exchange in her mind, and something within her is starting to form connections, something’s starting to make sense, something—

And then Joyce says, “So by the way you kids smell, you didn’t just go drinking tonight, huh?”

Rachel’s not really sure how to answer that, but Joyce continues anyway.

“You two are real lucky David’s away. He talks a big game about his troubled youth, but he don’t have sympathy for it no more. But I know what it’s like to be sixteen and bored out of your skull, so I’m gonna try to be understanding tonight. Get me?”

“I...yes, Joyce,” Rachel answers, looking out the window so she doesn’t have to see Joyce’s tense expression, the white of her knuckles.

“But this is a major screwup. I’m glad you called me — I am — but...Christ, kids. Why’d you have to put me in this position, huh?”

“I...I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you are.” Joyce lets out a long sigh. “Jesus. I almost wanna bum a smoke off one of you lunkheads. I’m sure you’ve got one.”

Rachel laughs softly, the mood broken a little. “I mean, if you really—”

“Quit years ago, Rachel, but that’s my point. You two know how to stress a lady out.” Joyce rubs her temples. “Okay. Sorry. Not the time to talk. Let’s get home.”

They pull up into the driveway, and Rachel helps Caleb out of the back, helping him inside. For the next few minutes, things are all business — Rachel keeps Caleb in the kitchen, wiping off his mouth and getting him to sip at a glass of water, while Joyce brings down first aid supplies and strips his shirt off, tweezing out glittering shards, washing the wounds and applying Neosporin, covering them up with gauze or Band-Aids. Once he’s thoroughly de-glassed and has finished his water, Joyce tells Rachel to take him up to his room.

He falls into bed and stays there, and Joyce leans in the doorway, watching Rachel smooth a hand down his bare back. “Rachel,” Joyce says, and she jumps, turning to face her. “Let’s talk.”

Rachel nods, following her back downstairs to the kitchen, where Joyce leans against the counter and stares at her with cold, hard eyes.

“I appreciate that you figured out when things got screwed up,” she begins, and Rachel stares at her shoes, flinching. “But you snuck my son out of my house in the middle of the night and got him so blasted you were worried he had alcohol poisoning. That is not what I want for my boy. I’m sure you know that.”

“Y...yes, Mrs. Madsen.”

“Now you talk to me like an adult, since you seem intent on acting like one,” Joyce warns. “You done this before?”

“I...not personally. We met at...at another party.”

Joyce nods slowly. “I see. Musta been the last time he snuck out and showed up without sleepin’, huh?”

Rachel just nods.

“You talked a good game about keepin Caleb outta trouble.” Joyce heads over to the fridge and takes out a pitcher of iced tea, pouring herself a glass while she talks. “That all a lie?”

“No,” Rachel insists. “Look, we, we hang out, but I never wanted him to actually be in danger. I just wanted him to have some fun, you know? He hates it here, and…” Rachel clamps her mouth shut as Joyce shoots her a glare.

But Joyce’s gaze softens, and she stares into her tea. “I know,” she says softly. “Things were getting better. A little. ‘Cuz of you, I thought. But now...I’m not hiding this from my husband, Rachel, and there’ll have to be consequences.”

Rachel swallows. “You won’t...you won’t hit him, will you?”

“No!” Joyce exclaims.

“David gave him a black eye last time,” Rachel says, anger suddenly rising in her. “How do I know he’ll be safe with your consequences?”

“You think you’re his great protector from his parents, don’tcha?” Joyce shoots back. “Well, you aren’t in charge of his life, missy, we are, and it’s our place to decide—”

“I could call the police on David,” Rachel snaps.

“And I could’ve called the cops down on your little party if I wanted to,” Joyce retorts. “But I think we can work things out without running to the authorities, don’t you?”

Rachel fumes silently, hands tightening up. Fuck her. She thinks she knows best when she lives with a fucking abuser, lets him hit and degrade her own son. Rachel’s teeth grind in her mouth.

Joyce takes a deep breath, and lets it go. “He’s gotta lose his board again. And you can’t come around here anymore, and he ain’t goin’ out on the weekends ‘till he gets his shit together.”

“What’ll that accomplish?” Rachel challenges. “He could just go anyway. He did tonight. Just gonna keep trying to take freedom away from him? Gonna put some prison bars on his windows, too?”

“Don’t you talk to me like—”

“You told me to talk to you like an adult!” Rachel yells, louder than she meant.

Joyce stops in her tracks, closing her eyes for a moment and breathing heavily through her nose. “Adults don’t get to tell each other how to raise their kids, either,” she says at last. “There have to be consequences, or he’s not gonna learn.”

“You want him to stay home and act responsible? Make this somewhere he wants to be,” Rachel says.

“You got a smart mouth on you.”

“Yeah, that’s what people say.”

Joyce sighs. “I’m just telling you how it’s gonna be. Let’s take you home.”

“I wanna stay here with him. I wanna look after him. If this is my fault, I wanna…” Rachel sniffs. “I...please, Joyce. Just let me stay tonight and I won’t come back. Okay?”

“...fine. Be outta here in the morning. No breakfast for you.”

“Fine.”

“You let me know if anything changes.”

“Okay.” Rachel’s resolve breaks, and she slackens. “...I’ll keep an eye on him. And you won’t see me tomorrow.”

“Better not.”

Rachel turns to leave, and Joyce sits down at the table, nursing her tea and sighing. Rachel spares one last glance back before she goes up the stairs, and Joyce just looks...tired, now. Tired, and maybe more scared than she let on, her shoulders shaking slightly under the dim light overhead.

But Joyce isn’t the person she’s worried about.

Rachel heads into Caleb’s room, and finds him upright, surprisingly enough, tugging off his shoes. He looks up when she comes in, offering a strained “Hey.”

“Hey,” she murmurs, sitting down beside him. “Feeling any better?”

He shrugs. “Things’re...still spinning.”

“I’m sorry.”

He sniffs, stands up and goes to his dresser, bringing out pajamas. Rachel looks away as he gets out of his jeans, despite the draw of his bandaged torso, the guilt that that image brings her. Once he’s dressed, he sits down beside her again, drumming his fingers on his knee.

“It’s not...your fault,” he says, as though he has to force each individual word through his throat. “You didn’t know. You don’t know.”

“What don’t I know, Caleb?” Rachel pleads, turning to look him in the eye. “Please, I…”

But he just looks away, breathing heavily.

“I thought you…” Rachel tries to swallow the lump in her throat. “Is it that I told you I…”

“You don’t love me,” Caleb mutters. “You don’t. You don’t know. If you did, you wouldn’t.”

“What don’t I know?” Rachel asks again, turning and wanting to just force him to look at her, to say what —

And all of it suddenly clicks.

How he responds when she touches some parts of him. How he keeps his hair long, despite being told to chop it. How he hates everything about his stepfather, even the normal dad things. How he responds when Rachel makes that joke about him being the mysterious bad girl, or when she talks about shaving his legs, or piercing his ears. How he doesn’t like his name, or his face, or anything about him that points to the him of his being. The lyrics of his songs, things like compulsions you never knew the reasons to, or if I could’ve chosen, I would’ve been born a woman.

And the question he asked his mother, just minutes ago.

Rachel licks her lips. She swallows, and she hesitates, and she’s not sure this is the right thing to do at all, but it’s the only way she can think to finally fucking get through that shell of granite and concrete and barbed wire he’s surrounded this part of himself with.

“What don’t I know, Chloe?” she asks.

And he just...breaks.

He slumps forward and sobs, head in his hands, and Rachel wraps herself around him.

He can’t, won’t say anything. All he does is cry, eventually burying his face into Rachel’s flannel, eventually lying down with her on the bed, unable to get any words out, unable to even try.

She holds him, and strokes his hair, and says, “It’s okay.”

She has no idea if she’s lying.

Chapter Text

Caleb wakes up feeling like shit.

The sun is bright and glaring through his window, and his head feels like someone stuffed it into a garbage compactor. He’s pretty unhappy to be awake at all, really, and does his absolute best not to be, hiding his face in his pillow and trying to keep his eyes shut tight.

He can barely remember last night, but since he’s waking up in his own bed, he doubts it ended well. The bandages wrapped around half his body are proof of that, too. Fucking great. So much for the plan.

Get drunk enough and he could push past it. That was the idea. Instead he’s ended up...at home, with a blurred memory and a splitting migraine. And a heaving stomach.

He rolls over carefully, trying to squint to see what’s going on. His alarm clock reads 10:30, and above it, a neatly folded piece of paper, tented so that one side is legible.

Call me.

-RA

And he remembers, and he has to throw up.

He stumbles out of his bedroom and runs for the toilet, just barely managing to throw the seat open before he retches. It’s not much. A thin stream of bile and acid in his throat. He coughs a few times, retches again, but it’s just a nasty sound and constriction of muscles, nothing more comes out of him. He collapses against the bathtub, breathing heavily.

What don’t I know, Chloe?

Slowly, his memory crawls in reverse from that moment, when he collapsed into her arms, because he didn’t manage to tell her but he still told her. Getting patched up. Asking Mom what his name would’ve been, because The Ocean invaded his thoughts, like always. Mom driving them home. Dropping a handle of rum and falling into the wreckage. Staring at an empty swimming pool and trying to gain the courage to simply fall in. And before that, trying, desperately, to be a man.

He failed. Like he always does. Like he always will.

He vomits again.

He lifts himself from the bowl, gasping for air, grasping at the toilet paper to dab off his mouth and nose. Fucking hell, this sucks. He closes his eyes and falls against the wall, running a hand down his sweaty face. He draws his knees up to his chest, rests his forehead against his legs. It’s better in here, in the dark of the bathroom. He’s not sure he’s ever been this fucked up after drinking. Maybe if he’d had just a little more, he wouldn’t have woken up at all. That sounds better than this.

Call me. Not a lot of help in figuring out what Rachel actually thinks of him, of the secret urges and desires that have rested in him since...well, he’s not sure when it started. He only knows that it hurts, and it’s been hurting for so long he’s usually numb to it. But then he has to do something, like kiss Rachel, like love Rachel, and the pain rises to a fever pitch and he has to do everything he can to dull it.

He closes his eyes, takes a few deep breaths. His stomach feels...calmer, now. But most of his body hurts, so he stays right where he is, until he hears his mother coming up the stairs, down the hall.

“Caleb?” she asks softly, from somewhere behind him. She flips the lights on as she enters the bathroom, and he winces, clutching at his head. “Hell,” she murmurs, turning it off again and sitting down beside him. “That bad, huh?”

He nods silently, and Mom sighs, patting his back. “Yeah, I’ve had these hangovers. You’re too damn young to have one like this.”

Caleb sniffs. God, he’s fucked, isn’t he?

“There a reason you did this to yourself, hon?”

He shrugs. So many reasons, none of them that he can say to her. She wouldn’t understand, and worse, she’d pass it all along to fucking David. Who’s due home tonight, which is just great.

“Caleb…” Mom swallows. “You gotta let me in. This...this is scary to me, okay?”

His throat’s too dry to talk, so he just shakes his head.

“Well, s’pose you aren’t much up to talking today anyway, huh?” Mom asks, smoothing a hand down his back. “‘Least not right now. C’mon, let’s get you some more sleep, okay?”

“Yeah,” Caleb chokes out.

“All right. Up you go.” Mom helps lift him to his feet, and the two of them make their way back to his bedroom, where he flops back down in his bed. Mom busies herself by closing the blinds and covering the windows as best she can, which he quietly thanks her for before she heads out of the room again and he’s left staring at Rachel’s ominous message again.

Mom walks back in, setting a glass of water and a few large white pills on the nightstand. “You take that when you’re ready,” she says. “And once you’re up, we’re talking.”

Caleb just shrugs as she leaves the room, closing the door behind her. He fades in and out for a while, until his phone starts buzzing on his nightstand. Rachel’s calling.

He ignores it.

But that wakes him enough to sit up for a moment, taking the pills and sipping slowly at the water, holding his forehead. He’s really, really not ready for a talk with Rachel, a talk with anyone, not right now. And besides, Rachel will just ditch him anyway. Maybe she’s good enough not to tell anyone else, but surely she won’t stay. Max didn’t. And Rachel...has many more options than Caleb.

He manages to finish the glass despite his stomach attempting to stop him, laying back down and waiting for the nausea to pass. He manages to sleep again, briefly, before he wakes up to a start to the sound of his door opening.

And David walking in, a revolver shining in his hand.

Caleb scrambles up to a sitting position, breathing hard as David looks him up and down. “So. Here you are,” David begins, and Caleb’s frozen, staring at the gun, like —

“This was supposed to be for you. I was going to teach you how to be responsible for something dangerous,” David continues, holding up the revolver to the light. Caleb swallows. “But clearly, you aren’t ready for that. You appear to not be ready for a goddamn thing, Caleb.”

Caleb narrows his eyes. He’s too fucking tired, his head hurts too fucking much, to listen to this speech from this man. “Fuck you,” he hisses.

David steps back, looking confused. “Excuse me?”

“Fuck you,” Caleb repeats, his voice slowly returning to him through the haze of the hangover. “Get out of my room.”

“I don’t think you get what’s goin’ on here, son,” David growls, face shifting into a glower. “This isn’t your room. It’s not your house. I am your guardian, like it or not, and I decide when I do or do not leave. Clearly, I’ve been lettin’ you get away with too much.”

Caleb groans. “Spare me the fucking speech and tell me what you’re doing, then.”

“I don’t think you understand why I—”

“Oh, I get why. It doesn’t matter. I don’t care why.” Caleb coughs a few times, his throat too dry to support his anger. “Take my board, say I can’t go out, do whatever, man, I’m not in the mood for this.”

“I don’t give a damn what you’re in the mood for!” David barks. “You will settle down and shut up right now, or you’ll see just what that attitude gets you.”

“So that’s what you brought the gun in for?” Caleb asks, getting to his feet. “Gonna shoot me?”

“You think you’re so big and tough because you hit me once—”

“I think you’re the one with the compensating problem, Mister Gun-Show—”

“That’s enough!” David shouts, taking a few pounding steps towards Caleb and getting in his face. “You know how bad you screwed up last night, so don’t you dare act like you can give me mouth right now!”

“I can give you mouth whenever I want, you fucking pussy—”

Metal strikes Caleb in the jaw and he falls back against his nightstand, slamming his head into the drywall and leaving a dent. He cries out against his will, vision blacking out for a second as he closes his eyes, flinches, and waits for the next hit.

There’s a cold, deadly silence in the room. He opens one eye, and sees that David’s backing away slowly, the gun shaking in his hands. The taste of blood fills Caleb’s mouth. “We’ll,” David breathes, before swallowing and trying again. “We’ll talk again. When you’ve calmed down.”

Caleb wants to bite back but his mouth is full of blood. His muscles clench painfully, his head throbbing worse than ever. When David finally turns and leaves, he collapses against the nightstand, grabs desperately for a tissue and spits the blood into it. He probes in his mouth, but it seems like it was just his tooth cutting into his cheek. None of them feel loose or chipped. He lets himself shake, wiping tears from his eyes. For a moment, he’d believed it was over. That somehow, he could find some truce here. But then he had to go and do what he always does, fuck up, and lash out, and he can’t escape the sense that this is what he deserves. This whole day. This whole life.

Sweet fucking sixteen this turned out to be.

He wonders where Mom is. Must not be home, or David wouldn’t have come in so aggressively. She’d try to make it some kind of negotiation, but David got home first, he had the control, and when that happens, things break. People break.

David’s stupid fucking cop show filters up from downstairs. Caleb waits to be called for dinner.

When he is, he’s not sure how much time has passed — looking at the bright screen of his phone is too hard, and the pillow is nice against his bruising face. Hunger surges in him with force once he steps outside of his room and smells the air, getting a whiff of homemade french fries that cuts straight to his stomach. He can already hear David and Mom arguing before he even hits the stairs, though.

“You didn’t need to go all out tonight,” David insists as Caleb hovers on the top step.

“Fats, carbs, and protein. That helps a hangover.”

“You don’t need to coddle him. He’s been so—”

“The least I can do is give him some relief before we hit him with the punishments, David,” Mom sighs. “Go siddown.”

Caleb heads down the stairs carefully after taking a breath, and finds his mom in the kitchen, making up plates. She turns to see him as he reaches the first floor, and drops everything right onto the counter.

“David,” she says, her voice low and shaking. “I need you to leave.” Caleb freezes.

“What?” David calls from the dining room.

“Leave this room. Right now.”

“Joyce—”

“Take your dinner to the garage, I don’t care, you are not—”

“Just what the hell is the problem?” David demands, and Caleb hears him scoot his chair back and instinctively takes a step back up the stairs. David comes into view, and he sees Caleb’s face and the two of them stand there, like two deer casting headlights on each other.

“Just go, David,” Mom hisses, grabbing a plate and shoving it into David’s chest. “I can’t believe you.”

“I — hon, he was—”

“Don’t you hon me. Out, I said.”

David and Caleb make eye contact, and Caleb tries to hold his gaze steady. Maybe Mom’s actually doing something. If she is, he needs to be strong enough to back her up.

“Fine,” David spits, taking the plate and storming off for the garage. Caleb takes in a deep breath, and Mom walks up to him, gently cupping his jaw.

“What happened?” she asks softly, and Caleb wants to scream. He jerks his head away.

“Your husband pistol-whipped me,” Caleb grunts, pushing past her. Is she fucking kidding? How obvious could it be?

“But — Caleb, he shouldn’t have, of course, but—”

“There’s no but, okay? Jesus, I can’t believe I thought you were on my side for a second.” Caleb grabs his food and heads over to the table, stuffing his face with burger so that he doesn’t have to — shit, that’s good. Why’s he so fucking angry all the time?

“I’m not on any side,” Mom insists, coming over to sit down across from him. “But I just want to know what you said to him.”

Caleb chews doggedly, doesn’t look her in the eye. He’s so tired of this fucking dance. Does he really have to make it through two more years? Longer? Christ.

“Caleb.”

Caleb sighs, swallowing and putting a hand to his forehead. “Can I eat first?”

“...sure.”

Mom stops dogging him long enough for him to ravenously consume everything on his plate, though he still can’t meet her eye. He heads into the kitchen and gets himself some water, both to wash down his hastily-chewed meal and to actually hydrate him, because he still feels like shit even with the sun going down outside. Mom joins him in there, leaning against the opposite counter.

“So, what happened?” she asks.

“He came in ranting some shit about responsibility and waving that stupid gun around. I got mad and told him to fuck off, and he hit me with the gun.” It’s weird how simple it sounds, to just describe it that way. It felt like a lot more, in the moment.

Mom sighs. “I’m sorry, Caleb. I should’ve been here when he got home, but I got called in — Jen was sick, and they just needed me for an hour, but—”

“You shouldn’t have to be here all the time so your husband doesn’t hit people,” Caleb says, shooting a glare at her.

“I just thought we were past this,” Mom says, like that should explain everything. She gives him a pleading look, and it makes him feel disgusted.

“He was just scared I’d hit back. All fucked up this morning, and he knew I couldn’t.”

“I — he’s not an evil man, Caleb, he didn’t plan for—”

“How do you know?” Caleb interrupts. “It’s not like he told you when you came home. You act like you know him but either you don’t or you’re just ignoring what he actually is.” Caleb pushes off the counter and heads for the stairs. “Whatever. It’s all the fucking same. Always is.”

“Caleb, wait,” Mom calls as he takes hold of the railing. He stops and looks down at her while she takes a breath. “We’re taking your board again.”

“Figured.”

“I don’t wanna see you hanging around Rachel anymore. She gets you in trouble. You stay home on the weekends.”

“Try and keep me here,” Caleb mutters.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

Mom glares, but she continues. “On the weekends you work on your license and your homework. You get your license, we can talk again. You need to be—”

“Responsible. Right. Fine.”

“Caleb, I’m not doin’ this to hurt you.”

“Then why are you doing it? What’s it gonna do, huh?” Caleb asks, leaning over the railing. “I broke every rule last night. What’s supposed to stop me from breaking them again?”

Mom sighs angrily. “You sound just like Rachel.”

“Good.”

“If you want to tell me why you did this—”

“Yeah, you seem like a person I can really trust with that,” Caleb sneers, a sweat breaking out on his neck regardless. There were so many reasons to do what he did — to have fun, to try and push past the illness at his core and be with Rachel, to escape this deathtrap house, to numb his mind with alcohol until he could maybe not hate himself for a second — and not a single one can be shared with Joyce. At best, it’s back into therapy they can’t afford, people who needle him with questions he’d never answer, maybe pills to try and calm him down. He doesn’t want to think about worse results.

“You wanna be a brick wall? Then you take your licks and deal,” Joyce says, her jaw tightening. “You don’t want help? You won’t get none. See if I come get you the next time you decide to drink yourself half to death.”

“Thanks for the support, Mom,” Caleb says through grit teeth. He heads upstairs before she can say anything else, and that night, at least, he’s left with his own thoughts. He ignores everything Rachel sends him. Better to let it die now. The last thing he needs is to get his hopes up again.

In the morning, Caleb’s hangover is finally gone, and he’s able to get up and check himself over in the mirror. Big fat bruise on his jaw. Great. Someone’s gonna call CPS at some point, and Caleb’s not gonna lie to them. Fuck if he cares how his house ends up at this point. Might make a good excuse to disappear.

He heads downstairs and doesn’t find David. He knows he didn’t leave-leave the house last night, because he came up the stairs, so he’s just going to assume he’s still getting a ride. He’s hungry enough to eat, at least, and hoovers down a few bowls of cereal before David comes in through the garage door and just...stares at him, like a creep.

“What?” Caleb asks, turning to face him.

David clears his throat. “Time to go.”

“Let’s go, then.” Caleb stands up and heads over to him, holding out his hand. Rage tenses his muscles, but if he wants to beat this son of a bitch, he’ll have to act like yesterday didn’t happen. Like he could hit back again, one day.

David drops the keys into his hand, and the two of them make their way to the garage. Caleb’s got the drive to Blackwell memorized by now, and the car feels easy to drive. Stick, like Rachel predicted, but he’s past the point where he’ll stall the thing out at a stop sign. David starts to speak halfway through the drive, predictable as always, and of course he leans over and turns down Caleb’s music to do it.

“We need to stop doing this,” he says, and Caleb just grits his teeth, focuses on the road.

David waits for a reply for a second, then keeps talking. “I don’t want to hurt you. I never wanted that, and your mother is royally pissed at me, for good reason. Help me out here, son.”

“Not my job,” Caleb mutters.

“You’re responsible too!” David insists. “You—”

“Shut up, David.”

“Ca—”

“I’m driving, David.”

David lets out a sigh, and Caleb spares him a glance. He looks so weird over there in the passenger seat. Powerless, and slumping away from Caleb, with this faraway look on his face. The image disgusts Caleb, so he turns back to the road, focuses on his task.

“We can do better than this, Caleb,” David says. “I know we can. We managed for a few months there. Why’d you — hell, I don’t know what you two were doing before, but you sure as hell weren’t acting that dumb.”

Caleb just rolls his eyes and parks. There’s nothing to say. It’s all so fucking repetitive. He’s done.

“Caleb,” David says again as they get out of the car, but Caleb just tosses the keys at him and heads off for the main building. It’s another shitty week, and he might as well start trying to get through it.

His classes pass in a blur. The cuts on his arm and back ache throughout, and he’s only somewhat able to pay attention to whatever anyone’s talking about. Trevor and Justin don’t share classes with him, of course, so it’s only at lunch that he realizes that, at some point, he may need to speak to someone. If only to get his smoking jacket back — shit, did anyone even realize he left it there?

He still hasn’t checked Rachel’s messages.

He knows that if he ditches the cafeteria like usual, Rachel will find him. Worse, David’s on his whole apology tour shit again, and might go and look for Caleb if he thinks he’ll be alone. The only way to ensure nothing happens is to...actually sit down and have a meal in the cafeteria like a normal student. Fuck.

He barely remembers where the place is, at this point, and he cringes at the stares that follow him as he gets in line. People have been sneaking glances all day, but this is the most densely populated room on campus, and he can feel their eyes crawling over the latest mark. He keeps his eyes down, fills his tray without really looking. David watches from the front of the room, and his stare is the worst of all — but he’s doing his job now, which means he at least has the pride to not try and draw Caleb into a conversation.

To Caleb’s surprise, he actually spots Trevor and Justin at a table in the corner of the room, and in hopes that Rachel either won’t find him or won’t try to talk to him about what happened Saturday in front of them, he makes his way over to them.

“Yooo,” Trevor calls as he sits down, holding out a hand for a fist-bump. “Dude, I haven’t seen you in here in forever. You done sellin’ for Frank?”

Shit. Caleb forgot about...that. Well, Rachel can handle it on her own. “Maybe,” he says with a shrug, meeting Trevor’s fist with his own.

“Dude, what the hell happened to you?” Justin asks, looking him up and down. “David do some bullshit again?”

“When does he not?” Caleb replies with a shrug.

“Fuck, man, sorry. Thought you got away with it this time, our bad,” Justin says, reaching over and patting him on the shoulder. “Rachel’s got your gifts and jacket and stuff, whenever you see her today.”

“Thanks,” Caleb mutters, eyes glancing across the cafeteria to spot Rachel just getting out of line. They lock eyes, and Rachel suddenly scowls at him, storming over to Victoria’s table and sitting with them like it’s a deliberate insult. Caleb looks away.

“You guys good?” Trevor asks, eyes flicking back and forth between Caleb and Rachel.

“We’re fine,” Caleb lies.

Justin and Trevor exchange a look, but say no more. The rest of the day means nothing.

As he’s leaving his last class, ruminating on how he’s gonna get home — shit, maybe drive with David? — someone grabs him from behind by the upper arm. He turns in a blind panic, ready to shove David off, but he meets Rachel’s angry hazel eyes instead and just freezes.

She tugs him closer. “Quit avoiding me,” she hisses, and, well, this is weird, at this point. Caleb’s...not sure how to respond.

“Uh.”

“Your shit’s in my room. Come on.” She tugs him one more time, then lets him go, glancing behind her as she starts out of the main building to make sure he’s following. He is, because, yeah, she does have his stuff. She doesn’t say a word as they make their way through the crowds, and he knows this looks weird — sure, everyone knows they’re friends by now, but Rachel’s not even bothering to do her usual smile-and-wave routine with people. He feels like he’s being arrested.

Once they’re in her dorm and he’s let the door shut behind him, she finally stops in her tracks, taking a deep breath before turning to face him. Her eyes lock onto his, and he takes a step back.

“You fucking freaked me out,” she accuses, her hands in fists at her sides. “I asked you to call me.”

“I — Rachel — “

“Don’t fucking ignore me, not after something like that,” Rachel continues, her face turning red. “I thought you were gonna die Saturday night. I just wanted to know you were okay, and, and instead, he hit you again, and I see you today all fucked up and — what did I do, Caleb? I just…” She slackens, looking away and sinking down onto her bed, letting her bag drop from her shoulders. “Fuck, I can’t do this, okay? I wanna talk things through, and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, but last time you at least yelled at me about it. I honestly liked that better.”

Caleb blinks a few times, and for the first time since Sunday morning, he feels like he has some focus. Rachel actually talking to him, not just being this blurry fear at the edge of his perception, makes him realize how stupid he’s been. He pushes his hair back from his face and sighs, leaning back against her door. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “It’s...I’m not doing good. I dunno.”

Rachel laughs hollowly. “No shit, man.”

He takes in a deep breath. She knows, already. Might as well get it all out there. Might as well tell someone. The last time he was going to, he chickened out, deleted those memories of Max off of his phone, and...and it’s just going to be hard to pretend none of this happened, with Rachel looking at him like that. Sometimes he swears her eyes are bigger than the ones normal people have.

He sinks down so he’s sitting on the floor, knees out in front of him. “How much do you remember about...the end of the night?” he asks, to start.

“...I mean, everything, C. I really wasn’t very messed up by that point.”

“Just...tell me.”

“You, uh…” Rachel swallows. “I think you want to be a girl. Everything you were, you were saying and doing that night, the way you act around me, just…” She sniffs, wipes at her face like it’s betrayed her. “And you really hate it, don’t you?”

Caleb hasn’t named the thing resting in the bottom of his mind and poisoning everything in years. Hearing it come out of someone else’s mouth makes his heart drop into his stomach. Like no one should know, not even himself. But she does.

“...yeah,” is all he can say. “Don’t you?”

“Don’t I what?”

“Hate it. About me.”

“No!” Rachel exclaims, looking up suddenly, her hair falling back from her face. “I — I’ve never met anyone like you, but I don’t hate it, I’m just, I’m...I’m scared for you.”

Caleb closes his eyes. “Why?”

“Because I…” Rachel stops herself in the middle of her sentence, smacking her lips. “Because I care about you. I think that’s obvious. I don’t want you to hate yourself so much that you hurt yourself, the way you did.”

“So it’d be better if I didn’t, right?”

“C—”

“If I didn’t feel this way, no one would have to worry about it. I wish I didn’t,” Caleb spits, leaning his head forward and wrapping his arms around himself. “I want it to go away.”

“...can it? Go away, I mean?”

“I don’t know. It hasn’t. It feels like it just keeps getting worse.”

“Have you ever told anyone?”

Caleb freezes. He’s said things about Max before, of course. Sometimes he can’t help it. It just slips out, like...like every clue that Rachel eventually untangled. Maybe it’d be better to just tell her, because she’s going to work it out anyway, and she’s smart, and…

And, God, he’s tired of these secrets eating away at his brain. Even with the cold sweat he’s drenched in right now, there’s something freeing about talking about this at last. Fuck it. Things really can’t get worse.

“Ca—C?” Rachel asks gently.

“Yeah,” Caleb answers at last. “When I was a kid I had this...friend. Max.”

Rachel looks at him with the smallest little smile on her face. “Dude, I could drive a semi truck through that pause.”

“Don’t get so cocky,” Caleb shoots back, almost automatically, his heart lifting a little that she can still joke with him, after all. “You’re the friend-with-a-pause, now, you know.”

“...I know, yeah,” Rachel murmurs, wincing away from his eyes. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Caleb looks down at his feet again. “Best friends since we were little. We did everything together. A few months before my dad died, I ended up blurting it out. We didn’t really talk about it. Just kinda...hung there.”

“What happened to her?” Rachel asks.

He closes his eyes, so they don’t hurt so much. “She just...left. Moved away. After my dad died. She was just gone. She never talked to me again. I figured she thought...well, what everyone else thought. I was this angry, sad dead-dad kid, and on top of that, she knew I was some freak who wanted to be a girl.” The words burn his throat like acid. “No wonder she left.”

“Bitch,” Rachel says, and the simplicity and suddenness of the swear shocks him out of the fog.

“I—I mean…” Caleb stammers, lowering his limbs and stretching out slightly, rubbing at his head. “I—”

“Dude, you needed her and she fucking bailed? Some friend-with-a-pause.” Rachel gets up and walks over to him, falling down beside him like they’re doing their lunchtime thing, hanging against a tree.

Caleb swallows. “I guess I still kinda want to defend her. Even though I am, like, totally pissed at her a lot of the time. But, you know, she was a scared kid. I was like her attack dog. Beat up kids that tried to bully her and stuff.”

“Now that must’ve been cute,” Rachel teases, gently placing a hand on Caleb’s knee. “I wanna see Protector Price.”

“Well, too bad. You don’t need protection, do you?” Caleb says, looking over at her and smiling. It does feel good, to let this all out, and have her actually respond.

“I mean, I don’t wanna be a teen mom…”

“Gross.”

“I guess you’d say that, huh.” Rachel chuckles softly, leaning against his side. “...so that’s the only person you ever told, huh? Not even your mom or dad?”

“I kept thinking I was gonna tell Dad, but…” Caleb sniffs. “You...you know.”

“Shit. I’m...I’m really sorry.”

“Why? Not like it would make a difference. Doesn’t matter that I want it, it can’t happen anyway.”

“I mean...don’t people get sex changes?” Rachel asks carefully.

Caleb shudders at that turn-of-phrase, at the images it brings up in his mind, at the memories of how other people talk about it. “I’m not like them,” he mutters.

“How do you know?”

“‘Cuz, I…” Well, fuck, he doesn’t actually have an answer. “I don’t know. I’m not. I don’t...I don’t wanna be.”

“Have you ever...I dunno, looked it up?”

A memory flashes through his mind, I look stuff up, Max! and he knows he lied when he said that. “No,” he admits. “Not about this.”

“Why not?”

“It’s...it’s too big.”

Rachel gently kicks his shin. “What’s that mean, dude?”

“If I look it up, and find out more about it, then I’ll just, just want it even more,” Caleb stammers out, his breath feeling fast and weak. “And I want it too bad already. It…” His throat closes up. “It’s too much. It’s too big. When I think about it I always end up wanting to just fucking die.”

Rachel’s hand tightens on his knee, bunching up denim between her fingers. “Shit, C, I…I don’t know what that’s like,” she admits. “So that’s why, when I would...God, I’m such an asshole.”

Caleb shrugs. “How could you know?”

“But I just kept shoving it in your face,” Rachel argues, her fingers kneading his jeans now. “I — we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t know if I want to or not,” Caleb admits. “It’s...it’s hard.”

“...is there anything I can, like, do? To make you feel better about it?”

“I don’t know,” Caleb says again. “I really don’t, Rachel, it’s...I’ve been dealing with it on my own for a long time, and…”

“Dealing with it, or avoiding it?”

“...second one.”

Rachel sighs, leaning further against him. “I don’t know either,” she admits. “I looked a few things up, but none of it really sounded like you. I mean, you didn’t steal your mom’s clothes and dress up or anything, right? And you’re not into guys.”

Caleb shakes his head. “That’s the thing, yeah. It’s like, in theory I’m the same, but whenever I hear about someone like me it doesn’t sound like me, even if it does?”

“That does sound fucking confusing.”

“Right?”

“Fuck,” Rachel opines. “Sorry. I wanted to...be more help, I guess.”

“...you’re helping. I think.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Caleb leans into her too, at last. “I guess I kinda...I was afraid of what you’d say. I didn’t think you’d ask questions.”

“I, um, I have a few more. If that’s okay.”

“I’m here, right?”

“Yeah.” Rachel sighs. “So, um, when I called you Chloe — was that good?”

The name sends a rush through Caleb’s body, and he feels like someone sucked the air out of his chest.

“Because when I said it you just started crying and I thought I fucked up super bad,” Rachel admits, her voice growing hoarse. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just thought — when you asked your mom —”

“Stupid idea,” Caleb mumbles. “I was fucking trashed and The Ocean kept going through my head, and…”

“And it felt too big, like you said. Right?”

Caleb nods.

“But…”

“I don’t know,” Caleb says, putting his hands over his face. “It’s...it’s confusing, okay? It’s hard.”

“Yeah. Okay. Do you...want me to call you that, sometimes?”

He just shakes his head, and she moves her hand to his shoulder, rubbing slowly back and forth.

“Okay, um...we can stop talking about this, for now, if you want?” she offers. “I know we got, like, a time limit, huh?”

“Yeah.” Caleb sinks down a bit further. “I...thanks, Rach.”

“So what happened yesterday? Your mom said you were gonna lose your board and basically be grounded. That how it went down?”

“Basically that, yeah,” Caleb confirms. “And David ended up hitting me.”

“Yeah. Son of a bitch. God, should we like, report him or something?” Rachel asks.

Caleb sighs. “I really don’t know if anyone will give a shit. Nobody ever seems to.”

“We could still try.”

Caleb shrugs. “Never felt like going to the cops ever helped anyone, you know?”

“...yeah. Guess you’re right. Up to you, you know.” Rachel almost leans in to kiss his cheek, but she stops herself, pursing her lips. “And, um, C...what about us?”

He should’ve guessed the question was coming, but it still makes him shrink into himself. “What do you mean?” he asks.

“Uh, what I said,” Rachel replies with a tinge of irritation.

“I mean...we just talked about me...not really being able to be a guy,” Caleb says, a shake in his voice. “I can’t be what you want, Rach. You like guys. You really...I like you a lot, of course I do, but it...we won’t work.”

Rachel looks confused, like she’s trying to object but can’t quite find a reason. She pulls back further from him. “Oh. I guess you’re right.”

“You should…” Caleb’s throat is trying to stop him from saying the right thing, and he has to fight through it. “You should just forget it. Find somebody else. Take our minds off it, you know?”

“I’ll...I’ll think about it. But you’re pretty much the only person I care about around here, sorry,” Rachel says with a sheepish smile.

Caleb chuckles, and tries to think of a response, but he’s too busy blushing. Rachel kisses him on the cheek. “Last one,” she says, giving him a wink when he looks at her. She gets up and heads back to her bed, taking out his birthday gifts from her bag. “Wanna smoke this?” she asks, holding up Justin’s bag of weed.

Caleb shakes his head. “Nah, I’m gonna have to ride home with David today, can’t have the smell.”

“Gotcha. How about...you want me to pierce your ears?” Rachel asks, poking at her box of needles. “Shouldn’t take too long! I did Mags when we still went to school together.”

Caleb raises his eyebrows, his pulse quickening. It...it does sound nice. Like his long, blue hair, it’s a hint towards the person he wants to be, and now Rachel knows that, and she’s still offering. “I — uh, yeah. That sounds great.”

“Kickass. Go and sit in the chair, there,” Rachel instructs. She grabs a few more supplies from her desk while he sits and fidgets, and then she fills the air with chatter as she tells him how she’s gonna do it. It tickles when she pulls his hair back into a ponytail with one of her ties, when she cleans his lobes with alcohol wipes, when she draws little dots on them with a marker. Once she’s cleaned her hands with sanitizer and sterilized her needle by holding it out over a lighter, she comes over to him, holding a cork behind one ear.

“Ready?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

He flinches when she shoves the needle through. So confident, no hesitation. The ease of how she did it makes his face feel hot and stupid, and her general...proximity as she threads a stud through the hollow needle makes him sweat, not helped by the lingering pain and the trickle of blood over her finger. He can barely listen as she prepares the other one and starts telling him aftercare instructions, even after she presses a bottle of saline solution into his hands. There’s really no denying he has it bad.

Sucks. But...she knows him, now, and is acting like she understands, and she’s doing this for him. If he really felt it was possible, he knows she’d be the one.

“Wanna take a look?” she asks after she’s finished his other ear, and he nods dumbly. She takes a hand mirror from her desk and shows him, and —

He blinks at the image in the mirror. With his hair in a ponytail and two big black studs in his ears, he almost looks like a girl. Almost. The hints of blonde stubble make him cringe, but...he can almost see it, and the look Rachel’s giving him leaves his mouth dry.

“Wow,” he mutters, reaching up to touch one of the earrings, but Rachel slaps his hand away.

“No touchie!” she warns. “Bad! Don’t infect them, it’ll make me look like a huge idiot!”

“Sorry!” Caleb says with a soft laugh.

“You better be,” Rachel says, but her voice softens. “...hey, C?”

“Yeah?”

“I think you’d make a pretty cute girl. Just saying.”

He looks down and blushes, mumbling his thanks. The urges to lash out against her are there, but they’re quieter than the soft, light feeling filling his chest. She idly runs a hand through his hair as he checks the time on his phone.

“Ah, fuck,” he complains. “I better go catch David at the parking lot.”

“Gotcha. Good luck, okay?”

“What question are you asking?” Caleb asks as he stands and stretches, grabbing his backpack from the floor.

“I’m a California girl!” Rachel shoots back, shoving him. “We always uptalk! Fuck you!”

Caleb laughs. “You still haven’t gotten the PNW deadpan down, Rach.”

“Ugh, that’s your job. Seriously, though.” Rachel swallows as he opens the door. “Good luck...Price.”

“Thanks, Rachel. For...everything.” Caleb offers her a slight smile before he goes. Despite everything, he might actually be able to trust her.

He heads out that day thinking that maybe he has some good luck, after all.

Chapter Text

“So are you and Caleb still hanging out, or what?”

Rachel coughs on her hit, casting a glare at Victoria as she works to clear her throat. “I thought you didn’t care,” she says, and Victoria looks out her window instead of at Rachel, holding a hand out for the pipe. “Or that you cared way too much.”

“I’m just asking,” Victoria mutters.

“Vic, you’re transparent.” Okay, Rachel doesn’t actually know why Victoria’s taking the risk of asking, given that she’s been completely and blissfully silent on Rachel and Caleb’s friendship for several months, ever since Vic let slip that she had a thing for him. But unbalancing Victoria is the best way to get her to tell on herself.

“What?” Victoria asks, stiffening and continuing to avoid Rachel’s eye, taking the pipe from Rachel without looking. “Look, it’s just, like, Nathan’s wondering where you keep going. I told him you were probably out with Caleb, doing whatever you do, but he said you guys don’t do that anymore.”

Rachel bites her lip. She often finds herself slipping away from VC functions these days, before she has to wake up in the morning and clean up. It’s not that she wouldn’t help if she could, but...Nathan keeps sticking to her. She doesn’t really go anywhere, except back to her dorm if she’s got her board, or catching a ride with whoever’s sober enough to leave before the party really ends. And nobody holds it against the pretty girl for not doing the dirty work.

“So? What’s up?” Victoria asks.

“He got busted for going to that party a while back,” Rachel admits. “He’s not allowed out much anymore. We meet up for lunch and hang when we can, but…”

“Yeah, I remember he showed up with that big fucking bruise. Do his parents really hit him?” Victoria asks.

“Yeah. Stepdad.”

“Oh.” Victoria takes a hit off the pipe, and Rachel narrows her eyes. She expects to hear Victoria’s usual venom, something like white trash family, duh, but instead she looks faraway, staring out at the setting sun. “That sucks.”

“I thought you didn’t care.”

“I don’t. And what’s with you making him all hot, anyway?”

Rachel lets out a sudden laugh, covering her mouth when Victoria shoots an angry glance in her direction. “Vic, what?” she asks, struggling to keep her giggles in check.

“What yourself, Rachel? You know I tried to hook up with him already, God, don’t act weird,” Victoria says, rolling her eyes. “You know. The like, hair and piercings and stuff.”

“Didn’t know you were into that, V.”

“Answer the question.” Victoria passes her the pipe, and Rachel relaxes into her couch, looking at the big blown-up prints of Victoria’s photography on the opposite wall. Rachel shrugs.

“He’s a punk. Deserves to look like it. Besides, I can’t dye my own hair, I’d have to bleach it, and it’s too good to fry it,” Rachel says airly, flipping her hair over her shoulder and watching Victoria’s reaction. She stares for a moment, then rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you spend hours on that shit to make it shiny.”

“Don’t be jealous, V,” Rachel teases, lighting up and taking in her hit.

“You’re such a cliche. Ooh, look at me, I can flip my hair like I’m in fucking Mean Girls,” Victoria mocks, putting a higher note into her voice.

“You love Mean Girls, Victoria.”

“Yeah, but I don’t base my personality on it.”

“No? You don’t wanna be Regina?” Rachel says with a smirk. “Come on, I know you’re trying to angle for Brit’s spot in the VC.”

“Who told you that?”

“Uh, the everything about you?”

Victoria laughs, some of her tension broken as she leans down on her knees. “Well, yeah, whatever. It’d look good to be President. Plus the photo teacher isn’t as good as I thought, I gotta hedge my bets.”

“Isn’t he retiring this year?” Rachel asks, pursing her lips. “Who’s replacing him?”

“Shit, I thought I saw, but now I forgot. I don’t read the school newspaper like some dweeb,” Victoria sighs.

In response, Rachel hands her the pipe and digs into her backpack and pulls out a copy of said paper, squinting over the sections. “Says here it’s gonna be someone named Aleidia Varte.”

“Wow, now that’s a fucking hippie name if I ever heard one. You think she’ll make us bedazzle our cameras with crystals?”

“Known for her surrealist approach to photography, Aleidia Varte has often been compared to Salvador Dali,” Rachel reads aloud. “She’s stated that she’s thrilled to be coming to Arcadia Bay and Blackwell, eager to mold young minds. Interview on page three.”

“Why do you have that, Rach?” Victoria groans.

“Somebody handed it to me, and I, not being a bitch, took it?” Rachel suggests. “I assume somebody tried to give you one once and you slapped it out of their hands, right?”

“People don’t get to just fucking give shit to me. I’m a busy woman.”

“Victoria, you’re fourteen, you’re not even a woman.”

“Fuck you!”

Rachel throws the newspaper at Victoria’s head and she expertly dodges it, holding up the pipe threateningly. “Hey, hey, I don’t have to smoke you out,” Victoria warns.

“Yeah, you do. What else do you even do on the weekends, V? Without a party, I mean,” Rachel goads. “I know Courtney’s getting tired of doing all your homework, so…”

Victoria leans back into the couch and sighs. “Yeah, yeah. Normally I’d be hanging with Nathan, but he’s on a like, super long call with Kris today. I guess something happened at home. He’ll tell me later.”

“I’m sure he will.”

“...thanks, though. For coming over. I could never find you before,” Victoria murmurs. “You...were hanging out with Caleb then, huh?”

“Guess both our friends are getting a little fucked with their family situation, huh?” Rachel asks as Victoria sets the dead pipe down on the end table and shuffles closer to her. Rachel kind of likes High Victoria. She’s cuddly. Still bitchy, but it’s cute to see her relax once in a while, let her guard down, tell Rachel stuff.

“Yeah,” Victoria mumbles, leaning her cheek into Rachel’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I gave you a hard time about him, okay? Just...don’t tell anyone.”

“Hey, so long as you keep your weird grudge-crush to yourself, you have nothing to worry about,” Rachel says, patting Victoria’s shoulder.

“It’s not a crush. That’s a feelings thing, I don’t do those. You’re, like, projecting.”

Rachel laughs. “Sure, sure, you’re the big tough alpha bitch.”

“I will be,” Victoria declares. “You’ll see.” She sniffs. “You wanna watch something?”

Before Rachel can answer, her phone buzzes in her pocket, and she smiles when she sees it’s from C. Victoria leans over and wrinkles her nose. “God, you so have it bad for him, too,” she groans.

“Don’t be jealous, V,” Rachel says again, gently pushing her off her shoulder and opening the thread.

C: come to the parking lot

C: got a surprise

“I can’t believe you call him C,” Victoria complains as Rachel stands up. “Hey, where are you going?”

“Apparently he’s got a surprise,” Rachel says with a smile down at her. “Sorry, V. I’ll pay you back later, ‘kay?”

“Fine,” Victoria grunts, folding her arms. “But if this means he’s gonna steal you every weekend again I’m gonna be pissed.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet,” Rachel coos, though there is something hammering in her chest at the way Victoria’s...being. She clears her throat. “Catch you tomorrow?”

“Sure, whatever.”

Rachel takes up her backpack and heads out of the dorms, pausing once she hits the parking lot. She scans the area, and then the door of a truly busted-up looking sedan opens and Caleb steps out, blue hair flashing in the spring sun. It’s getting kind of crazy long, and Rachel’s hairties keep disappearing whenever he comes over, but she kinda likes seeing it in a ponytail — and seeing him here, at all, on a Saturday, driving a car.

“Well?” he shouts out over the lot, and Rachel shakes her head and laughs, running over to him and jumping into his outstretched arms.

“Dude, what the fuck?” she asks as she pulls back, peering around him at the vehicle he now apparently possesses. Caleb grins.

“Well, I got my license Wednesday, officially,” Caleb says, “And I was gonna tell you, but then we got home and David started workin’ on this thing again. And I was like, you know what, I could drive this now if I could get it working, so I actually helped him out, and like, not gonna bore you, but he missed something super obvious and I found it and now this baby is mine.” He slams his fist into the car’s hood for emphasis, leaving a slight dent that he cringes at.

“Baby might be a bit generous,” Rachel laughs. “Dude, that car’s old enough to get Social Security.”

“Apparently it was David’s first car, before he went off to the army,” Caleb says with a shrug. “He got it back from his parents when he moved in with my mom. Guess he wanted to fix it up for nostalgia’s sake. You should’ve seen it when I actually got the engine to turn over, he looked like someone just sucked him off.”

Rachel fake-retches. “Dude!” she complains, shoving him away from her. “Nastiest thing you’ve ever said.”

“You’re issuing challenges that you don’t wanna start, Rach,” Caleb warns. “Anyway. This thing’s all re-regged and shit as of yesterday afternoon. And David was so fucking over the moon that I took some initiative that he says I can go out when I want, now. Still gotta be home by eight, but…”

“I bet your mom set it to ten, then David said six, and they split it on eight,” Rachel guesses.

“Yeeep. David tried to set the curfew last night at dinner and I had to hear the whole thing,” Caleb says with a grimace. “But, hey. It’ll be way less of a pain in the ass to get out to the junkyard now. You want a ride?”

“I thought you were generally against the concept of giving me a ride,” Rachel says with a smirk.

“Turn it off, Rach, I’m in an actual good mood for once,” Caleb groans, and she laughs and hops over to the passenger side of the car. The door sticks a little and she has to tug pretty hard to open it, but she piles in as Caleb settles in the driver’s side. He looks good here, confident, and the news that his freedom has been begrudgingly returned to him keeps her smiling obnoxiously as he puts the car in gear and heads out.

Naturally, she puts this joy into teasing him with, “Victoria’s still not over you, you know.”

“Oh God,” Caleb laughs. “What’d she say?”

“She asked why I was making you all hot. Should I tell her you’re trans, give her a fun little identity crisis?”

Caleb doesn’t respond, and as Rachel looks over at him, her stomach sinks. Shit. They haven’t actually...discussed this for a long time, keeping it out of their texts, only occasionally hinting at it when she’d sneak over to help him dye his hair. They hadn’t had the time or the privacy, and Rachel just blurts that out? She wants to smack herself.

He swallows, but forces a laugh. “I, uh, yeah. Probably not.”

“Sorry,” Rachel says, wincing. “Didn’t mean to…”

“No, it’s…” Caleb takes in a deep breath. “I guess I’m just surprised you went out and said it.”

“Said what?”

“Uh...trans, I guess,” Caleb says with a shrug, pulling them onto the road out of town. “I never think of it like that.”

“Really?” Rachel swallows. “I mean...I’ve been trying to figure out, like, how to be a better friend to you and stuff, and that’s just...what it’s called.”

“No, I know, it’s hard to explain.” Caleb heaves a sigh. “Naming it makes it feel more real, and that’s a complicated thing, for me.”

Rachel puts a hand over his on the gearshift. “Sorry. I was just trying to make it fun, I guess.”

Caleb mulls that over as they drive, reaching over and turning up his tunes. “Is this new Against Me?” Rachel asks, recognizing the voice and perking up.

“Yeah! Latest release. Only four songs, but they kick ass. Can’t wait for the album...”

“You burned a CD with four songs?”

“What, like they’re expensive?”

Rachel giggles, drumming her fingers atop his. “You’re so cute.”

“If you say so.” Caleb relaxes a bit as they drive, and Rachel turns her attention to the music. She’s glad she shares this with him, still. And the music does kind of kick ass.

They pull up to the front of American Rust and make their way over to their hideout, falling down into their stolen bus seat with a sigh. The declarations of their presence draw Rachel’s eye, and she frowns slightly, even as she pulls out her paraphernalia and places it on the table. “Are you okay talking about...you know?”

“You’re really curious, huh?” Caleb asks, tilting his head at her.

“I just…” Rachel sighs. “We haven’t had much of a chance to really talk since your birthday. I wanna know how you’re doing with….all of it. It scares me, sometimes, thinking about you dealing with it all on your own.”

Caleb snorts. “Well, what am I supposed to do? Not really an LGBT club around here.”

“It’s an art school,” Rachel points out. “You’d think there would be, right?”

“VC’s too big and too full of assholes. Anyone signing up for something like that would be making themselves a target,” Caleb says with a shrug. “And you never see Wells bust anyone like Vic or Nathan or Britney. Just dumbshits like me.”

Rachel frowns. “Really? You think that’s why?”

“Uh, yeah. Small town, small school. Wouldn’t be enough brave people to have your back, you try some shit like being out.” Caleb sighs, leaning against Rachel.

“...should I be in the VC still, then?”

“Do whatever you want, Rach,” Caleb murmurs. “I’m just...I’m just glad I get to talk to someone. Max never brought it up again, after I told her.”

“Even if I jam my foot right in my mouth when I do?”

“Yep. Better than nothing.” He closes his eyes and smiles softly, falling over further on the bench so his head’s in her lap.

“Uh, dude, you can’t smoke down there,” Rachel says, despite how nice his weight feels on her, despite the fact that she’s already moving a hand down to stroke his long, pretty hair.

“Not gonna smoke. Can’t smell when I get home, and...wanna be careful with driving.”

“Yeah, I guess we don’t have much time.”

“Yeah, and people who drive fucked up can all fucking choke.” Caleb tenses on her lap, and she stops her hand midway through his hair.

“...you okay?”

“Yeah, just...my dad. That’s how he died. Some asshole who’d been day-drinking.”

“Oh,” Rachel breathes. “Jesus, C, I’m sorry. I just assumed he got sick or something.”

“Nope. There one day, gone the next.” Caleb sniffs. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to just blurt that out.”

“It’s all right,” Rachel says, smoothing her hand down his back. “I get you. I won’t make you smoke or anything.” She smiles down at him. “Kinda sweet, you not even needing drugs to hang out with me.”

“Yeah, I might like you or something,” Caleb says, turning over so he’s facing her and poking her in the nose. “I know, hard to believe.”

“Plenty of people like me.”

“True! I’m more the surprising factor here.”

Rachel has to avoid looking down, because his eyes arrest her when she does, and it’s hard to pull away from them. She swallows, looks at their names on the wall again. “I don’t like most people,” Caleb murmurs.

“Most people are boring,” Rachel agrees. “Not everyone, though. And definitely not you.”

“If you say so.”

“Oh, please, I’m holding onto your deep dark secrets, of course you’re not boring.” Rachel absently pats his shoulder. “...but I kinda hope I’m not the only one, forever.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Rachel nervously drums her fingers on his chest. “Do you think you’ll ever actually do it? Transition or whatever?”

Caleb sits up, his hair falling over his face, his hands dangling down in his lap. “I dunno,” he says. “I kinda just assume I’ll die, at some point.”

Rachel feels like he just kicked her in the stomach, but she absorbs the feeling, managing to ask, “Well, everyone dies at some point.”

“You know what I mean.” Caleb draws in a deep breath.

“C—”

“I think twenty’s gotta be the limit, right? That’s about how long I’ll be able to put up with all this shit?”

Rachel feels a panic rising in her, reaching out and taking hold of his hand between them, squeezing hard. “Don’t—don’t talk like this,” she stammers. “I—”

“Well, do you want me to be honest or not?” Caleb asks, standing up and wrenching his hand out of her grasp. “Fuck, you asked, didn’t you?”

“I don’t want you to die!” Rachel exclaims, shaking in her seat as he runs frantic fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his face.

“Won’t matter anyway,” Caleb growls, pacing back and forth. “Yeah, now things probably seem good to you, huh? But it’ll go to shit again, and every time it does, it gets a little worse. Something’s gonna happen, and he’ll fuck me up again, or I’ll try and take some fucking step and it’ll just make me feel even more shitty, and eventually, you won’t be here anymore. And after that—”

“I’m not going anywhere!” Rachel insists, shooting up and taking him by the shoulders to stop his pacing. He looks like he’s about to just throw her off, but he stops and stares at his feet again.

“Yeah, you are. Sometime. You don’t live here. You don’t belong here. You’ll go somewhere better, and I’ll just sit and rot in this fucking place.”

“Hey,” she whispers, as he quiets down, as the tension in his muscles starts to fade. “Whenever I leave this place for good, you’re coming with me.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“I mean it,” Rachel growls. “My last year of school — we fucking bail. We hit the road.”

“And go where?” Caleb asks, but the venom he intends doesn’t quite make it into his voice as he lifts his head.

“I don’t fucking know, away. Fuck Long Beach, fuck Arcadia Bay. Maybe…” Rachel smiles. “Los Angeles. That’s it. No better place to disappear. Nobody gives a shit who you are there, ‘till you prove yourself — and we can.” Rachel reaches out, smooths his hair back to see him properly, and she’s struck with the thought that she blurted out the last time they talked this deeply. He could be so beautiful. “You and me, taking on the world. What do you say?”

He looks stunned. She wants to kiss him.

“And before we leave…” Rachel runs her hands down his shoulders, intertwining their fingers. “I wanna cross out Caleb on that wall. Find you a name you like.”

He steps forward and wraps her in a hug, his chest rising and falling against her, and she buries her head in his shoulder. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“For what?”

“Freaking out. Like always.”

“I still like you.”

“I know.” He heaves a sigh, then clings tighter. “Um. I do like Chloe. As a name.”

Rachel’s chest feels like it’s expanding. “You did say it was pretty…”

He draws back. “I don’t know if I’ll ever really...you know. Do it. But thanks for...believing in me, I guess.”

“Of course I do.” Rachel smiles at him. “And if you ever want me to treat you different, you know, call you Chloe, anything like that, you can ask and I’ll do it. All right?”

“Yeah. If I’m ready.”

“When you’re ready,” Rachel corrects, putting her hands on her hips. “I’m not gonna let you just...destroy yourself, thinking it can never happen. I’ll find a way for you to be happy.”

“That’s a fuckin’ tall order, Rach.”

“I’ll fucking fulfill it. You watch.”

Caleb laughs, blushing profusely, and Rachel hugs him again, a brief squeeze. “Now if you’re not gonna get high, I’m gonna get high,” Rachel declares, sitting back down on the bench. “Your new prison terms include visitors?”

“I think you’re still mega-banned from the house,” Caleb says, wiping at his eyes and sitting as far from her as possible — to avoid the smell, Rachel realizes. Not to avoid her. Hopefully.

“That blows,” Rachel murmurs. “I miss watching old nerdy shit with you.”

“Maybe we can do it in your dorm, sometime? Watch stuff on your laptop?”

“But the screen’s so tiny…”

“We’ll figure it out.” Caleb sighs. “I’ll try not to fuck this up again. I hate not being able to see you. And I could really do without more bruises. I’ll try to make this, like, good phase last, okay?”

“Just for me?” Rachel asks, batting her eyelashes exaggeratedly, puffing out smoke with each word.

“Just for you.”

They figure it out. For a while.

With access to a car and Caleb’s weekends free again, things go back to before, but a little bit better. They can even grab dinner together once in a while, settling in at Rachel’s dorm to watch things on a cheap flatscreen they buy with their drug money, and Caleb declares his absolute love for the creation of HDMI. His returned presence in Rachel’s life comes with grumbling and annoyance from Victoria and Nathan, but it is starting to simply be accepted: Rachel and Caleb are, like, a thing. Not a thing thing, but people get used to the fact that they run together and nothing that’s said about either of them is changing that.

Caleb insists on playing it as cool as he can. If he smokes, it’s a day he’s not driving, and they have to go out on their boards instead. They make sure he uses his smoking jackets, and he always makes his curfew. Which means that the last few parties of the year still go by without Caleb, and Rachel remembers that he told Rachel to get over him and find someone else.

It doesn’t work.

She tries, like she did at the beginning of the year, to just be casual. But back then, she’d still been on the assumption that nobody in Arcadia Bay would matter to her. She can still do the party thing, if she’s wasted enough. Make out with some guy in a corner, or whatever. But when she remembers she did it in the morning, she definitely doesn’t feel distracted or over Caleb. It usually just reminds her of when she tried to do the same things to him and it fucked him up. What if she’s fucking up these other guys?

So she gets back to her habit of sneaking away, instead. It works out better. Sometimes she crashes at Caleb’s place, sneaking in through the window, leaving by daybreak. She’d rather sleep beside him, even if nothing’s gonna happen. And as long as they don’t talk about it, it works.

They usually don’t talk about it.

Rachel makes it into an excuse to cuddle up to him, pointing out that girls do it all the time, don’t they? And Caleb does his best to laugh it off. She knows it’s kind of shitty, but he likes it too, so what’s the actual harm? She can stop herself from doing...too much. And she knows the little things she says matter. Calling him pretty or cute or talking about how good he looks with his hair tied back like that makes him flush, it’s not just flirting anymore, it’s got more to it, and she likes that.

But Rachel backs off on the heavier stuff. It’s nice to have this shared secret, but she doesn’t ask him about the name thing again, and he doesn’t tell. Even if she’s looking into stuff online, stuff they could do for him even before he turns eighteen (or maybe they can get a fake ID or some shit even), she doesn’t share it. She’s waiting for him to say he’s ready.

She waits. Until all too quickly, the semester ends.

Rachel looks around at her life. Her dorm room, stripped bare, the glow-in-the-dark stars in the trash bin, sticky residue all that remains on the ceiling. Her possessions, packed into two suitcases and a backpack. A plane chartered for home, out in Portland — the first time Caleb’s gonna actually drive her out of town. Her parents didn’t come to get her themselves, of course. Assholes.

Her phone chimes, indicating that Caleb’s here — she doesn’t even need to look. She smiles softly, heading out to the front of the dorms so she can wait for him there, prop the door for him. Campus is practically empty; finals were Thursday, and the dorms are only staying open ‘till Sunday for everyone to get out of here.

So she’s surprised when she sees Nathan out in the quad, camera in hand, snapping a picture of the Tobanga at the edge of campus. She hopes he won’t see her, but the sound of the doors closing must alert him because he turns to see her and smiles. Shit.

“Hey, Rach!” he calls, letting his camera drop so it dangles around his neck and heading over to her. Rachel braces herself, even though she kinda hates that he called her Rach. That feels like a her and Caleb thing. “Didn’t think you’d still be here,” Nathan notes as he comes up, looking her up and down.

“Hey, I thought you’d be gone by now, too,” Rachel says with a little laugh she doesn’t mean. “Don’t you like, live here?”

“Ah, dad’s...busy,” Nathan says, his eyes darting away. “Kris got back today. She’s gonna help me move instead.”

“Dude, your dad sucks.”

Nathan laughs hollowly. “What dad doesn’t suck, man? You should hear about Vic’s dad.”

“...you know, I actually haven’t,” Rachel muses. “She left already, right?”

Nathan slumps. “Yeah. I had to avoid her parents, they suck worse than mine. I’m pretty sure they’re trying to, like, set us up or something.”

“Something wrong with that? You two would make a cute couple,” Rachel points out.

Nathan makes a disgusted face. “Ew, no! She’s like, my other sister. Or something. I dunno. It’d be weird.”

“Why?”

“For...reasons! Fuck, Rachel,” Nathan groans. “How about you and me, huh? Why hasn’t that happened?” he demands, his shoulders tensing up.

Rachel’s mouth goes dry, but she’s saved by the arrival of Caleb, who shouts out, “Yo, Rach!” from the sidewalk as he approaches. Nathan turns his head, and maybe Rachel’s not saved after all, at the glare on his face.

“Hey, C!” she calls back, stepping back from Nathan, not realizing how close he’d gotten. “C’mon, let’s get going.”

“Going where?” Nathan asks, glancing between the two of them as Caleb comes up.

“Gonna hang,” Caleb replies simply. “Gotta grab her bags first. Seeya, Nate.”

“Hang on a second,” Nathan growls, stepping out in front of Caleb as he starts towards the stairs. “What the fuck is your deal, huh?”

“Nathan!” Rachel hisses, following them up the step. “Leave him—”

“Why’re you leading her on, when you’re a fucking faggot?” Nathan asks, and Rachel and Caleb stop dead, catching one another’s eye.

“Some people,” Caleb says calmly, “have friends, Nathan, my good bitch.”

Nathan snarls and gets closer to Caleb, pointing a finger at his chest, which has the unsettling-yet-funny effect of showing just how much taller Caleb is. “Fuck you! It’s fucking obvious what’s going on, you goddamn queer—”

“Back the fuck off!” Caleb interrupts, shoving Nathan back, and he stumbles on the steps and falls. Rachel gasps as his head hits a stair, and Caleb steps back too, his eyes widening. “L-look,” Caleb stammers, “Just—”

Nathan screams wordlessly and rushes at him, but he’s smaller than Caleb, and dumber, and Caleb manages to pivot aside and redirect his energy so he just sort of slides past him, stumbling out onto the quad. “Guys!” Rachel shouts. “Stop it!”

“Just leave, Nathan,” Caleb says, voice shaking, hands fidgeting at his sides. “I don’t know what your fucking problem is—”

Nathan puts a hand to the back of his head and comes away with blood on his palm. “This is my fucking problem, you psycho!” Nathan yells, showing them his hand.

“Wait, I’m the psycho?” Caleb asks, sounding genuinely confused. “Dude—”

“My dad’s gonna—”

“Nathan!” rings out across the quad, and everyone turns their head to see Kris coming their way. Rachel sighs in relief as the tall girl storms up between Nathan and Caleb. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I — Kris — “ Nathan stammers, his face turning red as she stares him down.

“Leave Rachel the fuck alone, Nate,” Kris hisses, taking hold of his wrist and tugging him away towards the boys’ dorms. “God, I can’t believe you. You aren’t telling Dad shit, right?”

“Kris—”

“Don’t you Kris me, Christ.” Kris looks over her shoulder and nods at Rachel before they pass out of earshot. Rachel relaxes, putting a hand to her forehead, as Caleb turns to face her.

“What the hell was that?” he asks, a smirk poking at the corner of his mouth. “Who the fuck?”

Rachel laughs softly. “His big sister.”

“That’s amazing,” Caleb says with a grin, looking back over at their retreating forms. “God, he really is a bitch, huh?”

“I’m sorry, I so didn’t expect him to start something with you,” Rachel sighs. “I didn’t even think he’d be here.”

“Ah, nah, he’s got anger issues, man,” Caleb says, shaking his head. “He was so aggro back when me and Vic were hanging out. I think he thought I was gonna hurt her, or something? Apparently their parents are friends so they’ve known each other for like, forever, even though Vic lives off in Seattle somewhere.”

“I think I pissed him off by asking why they weren’t together,” Rachel admits.

“Whatever they have going on, it’s probably at least as fucked up as our thing.” Caleb flashes a grin at her. “C’mon, let’s go, being on this campus gives me the creeps even without David around.”

Rachel smiles as she unlocks the door for him. “I knew I’d get to see Protector Price one day,” she brags as she walks in, holding the door for Caleb.

“Pfft, you call that protecting? He was mad at me, not you. If he was trying to hurt you, then his ass would be grass right now,” Caleb says.

“Aww, how sweet. Boys are fighting over me. Well,” Rachel adds as she catches Caleb’s downturned expression, “A boy and a boy,” she concludes, putting big airquotes around the second one with her fingers.

Caleb looks around, sees they’re alone, and laughs under his breath, getting closer to her as they ascend to the second floor. “If he knew he didn’t just lose that fight to a faggot, but a tranny,” he whispers, “He’d really be shitting himself right now.”

“Oooh, pulling out the real harsh language,” Rachel whispers back, feeling a slight pang at the word passing his lips. It might be the first time he’s referred to himself that way on purpose, and he does it like that?

“Hey, just going with the tone he set,” Caleb says, separating from her slightly as they reach the landing and head down the hall to Rachel’s place. “Anyway. Forgetting about dipshit rich kids for a sec, I got someplace to show you. You’ll love it.”

“Oh, finally, I was sure I’d have to find every place to hang in this damn town.” Rachel feels like she’s glowing as they head in and grab her stuff, including board — they’d already worked out that that, and any remaining illegal shit that Rachel can’t take on a plane, is staying with him this summer. Once they’ve gotten everything out to the parking lot, Caleb turns up his music and starts singing, and that’s something Rachel’s grown to love, too.

It’s like being in his own car helps free him from the self-consciousness that usually plagues him, like he’s got some kind of power in here he doesn’t have anywhere else. And his voice is really nice, even if he’d like to change it someday. Rachel joins him today, rolling the window down and shouting out, in a land of make-believe, they don’t believe in me. So Green Day is so fucking middle school and American Idiot is like, not important anymore or whatever because Obama’s in office, but damn, it still feels good to share that with Caleb. And maybe the words mean more to him. She suspects he finds a lot of things in lyrics that he can’t say aloud.

They pull to a stop at a trailhead, and Rachel gets the feeling she knows where they are — she’s got a pretty good sense of direction in Arcadia Bay by now. But he just insists she follow him up the path, and the woods are lovely and he looks happy, so she lets him have his moment. God knows she’s surprised him enough times, he should get to return the favor. And when they do emerge out into the sun, she gasps anyway.

The lighthouse is gorgeous against the cloudless sky, bright and shining red and white, and the cliffs give way to the empty air so quickly she feels she’s standing at the edge of the world. Caleb turns to her and smiles, egging her on further up the path, and as they reach the peak and a bench that overlooks the town, he spreads his arms out over the view. “Voila!” he announces. “The only angle Arcadia Bay looks good from!”

Rachel laughs, leaning over the railings and looking out. It really is amazing. The town stretches between the pine forest and the beach, and from up here it looks picturesque, like you’d see on a postcard or something. “Never took you for the scenic type,” Rachel says, looking back over her shoulder.

“Well, you know. It’s pretty. Figured I’d give you some reason to come back,” Caleb murmurs, blushing and kicking at the ground.

“I already had one,” Rachel says, trying to not make it sound like a tease, because this time it really isn’t. She turns from the view and approaches him, putting her hands on his shoulders and smiling. “Looking at it right now.”

“It? That’s cold, Rachel,” Caleb replies, giving her the smirk she wants, but that’s too good an opening to waste.

“All right. I’m looking at her, right now,” Rachel says, dropping her voice low.

Caleb’s eyes widen, and he doesn’t seem to know what to say. Rachel can see it again. The girl underneath the surface, coming out, just for a second. It’s so small a thing to say, but the way it hits them both makes her want to take it back, almost. She clears her throat, drops her hands from his shoulders. “Was that too much?” she asks.

“I — you don’t have to do that,” he mumbles.

“But I kinda want to.”

“But you don’t mean it.” He sinks down to the bench and runs a hand through his hair. “It’s just humoring me, right?”

“It’s not,” Rachel answers, sitting down beside him and putting a hand on his thigh. “It’s really not. I can...the more I’m with you, the more I see it, I guess. The more I want to see it, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Really.”

He takes in a deep breath, then lets it go. “Okay. I’ll believe you. If you insist.”

“Oh, I insist, Price. Pretty much all I do is insist.”

“Yeah, we figured that out the night we met,” Caleb shoots back, and Rachel punches him in the arm.

“No fair!’ Rachel complains, cheeks flush with regret. “We don’t talk about that!”

Caleb laughs her off, rubbing his arm. “Hey, you gave me the opening.”

“You’re lucky I like you so much.”

“Yeah, I am.” Caleb smiles, looking back over the Bay. “Max used to drag me up here to take pictures all the time. Haven’t been back for a while.”

“That’s too bad.” Rachel leans against his side. “It’s nice up here. I see why she liked it, though. I think I might sign up for Photography next year, actually.”

“Really? Huh.”

“Yeah, there’s this new teacher coming in,” Rachel explains. “I was looking at her work, and it’s like, super dope? Really surreal stuff, all relying on carefully timed setups and weird angles. It was kinda inspiring.”

“Huh. That’ll be weird. You being an artsy kid like me.”

“I think I might also do Drama?” Rachel adds. “I kinda...when I went in this year, I didn’t really expect to put down roots. Now I kind of want to, and I was a theater kid back home.”

“Really?” Caleb raises his eyebrows at her. “That...might work for you. I can see it. You can certainly lie well enough to my parents until...well, you know. Until things got real.”

“Exactly! Why not just use that skill?” Rachel says with a giggle. “I’m really looking forward to next year, Caleb. Maybe if I do all those things the VC kids will quit bothering me about being more involved. I’ll be involved in everything!”

“Sounds like a fucking nightmare to me, but hey, if you like it,” Caleb says with a shrug. “But...I’m glad you wanna put down roots. It means whenever we decide to uproot to L.A., we both tell this town to fuck itself.”

“Hell yeah.” Rachel pulls her backpack off, taking out her pipe and weed. “We got plans before we head down to the airport, or what?”

“We got time. Can’t believe what a late flight you have,” Caleb says. “So, yes, Rachel, just this once, I will smoke with you.”

Rachel laughs, and gives him the first hit. It’s not quite their space, not like the junkyard is. But they take it, for as long as they can.

They’re almost running late by the time they actually reach the airport, so it’s a quick scramble out of the car, Caleb and Rachel hastily loading Rachel up with her luggage in the departures lane. Once the car’s unloaded, they stop for a second, looking at each other as they linger.

Rachel finally talks first. “Next time we’re in Portland, we have to actually have some fun,” she says, dropping her suitcases at her feet for a moment and leaping up to hug him instead. “See a show. Vandalize property. Do some arson. Go to a drag bar. Something.”

“You just wanna see me in a skirt, perv,” Caleb teases, running a hand down her back.

“I do, but not for sex reasons!” Rachel objects, sliding down his front. Out here, away from where anyone knows them, it feels a little easier to just joke about this in public, and by the way Caleb’s laughing, that’s how he feels too.

A car beeps its irritation at these dopey lingering teenagers, though, so Caleb speaks up. “It’s been awesome, Rach. See you next year?”

“I’ll call and text you all the time,” Rachel promises, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I won’t disappear on you.”

“You better not.” He says it, but he can’t look her in the eye.

Rachel takes his hands and squeezes them. “I’m your girl, Chloe. You can’t get rid of me now.”

He — she — chuckles softly, and when she speaks again, her voice is hoarse. “You know I’ll try my hardest. Can’t help driving people away, at some point.”

“Well, it won’t work.” She leans up and kisses Chloe’s cheek. “See you next year.”

The car beeps angrily at them again, and Rachel jumps back and grabs her stuff, heading into the terminal. She spares Chloe one last look before she goes.

She stands next to her car, hugging herself, a girl inside her own body uneasily, like an uninvited guest. Rachel can only hope, as she heads back to the colorless nothing of her home life, that the next time she sees Chloe, she’ll be ready to start making that body her own.

Chapter Text

Caleb sighs as he trudges up to his car, stomping his boots every step as soon as he hits the parking lot. So maybe going off the trail to get to that nice view was a mistake. And maybe he should’ve brought sunscreen. But without Rachel in town, and with school out, he’s spent a lot of his time this summer being bored, so taking his car out to trailheads and exploring the town (like Rachel keeps telling him to do) is the best activity he’s got.

And out in nature, where no one can see him and where he doesn’t have to talk, he can avoid dysphoria, for a moment. Even thinking that word so directly still feels strange, even if Rachel keeps telling him to try to change the way he thinks. He wants to try, for her sake if not his own, but it can be hard. As he unlocks his car and sits down in the driver’s seat, letting the trail dust and sweat settle for a moment, he thinks back to their last call, Rachel offering to find him an electrolysis place in Portland. He rubs at his chin, wincing. It all still feels like a lot to think about. Better to be out in the woods, muscles aching, sweat dripping down his face, exercise replacing introspection.

He’s grateful Rachel’s never made a big deal about him stealing her hair ties, though David keeps making passive-aggressive comments about it. His hair’s getting to be an annoying length, even though he likes how it looks. Today, being able to get it out of his face is something he needs.

He lets himself recover from the hike for a minute or two more before starting the car. He’s not thinking too much as he turns up the stereo and pulls out of the lot, just remembering the directions home, so maybe that’s why the car stalls out as he pulls out onto the road.

He curses as he rolls to a stop in the middle of the lanes, trying to remember the steps to restart it. Fucking ancient stick-shift POS. Okay, reset the handbrake—

The entire car lurches with a squeal of metal, and Caleb’s head hits the driver’s side window.

For a moment, everything is blurred. He blinks rapidly, only vaguely realizing that someone had rounded the curve and smashed right into the passenger side of the car, that there are glass shards across his lap and a trickle of blood from his head. When that information clicks fully, his lungs seize, and he can’t see anymore, even as someone taps on the window next to him.

“Ma’am — uh, sir? Kid?”

Caleb can’t breathe.

“Shit. Fuck. Hey!” A louder pound on the window, and he jolts, snapping his head to try and see the stranger. They must’ve gotten out of their car? He has to blink a few more times to get them into focus — a guy, middle aged, business casual. Caleb takes in a deep breath, his head swimming. He fumbles for the door handle and pulls himself out of the car.

“You okay, kid?” the driver asks, looking over Caleb with concern as he shakes his head, trying to clear the weird feeling that everything’s muffled.

“I, uh, I don’t know,” Caleb mumbles.

“What the hell were you doing out in the middle of the street?”

“Car stalled,” Caleb mutters, feeling a tinge of annoyance break through the fog. He winces, a spike of pain hitting behind his eyes. “Shit.”

“Damn,” the guy says, coming up to him and touching his forehead. “Hit your head?”

Caleb nods. “Yeah. On the window. I think. Kinda blurry right now.”

“Well, I hate to tell you this, but your car looks fucked,” the driver says, rubbing the back of his neck. “If you, uh, wanna take a look…”

Caleb swallows and tries to look at the damage, circling around the cars. The one that hit him, a big Hummer, looks like, has a dented-in bumper. Caleb’s car is, indeed, fucked. The guy must’ve been going pretty fast; he hit Caleb right at the wheel well and popped that wheel right off the car, denting in the passenger-side door in the process and smashing the window with the impact. Caleb’s not even sure he stalled the car himself, rather than the car just breaking again. His ride hasn’t been...entirely reliable so far anyway. If this hit was bad enough…

“It’s probably totaled,” Caleb murmurs. “Fuck, dude.”

“Yeah, uh, it...might be,” the guy admits sheepishly.

“Your car okay?”

“Yeah. You need to see a doctor or something, kid?”

Caleb winces, remembering the arguments when the bill from David’s urgent care visit arrived. “No, I...I’ll probably be okay. Uh, shit,” he says with a breathless laugh. “Guess we’re supposed to trade insurance now, or something? I’ve only been driving a few months.”

“You got anyone you can call? Triple A, or something?” the guy asks as he digs into his pocket and brings out his wallet. “I’ll give you a ride to a tow place if you need it. And we oughta push this thing off the road.”

Caleb hazily follows what the guy — Jacob, according to his insurance card — says to do, taking pictures of the accident and insurance cards, and they try and start the car a few times but it’s a no-go, and they can’t get the wheel back on anyway. Pushing it back to the lot ends up being the best option, since it’s slightly downhill. It’s slow, hard going on three wheels, and by the time they’ve got it out of the way Caleb’s lightheaded, dried blood crusting on the side of his temple. Jacob’s forehead creases. “You sure you’re all right?” he asks as they head back to the Hummer.

“I’m fucked, if that’s what you’re asking,” Caleb says with a shrug.

“Do you have someone you could call? Where do you live, anyway?”

“Arcadia Bay, back that way,” Caleb says, pointing down the road. “Was out for a hike.”

Jacob chuckles as he steps into his car. “Well, shit. Just bought some property there. C’mon, I’ll take you back, and...look, it was my fault.”

“Huh?” Caleb squints at Jacob as he gets into the passenger side.

“I came around that curve way too fast. So...don’t worry about my insurance fighting yours. How old are you, anyway?”

“Sixteen…”

“Fuck,” Jacob groans, thumping his head on the steering wheel. “Why haven’t you called your parents, man?”

Caleb closes his eyes. The world seems a little too bright. “Didn’t think about it,” he admits. “Probably should, just…”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jacob asks again. “You really might wanna get checked out.”

“I’m fine, man,” Caleb grumbles, buckling his seatbelt. “I’ll call. Just gimme a second.” He breathes out, suppressing the building shakes in his chest. Not the time. Not here, not now, not in front of a stranger.

“All right,” Jacob murmurs, starting the car. As the GPS on his dashboard starts up, he hovers a finger over the screen. “So...tow place, I guess?”

“God, I don’t know,” Caleb groans. “Sure.”

After a minute of fumbling, Jacob sets the course for Skip’s Towing, and pulls the car out of the lot towards the road. Caleb digs in his pocket, finds his phone undamaged. David works nights during the summers, security for some warehouse at the edge of town. Could call him.

Caleb will not be doing that.

He calls Joyce, instead, closing his eyes and leaning into the window. Everything’s still a bit too loud, a bit too bright. “Hello?” Joyce answers as the call connects, and Caleb swallows.

“Hey, Mom. I, uh...I got in a wreck.”

Joyce gasps. “Oh my God. Honey, are you all right?”

“Yeah, I think so. Car’s totaled, though. The guy who hit me, he’s, uh, he’s giving me a ride back to town. I was out hiking.” Caleb blinks a few times. He feels like his sentences are out of order.

“I...that’s good, that’s good.” She swallows. “Where’s he taking you? Skip’s?”

“Yeah. GPS says, like, a half hour?”

“Okay, hun, I’m gonna call off and meet you there, okay? We’ll get it sorted out. I’m glad you’re all right.”

“Got it. Seeya then.”

“Be safe, Caleb.”

Caleb ends the call and rests his eyes.

The next thing he hears is Jacob asking, “Caleb? Caleb? Shit.”

Caleb blinks, wavering as he raises himself up in his seat. He looks around, sees they’re parked in front of the tow lot. “Sorry,” he grunts. “Just resting my eyes. Mom should be here.”

“I really think you should get checked out, “ Jacob says, again, and Caleb just rolls his eyes.

“Whatever, man. Let’s just get this done with. Sure you wanna be home as much as I do.” Caleb climbs out of the Hummer, dropping out and seeing Mom leaning against the front of the office. She gets up and hugs him as soon as she spots him.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re safe,” she murmurs, and Caleb shudders. He’s trying not to think about it.

“I’m good, Mom.” He separates from her, points out the incoming Jacob. “This is...the guy.”

“Jacob,” he says, shaking Joyce’s hand. “So sorry about all of this. Your son seems like a nice kid, I really wanna make this right.”

“You do, huh?” Joyce asks, putting a hand on her hip. “So what’s the deal?”

“I’ll pay for towing, and when you talk to your insurance, don’t expect anything from me. I’m at fault. I went around a curve too fast and t-boned him when he was pulling out of the lot up there.”

“Not what I expected to hear,” Joyce says as Caleb wanders over to her car, too tired to follow the conversation further. He’ll get the details later. He feels completely exhausted. He climbs up into the passenger seat and leans it back, resting his eyes again — until Joyce pats him on the shoulder.

“I’m gonna be riding up with Skip to get the car,” Joyce informs him from the driver’s seat. “You don’t gotta stick around, I can tell this beat the hell out of you. With...with what happened to your father, and all.”

Caleb’s chest tightens as he sits up, tries to clear his throat. “Um. Yeah. I’m trying not to think about that.”

“It’s all right if you do. Lord knows I am.” She sighs, tousling his hair. “I’m real sorry, Caleb. You all right to head home?”

“Yeah.” It’s gotten darker outside, and Caleb’s eyes don’t hurt so much. He can manage a quick drive home. He knows where he generally is. “Thanks, Mom. Sorry I...fuck, sorry I lost the car.”

“Well, ‘cording to Jacob, not your fault. I’ll take his word on it. He said you seem pretty out of it, though — and you do. You think we oughta take you to a doctor?” Joyce reaches over, turning his head. “You got a cut here…”

“Think I’m just stressed,” Caleb mumbles. “Key swap?”

They exchange their keys and get out of the car, Joyce giving him one final hug before she heads into the shop with Jacob. He gets into the driver’s seat and waits for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. He feels like something’s missing from this whole surreal experience.

Joyce didn’t mention David.

Neither did Caleb.

Does he know?

Caleb’s hands tense on the steering wheel. He can feel it coming. Can feel the end of yet another ‘good’ phase approaching, inescapable as gravity. But he won’t panic, not here, not now. He needs to keep up the appearance of being a good kid. There’s always that thin hope at the back of his mind, that if things get bad enough, Mom will finally see through David’s bullshit and dump the motherfucker already.

So he starts Mom’s car, looks around for street signs, figures out where he is. His night vision feels a little shit, but he makes it home with no major incidents, parking Mom’s car in the garage, where the piece of junk that’s sitting immobile on a mountain used to be. He braces himself as he grips the knob to the inside door.

Fuck.

As soon as he opens the door, he sees David sitting at the kitchen table, just that overhead light on in a darkened house, and there’s stuff spread out in front of him. Familiar things. Rachel’s things. Her pipe, her bong, her board, his weed and a bottle of vodka.

“Caleb,” David says as soon as he sees him. Caleb freezes. God, why is it so hard to think? “I heard about what happened.”

“Other guy’s fault,” Caleb says quickly, trying to keep his breath under control. So, David was up in his room, found all this. Fuck. Fuck fuck.

“That’s what your mom said, but why were you out in the middle of the street in the first place, huh?” David asks. “Come over here. Look me in the eye.”

“David—”

“Were you high and driving, Caleb?”

“What — no!”

“So what happened, then?”

“I don’t fucking know, man!” Caleb insists, shaking here at the edge of the light. “The car stalled!”

“So what’s all this shit, then?” David demands, sweeping his hands over the table.

“Well, you found it here, didn’t you?” Caleb asks.

“What?”

“As in, I didn’t have it on me in the car? After a three-hour hike? So I wasn’t fucking slammed when I drove!”

“How do I know that?”

“Because my fucking dad got killed by a drunk driver, you piece of shit!” Caleb shouts, nails digging into his palms.

“Don’t talk back!” David barks, standing up from the table. “How am I supposed to trust a damn word you say when you keep all this shit in your room—”

“Because I’m not a fucking monster,” Caleb says, though he takes a step back by instinct. His eyes dart around the living room. There must be a way out of this. “Get mad at me for that shit if you want—”

“I kept telling your mother we should’ve searched your room months ago,” David growls, crossing the living room and backing Caleb up against the door. “Where do you even get this shit? Who’s your dealer?”

Caleb feels for the knob behind him. “Back off,” he warns, though he can feel his hands shaking. “No fucking dealer. I’m just holding onto Rachel’s—”

“We told you to stay away from that girl!”

Caleb finds the knob and turns it, using his bodyweight to essentially fall backwards into the garage before reversing the door’s course and slamming it, right into David’s approaching form. Caleb’s not sure what to do — the door doesn’t lock from this side. He braces his back against it, fishes in his pocket for his phone, he needs help, from Mom, maybe? Your psycho husband is about to beat me again? The cops? As soon as he lets go of the door, he’s fucked, so what the hell can he—

David shoves against the door with his shoulder and Caleb stumbles forward a step, dropping his phone in the process before he’s able to push back. “Don’t you hide from me!” David yells, and there’s a jolt against that sends Caleb forward again, and then a second, a third —

He can’t hold it.

David bursts through, and the momentum throws Caleb to the floor, banging his chin on the concrete. David grabs him by the ponytail and pulls him back to his feet, pushing him against the workbench. “Look at me!” he demands, taking him by the shoulder and turning him around, and Caleb can’t concentrate on what’s happening beyond the pain in his head. “You talk about your father like he was so special, but it’s obvious he didn’t teach you a damn thing about—”

Caleb throws up.

A spatter, really, not much, but it ejects from his body suddenly and without permission.

David jumps back and blinks a few times, sputtering incoherently as Caleb clutches his head, his stomach rolling. “Jesus Christ, are you drunk right now?” David asks.

“N-no,” Caleb mumbles, not sure why he did that, why he feels so dizzy. “H-hit my head in the accident, and…”

“Oh, shit,” David curses. “Hell.” He puts a hand to his forehead, looking panicked. “Fuck,” he curses, digging into his pocket and going for his car. “Get in.”

“What?”

“Get in, we’re taking you to a doctor,” David orders, opening the driver’s side door and reaching over to unlock the passenger’s.

“I’m —”

“You’re not fine, you’re concussed. Get in. Now.”

Shit.

Caleb stumbles over to the car and gets in. “Seatbelt on. You were wearing one, right?” David asks.

“Yeah, just — when he hit me, I hit the window.”

“Christ. Okay. Seen this before, we gotta get you checked out.”

“What the fuck do you care?” Caleb asks, even though he is fastening his seatbelt. “Never give a shit when you hit me in the head before.”

David doesn’t respond to that, just hitting the garage door opener hanging from the sun visor and pulling the car out. “How bad is it?” he asks, his voice quiet.

“I dunno,” Caleb admits. “Fell asleep on the way home. Been kinda blurry. Ears ring a little.”

“You shouldn’t have been driving.”

“I didn’t know. Thought I was just rattled.”

“Can’t believe this,” David mutters. “Your mom says this Jacob guy is really sorry. Better get his ass paying the medical bills or we’ll have to sue.”

Caleb swallows. “I’ll be fine—”

“No. Jesus, Caleb, I — I’m sorry,” David mutters, almost under his breath. “I could’ve done this to you. You’re...you’re right. Just shut up and let me do this, okay?”

Caleb nods.

He rests his head against the window, and time blurs again.

“I’ll be checking in on you throughout the night, okay, Caleb?” Joyce asks as he falls into bed, exhausted, head still pounding despite the painkillers. “Remember, doc said 24-hour observation, make sure it isn’t worse than it looks. You tell me if you throw up again or anything.”

“Yeah,” Caleb croaks, remembering he’s got his shoes on and sitting up to unlace them.

“...that new bruise isn’t what I think it is, is it?” Joyce asks, stepping into his room and closing the door behind her.

“Your douchebag husband knocked me to the ground, if that’s what you’re asking,” Caleb says, rubbing his chin. “I was trying to get away from him. Holding the garage door.”

“What the hell happened?” Joyce asks, sitting down beside him as he manages to get his first boot off.

“You see all that shit on the table when we came in?” Caleb asks. “He apparently got the idea that I was drugged up and that’s why I got hit. Searched my room. Freaked on me when I got home.”

Joyce’s eyes widen. “Caleb — I, he shouldn’t have gone through your room, but — but you shouldn’t be keeping drugs, either.”

“Fuck off,” Caleb hisses, taking his other boot and throwing it against the wall.

“What?” Joyce narrows her eyes.

“I know you’re just gonna find more excuses for him and not do a damn thing,” Caleb says, turning to her with a snarl in his voice. “Just stop it. Leave. Check in or whatever when I’m asleep. I don’t wanna hear this right now.”

“Caleb — “

“Get out. I’m serious.”

Joyce stands up, wringing her hands. “Caleb, I know you think I always take his side, but—”

“Yep, you got it, Joyce. I do think that.” Caleb lays back, staring at the ceiling. Remembers Rachel’s glow-in-the-dark stars. Wishes he was there. “Go away.”

“...fine. But only ‘cuz you’re sick. We’ll talk about this later.”

“I’m sure we will.”

He waits for his mother to leave the room before he undresses, trying not to think about tomorrow. As he falls back into bed, plugging his phone in, he realizes it’s been hours since he actually felt able to read the screen. He turns down the brightness, spying the date. July 22nd. Isn’t that…

He groans. Some friend he is. He calls Rachel without reading the texts she sent him, pulling the covers up to his chin.

“Priceless!” Rachel says, and he winces at the volume. “Yo! Been trying to reach you!”

“Not so loud,” he mumbles.

“...you all right?” she asks, her voice dropping. “Sorry, drank a little when Mom and Dad weren’t watching. It is my birthday, after all.”

“Yeah. Sorry,” Caleb offers weakly. “I, uh, woulda called you earlier, but I was hiking, no service, and then...I got in a wreck.”

“Oh, shit,” Rachel breathes. “You okay?”

“Minor concussion, according to the doc. Car’s fucked.” Caleb smacks his lips.

“Fuck,” Rachel groans. “I’m so sorry, I thought you were being weird and evasive. Ignore every text I sent you.”

“Already done,” Caleb says with a weak laugh. “I just wanted to...let you know, I guess. Looking at the screen is kind of hard. But, hey, happy sweet sixteen, right?”

“Nowhere near as exciting as yours was,” Rachel says, a little tease in her voice. “I was hoping for a car, but no, nothing so fun, they just gave me a few hundred bucks and said go wild.”

Caleb chuckles to himself, closing his eyes. “That sounds about their style.”

“...seriously, you okay?”

“David’s really pissed I lost his car. He isn’t saying that exactly, but it’s what he’s thinking, and he only didn’t hit me because I threw up first. And he found your stuff and is super mad about that, too.”

“Sorry,” Rachel says, a wince in her voice. “I’m guessing it’s all getting confiscated, huh.”

“I’ll try and convince ‘em to let me keep your board, at least. Tomorrow, you know. I’ve been kinda fading in and out all day.”

“Kinda feel bad about our first text ever being a concussion joke now,” Rachel says with a guilty laugh. “Look, don’t worry about it. Focus on getting better. I wish I could be there.”

“Nah, you don’t. Probably make them more pissed if it happened with you in the car. And you coulda been hurt.”

“I just...I don’t know. Wanna know you’re okay. Long-distance, I can only tell so much, you know?”

Caleb nods, remembers she can’t see him. “Yeah.”

“And if they found my stuff, they might wanna search your phone, too. Delete any incriminating texts before you sleep, all right?”

“Smart,” Caleb says with a yawn. “Just figured I’d, you know, check in on your birthday so I wouldn’t be a complete fuck-up today.”

“That’s really sweet of you, Chloe.”

Caleb shivers. She does this, now. Sometimes she’ll pull out that name, when she thinks he needs cheering up, or just because, and he finds himself not wanting to stop her anymore. “But,” Rachel continues, “Seriously, if you told me tomorrow what happened I would’ve got it. I basically guess that if you’re not talking to me...some shit has gone down, and you’re doing your alone-time routine. But if you’re ever in a really bad spot...call me? I like being here for you when I can.”

That offer feels the same as when she calls him Chloe, or uses she and her for him, and he’s not sure what to do with that, with gratitude and nerves all bundled up in one. “Thanks, Rach,” he manages. “I’ll...I’ll try and remember that.”

“Hey, don’t try too hard, your brain’s already a bit fucked up,” Rachel points out. “Get some sleep, C. You sound wiped. I’ll be here, if you need me.”

“Got it. Have a good rest of your birthday.”

“I will. Love you.” She says that sometimes, too. Caleb never says it back, it feels too weird, but...it is nice to hear. “‘Night,” he replies, the best he can do, and he hangs up and curls up in bed. It doesn’t take him long to sleep. Rachel’s offer echoes in his mind until he does.

The insurance payout isn’t great, but it’ll cover this.

It’s a long ride out, and while Caleb’s dizzy spells have largely passed, he’s winded by the time he arrives at the property some five miles out of town. It must’ve been a ranch, once, but there’s a big fat FOR SALE sign in front of the gate, and when Caleb rides through it he sees a barn but no animals, no tractors, nothing that indicates the place is still functioning that way. He gets off his board once he reaches the driveway of the house proper, holding it by his side as he hops up the steps to the front door.

He knocks, and in a minute a middle-aged woman opens the door, looking him over. “Huh,” she says. “You aren’t what I expected.”

“Meaning…?” Caleb asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Sorry, just thought you’d be older,” she says, shrugging. “Anyway, I’m Joanne. You must be here about the truck.”

“Yep. I’m Caleb. You said five hundred if I can get it running?” Caleb asks.

“Bingo. It was my mom’s old car, before she passed. She’s basically got an auto shop dedicated to the thing,” Joanne explains, walking past him and beckoning him to follow. “Here, this way.”

He follows her out further into the property, along a path clearly carved by the truck they’re after, into a shed behind the barn. Joanne has to reach up and pull the string on a bare bulb in the middle of the garage in order for him to see what he’s working with. The truck looks like it did in the ad, an old pickup with peeling paint, rust, rock chips in the windshield. But it looks tough, too. Caleb sets his board down against the truck as Joanne turns around.

“So, here’s the key,” Joanne says, planting said item in Caleb’s hand. “I can’t get it to start.”

“So why’re you basically giving it away?” Caleb asks suspiciously, unlocking the truck and getting in while Joanne hovers.

“I’m not, but I figured this is about as much profit I’d make if I got through the hassle of towing it out and getting it fixed up,” Joanne says with a laugh. “Thought about just dumping it in the junkyard, but...I’m a little sentimental. She loved this old thing. I had to properly sell everything else she loved, I figured I should at least try and pass this on to someone who’d know how to take care of it.”

“That’s pretty sweet, actually,” Caleb murmurs. He turns the key, and hears a familiar sound, the way the car fails to start. He knows instantly, looking at the odometer. “It’s the sparks,” he says, and Joanne laughs.

“Son of a bitch. She had extras,” she says, waving him down. “C’mon, over here, you can use her toolbox too. She kept trying to get me to learn how to replace these, said it was the most important part, but I never paid her much mind.”

“Surprised she didn’t fix them herself,” Caleb comments as he hops out and follows Joanne to the workbench.

“She was gettin’ on, you know how it is,” Joanne says with a sigh. “But when she passed, I didn’t see much point in keeping the help around. Or the place. Prescott Industries gave me a pretty sweet deal, and I haven’t lived here for years, so…”

“Just staying up here to sell it all off, huh?” Caleb asks.

Joanne nods. “I’ll be gettin’ back to Seattle at the end of next month. You sure it’s the sparks?”

“Hundred percent.”

“Tell you what, you bring it around front when you’re finished. I’ll get the paperwork filled out. You eighteen yet?”

“Nah, sixteen.”

“Damn, kid,” Joanne laughs. “All right. What’s your dad’s name?”

“He’s...he’s dead,” Caleb says, looking away. “Um, my mom’s Joyce Madsen. I’ll text you the right spelling and all that. She’ll sign when I get home.”

“Oof, sorry. I gotcha. Once I hand you that title, I’m trusting you, though. That truck better not come up in some police report still attached to my name,” Joanne warns.

Caleb laughs softly to himself. “Don’t worry, we’ll try and do this legal. If we need anything, I’ve got your number, we can send you back a copy if you want.”

“Sounds good. I’ll let you work,” Joanne says. “See you in a bit.”

It takes a bit of consulting with the manual in the glovebox, but Caleb gets the sparks replaced, throwing his board in the truckbed before trying to turn the engine over again. He whoops in triumph when it does, and carefully backs the thing out of the shed, feeling a little thrill as he goes over the rough dirt paths and swings around into the driveway. Before he heads in to tell Joanne, he snaps a picture of the truck — his truck — and sends it off to Rachel with the caption check out the new ride.

Rachel: holy shit yes

Rachel: stargazing machine

Me: wat

Rachel: throw some blankets and pillows in the back, drive out to the sticks, look at stars!!!!

Rachel: day ONE when i get back priceless

Caleb laughs and shakes his head. Well, at least she’s excited. It’s a pretty good find, really, and it means they can keep the rest of the insurance money so David won’t snipe at him about it anymore. Win-win.

He gets the paperwork from Joanne and hands over the cash, promising to return by the end of the week if he needs anything else for the truck. Driving it home is strange; the extra height and weight of the thing take some getting used to, but by the time he pulls up in front of the house, he feels confident in handling it. He attaches the new key to his keyring before he gets out, swinging it around one finger as he walks into the house, paperwork in his free hand.

“Caleb!” Joyce exclaims, pulling off oven mitts and approaching him. “You get your truck?”

“Yeah, easy. Just needed the sparks replaced,” Caleb says with a shrug, smiling despite the sight of David sitting like some gargoyle at the table. “Five hundred, like she said.”

“And you’re sure you’re okay to drive?” Joyce asks, coming up to him and laying a hand on his shoulder. “No more...I don’t know, symptoms?”

“Nothing major,” Caleb murmurs, shrinking away from her touch. “Still...more tired than usual. Nothing that feels dangerous, though.”

“Said like you have a well-developed sense of danger,” David mutters, and Joyce sighs.

“David, we talked about—”

“I expect a copy of that key, Caleb,” David says, standing up from the table.

“Uh, why?” Caleb asks, tension gripping his chest.

“Because I don’t want you to—”

“David,” Joyce scolds, putting her hands on her hips. “Enough. Quit bothering him. We got dinner to eat, and—”

“I just think that he’s getting off easy with this drug business,” David interrupts, walking closer. “Just because he got himself hurt—”

“He’s a teenager, David—”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here!” Caleb shouts, stepping back from both of them. “David, no. You keep the rest of the insurance money, but you don’t get my truck.”

“Your truck,” David says with a roll of his eyes. “It isn’t yours. My name’s on the title.”

Caleb pauses for a second, then laughs. “Are you joking, dude? Mom’s name’s on the title.”

“You wrecked my car—”

“You gave it to me!”

“Boys,” Joyce warns, holding her hands out. “That’s enough of this tonight. David, siddown. Caleb — gimme that,” she says, taking the paperwork from him and setting it down on the divider. “I’ll work on it after dinner. Now I noticed you don’t have your board…”

“Shit, left it in the back,” Caleb groans.

“Figured. Go ahead and get it, and both of y’all can cool down. Got it?”

“...all right,” David mutters, heading back over to the table. Caleb lets out a sigh of relief as they head back to what they were doing, as he heads back out into the night air for his board. He didn’t tell Joyce he’s still forgetting things occasionally, losing focus. It’s not like that’s really that unusual for him. Doctor said it should go away in another week or two, anyway. It’s a damn good thing someone nice gave Caleb a concussion.

When he comes back in, he sets his board down and joins them at the table for a stiff, awkward dinner. David keeps his mouth shut, and so does Caleb, and that’s enough to keep the peace. Back in his room, he feels a sense of unease, even with the door closed; he can still see the marks of David’s search, things that are out of place on his dresser and desk. At least Rachel’s board was saved. Joyce managed to talk David out of getting rid of that, at least.

He is more tired than usual, and collapses into bed once he’s changed out of his sweat-stained clothes from the day’s ride. Things go fuzzy quickly, and he slips into a dreamless sleep.

Caleb wakes with a start, his body on high alert. He sits straight up, but he can’t see anything in the dark. He’s not sure why, not sure —

“Good. You’re awake,” David says, way too close, and Caleb scrambles back from the direction he heard it, nearly falling off the bed as he finally spies David’s dark form against his closet. He can’t speak, his heart pounding in his chest. “You think you won this one, huh?” David asks, and Jesus, Caleb can smell the beer from here. “Once you quit with the pity act, she’ll see,” Davis slurs, setting down a bottle on Caleb’s nightstand. “This is my house. Not yours.”

Caleb’s not sure what to do. He’s never seen David drunk like this. He just breathes hard, the only sound in the darkened house, staring into the shine of David’s eyes. He’s not sure if he’s waiting for another hit. Is David that fucked up?

“Quiet, for once?” David sneers. “Good.”

Caleb swallows. “Get out of my room, you fucking—”

“Not your room. Not your house. Remember that.” David turns away, taking his bottle with him. “Or I’ll remind you. She’ll see I’m right. She always does.”

Caleb waits until he’s left, leaving the door open behind him, to breathe again. Caleb jumps up from the bed and slams the door closed, back pressed against it, David’s words echoing in his mind.

It’s not his room. It’s not his house. Things have been calm for a few days, but David wasn’t lying. David can come in here whenever he wants. There’s no lock on the door. He can come in here, and take whatever he wants from Caleb, can come in just to drunkenly threaten him, and what can Caleb actually do? Hit back? It didn’t solve anything last time, not really. Even holding the door like this is no comfort. The last time he did this, he hit the concrete, and only a moment’s pause saved him from worse.

So what happens if he starts to transition, like Rachel wants? Like he, sometimes, when he can push through all the rest of the mud, wants? What will David think of this kid he fucking despises already going full-on degenerate? What would he do to Caleb if he ever started trying to actually be Chloe?

He can’t be here anymore.

That thought runs through his head on repeat, as he gets his boots on, climbs out the window, starts up his truck. He’s not sure where he’s going, just away, until he remembers a place that used to belong to him, and turns toward the lighthouse.

The path up in the dark is treacherous. He twists his ankle, gets scrapes from pine needles, but he makes it up, and he emerges out into the light of the nearly full moon, on the cliffs overlooking the Bay. He pauses, the summer night air cooling on sweaty skin as he takes in where he is. A tree nearby, housing a dedication to an old friend. The railings that prevent children from falling, dashing their heads on the rocks.

He used to hang off of the other side of them, to freak Max out. He goes up to one now, putting his hands on top, staring at the beach far below. He wonders what it would feel like, to fall. The seabreeze whips at his face, crusts his lips with salt. On the way down, would it feel just like this? Just a slightly stronger gust? How long would it take?

It’s by no means the first time he’s had thoughts like this. It’s a constant, running theme, when he’s alone, out at night, running from David. He’s felt it in the bathroom some mornings, staring at razors, imagining if he had the guts to slash his throat instead of his wrists. Felt it while driving. A quick jerk to the side in the mountains, and it all ends.

It’s never felt this close before. It pulls at his chest like a magnet. He grips the top of the railing, chest tightening as his fingers do, digging their nails into the wood. His breath starts to shorten, and his muscles ache to just vault over, just let the momentum of that carry him down into the sea and let him go, and —

If you’re ever in a really bad spot, call me.

Rachel’s voice breaks through the static, and he closes his eyes. Releasing the railing takes more effort than he thought it would, even with only one hand, to get his phone. The screen feels too bright, but he finds Rachel’s contact card and puts the phone to his ear.

Two rings. Three. Then: “Mmm, C?”

A sob breaks through his chest. “Chloe?” Rachel asks again, her voice pitching up. “What’s going on?”

He can’t speak. Has to take in a gasp of air before he has enough to start. “Rachel,” is all he can get out.

“Where are you? I can barely hear anything, there’s a lot of wind,” Rachel says.

“The — the lighthouse. The cliffs.”

“This late?”

“Should I be alive?”

Rachel takes in a sharp breath. “Y-yes?”

“Why?”

“Oh, God,” Rachel whispers. “Chloe, please, don’t—”

“Why?” Caleb asks again, digging his other hand into the railing, splinters eating into his palm.

“B-because,” Rachel begins, her speech halting, her breath fast, “You — you don’t deserve to die.”

“But why should I live?”

“I love you.”

He shakes his head. “No, you—”

“I do, Chloe, and it doesn’t have to be a, a sex thing, or whatever you’re thinking, it’s just, you’re the most important person in my world, okay? I wanna go back to you so bad. I miss you, all the time, and, and I can’t…” Rachel sniffs, her voice turning wet. “Please don’t do this. You need to live, because you need to be yourself, you need to — to…”

Caleb slumps forward over the railing, closing his eyes, physical pain spreading through his chest at hearing her cry. Of course he just had to hurt her one last time, right? “I can’t,” he says. “It’s — it’ll never happen, I’m stuck this way, it’s never gonna change — “

“It will. It has to,” Rachel interrupts. “I don’t, I don’t know how, but things will change for you. For us. We have to, we have to run off together to L.A., remember? I can’t do that without you. I need you.”

Something inside him breaks, and tears fall down his face. Sobs wrack his body, and he slumps forward against the railing. How fucking evil of him, to call her like this, to ask her to save him from himself. He should’ve just thrown himself off to begin with, not burdened her, and now she’s on the line and he can’t do it.

“Chloe?” she asks, desperately. “Are you...are you at the edge, right now?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Can you step back? For me?”

He lets go of the railing. He steps back.

“Um, there’s, there’s that bench up there, right? Can you...sit down?”

Caleb closes his eyes, tries to take a few breaths, even though the air tastes like salt. “Okay,” he murmurs, and he follows what she told him to do, body curled tight on the bench, head and hair hanging down over his lap. But he’s sitting.

“Why...what happened?” Rachel asks at last.

“David. He...got to me. I don’t know why it was tonight,” Caleb admits. “Ever since the wreck, it’s like, it’s like it got louder.”

“You think it, um, could be the concussion? Fucking with your head?”

“I dunno,” Caleb mumbles. “Maybe. But it’s not like this is the first time it’s ever happened.”

“I know,” Rachel says softly. “You can talk to me, okay? Tell me everything. Just stay on the line.”

He stays on the line. He tells her everything. The way he’s been flashing back to the crash, thinking of what happened to his father. How Joyce had left him and Max at the house while she stayed at the hospital, until the doctors said they couldn’t save him, how he and Max had to hold onto each other and wait. What David’s been doing and saying, the way his words worm their way in and stay there, telling Caleb he has no future, and nothing of his own.

But as he talks, he understands he does have one thing. He has Rachel. And if he has to stay alive for her sake...he might be able to manage that.

Chapter Text

Rachel looks around at her freshly-unpacked room, considering her options. She got here early. She’d like it if she could surprise Caleb, the way she did the last time she came back. Knock on his window and sneak in. But it’s still the weekend, so David’s probably at home, and she can’t risk getting spotted by him. She paces, considering.

What about the junkyard? She could pull a little role reversal. Make him find her, like at lunch. But, no, he’s got her board, and she’s not sure a little joke like that is worth a two-hour walk.

Ugh, fine. Maybe she’ll just be normal about it, after all. She pulls out her phone.

Me: hey im back in town! come save me from blackhell asap

C: aw i was waiting for you to knock at my window again. maybe break into the house and spook me by hiding in a cupboard

Me: i already thought of doing that stuff but logistically its too hard. dont rub it in

C: b there soon. but we have to take away ur mysterious bad girl badge now

Me: this is me passing it onto u

C: shut up. be there in 15

Rachel smiles at her phone. It feels good to be near him — her? — again, to feel able to see him and take care of him. That phone call over the summer still echoes in her head, the sound of wind in Chloe’s receiver as she asked why she should be alive at all. Rachel shudders, closing her eyes briefly. Not the time to think about it, or to be thinking about Chloe at all. It’s starting to get too confusing, keeping both his/her names in her head, and Rachel wonders if someday she’ll be able to discard Caleb entirely.

She shakes her head and gets back to work. She’s gotta kill time while Caleb’s on his way, and her stars aren’t up on the ceiling yet. She finds the package in her backpack and rips it open, standing precariously on her chair as she starts to lay out constellations. Leo and Pisces. She looked up the things people said about water and fire signs mixing and is electing to ignore them as she arranges her and Caleb’s stars. Rachel even further refuses to consider the possibility that she’s a Cancer. It’s just out of the question.

Her astrology musings are interrupted when someone knocks on her open door and she nearly falls off her wobbly perch, hand instinctively tightening around her pack of stars. “Hey, Rach!” Nathan says as he looks over to see who’s come in. She tenses up, then forces herself to relax, hopping off the chair.

“Nate!” she says, trying not to remember the weird, fucked-up fight he picked with Caleb. She sets her pack aside on her bed. “What’re you doing here?”

“Just finished moving Vic in and I noticed your door was open,” Nathan says with a shrug. “Haven’t heard from you all summer.”

“Uh, yeah, well, you know. Busy. Loving that Cali lifestyle and all, you know?” Rachel lies, wincing against her will. “Not like I heard from you, either.”

Nathan looks down at his feet. “Um, yeah, sorry. About...the last day, you know? Kris kinda reamed me out about it. She told me to wait and see if you wanted to talk to me.”

“I knew I liked her,” Rachel says with a soft smile. She breathes a sigh of relief. At least Kris is still looking out for her. “Look, Nate, just — don’t be weird, okay? I like you fine, but I’ve got my own stuff going on, you know?”

“You mean with Caleb.” It’s not a question, and a bit of a dark tone enters Nathan’s voice.

“Yeah. Sort of. He’s not leading me on, all right? I’m just not looking for anything serious right now, and...well, you’re kind of an intense guy,” Rachel says carefully, trying to find the diplomatic solution here.

Nathan sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, okay, just...I just don’t like the guy, okay? He hurt Vic.” He crosses his arms. “Not saying more than that if she didn’t tell you, but...be careful around him.”

Rachel lets out a little giggle. “Oh, I got the story from both of them. Nate, come on. Vic hurt herself more than anything, there.”

“Dude, no, Caleb totally led her on,” Nathan argues, the vein in his neck tensing. “I was there, I watched it.”

Rachel holds her hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, if you say so, but he’s not pulling that with me, so lay off, okay? We can be chill, Nathan, just...be chill, you know?”

“I...yeah, all right,” Nathan says, looking away from her. “Sure. So, uh, anything going on?”

“I’m actually signed up for Photography this year,” Rachel says, glad for the change in topic, giving him a smile. “So I’m gonna hang with you and Vic even more now! The new teacher’s stuff looks awesome.”

“Oh, shit yeah!” Nathan says, pumping his fist. “Kickass, maybe she won’t complain about me and Vic partnering up all the time if we can swap out with you. You’d make a great model, you know.”

“You think so?” Rachel asks, putting a finger to her lips.

“Yeah! Come on, Rachel, you know you’re hot, everyone does,” Nathan says with a laugh. “We’ll have to do that sometime.”

“Maybe sometime,” Rachel agrees, trying to subtly check over his shoulder to see if Victoria is coming to save her from this conversation. But it proves unnecessary a moment later as her phone buzzes in her pocket.

As she checks it, Nathan asks, “Caleb?”

“Yep,” Rachel says with an involuntary smile at the here now not moving on her screen. She gives Nathan a quick glance. “Don’t be jealous,” she teases, taking up her backpack from the floor.

“I’m not, ‘cuz it’s not like he’s getting some,” Nathan says with a pained attempt at a smirk. “Seriously, you do know he’s—”

“That’s Victoria’s interpretation,” Rachel interrupts, holding up a hand. “And I’m sure your bisexual sister is sick of hearing that shit from you, isn’t she?”

Nathan pales. “I — look — “

“I said be chill, Nathan,” Rachel sighs, heading up to the doorway and gesturing at him so he moves out of the way. She closes and locks her door before patting him on the shoulder, spotting Victoria standing in the hall and staring at her phone. “Go see to your woman, she looks bored. I’ll catch you later?”

“She’s not my woman,” Nathan groans, rolling his eyes. “But fine. Later, Rach.” Rachel shoulders her backpack and heads down the hall, grateful to be out of VC crap for a minute. She’ll have to go and officially sign up again Monday, and there’s probably gonna be a bit of politicking to do at the first meeting, with Britney gone. She’ll try to hang back, stay out of shit. Let Victoria be the sophomore trying to run the place; Rachel will coast.

She finds Caleb easily, because he’s sitting on the edge of his truckbed, towering over the rest of the parking lot with his blue hair shining in the afternoon sun. He’s still using Rachel’s hair ties, clearly. He’s wearing his leather jacket, even though it’s like, fucking eighty degrees. To cover the scars on his wrists. Or to cover up himself, generally. He’s got sunglasses on, too.

All of these thoughts rush through Rachel in a half-second, seeing him again, along with the memories of that night, and it’s enough to just make her sprint across the lot toward him. He’s barely gotten down from his perch by the time she reaches him and leaps up, wrapping her legs around his waist and holding him tight.

He laughs breathlessly, bracing himself against the truck and wrapping his arms around her. “Hi, yourself. Needy much?” he asks, and Rachel pulls back from burying herself in his shoulder to look at him, and…

And, fuck, he’s pretty. He must’ve just shaved or something because his face is smooth, and the light’s hitting his hair so he’s haloed. She wishes she could see his eyes. Rachel’s not sure if she’s seeing Caleb or Chloe right now, but her heart pounds anyway, and she slides down his body and hits him in the shoulder to try and dispel that feeling.

“Oh excuse me, your majesty, I didn’t realize you were too dignified for a hug from your friend,” Rachel says, walking backward and bowing exaggeratedly with each step. “Who you haven’t seen in three months, and might’ve missed you or something.”

He rushes forward and hugs her again, and she starts, not expecting him to actually do that. “I missed you too,” he murmurs into her hair, and, God, they are so not good at this whole keeping boundaries thing.

Rachel pulls back again, bouncing on her heels. “So what’s the plan today, Priceless?”

“Uh, don’t have one?” Caleb says with a quirked eyebrow. “Dude, you texted me.”

Rachel sighs. “You had fifteen minutes to come up with ideas!”

“I thought we had an understanding that you were the one pulling me around in this friendship,” Caleb shoots back, smirking now. He looks over his shoulder at his truck. “Didn’t you say something about this being a stargazing machine?” he asks, slapping the side of the car.

“Yes! Hell yes!” Rachel exclaims, clapping her hands together. “And you said, a while back, that we should get sleeping bags. Dude, let’s get that shit set up. You think you could ditch home tonight?”

Caleb looks away, shrugging. “Don’t really care if they know or not anymore.”

“...did something happen?” Rachel asks, frowning.

“It’s just...I keep my keys on me all the time now, so they can’t actually take shit away from me anymore. So sometimes, I, um...I stay out for a while past curfew, anyway. Haven’t been caught yet, though. Mom’s been working late and David’s got the night shift tonight.” Caleb smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Biggest mistake they ever made, letting me have this thing.”

“You gotta start storing shit in here,” Rachel says with a grin, moving over to the cab and pulling the door open. “Mobile stash.”

“Way ahead of you. Got a couple joints in the glovebox right now,” Caleb says, following her lead and going around to the driver’s side. “Oh, and watch your feet.”

Rachel looks down as she climbs in, and smiles at the sight. “I almost thought you forgot,” she says, gently pushing her board to the side with her foot so she can sit down.

“Please. You forgot, Rach, you didn’t even ask me to bring it back, I had to remember it myself,” Caleb says, shutting the door. “So...sports equipment store for sleeping bags?”

“Mmhm. I’ve got a fresh allowance to blow,” Rachel confirms. “Speaking of, how’s your money situation?”

“Well, with this baby, I can take over getting us our supplies from Frank,” Caleb says, “And since I’ve got the only key, it’ll be safe with me. Haven’t been selling since school got out, though, so running a little low on cash.”

“We’ll split the difference,” Rachel says. “Now, come on, start her up. We’ve got nesting to do.”

They head out of town in the orange light of sunset, the truck completely packed. Sleeping bags, air pillows, sleeping pads and snacks surround Rachel in the cramped cab, but she still finds the room to lay her hand over Caleb’s on the gearshift, smiling at him as he belts out lyrics. She’s got a new album for him, both in her bag and on her phone, but she figures she’ll wait until their stargazing gets properly underway before she gives it to him. It hit her hard when she first heard it, looking for albums for Chloe after that desperate phone call, trying to find anything to help her, and they’d best be settled and prepared to absorb it all by the time they listen.

They pull into the front of American Rust, figuring it’s their best bet for privacy; in all the time they’ve hung out here, no one’s come by to bother them. Maybe the seniors gave up on it as a party spot a while ago, and the new crop of students probably doesn’t know about it. So it’s perfect. Just theirs.

Quietly, as the light fades, the two of them build their nest in the truckbed. First is blowing up the sleeping pads and the air pillows and laying them out as their base. Then, they unzip the sleeping bags on Rachel’s suggestion, using one as padding beneath them and the other as a blanket. With all setup complete, they bring out the snacks and the weed, sitting up against the back window as Caleb takes the first hit.

Rachel watches him, glad the sunglasses are gone, watches the way he closes his eyes and takes in the smoke like he needs it. He’s got long, pretty eyelashes. She has to ask.

“So...can I call you Chloe again?”

He coughs on his hit, looking away from her as he pulls the joint out of his mouth. “Uhm,” he says, his voice strained. Rachel inches her hand over to his, laying between them. “Y-yeah. That’s cool.”

Rachel takes the joint with her free hand as he passes it, taking a hit so she has a moment to think. She closes her eyes. She’s with Chloe, now. Her secret friend. The girl who hides beneath Caleb’s shell and peeks out only when Rachel’s here. As she breathes out smoke, she interlaces her and Chloe’s fingers. “So how’ve you been? I mean, really. How’s Chloe Price been?” Rachel asks, turning to face her. Chloe swallows before answering, her hand tense under Rachel’s.

“I...I don’t know,” Chloe admits. “But, um...I’m really glad I told you.”

“Yeah?” Rachel raises her eyebrows at that, passing back the joint.

Chloe nods. “Yeah. I really...I really don’t know what would’ve happened after the wreck, if I hadn’t. And I’m glad you know, and…” She sniffs. “I don’t know. It feels good.”

“What does?”

“You know. When you treat me like a girl.” Chloe takes in a quick hit, and coughs again. “Dammit. I’m all shaky now.”

“Sorry,” Rachel says, wincing. “I — I don’t mean to make you nervous or anything — “

“Hey, I said we could talk about this, it’s just…” Chloe sighs and takes another shot at the joint, closing her eyes and breathing it in deep. Rachel rubs her thumb over Chloe’s hand as she waits for her to talk. “It’s still weird to talk about it,” Chloe admits. “I know it’s been a while since I told you but—”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Rachel says softly, leaning into Chloe’s side. “It’s your thing, you know? Take it as fast or slow as you need. I’m sorry if I’ve been...pushy.”

“You...you’ve been helping. Not pushy. I get why.” Chloe passes Rachel the joint and leans against her in turn, her breath slow and heavy. “I...I know I scared the shit out of you last month.”

“...so we can talk about that?” Rachel asks.

“Yeah. I, uh...if you want to.”

Rachel takes a long hit off the joint and offers the roach to Chloe, but she just shakes her head at it. With a shrug, Rachel tosses it over the side of the truck and sinks further down until her head’s on the pillows, and Chloe joins her there, staring up at the stars. Rachel turns onto her side, tracing lines up and down Chloe’s arm, watching her face.

“I’m glad you didn’t jump,” she whispers, and Chloe takes in a sharp breath.

“Me too,” she admits, gulping. “I, um...I’m really glad I get to see you again. Get to, like, do this with you.” She keeps her eyes on the stars as she talks, and Rachel finds herself wishing that Chloe would look at her. Chloe breathes out. “You...you make me feel like it’s worth it. Being alive.”

“Do you usually...not feel that way?”

“Not really,” Chloe admits, closing her eyes. “It’s like...you have all these ideas. Fun stuff to do. I never do. When I try to think of like, the future, or things I want to do, it’s all just — it’s not there. I can’t see anything. Just this big black pit.”

“That can’t be true all the time,” Rachel murmurs, wrapping a hand around Chloe’s bicep. “Sometimes you think about things like that. You...you design tattoos, and you make an earring for your friend, and you get your license and a truck and stuff.”

“It’s not all the time, yeah,” Chloe says, shrugging. “But it’s...most of the time. Enough that when you come around, and you make me feel this way, it matters. Do you...I don’t know, does that make sense?”

“Yeah. At least, I think I get it.” Rachel tries to fight the way Chloe’s words are making her feel, the slight sting in her eyes, the lump in her throat. She doesn’t want to hear this, but crying won’t change anything, and it’s not what Chloe needs right now. Rachel’s gotta stay steady. “Do you think that’ll change? When you transition?”

“You say when,” Chloe points out. “But I don’t think of it as a sure thing. I don’t...I don’t think I have it in me, Rach.”

“Of course you do. You’ve already done a lot.”

“But…”

“Chloe, I can already see you,” Rachel insists, reaching up and cupping Chloe’s cheek, turning her head to face her. “You’re already making progress, even if you won’t admit it. Growing out your hair, piercing your ears? Those are steps, okay?”

Chloe blinks a few times, their eyes meeting. Then she turns away, looking back to the sky. “Thanks for saying that,” she mutters, “But...I don’t see me, in the mirror. I see a guy. And he’s gross. So it’s hard to actually...believe you. Sorry.”

“First of all, you’re not gross,” Rachel argues, shifting up on her elbow so she’s a little above her. “And I’m not kidding and I’m not humoring you or whatever you’re thinking. I really do see you as who you are, okay? And someday...so will you. I need you to believe that for me.”

“For you?” Chloe asks, smiling slightly up at her.

“For me. Since you seem to have so much trouble doing stuff for just you.” Rachel wraps her arms around Chloe, snuggling into her side. “Got me?”

“Got you.” Chloe brings an arm around Rachel’s shoulders, and pulls her in. They share a moment of quiet, staring up into the stars together. “Thanks, Rachel,” Chloe says after a few minutes. “For coming back.”

“Like I could stay away.”

“You could’ve. I bet you could’ve charmed your parents into thinking you were all reformed. You’re good at that.”

“Well...I wanted to come back. Simple as that.” She extracts herself from Chloe, remembering her gift, sitting in the backpack by her side. “I got something for you, by the way,” she says, digging in to find the jewel case. “Also, where’s the splitter?”

“Oh, um…” Chloe sits up too, searching her own bag. “Here we go.”

“Kickass.” Rachel hands Chloe the CD, and Chloe squints in the moonlight, trying to read the label. The Sunset Tree, For Chloe. Rachel burned it and labeled it herself. Mags found it first, said it helped her when the going got tough last summer. Rachel feels a little pang of guilt at the fact that she told someone else about Chloe’s call, but...Chloe won’t ever know, and maybe this’ll help her too.

Chloe stares at the writing for a minute, splitter in her other hand. “You, uh…” She swallows. “You think it’ll be okay for me to keep this? With...with my name on it, and everything?”

“It’ll live in your truck, right?” Rachel points out. “Besides, nobody knows that name ‘cept your mom, and she’s not the one we’re worried about snooping on you.”

“All right. Um, thanks.”

“Now we’re gonna listen to it,” Rachel says, snatching the headphone splitter from Chloe and hooking it up to her phone, then her earbuds. Chloe produces her own and the two of them settle in and let the album wash over them, holding hands as they gaze at the stars.

Chloe sits through the first song in silence, and Rachel feels a little coil tightening in her gut. She hopes this is a good idea. She hopes this works for Chloe, that it doesn’t just...dredge up stuff. But she feels Chloe’s mood shift with the second song, and she’s grateful the singer is so clear on these tracks, the lyrics so easy to catch and hold. Chloe squeezes Rachel’s hand, closing her eyes like it’ll help her hear better. It’s cute.

Rachel kind of wants to kiss her.

She knows she shouldn’t. Chloe’s a girl. She might not look much like one right now, but she is, and Rachel...well, Rachel likes guys. So this can’t happen. Like Chloe said.

But in the long tresses of your hair, I am a babbling brook.

That line ends the song, jolts Rachel out of her thoughts as Chloe turns to look at her. Chloe wets her lips, speaks in a strained voice. “This is good,” is all she says.

“The next one’s my favorite,” Rachel replies with a soft smile as the piano kicks in. A song about living with a terrible stepfather, being stolen away by a girl and drinking with her, declaring that you will survive the year. She wants to sing along to it with Chloe, sometime.

Chloe just listens, and cries.

It’s so quiet that Rachel doesn’t notice it at first as they move through the album, but silent tears flow down her cheeks, sparkling in the moonlight. She wants to reach up and wipe them away, or kiss them away, or something. But she just holds Chloe’s hand tight instead, and pretends not to see, until the last notes of Pale Green Things fade away into the night, and they take out their headphones. Chloe sits up against the back window again, breathing heavily. She wipes at her eyes.

“Fuck, Rachel,” she says with a sort of wet laugh. “What the fuck.”

“Was it...bad?” Rachel asks gently.

“No, no, it’s just...you really found the album to completely fuck me up to tonight,” Chloe says, leaning back and looking out over the road. “And...thanks. For thinking of me when you found it. It means a lot.”

“I think about you a lot, Chloe,” Rachel murmurs, sitting up and tracing a hand down Chloe’s arm again. “All the time.”

“I know,” Chloe whispers, almost to herself, like she can’t believe it. God, Rachel wants to kiss her. Her. The repetition of the sentence in her mind, I want to kiss her, is enough to make her sweat. She shouldn’t be thinking this way, not according to everything she knows about herself. And Chloe’s — does she count as a girl? Fuck. This is too hard.

Rachel clears her throat. “Okay, let’s maybe change the vibe a bit, yeah?” she asks with a light chuckle. “Another joint and some lighter tunes? Snacks?”

Chloe nods, wiping at her nose. “Yeah. Um, yeah. Sounds good.”

Rachel gives Chloe a hug before setting about the tasks she’s given herself. She can think more about this...later. If she needs to. But it’s already been so heavy between them tonight, and she does just want to get high, and stargaze, and cuddle with Chloe under the open sky until they fall asleep out here. The rest she can figure out in the morning, if she ever does.

Rachel wakes in the morning to the sound of birdsong and the warmth of the rising sun on her face. She smiles sleepily, wrapping herself tightly around Chloe’s body, waiting for her to wake up. A good way to start a Sunday, she thinks, glancing at the brightening sky, the hint of dew on their sleeping bag blanket. She takes in a deep breath. The air feels fresh and clean, even if they’re in a junkyard, and it smells like Chloe.

She’s glad to be back in Arcadia Bay. What a strange thought.

Chloe grumbles wordlessly, and Rachel’s eyes go back to her face, watching her blink herself awake. A little bit of stubble’s grown in overnight, and Rachel hopes that Chloe won’t notice, somehow. That Chloe can keep feeling like a girl for a little longer.

Rachel still wants to kiss her, anyway.

She pulls back to stop herself from feeling weird, sitting up and stretching her arms out with a yawn. “Morning, Chlo,” she says, smiling down at Chloe as she struggles to get her eyes to stay open.

“Mmm.” Chloe groans. “Oof. Okay, the sleeping out under the stars thing is fun, but my back hurts.”

“Hey, I feel fine. Maybe if you ate more you’d have some padding,” Rachel teases, poking Chloe in the ribs.

“Mmf, eating sounds good, actually,” Chloe says, sitting up. “Let’s go out for breakfast.”

“Ooh, look at Miss Moneybags over here.” Rachel musses Chloe’s hair. “I got stuff back at my dorm if you want, really. I know you’re a little low right now.”

“Nah, nah, my treat, seriously.” Chloe roots around in the covers, finding her phone, still attached to the battery pack she’d plugged it into before sleeping. She squints at whatever she sees on the screen as she disconnects it, then chuckles under her breath. “Yeah. I know just the place.”

“Oh?”

“There’s this greasy diner in town. Dunno if you’ve been, the Two Whales? I get discounts there.”

“I’ve heard the name,” Rachel admits, “But I’ve never been. Usually if I’m going out to eat, it’s late as fuck, so…”

“So your only option is Taco Bell,” Chloe says with a laugh. “Oh yeah, I know the pain. No 24-hour shit in this town.” Chloe scoots down to the edge of the truck, finding her backpack and taking out a pair of sunglasses, sighing with relief as she puts them on. “C’mon, let’s pack up, then we can eat.”

It turns out to be more of a pain than Rachel anticipated, and by the time everything’s squared away her stomach’s growling as much as Chloe’s. As Chloe starts the truck, she clears her throat and turns to Rachel.

“So, um...remember. Not Chloe anymore. Don’t even think about saying it, okay?” she asks, drumming her fingers nervously on the steering wheel. “Not there.”

“R-right. Yeah. Got it, C,” Rachel mumbles, looking out the window, trying to reconfigure her brain. She scolds herself. If it’s this confusing and hard for Rachel, then Chloe must feel it ten times worse, so no complaining.

All right. She’s back with Caleb, then. She lets out a breath, and looks back over to him. “Any reason that you needed to tell me that, or just ‘cuz we’re in public?” she asks.

“Well, my mom works there,” Caleb says with a slight smirk.

“...and does your mom know you didn’t come home last night?”

“Yep!” Caleb puts the truck in gear and pulls out onto the road.

“I can’t decide if you’re standing up for yourself or self-sabotaging,” Rachel says, narrowing her eyes at him. “You sure this is a good idea?”

“Not really, but fuck it,” Caleb says with a shrug. “You’re not going anywhere and I’m done being fucking kicked around all the time.”

Rachel puts her hand over his on the gearshift. “All right. I’m with you, then.”

“I know.”

Caleb turns up the music, and they ride silently back into town, eventually parking behind a fifties-style diner that looks like it had its best days in the eighties. Rachel almost wants to keep holding his hand as they get out and head for the entrance, but thinks better of it. That’s a couple thing, and while they can be breaking boundaries a bit in private, doing it in public is just going to get confusing.

As they walk in, Rachel indeed spots Joyce behind the counter, handing a coffee over to some cop. She looks up, and Caleb offers her a bright, cheery wave, like he’s not totally doing this just to piss her off. Rachel has to stifle a laugh when Joyce scowls back at them, before cocking her head towards the corner booth.

Rachel follows Caleb’s lead, and the two of them take seats across from each other, looking out over the town through the big picture windows. Rachel checks over the menu and frowns slightly. She’s been thinking of going vegan, but this menu...does not offer a whole lot of options in that direction.

Joyce comes by before Rachel’s managed to make a decision, standing at the end of their table with her hands on her hips. “So I see Rachel’s back in town,” she says, glaring at the girl in question.

“Uh, yeah,” Rachel replies, giving her a hesitant smile. “Just yesterday.”

“I s’pose that’s where you were last night, Caleb?” Joyce casts a glance at her son, who smiles at her.

“Yeah, we went out stargazing and fell asleep,” he says casually.

“That so.”

“Yep! So, I’m gonna have the stack, eggs over easy, with bacon strips.”

Joyce heaves a sigh. “Caleb, you don’t have to be so—”

“You’re at work, Mom,” Caleb reminds her. “We came here for breakfast.”

“Fine.” Joyce scribbles on her notepad. “Rachel?”

“Belgian waffle,” Rachel decides in that moment.

“Got it. Coffee or anything for you kids?”

“I’ll take coffee,” Rachel says.

“Mountain Dew,” Caleb adds after her.

“Caleb, it is eight o’clock in the morning.”

“Hey, you’re the one saying I need meat on my bones all the time. What could be better for that than sugar?”

Joyce shakes her head. “All right, I guess you’re the boss. Assuming Rachel don’t mind paying for your mistakes.”

“Hey, I’m treating her today,” Caleb corrects.

“...sure ya are. Lucky you get the employee discount.” Joyce sighs as she finishes writing everything down. “Okay, I’ll get it to the kitchen. Behave, you two.”

“Not a chance,” Caleb shoots back, to Joyce’s rolled eyes as she walks away.

“You are being such a brat,” Rachel accuses once Joyce is out of earshot, flicking a straw at Caleb’s face. He giggles to himself.

“I swear I’m not doing this just to be a bitch,” he says. “The food here is legit really good, and I haven’t been back for...a while.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Shit, not since Max was around, I think.”

It is so stupid to feel jealous of, like, a thirteen-year-old, so Rachel decides that she isn’t, and kicks his shin under the table. “You mean you’ve been throwing away that employee discount all these years?”

“I am fucking great at throwing away opportunities. It’s a hobby.” Caleb stands up and stretches. “Gonna hit the bathroom, be right back.”

“Don’t leave me!” Rachel begs, reaching out for his wrist, wincing at the feeling of the bandages under the jacket sleeve. “You know she’s gonna get me,” she whispers after pulling him closer.

“Yeah, but I actually have to go,” Caleb says with an apologetic smile. “Swear I’ll come back before she has the chance to bitch-slap you.”

Rachel lets go reluctantly, waving him on his way, and indeed it’s not ten seconds later that Joyce returns with their drinks, setting them down on the table before turning her attention to Rachel.

“You were supposed to stop gettin’ him in trouble,” she says, folding her arms. “And yet—”

“We didn’t get in trouble,” Rachel interrupts. “He’s fine. We’re fine. It was just us, no booze, no party. Not like I called you last night, right?”

“Still got that smart mouth.”

“Did you expect me to lose it?”

Joyce sighs. “Guess not.” She glances around, looking faraway for a moment. “I know he’s just being an ass, but...he hasn’t smiled for a while,” she admits quietly. “And ever since he got his truck, he’s really been avoiding the house.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” Rachel deadpans, and Joyce fixes her with a glare for a second before her expression softens.

“Look, just — just keep whatever y’all do on the down-low and I won’t get on him for it, okay?” Joyce asks.

Rachel squints at her. “What?”

“What I said, Rachel. You two keep your shit together, I won’t try and get between you. I’ll cut him some slack, because trying to keep him in, it’s — it’s not working anymore and I don’t know what else to do. But if you get him in another situation like last time, that deal’s gone. Understand?”

“...yeah. I think I get you,” Rachel says, a dread starting to gnaw at her stomach. “Look, I didn’t want that to happen either, okay?”

“I know you didn’t. I know how...how he is.” Joyce swallows. “Just keep an eye out for him. He’s had me worried lately, and you coming back is the only thing he’s actually cared about for a while.”

The bathroom door opens, and Joyce spots him coming back. “You threatening Rachel, Mom?” he asks as he slides past her. “Don’t hurt my boy or I’ll get the shotgun?”

“I’ll have you know we’re working out a truce,” Joyce replies. “I gotta get back to work. Good talk, Rachel.” She heads off to another table, and Rachel breathes a sigh of relief.

Caleb quirks an eyebrow at her. “Good talk? Truce?”

“Apparently, since her and David can’t parent you worth shit, she wants to rope me into it. I have to keep an eye on you,” Rachel replies with a smirk. “You know. Make sure you’re not some kind of delinquent.”

“Ooh, big responsibility,” Caleb says, taking a sip of his soda. “But hey, she didn’t say anything about punishment for last night in her texts, so maybe she’s finally getting that I don’t give a fuck anymore.”

“...be careful, still?” Rachel asks. “I...she might be giving you a break, but I dunno about David. I really hate seeing what he does to you.”

Caleb looks down at the table, scratching it with a nail. “He hasn’t tried to get physical in a while. Think he’s worried he actually gave me the concussion, or that, like, he’ll make it worse.”

“Is it still bothering you?” Rachel asks, though she knows the answer.

“Mostly just light sensitivity stuff. Not too bad,” Caleb says with a shrug. “But hey, I could stand to have a break from being punched in the face, you’re right. I’ll...I’ll try. Okay?”

“Yeah. And, I’m not gonna blame you if he does some shit,” Rachel clarifies. “It’s on him. It’s always gonna be. And if you ever want to like, call someone, or do something about him, I’ll back you up.”

“Are you offering hitman services now?” Caleb asks, and Rachel throws a napkin at his face. Useless boy.

Joyce comes back with their food, and she’s perfectly civil, and the waffles are legitimately very good. Over breakfast, Rachel’s nerves calm a little. The morning is beautiful. They had a good, if heavy, night, and it’s good to see Caleb trying to stand up for himself a little, even if it might be as self-destructive as everything else he does.

Her second year with Chloe Price looks promising.

Chapter Text

“You’re planning on being back tonight, right?” Joyce asks as Caleb tightens the laces of his boot, just in front of the door.

“Right now,” he answers with a shrug. “I mean, there’s school tomorrow.”

“...home for dinner?”

“Nah, we’ll pick something up after the movie.”

Joyce sighs, leaning against the divider between the hall and the kitchen, folding her arms. “This gonna be a habit, Caleb?”

“Huh?”

“Ditching dinner.”

“I’m not ditching,” Caleb says with a roll of his eyes. “I’m—”

“On a date, sure, okay, but—”

“It’s not a date,” Caleb interrupts, standing up to his full height and eyeing the door. Should he just go now? Maybe. But Mom’s being…better, lately.

Joyce eyes him doubtfully. “Seriously? Dinner and a movie with a cute girl. But not a date.”

“Yep, you got it, Mom.” He takes hold of the doorknob as a warning, and Joyce puts her hands up.

“All right, all right. Just...don’t get too far away, okay, Caleb? David’s been asking where you’ve been, like I know, and now that Rachel’s back…”

Caleb groans, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I’ll let you know if I’m coming home and where I am, all right? But no specifics, so David can’t show up and try and bust me or whatever.”

“He wouldn’t—”

“Mom. Come on.”

“...all right. Anything else I should know about?”

Caleb considers for a moment, turning around and leaning against the door to look her in the eye. “If David hits me again,” he warns, the muscles in his neck tightening as the words leave his mouth, “Deal’s off. Clear?”

“Caleb, you’re a teenager, we’re not making a deal—”

“Holy fucking shit, you can’t even commit to that?” Caleb asks, a lump forming in his throat despite himself. “Fuck me. Nevermind. I dunno if I’ll be back. Bye.”

“Caleb—!”

He wrenches the door open and stalks down to the curb, fishing his keys from his pocket as he goes. God. How hard is it to just let him have something? At least he keeps his keys under his pillow at night, at least they can’t possibly take his freedom as easily as they did last year after the fire.

He’s hopping up into the driver’s seat when his phone goes off in his pocket, and he sighs, squinting at it. Can still be a little hard to read the screen without his sunglasses, depending on the light.

Mom: I’ll talk to him tonight. Have fun at the movies.

He rolls his eyes and sets his phone to silent, then texts Rachel that he’s on his way over to the dorms. Now that they’ve got a ride, this is an obvious thing to do — plus the new Edgar Wright movie is out, and while he could ask to go with Justin and Trevor, they’d probably be down...it would be more fun with Rachel.

And sure, it’s a date-like activity, but it’s not like Caleb can tell Joyce why they’re not dating, not really. Even if Rachel has clearly not found someone else to be interested in, even if he likes her too, there’s still that wall that has to be up between them — or at least, that should be up. It’s been a week since she came back, and they’re definitely even closer than they used to be, and, shit, they slept under the stars together, and…

And it still can’t happen, so he should stop thinking about it.

He pulls into the Blackwell lot and sees Rachel waiting for him there, and reaches over to unlock the passenger-side door so she can slide in with him. He looks over at her and has to suppress a laugh; she barely seems functional, bags under her eyes and hair all frizzed out, totally unlike her usual perfectly-coiffed appearance. “Good party last night?” he asks, poking her in the shoulder.

“No,” Rachel groans, rubbing at her eyes. “Uuugh the cops came by and I had to like, book it through town to get back to the dorms.”

“The cops showed up? I thought Nathan’s whole thing was making sure that wasn’t a problem for you guys,” Caleb says, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s the worst part! Apparently they just left after he told them he’d keep it down,” Rachel sighs. “But...you know. Heard the sirens, saw the lights, kinda freaked.”

“Oh...yeah,” Caleb murmurs, remembering her confession, the night of the fire, all those months ago. He wants to reach over, take her hand, comfort her somehow, but this is not a date, and they do that shit too much already. God. He wishes Joyce hadn’t said anything.

“I just didn’t wanna...get taken away from here. From you. So, yeah, I look like shit today,” Rachel says with a little chuckle, “But, hey, that’s punk, right?”

“I thought I was the punk here,” Caleb shoots back. “Unless we’re dyeing your hair next?”

“Hm. Maybe. I dunno what color would work for me,” Rachel admits, checking herself in the rearview mirror.

“You said red.”

“Yeah, but...hm.” Rachel gathers up her hair in one hand, putting it behind her head. “...no, I can’t chop it, and I don’t like long red.”

“How come?” Caleb asks, the image coming into his mind as Rachel studies herself. She’d look good that way. Granted, he struggles to think of a way she wouldn’t look good.

“It’s a fashion thing. You wouldn’t understand,” Rachel teases, dropping her hair and elbowing him. “Anyway, that’s why we’re gonna be in the dark for this whole movie thing anyway, nobody’s gotta see me. We going or what?”

“Right, yeah, the actual plan,” Caleb laughs, putting the truck back in gear and starting off back towards town.

“What are we seeing, again?” Rachel asks.

“Scott Pilgrim. Directed by the same guy who did Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz.”

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Rachel says, pumping her fist. “You showing me those was like, the best shit. What’s it about?”

“It’s based on a comic or something?” Caleb shrugs. “Dunno. But it looks fun as hell.”

“Even if it sucks, it’ll be fun,” Rachel says, scooting closer to him, laying her hand over his on the gear shift. She does that a lot. He’s never stopped her. He doesn’t this time, either. “‘Cuz when I’m with you, I can always laugh.”

“I am gonna put you to the test on that,” Caleb warns. “I mean, I already have, but…”

“Oh, shut up, we’re great and you know it. Now drive me, chauffeur. I’m buying the snacks.”

“Okay, so my first question is, how come Envy wasn’t also Ramona’s ex?” Rachel asks as soon as they emerge into the night, and Caleb fights back a snorting laugh.

“Dude, what?” he asks, heading down the street to find the truck.

“Come on!” Rachel insists, practically skipping to keep up with his long strides. “Her name is Envy. Can you imagine the fucking drama if they shared an evil ex? Then they could beat her up together and it’d be totally romantic.”

“Once again, Rachel, I really have to question what you consider romance,” Caleb laughs, unlocking the driver’s-side door and hopping in before reaching across to unlock Rachel’s. “Besides, Ramona already had a girl ex,” Caleb points out as she gets in.

“Then cut her, they basically made her a joke anyway,” Rachle grumbles, buckling her seatbelt. “Plus, then you could make it serious between them, not just that ‘bifurious’ joke.”

“You are super opinionated on this, huh?” Caleb asks with a smirk.

“I don’t care that much,” Rachel says, slumping in her seat as Caleb starts up the car. “It’s just like...Wallace had like three boyfriends. Ramona deserved a real girlfriend.”

“You think she wasn’t just curious?” Caleb asks. “Also, what food?”

“C, c’mon, that girl had blue hair. She likes chicks for real,” Rachel states defiantly.

“Not a food suggestion. Also, I have blue hair,” Caleb points out.

“And you’re a girl who likes girls,” Rachel shoots back.

Caleb blinks. That’s...not something he’s really thought about, connecting the two things, except when the fact that he’s not gay felt like evidence against him being trans. Rachel giggles slightly. “Oh, shit,” she says, and when Caleb looks over at her she’s grinning.

“I don’t like where this is going,” Caleb says, edging away from her even though he can feel a smile poking at his own lips.

“I didn’t see you at the VC Halloween bash last year,” Rachel says slyly, putting a finger on her chin. “I think this year you go as Ramona Fucking Flowers.”

Caleb flushes, looking away from her. “I...we can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“I mean, me showing up cross-dressing?” Caleb says with a humorless laugh. “That’ll get you kicked out of the VC right away. Probably get the shit kicked out of me, too.”

“It’s Halloween, man!” Rachel says, shoving his shoulder. “It’s all about having fun. You’ll make a splash. People will love it.”

“...I dunno, Rachel.”

“I could do your makeup,” Rachel continues, scooting across as far as the seatbelt will let her and tracing along Caleb’s jaw, making him freeze in place. “You let me measure your chest, we could get you a bra to stuff…”

“Rachel,” Caleb breathes, but he’s not sure what to say. The way she’s talking like it’s real, like he could just do that, just go out as a girl, like it’s that easy, it’s making his chest tighten up.

“Ooh! I bet I could ask the prop guys in Drama to make us a hammer. I’ll buy ‘em off with something from Frank’s stash,” Rachel says with a giggle, scooting back over to her side and leaning her elbow against the window, holding her cheek with that hand and glancing up and down Caleb’s body. “Dude, for real. We can do this. Just try it out for a night, you know? Fuck, you already got the blue hair.”

“...and who will you go as?”

“Envy! Duh. I could lighten my hair a little...in case I do wanna dye it later. We’re already thrift shop masters, we can find a leather jacket.” Rachel smiles at him, bright and earnest, and it’s hard to look at her.

“I’ll, um...yeah. I’ll think about it.” Caleb swallows, rubbing the back of his neck. “So...food?”

“Dude, come on. Taco Bell. That’s the tradition.”

Caleb laughs under his breath. “All right, all right.” He sets the truck into gear, thinking of how to move Rachel away from this subject. Usually she’s better at that than he is, but he’s getting a little worried that she’s not gonna let this go. “We should see if we can get a trunk or something for the junkyard,” he says as they start moving out. “Too cramped in here with all the campout stuff.”

“...you worried you might have to spend the night out there again?” Rachel asks.

Caleb shrugs. “Just seems more convenient, you know? If we wanna stargaze again.”

“Now that’s an idea I can get behind. I wonder if I can get acid again,” Rachel muses. “Only person I know with that hookup is Kris, but maybe Frank’s got some? Haven’t asked, but—”

Caleb laughs, interrupting her. “Hold on, hold on, what does acid have to do with this?”

“Stargazing!” Rachel exclaims. “Kris said the stars out here are so fun on acid, but I only got to see that a tiny bit before I came down. We should share that.” She leans away, rubbing her wrist. “Kris is cool. Wonder if I’ll see her again this year.”

“Who the fuck is Kris?” Caleb asks, raising his eyebrows at her.

“Nathan’s big sister, remember? You met her for like five seconds when she stopped Nathan’s ass from being kicked?”

“Gotcha. Surprised you’d call any Prescott cool,” Caleb says with a smirk over at her as they pull into the line at the drive-through.

“She actually is, weirdly enough.” Rachel leans against the window. “She gave me a ride to your place after Nathan got creepy with me, that first time I came over.”

“Something bringing her to mind besides drugs?” Caleb asks. “Was Nathan creepy at the party last night?”

“I...no, no more than usual. She’s bi.”

Caleb snorts. “Holy shit, there’s two whole queer people in town now.”

“You did it!” Rachel shouts, punching his shoulder.

“Huh?”

“Called yourself queer! Fucking win.” Rachel sits back with a triumphant smile on her face.

“A win for who?” Caleb asks. “I mean…”

“Both of us. Me for pushing you, you for saying it.” Rachel taps his hand on the gearshift. “Line’s moved, dude.”

Caleb shifts, moves the truck forward in the line, and lets Rachel’s words swim around in his head.

Rachel doesn’t let it go.

Practically every time they hang out, no matter what they’re doing, she insists on making some small progress towards this Halloween plan of hers. Some days, Caleb hates it, shuts her down, says that it’s never going to happen.

Other days, he doesn’t hate it at all. Other days, he responds when she asks about the size of his clothes. He smiles when he sees the foam hammer Rachel managed to wrangle from the Drama crew — apparently the stage manager makes LARPing weapons? — and hefts it so she can take a picture for herself. He can’t help it. Her enthusiasm is infectious, and the first two months of school are actually pretty relaxed otherwise, so he doesn’t have the kind of days that make him snap quite so much.

Caleb keeps Mom informed of where he’ll be, and usually, he does come home — by ten, at the latest. Though the camping gear gets a home in a padlocked trunk in the junkyard, he doesn’t end up using it. He and David barely look at each other for weeks, let alone speak. There’s a constant tension in David’s shoulders, and every once in a while, Caleb wakes up with a start in bed, as if expecting to see him there again. But whatever David’s emotional state is, Caleb has the luxury of basically not caring. Access to his own vehicle means that he gets up and leaves the house long before David does, coming to campus to hang with Trevor or Rachel, or hitting up Frank down at the beach, or just going out to a trail or a park for a smoke. It’s strange to have so much time that just belongs to him now, but maybe that’s a perk of being a junior. Hard to say.

He slacks. He can’t help but slack. But he doesn’t slack enough to get the school to call home about his bad performance, so that, at least, is on the backburner. With the ability to not go home until he’s ready to crash, he just...doesn’t have the time or inclination to do homework. He pays attention in class, and maybe that’s all that keeps him afloat. Rachel doesn’t know, because he doesn’t tell her, and he barely cares, anyway. Despite her assurances that he has a future, he doesn’t really think of it as something to worry about.

But suddenly, it’s the last week of October, and Rachel’s really serious. She pulls him into her dorm after school on Monday, and once the door’s shut behind him, she puts her hands on her hips.

“We have one final item to discuss,” she says. “Shirt off.”

“Excuse me?” Caleb asks with a laugh. “What’re you—”

“You need some boobs. For that, you need a bra, so let me measure you,” Rachel says, turning and digging in her desk to bring out a roll of tape. “No arguing.”

“Rachel—”

“We’ve got a week to get ready and…” Rachel looks down, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. “I’m excited, okay? I kind of want to go to a party with you that doesn’t go bad at the end.”

Caleb swallows. “Yeah. Both parties last year were total shitshows, to be sure,” he admits. “But what if this goes wrong, too?”

“How?” Rachel asks.

“It’s just…” Caleb huffs. “You know. Vic and Nathan are gonna be there and they hate my guts. What if I show up like — you know, all… and they decide they’re done with the truce shit they have ‘cuz you’re my friend?”

“Victoria doesn’t hate your guts,” Rachel admonishes. “I think she still likes you, she’s just super embarrassed that you turned her down, so she gets all bitchy instead.”

“Got a lot of insight into her psyche, Rachel?” Caleb asks, a little smirk forming despite himself. “How about Nathan, then? Last time we like, talked, I smashed him onto the staircase.”

“He’ll keep it together,” Rachel says with a shrug. “He’s got a crush on me and he knows I hate it when he badmouths you.”

“Gross.”

“Right? But anyway. Come on, seriously, it’ll only take a few seconds,” Rachel says, holding up the tape and shaking it at him.

He backs up a little to lean against the door, looking down at his shoes. “I…can I ask you something?”

Rachel’s eyes lose some of their shine, but she nods at him, setting the tap roll back down on her desk.

“If we like...get ready, and all that, and at the last second I decide not to go — would that be okay?” Caleb asks, his voice shaking a little. “Like, if I look in the mirror, and all I see is some cross-dressing dude...I’m not gonna be able to go.” He takes in a breath, feeling weirdly lightheaded. “You’ve seen what I do when I’m trying to like, push past it. You know.”

Instead of responding, Rachel comes up to him and wraps her arms around him. “Okay,” she mumbles into his chest. “If you ditch, I ditch. You can just stay in with me.”

“I…” Caleb swallows, a hand going to her back instinctually. “You don’t have to do that.”

“‘Course I do. This is my idea, and my pushy bullshit,” Rachel says, drawing back, running her hands down his arms until their fingers twine. “Besides, people are used to me ditching VC shit by now. That’s what Drama and Photography are for, remember? Excuses.”

Caleb laughs softly. “You know, someday someone’s gonna cross-reference where you were and this’ll all blow up.”

Rachel shrugs. “Maybe. Or maybe they’ll just figure out I was hanging with you again doing our weird thing together. That’s also part of my rep now, and that’s fine.”

“It is?”

“It is,” Rachel repeats. “So...measuring?”

Caleb swallows again, his throat dry. But a thought enters his head. A good one. A rare kind, so he feels he has to say it aloud. “Yeah. I should probably know anyway, right? For...later?”

Rachel’s face lights up, and she holds up a hand. “Fuck yeah,” she says, and Caleb gives her the high-five she wants, and it’s...really fine. It’s okay.

He strips off his shirt and holds his arms out at his sides, letting Rachel take the measurement of his chest. “You’re pretty broad, but not too broad. I can find something in your size,” she says, writing down the number she found on a little pad by her laptop. “How big do we want ‘em?”

Caleb shrugs his shirt back on, considering. “Uh, shit, I don’t know.”

“Well…” Rachel taps a nail against her lip. “Internet says you can expect your mom’s size minus like, one letter?”

“From what?” Caleb asks, blinking.

“You know, hormones.”

“Wait, they do that?” Caleb feels like he’s about to fall over.

“Uh, yeah, how do you think trans women get boobs?”

“I thought it was all implants!” Caleb exclaims. “Um, holy shit, so do they have, like, sensation, or—”

Rachel’s giggles interrupt him, and he stops, his face flushing. “Sorry, sorry,” she says, waving her hands in front of her and sniffing. “God, you really don’t look anything up, huh? Yeah, they’re supposed to be like, totally natural. Why did you think people took hormones?”

“I actually didn’t know?” Caleb says, cringing. “Just kinda vaguely heard about it, sometimes?”

“Chloe, you’re killing me,” Rachel groans. “And now who’s doing uptalk?”

“God dammit,” Caleb swears, laughing softly at himself. “Well, that’s fucking news to me. Um, I don’t like, know my mom’s boob size offhand, though.”

“I’ll pick something out for you.” Rachel gives him a wink. “For now, though, I just got slammed with a fuckload of homework. Wanna stick around and study?”

Caleb may not study much these days, but spending time with Rachel is never a waste. She puts on Tallahassee (they’ve been working through the Mountain Goats back catalogue since their night out in the truck) and they don’t talk about parties, or transitioning, or Ramona Flowers. Rachel just lets Caleb handle those thoughts on his own, and as always, he finds himself grateful just to have her in his life.

He’s surprised on Sunday, when he heads down the stairs for his standard cold breakfast, to see that Joyce is already up. Maybe he took too long to get down here — he did have to shave this morning. She’s scrambling eggs on the stove, and Caleb briefly considers heading back upstairs and going through the window, but it’s too late, she’s already seen him.

“Caleb!” she calls, and he meekly heads over to the kitchen, leaning against the divider. “Breakfast is almost ready.”

“I was about to head out,” Caleb mumbles, but he knows he’s fucked. He’ll have to share a meal with David unless he wants to make things worse than they already are.

“C’mon, it’s Sunday, sit at the table like a human being,” Joyce chides, and he sighs and obeys.

As soon as he sits, Joyce brings over a plate for him, and he raises his eyebrow. “Not waiting for David?”

“I wanna talk to you, so, yes,” Joyce confirms, putting her hands on her hips. “It’s Halloween.”

“Sure is.”

“Teenagers get in all kinds of shit on Halloween.”

“Sure do.”

“Caleb—”

“Say what you mean, Mom,” Caleb says with a roll of his eyes. “Come on.”

“Just wanted to ask what your plans were tonight. I don’t want a police officer bringing you home,” Joyce says at last.

“I’m, uh...going to a party with Rachel.”

“...there gonna be booze there, Caleb? ‘Cuz I don’t need Rachel calling me again, either.”

“No, uh, I mean, there might be, but I’m not gonna drink,” Caleb says, wincing as he says it. It’s a tempting idea, but also, he has his own car now, and he’d kind of like to see if he and Rachel can ditch by the time the party gets boring. “Gonna be home by like, midnight? I hope?”

“You hope.” Joyce purses her lips. “Well, David’s gonna be on campus tonight to look out for TP-ers and such. He catches you, it’s your ass.”

“Mom, please. You wound me. I’m not that lame.”

Joyce laughs to herself. “So the ‘cool’ thing to do nowadays is hide away in somebody’s house?”

“Hey, you guys are the ones who passed all the laws that basically make it illegal to be outside,” Caleb says, finally taking a bite of his food. “Seriously, though, I’m gonna be here in the morning, promise.”

“It’s just...after last year…”

“Well, I’ve got my own ride now,” Caleb says with a shrug. “Just keep David off my ass.”

“For a while, you two were getting along,” Joyce sighs, heading back to the kitchen and serving herself a plate. “What happened, huh?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe that time I came home from a car accident and he got ready to kick the shit out of me?” Caleb hisses, clutching his fork hard. “And then, how he keeps fucking searching my room?”

“Cal—”

“God, fuck this,” Caleb says, shoving back from the table. “Look, I’m heading out, I’ll be back whenever.”

“You didn’t finish your—”

“Don’t care!” Caleb calls over his shoulder as he heads out the door. Man. They’re so close to some kind of understanding, but Joyce has to keep bringing David into it. Whatever. He’s got somewhere to be.

He drives the truck up to Blackwell, heading for the girls’ dorms once he’s parked. But on the way there, someone calls his name at the edge of the quad. He squints into the woods, and spies a telltale trail of smoke, and the bundled-up bodies of Trevor and Justin only half-hidden by trees.

He smiles and chuckles to himself. Rachel might not even be up yet, anyway, and he’s planning to be on campus for a while. As he heads over, he’s greeted with a cheer and an extended pipe, which he takes as he sits across from the two of them and gives them fist-pounds.

“You’re coming to the party tonight, right?” Justin asks after Caleb’s taken his first hit.

“Yep,” Caleb confirms, blowing out smoke and passing the piece back to Justin. “You’re hosting?”

“Only guy in town whose parents are not in town,” Justin explains. “Some like, romantic getaway?”

“Ew,” Caleb and Trevor both say at once, and Justin laughs.

“Hey, they seemed excited. Guess they think that since I’m sixteen now I’m officially cool to be at home alone for a long stretch,” Justin says with a grin. “Plus, the VC’s paying for all the refreshments — and restocking me. Apparently Rachel vouched.”

“Of course she did,” Caleb says, smiling slightly. “I was actually coming by to see her, but I dunno if she’s up yet.”

“Oh, what a shock, Caleb coming to see Rachel,” Trevor goads, shouldering Justin even as he attempts to take his hit.. “You two gonna hang and pre-game or just like, hide away somewhere like you always do?”

“Oh, stop,” Caleb groans. “I hang out sometimes.”

“Sometimes,” Trevor says with a smirk. “But seriously, me and Justin were gonna go down to his place around lunch and get the place ready, then maybe smoke some, play games. You wanna come?”

“Rachel and I gotta get ready,” Caleb admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “She’s going all-out on the costumes.”

“Fuckin’ theater nerd,” Justin says, blowing out smoke as he hands the pipe to Trevor. “And she’s bringing you along for the ride too, huh? Man, I wouldn’t have expected this last year, honestly. Glad you’re comin’, though.”

“What’re you guys going as?” Caleb asks, and then cringes, because he realizes he’s just invited them to ask about his and Rachel’s in return.

“We’re being smart,” Justin says, to Trevor’s sage nod. “Stan and Kyle, from South Park. Easy to get stuff that matches, and I needed new winter gear.”

Caleb laughs. “Lazy-asses.”

“Oh, shut up,” Justin groans. “You’ve always been the extra one with the costumes, ‘till Max moved away. Makes sense you’re doin’ it again with Rachel.”

“Who’s Max?” Trevor asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Old friend,” Caleb explains, taking the pipe as Trevor passes it his way. “Before your time.”

“She was Caleb’s first not-my-girlfriend-no-really,” Justin says, kicking at Caleb’s boot so that he loses his concentration and coughs on smoke, earning him a glare.

“Oh, so this is a tradition of his,” Trevor notes, nodding to himself. “Okay. I see how this goes.”

“You don’t see shit, Tre,” Caleb warns him.

“You are so weird,” Trevor says, shaking his head, but there’s affection in his voice. “Anyway. Well, see if you guys can come by at least a little early? Your last Tekken showing was pathetic. You need practice.”

“Not my fault I’m stuck with an ancient-ass PS2!” Caleb objects.

“Sure it is! Get yourself a modern fuckin’ console!” Trevor complains.

“He was always better at Soulcalibur anyway,” Justin notes. “Shit, we should pick up the new one! Then he might actually have a chance.”

“Only if you let me at the controller binds first,” Caleb says, smiling at the prospect. It has been a while since they all just hung out casually. He won’t say it, but he’s definitely been pretty immersed in Rachel since the start of the year.

“Deal,” Justin says, and as he takes his hit, Caleb’s phone buzzes in his pocket.

Rachel: ramoooooonnnaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Rachel: u up yet? we should get you dressed so if anything doesn’t fit we can run out and get replacements

“Rachel,” both Trevor and Justin agree as Caleb reads the message, and while he sort of wants to get annoyed at them, they’re right.

“Yeah,” Caleb says with a nod, typing back already on campus open the door for me before standing up and stretching. “I’ll let you guys know when I’m ready, ‘kay?”

“Later, man. I’m kicking your ass, though,” Trevor says with a wave as he heads away, laughing to himself.

He reaches the door to the girls’ dorms around the same time that Rachel does. She looks good through the glass, even though she’s obviously fresh out of the shower and in her pajamas, a tank top and sweats, probably not wanting to bother getting dressed until they’re in costume. She squeezes him against her as soon as he’s inside, and she’s...very soft.

“Hey,” he says, running a hand through her hair. It’s lighter. She must’ve bleached it already.

“Hey.” She looks up at him and smiles. “Ready for your transformation?”

“God, you make it sound so dramatic,” he complains, separating from her as they head up the stairs — at least she lives another floor down now that she’s a sophomore.

“Oh, it’s gonna be dramatic,” Rachel promises, a skip in her step. “I’m hyped. We’ll look awesome.”

“If you say so.”

He lets her lead him further through the halls, feeling a bit uncomfortable knowing that he’s gonna walk back out of here dressed as a girl for the first time in his life. He’s shaking, a little, at the thought of seeing other people while he’s in a skirt. But...well, like Rachel said. Halloween, and he can always just blame her, anyway. People will believe him on that. Rachel is weird. Everyone knows that by now.

Once they’re in Rachel’s room, she sets to work immediately. The first thing she does is sit him down in her chair and pin up his hair, arranging it so that two strands hang down in the front. “Okay, now we get your clothes off,” she says with a wink, pulling him back to his feet.

“Um…” He hesitates, scratching at his newly-exposed ear. “You mind stepping out for a second?”

“Sure. Take as long as you want,” Rachel says softly, putting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing. “Outfit’s all on the bed.”

He nods and lets her go, turning to the bed and taking a deep breath. Right. Just...wearing women’s clothes. Like he wants to. In theory. Someday.

Fuck.

He closes his eyes and steadies himself. This is...an experiment. To see how much he really wants this, to see if this is really who he is, after all these years of wondering. So he has to man up — wait, shit. Toughen up and try it, dammit. He takes his shirt off.

Putting the bra over his flat chest feels strange, and alien, and kind of nice. Getting it to hook is a bit of a pain in the ass, but he doesn’t actually want Rachel to help with that, not right now. It looks like Rachel went for B-cups. There’s a set of socks on the bed next to the black pantyhose that he assumes are for that purpose. He grimaces, but he puts them in, doesn’t look at them. He tries to get the stockings on, and realizes they’re gonna be a pain to fit over his boxers, so, with no small amount of trepidation, he takes them off. God, he’s sweating now.

But it all fits, and soon he’s got the long-sleeved blue/white/pink-striped shirt on under the short-sleeved military-green minidress, fastened around the waist with a leather belt. All that’s left are the boots and gloves, and those are easy. He turns, finally, and looks at himself in the mirror sitting on top of Rachel’s dresser, and…

Well, he does. Look like a girl. A tall, skinny, kinda broadchested one, and his face is a little more angular than he’d like, his jaw a little too strong, but...the outfit gives him enough shape to hide his body, and with a quick adjustment, his boobs aren’t crooked anymore and they look good enough for standing still.

He breathes out. Okay.

Fuck.

Okay.

He finds his phone in his jeans pocket on the floor and texts Rachel, and she comes back in a second later. Her eyes go wide when she sees him, and she tackles him into a hug, hard enough to make him waver and fall onto the edge of the bed.

“You look amazing, Chloe,” she whispers in his ear, and he realizes that she’s on his lap, but he doesn’t want her to leave. Oh, God. He’s so screwed. Rachel giggles, pulling back and squeezing one of his boobs, letting out a goofy “Honk,” as she does it.

“Perv,” he says, shoving her off, even though he’s fighting to keep from laughing. Or crying. One of them. She lands well, this time, managing to keep her feet under her as she smiles at him.

“Seriously, you look awesome. God. I’m so excited,” Rachel says, bouncing on her heels. “But lemme do your makeup. Then I’ll get dressed up.”

“If we’re done before the party starts, Justin and Tre are pre-gaming today,” Caleb tells her as he sits in her chair and she brings out a...a lot of stuff. He decides not to ask exactly what she’s doing, just closing his eyes and letting her mark up his face. “So we can go chill there while we wait.”

“Mm, good idea,” Rachel murmurs, tracing something along his eye. “God, you’re gonna look so sexy.”

“Rachel…”

“What? I’ve got eyes.”

Caleb shivers as she keeps making him over, holding stock-still. She seems concentrated, and he doesn’t want to break it, and he’s just — everything in him is sparking. He feels like a faulty mechanism, jittering out of control, and he lets Rachel’s intensity ground him, root him to the floor, to the chair. “Pucker up,” Rachel says softly after a while, and the lipstick feels the weirdest for sure. “Okay, open your eyes,” Rachel offers. “Check yourself out.”

He obeys. And Rachel is a miracle worker. She’s kept it subtle, like he suggested, but the eyeliner actually does accentuate the blue of his eyes, and the red of his lips makes them look bigger and more feminine, and somehow his face just looks softer and bolder at the same time and he needs to not cry so he doesn’t immediately ruin her work, so he has to look away, at the floor. His breath is haggard as he says, “Looks good.”

“Yeah. It does.” Rachel’s voice is so soft as she turns his body to face her. “You okay?”

“It’s just...It’s just a lot.”

“...you know, I can drive a stick-shift.”

“What?!” Caleb asks, mood suddenly broken as he looks at her. “Since when?”

“Since summer. Got lessons.” Rachel smirks at him.

“And what does this have to do with—”

“Smoke a bowl, get your nerves a little under control while I get ready, okay? I’ll drive us to Justin’s.”

“I...shit. Thanks.” Caleb sighs, letting some of the tension ease out of his body. He’s been in here enough time to know where she keeps her stuff, and digs it out of the nightstand while Rachel starts getting dressed. It’s weird how she just...can do that, with him in the room, like he actually is just another girl she’s friends with, or something. He looks away, focuses on the task at hand. She keeps her indica in a separate bag, like a dork, so he takes that and smokes while she plays music from the laptop, silently preparing herself. He lays back on Rachel’s bed, staring up into her ceiling, but it’s too light for her stars to glow.

“So why didn’t you tell me you had a license for like, four months?” Caleb asks after he takes his first hit and settles into her covers.

“Hey, it’s your truck. Still no car for me. Plus, I like having you drive me around,” Rachel says, tossing a glance over her shoulder and smiling at him. “But I’ll make an exception. This like...matters to me, okay, Chloe?”

He closes his eyes, shifts his legs, feeling strange and confined but warm in the pantyhose. “Thanks,” he says, his voice weak.

“Anytime.” Rachel turns back to her task, and Caleb...focuses on not crying. Maybe smoking will help. This all still feels like a lot.

Eventually, Rachel announces, “Done!” and swivels around in her chair. Her face falls as soon as she sees him, and she gets up, looking kind of amazing with her hair up like that and her makeup done, that leather jacket giving her a look that she usually strays away from. She comes over to the bed and lies down beside Caleb, putting a hand on his chest. “You okay?” she asks quietly.

“Can we wait a little, before we head out?” he asks. “I dunno if I’m...if I’m ready for people to see me like this. Except you.”

“Yeah. Of course. Whatever you need.” She wraps her arm around him and squeezes. “You look beautiful, Chloe.”

Caleb’s breath catches in his throat. “Don’t — don’t say stuff like that.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

“I mean it, I’m gonna cry and fuck up all the makeup.”

Rachel laughs a little. “Okay. I get it. Um…” Rachel sits up, scratching at the side of her head. “Your backpack in your truck?”

Shit. It is. Caleb didn’t actually do any homework this weekend, because why the fuck would he, and he just left the pack in the passenger’s side. “Yeah.”

“We can chill and do homework for a while, then go to Justin’s for lunch?” Rachel suggests. “Gimme your keys, and I’ll get your bag.”

“They’re in my pants.”

“Got it.” Rachel gets up and roots around on the floor. “Maybe we shoulda started later, but—”

“No, I think it might be good,” Caleb says, sitting up against the headboard and trying to get himself under control. “Gives me like, some time to get used to...this.”

“Yeah?” Rachel smiles at him softly as she pulls out his keys. “Good.” She heads over to her door, stopping before she turns the knob and looking back at him. “Love you,” she says, before opening the door and heading out. And Caleb, alone with his thoughts and Rachel’s words and Rachel’s work, can only come to one conclusion.

He loves her, too.

“All right, coast is clear, mostly,” Rachel informs him as she comes back into the dorm from her scouting mission. “Plus, if we do run into anyone, they’re nerds. Everyone’s getting ready now, so we can sneak right out of here.”

Caleb nods, slinging his backpack over his shoulders, then picking up the prop hammer. One that’s over his back, he looks more like a goofy kid just having some Halloween fun in the mirror, not just — a crossdressing guy who does actually look a lot like a girl. Or whatever. He sighs at himself, turning away and facing Rachel. “Okay, let’s roll.”

The two of them make their way through the dorms pretty uneventfully, but just as they reach the parking lot and Caleb thinks he might be totally home free, someone calls out, “Rachel!”

Caleb freezes for a moment, but he doesn’t recognize the voice. He turns around and sees a skinny girl with a long blonde wig, wearing elf ears and a green tunic as she rushes over to them. A foam sword swings at her hip as she approaches. “So that’s where my hammer went!” she declares, throwing her arms out. “Dude, Rachel, who’s your friend? And why didn’t you tell me you were doing fucking Scott Pilgrim cosplay?”

Rachel laughs brightly. “Oh, yeah, hey, Steph! Caleb, this is Steph, I bribed her to make your hammer.”

“Please, it was hardly a bribe, you just did manual labor for once in your life,” Steph scoffs, though she looks Caleb up and down again. “That’s killer crossplay, dude. I thought you were just some tall hot girl I somehow didn’t spot around campus before.”

Caleb relaxes a little, laughing at himself. “You’re doing a bit of, what was it you said, crossplay yourself, miss Hero of Time?”

“Shit, yeah, I am,” Steph says, grinning. “Pound it, man.”

Caleb gives her the fist-bump she wants, which seems to please her just fine. “Well, hey, just had to see it for myself. I put some work into that thing, don’t bust it,” Steph warns, putting a hand on her hip. “You guys going anywhere?”

“Justin’s place, for the VC party,” Rachel explains. “Going early for pre-game.”

“Nice. I’m doing a special Halloween LARP thing today, so I gotta jet. Need to make sure Brooke is actually gonna get herself a costume or she’s wasting everyone’s time,” Steph laments. “Good to see you, Rach — and nice to meet you, Caleb. You ever wanna do a DnD game, you just let me know.”

“Do I look like that much of a nerd?” Caleb asks, trying to sound offended even though Steph might’ve just completely pegged him as the type of nerd who maybe wanted to do tabletop.

“You’re dressed as Ramona Flowers right now, man. Bring Rachel, she’ll give you acting lessons,” Steph adds with a wink. “I’ll get outta your hair.”

Rachel catches Steph in a hug before she goes. “Thanks for the hammer, Steph, seriously,” she says as she pulls back. “Good luck on your...LARP.”

“We need to talk about that tone you just used later, or I’m putting a trapdoor underneath you when you least expect it,” Steph warns. “Later, guys.”

The two of them wave as she heads off for what they assume is her car, and Caleb relaxes a little. “She seems cool,” Caleb says, rubbing the back of his neck. “How come I’ve never heard of her before?”

“She’s a senior,” Rachel says with a shrug, tugging him along towards his car. “And she’s super insular...most of the time. Guess she saw something she liked in you.”

“Insular, huh?” Caleb asks with a smirk. “So that’s why I haven’t heard of her even though she’s your stage manager?”

“Look, I dunno, didn’t seem relevant, we don’t talk that much,” Rachel says quickly. “And I’m driving, remember?”

“Oh, yeah,” Caleb laughs, heading over to the opposite side of the car and waiting for Rachel to unlock his door. She has to scoot across the seats to reach it.

“Anyway, see?” Rachel asks as she adjusts the seat and the mirrors. “People won’t like, immediately beat you up just ‘cuz you’re dressed like a girl.”

“That was one person,” Caleb points out. “And...you know. It’s not serious. I can get away with it today, but…” He leans back, staring at the ceiling of the truck. “What happens when it’s real?”

“When?” Rachel asks, looking over at him with a soft smile.

“Quit picking on every word I say, Rach,” Caleb sighs. “Just...I dunno.”

“We can still ditch,” Rachel says, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. “Hit the junkyard instead.”

“I — no, you put a lot of work into this,” Caleb says, waving her off. “I’ll survive.”

“All right. Just let me know if you wanna bail.” Rachel starts up the car, but she turns the stereo down low as she puts it in gear and leaves the lot. “I kinda wanna spend some time with you after, if that’s okay? Just…” She pauses. “I wanna make sure you’re okay.”

“Yeah. Sounds nice,” Caleb murmurs, staring out the window, nervously twirling the hammer around in his lap. The rest of the drive passes by mostly in silence, aside from White Crosses playing from the stereo, where it has lived essentially since Caleb got his copy. He barely switches it out, usually only for a new Rachel CD — but they usually actually take the time to listen to stuff together via their headphone splitter. The truck is, after all, supposed to be Caleb’s. Rachel looks kind of funny driving it, honestly.

They park in front of Justin’s place, a few spots down so that they won’t have to ask anyone else to move their shit whenever they wanna leave. Luckily, the only car that Caleb sees as they head up to the front door is Justin’s, in the driveway, so they’ve got time before anyone shows up. Good thing that Rachel’s got refreshers for their makeup in her purse.

They knock on the door, but get no answer. Rachel shrugs and lets herself in, the door unlocked, and from the basement Caleb hears the sound of battle. He smirks to himself. “C’mon, they’re downstairs,” he tells Rachel, showing her the way, and as they come down they hear Justin swearing.

“Motherfucking ringouts,” he says, before looking over at Caleb and Rachel and going, “Holy shit!”

“Ringouts are fair and square, Jus— Yo!” Trevor exclaims.

Caleb flushes and looks down at his boots, then remembers he’s supposed to be selling this and looks back up, hoisting the hammer across his shoulders. “‘Sup, guys?” he asks with a grin.

“You were not fucking kidding when you said Rachel was going all-out,” Justin says with a laugh. “That is a fucking bold move, Caleb, when everyone thinks you’re gay already.”

“Do they?” Caleb asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Victoria,” Trevor says simply, and Rachel laughs.

“Okay, if she’s spreading that rumor around officially now, I gotta tell everyone how she got that idea,” Rachel declares. “You know why she thinks that?”

“Oh, do tell. And Caleb, sit your ass down and school this fool, all he does is juggle me off the edge,” Justin says, passing the controller to Caleb and scooting over to make room for the two of them on the couch.

“Well, yeah, he’s playing Sophitia, that’s his job,” Caleb notes. “This is the newest Soulcalibur, right? Did you guys just pick this up today?”

“Yes, we did,” Justin says, slapping him on the back. “Because we love your weird ass. Okay, Rachel, storytime?”

“The whole reason, the entire reason, Vic thinks that C’s gay is because he said no to her bootycall once,” Rachel says, and the guys collapse into laughter as the character-select screen comes up.

“Sounds like Victoria,” Trevor says with a chuckle. “Don’t stick your dick in crazy, right? Good on you, Caleb, for real.”

“I dunno, I’d hit it if she offered,” Justin says with a shrug. “What?” he asks, as the rest of the group give him dirty looks. “Hey, chicks aren’t exactly knocking down my door — unlike Caleb, apparently.”

“He’s hot,” Rachel says simply, patting Caleb’s thigh.

“I’ll take your word for it, but you did get him in a dress,” Justin says with a smirk at her. “You look good, though, man, seriously. Now kill Trevor dead.”

“Only one way to counter Sophitia,” Caleb declares, making his selection. “You choose her sister and rush her the fuck down.”

“Do these girls ever wear real clothes?” Rachel laments, looking at the screen. “She has no pants!”

“It’s fighting games,” Caleb says with a shrug. “We’ll tag you in after this game and you can play a pretty-boy. That’s equality.”

“Kilik,” Trevor says simply. “Walking shirtless scene.”

“Okay, okay, you’re reeling me in,” Rachel says, settling down and watching raptly as Caleb starts the fight. The moveset’s nearly the same as the third game, so Caleb’s mostly in his element, though he does pause between rounds and add the trigger bindings he likes so as to more efficiently wreck Trevor’s day.

The time before the party goes...really well, actually. Not much more is said about Caleb’s costume, though occasionally Caleb spots Trevor and Justin raising their eyebrows at each other as Caleb picks yet another female character to play as, but, hey, screw ‘em, they’re high-tier. They do convince Rachel to join in for a few rounds, and she ends up discovering that Yoda is the way she can win, because he’s so fucking small that you can’t hit him, so she can run circles around even Caleb since he doesn’t have this game and doesn’t know his counters.

They break for lunch sometime around three, and Justin and Trevor declare they’re making the trip out to McDonald’s for the order. Once they’re out of the house, Rachel hugs Caleb tight.

“What’s this for?” he asks, smiling down at her.

“You look really happy,” Rachel says, smiling into his shoulder. “It’s nice.”

“I do?”

“Yeah. You’re like, glowing.” Rachel pulls back, keeping her hands on his, squeezing tight. “It’s...Chloe, I…”

The name feels good, like it always does, and Caleb squeezes her hands back. “Thanks. For...putting me up to this. I am happy, and I’m kinda...shocked they’re taking it so well?” Caleb rubs the back of his neck. “Maybe since Justin’s the host and I’m his friend, I’ll be okay when people show up.”

“That’s the spirit. And you’re not gonna drink tonight, right?” Rachel asks.

Caleb nods. “I was kinda thinking I’d just hang down here and kick people’s asses on Soulcalibur. Maybe watch people play beer pong,” he notes, jerking his head over to the ping-pong table that Justin set up on the far side of the basement.

“Hell yeah. I’m gonna drink and dance upstairs, but I’ll keep coming down to check on you, okay?”

“Okay.” This time, it’s Caleb who pulls her into a hug, and he has the strongest urge to kiss the top of her head, but he stops himself. Can’t fuck up the lipstick, after all.

“All right, all right, pretty girl,” Rachel says, pulling back and putting some of her hairdo back in place. “Now let’s see if you can beat my Yoda before they come back.”

“You know playing him is cheating.”

“He’s in the game, it’s fair and square!”

Caleb laughs, and tries to beat her again, and things are fine. Good, even. Nothing’s exploded yet, and maybe, just this once, nothing will.

Things go according to plan, and nothing explodes.

Caleb stays in the basement when people start trickling into the party, which gives him a chance to shock everyone who comes down. Victoria’s one of the first, appearing in a classy black dress with plastic fangs and a trickle of blood from her mouth, and he greets her with a “Hey, Vicky!” As soon as her eyes snap to him, they go wide in her head, and she just runs back upstairs and knocks into Dana and Juliet on the way, so Caleb just laughs to himself. Rachel was totally right. She’s still got a crush. It’d be cute, if it wasn’t Victoria.

People hop in and out of gaming throughout the night, either when they’re too wasted for beer pong or when they’re tired of dancing, and Caleb keeps up a nasty win streak thanks to his sobriety. Every once in a while, Rachel comes back down to smoke with the people who are just hanging out and watching the quasi-tournament, leaning against his side and stroking up and down his leg, or his arm, and he doesn’t mind it at all, actually. It’s really nice. He feels like her, for most of the night, except for whenever he has to go to the bathroom and confront the fact that he’s not.

But the biggest assholes of the VC, they never even come down to the basement, and that sighting of Victoria is Caleb’s last. Justin brings down candy and pizza from upstairs once the trick-or-treaters are gone, and they stay with him for the most part, bantering over character tiers and how it’s totally unfair that Caleb’s running a game on everyone, so begrudgingly he eventually switches to Tekken to give the other guys a chance. But he’s still sober, so at least he does better than usual, and the time goes by like nothing.

He checks his phone after he wins a match and almost feels sad that it’s 11:30. Ah, well. Better not to push his luck tonight. He bids Justin and Trevor farewell and heads upstairs, looking for Rachel, and, fuck, it’s loud up here, huh? Down in the basement all night, he hadn’t realized just how many people actually came to this place, and he feels their stares as he pushes through the dance floor with his unwieldy hammer on his shoulder, checking for Rachel’s platinum blonde.

He finally finds her in the kitchen, with Nathan (who’s not in a costume because he sucks) and Victoria, the three of them clinking their shot glasses together as he enters. Victoria spots him first and chugs her drink before grabbing Nathan’s wrist. “C’mon, let’s smoke,” she says hurriedly, pulling Nathan past Caleb. Nathan gives Caleb a dirty look, but that’s all, and then they’re gone and Rachel’s grinning at him.

“Dude, Victoria is a mess tonight,” she says with a wide smile. “But I’m guessin’ it’s time to go?”

“Yeah, it’s 11:30.”

“All right,” Rachel says simply, setting her glass down and taking his hand. “Let’s go out the back, faster and less people in the way.”

He smiles at how...easily she’s accepting the deadline, and follows her dutifully out to the backyard and out through the gate. She keeps holding his hand all the way to the truck, only separating when they have to to get into their separate seats. As they close the doors and shut out the world, Caleb asks, “So, back to your place?”

Rachel sighs. “I...yeah, I guess.”

“You all right, Rachel?”

“Yeah, it’s just…” Rachel purses her lips. “You know. Wish you didn’t have to go home tonight, but I know you don’t wanna piss David off.”

“Not any more than I usually do, anyway,” Caleb confirms, starting up the truck and getting them out onto the streets.

Caleb turns up the music and sings along, and Rachel joins him, pounding drunkenly on the dash and yelling, “I wanna smash them all!” as loud as she can, and it’s just...it’s so fucking cute. Caleb’s so glad she’s with him, so happy his chest aches.

They pull into the Blackwell lot and he shuts off the truck, remembering that Rachel wanted to check in on him at the end of the night. She unbuckles her seatbelt and slides over to him, laying her head on his shoulder, and he wraps an arm around her.

“You gonna be okay tonight, Chlo?” she mumbles softly.

“I think so.”

“Yeah? Really?”

“Really.” He swallows. “It really...you had it. No one cared, because it’s Halloween, and I dunno if that would like, apply if I transitioned for real, but...it was nice to pretend. For a night. You know?”

“You’re not pretending now,” Rachel says, drawing back and trying to find his eyes in the dark. “You’re pretending the rest of the time.”

“I don’t—”

A flashlight beam pierces the windows, and Caleb’s blood runs cold.

“Caleb?!” David shouts.

The first thing that Caleb does is lock his door. Rachel springs into action too, getting off of him and scooting over to her door to lock it while Caleb turns the key in the ignition. He looks out the window in a panic and sees the wobble of the flashlight as it approaches him, stepping into the parking lot proper, and he doesn’t have much time before David blocks his way out so he throws the car into reverse and guns it. He shakes as he shifts, trying to make sure he doesn’t fucking stall the thing or he’s fucked, but he somehow manages to get it in gear and speed off out of the lot, just driving as fast as he can until David’s flashlight disappears from his rearview.

He slams to a stop at the intersection leading into town, panting, and looks over at Rachel. And she just starts laughing.

“Nice fucking save!” she yells, punching the air. “Fuck! Where now?”

Caleb wipes the sweat off his forehead. “Um, fuck, junkyard?”

“Let’s do it. Turn up the tunes again.”

He’s screwed. He knows that as he drives, knows that David knows he went out tonight and knows that he can’t return home without getting Rachel to her dorm somehow, and he’s fucked, he can’t think of a way to make this work. He doesn’t want to wake up there in the morning, or have David barge in on him again whenever he gets off and hurt him again, and he doesn’t know what to do, so he goes to the junkyard with the music screaming in his ears, nearly clipping because it’s so loud and the speaker system really isn’t that great.

But Rachel’s singing along, and grinning like a demon, and she’s acting like this is fun, so maybe it is. The drive takes long enough for Caleb’s heart to stop racing quite so much, and Rachel’s still here, so it’s okay. It’s okay, for now.

They park at American Rust, and as Caleb shuts off the car, he takes a deep breath. Rachel scoots over to him again and leans against his shoulder. “Stargazing tonight?” she asks softly.

“Don’t know what else to do,” Caleb admits. “It’s gonna be cold as shit, though.”

“That’s what all the sleeping bags and shit are for. C’mon.” Rachel kisses his cheek and gets out on her side before Caleb really registers it, and, well, fuck it. They’re here, now. Might as well stargaze, if that’s what they’re gonna do.

They don’t have all their stuff. There’s not much of any use in Caleb’s backpack, and they don’t even have their headphone splitter, so once they’ve taken out the supplies from the hideout trunk and established their nest in the truckbed, he’s not sure what they should do. Rachel hops up into it first, tugging her shoes off and tucking her feet under the sleeping bag that’s acting as a blanket. “C’mon,” she says, curling one finger at him, and he breaks out of his stupor and joins her there, laying down beside her and staring at the sky.

He doesn’t have much time to think before Rachel’s putting a hand on the center of his chest, rising up slightly to look down at him. She’s got that drunken smile on. “Hey,” is all she says.

“Hey yourself.”

“You were awesome tonight.” Rachel rubs her hand back and forth across his collarbone. “My badass punk protector girl.”

“I’m not a badass—”

“You are. Did you see that shit you just pulled to get away from David?” Rachel leans in closer. “You are so fucking amazing, Chloe Price.”

She kisses him.

He kisses her back.

He can’t help it. He doesn’t want to stop, this time, not when she knows everything and is still doing this. She tastes like beer and weed but she feels so warm against him, as she wraps an arm around him so they can both lay sideways. He gasps as she breaks off and goes for his neck instead, leaving bright red marks each time, and—

God, he doesn’t want this.

He does, but he doesn’t. His body’s betraying him. He feels sick, and he has to pull away, but this time he doesn’t just shove her off. He grabs her wrist as it starts to head down, instead, and she pauses and looks at him, breathing hard. “Chloe,” she whispers, and she snakes her wrist out of his grasp only to take his face in both her hands and kiss him again. Fuck, it feels so good, he just wants her to stay up there, and she...she does. The urgency in her touch dulls, and she eventually lays her head down on his chest, reaching up to squeeze one of the fake boobs on his chest with a silly grin on her face.

Caleb’s head is spinning. He wants this. He wants her to be his girlfriend, but, but, but. “Rachel,” he says quietly, sitting up against the back window and bringing her with him. “Do you think…”

“Hm?” Rachel hums as he trails off, not sure how to ask this. There’s a lot here to process, and it’s making his brain slow.

“If I transition,” Caleb begins, and she pokes him in the chest.

“When.”

“W-when. Do you think you’ll still...are you just…”

She hugs him tight. “Chloe—”

“Am I still a guy to you?”

“No.”

“Then why…” Caleb gulps. “Why did you kiss me?”

“Because I love you.”

“But you don’t...are you gay or bi or...something?”

Rachel pulls back, suddenly, laying down on her side of the truck and turning her back to him. Fuck.

“So, no,” Caleb says, and a lump forms in his throat.

“Why’s it have to have a label?” Rachel mumbles.

Caleb tries to talk, but it comes out as a sob, first, and he wipes his face before trying again. “Because I can’t do this if you don’t like real girls.”

Rachel turns over. “Chloe—”

“If I’m just some, some fucking fetish, I, I can’t—”

“You’re not!” Rachel says, her eyes wide and shining in the dark now. “No, I — that’s not —”

“But how do I know?” Caleb pleads, and Rachel sits up on her knees.

“Because — I — you’re not, can’t you just trust me? I don’t—”

“No,” Caleb interrupts. “I can’t. Not with this.”

Rachel starts to cry.

She puts her face in her hands and sniffles, little whimpering sounds slipping through her fingers, and Caleb feels like a complete asshole. He closes his eyes and tries not to join her, clenching his fists at his sides until he hears, “I’m sorry.”

“What...what do you mean?” he asks, opening his eyes and looking at her as she wipes at her nose.

“I’m sorry about...about everything I did last year, before I knew, that, that you think, I…” She chokes, covering her mouth. “I...can I hug you, at least, I…”

Caleb leans forward and takes her in his arms, lying back against the window with her sniffling on his chest. “I’m sorry, too,” he chokes out, pains shooting through his chest. “I — I’m sorry I’m so fucking, insecure, and complicated, and disgusting.”

“You’re not,” Rachel moans, “You’re not, you’re not, it’s my fault.”

“But I am, I’m sorry I ever…” He gulps. “I’m sorry I, I drew you into this whole thing, with me, I should’ve just—”

“No,” Rachel says, bunching up a handful of his dress. “Chloe, I...I don’t know how to explain it. I don’t really know what’s going on with me, okay? I don’t have a, a label for you, and I’m sorry, but I do love you. I know that. Tonight, you were…” She takes in a deep breath. “You were hotter than I’ve ever seen you. Okay? And you look like a girl. So…”

“But how do you know that you’ll be okay with this...all the time?” Caleb asks.

“I, I don’t. I want to be. I hope I’ll be. But I don’t really know. I...I don’t know if I like girls. But I like you, and you’re a girl.”

“But I’m not.”

“I know you don’t think you are. I...I can see you either way, and I still love you. That’s...how it’s been, ever since you told me.” Rachel swallows. “If...if I give you an answer...will you believe me?”

“I don’t know,” Caleb replies. He wants to believe her now. But he just can’t bring himself all the way there.

“Well…” Rachel huffs out a sigh against his chest, and he finds himself stroking her shoulder unconsciously. “I’ll try and find an answer, then. I don’t know what I am. I don’t think I ever do. But...for you…”

“Rachel—”

“I’ll try. That’s all I can say. Okay?”

Caleb relaxes a little and runs a hand up and down her shoulder. “Okay.”

“I won’t...kiss you again. Until I’m sure. And you’re sure.”

“Okay.”

“I love you.”

He takes in a deep breath. “I love you too.”

Rachel hugs him tight, laughing a little. “You’re such a lesbo.”

“What?”

“Big fat lesbian. That’s who Chloe Price is.”

Caleb chuckles, that idea...feeling good. Feeling right. And if he’s a girl, that is what he’d be, isn’t it? He’s definitely never found the interest in guys that was supposed to mark him as a proper trans woman. But…”Maybe it is,” he says softly, and she sighs, patting his chest.

“You were wrong, you know,” Rachel says softly. “There’s more than two queer people in this town.”

“Oh yeah?”

“There’s at least three. Maybe four.”

“Who’s the third?”

“Steph. She’s gay. Found out because Vic called her a dyke and she just laughed about it.”

He thinks back to their brief meeting this morning, and it seems so long ago. “Yeah. That makes sense,” he says with a smile. “And so the maybe-fourth is you?”

“Mhm.”

“Okay.” He squeezes her against him once more, then lies down further, back onto the pillows, back to looking at the stars. Rachel doesn’t say anything after that, and eventually she passes into sleep, drooling a little on his shoulder.

Caleb stares up at the night sky, and hopes.

Chapter Text

“Hey. Rachel.”

Rachel groans into Chloe’s chest, even as she hears an alarm going off. No. School is stupid. Chloe is warm and cute.

“C’mon, Rach, we gotta get back to campus,” Chloe insists, the arm around her shoulder shaking her.

“Why?” Rachel mumbles.

“Because I’m crossdressed right now and I need to get my shit back from your room before school starts?”

Yeah, that makes sense. Rachel opens her eyes, and it’s still dark out, which is also stupid. “Whatimezit?” she mumbles, shifting against Chloe’s body.

“Five. Figure the extra security should be gone by now and we can sneak back onto campus.”

“Mmmf.” Rachel pulls away and tries to sit up, rubbing at her eyes. “Good thing I got coffee in my room.”

“Aren’t coffeemakers not allowed in the dorms? Fire hazard or something?” Chloe asks with a tired smile as they separate in the truckbed.

Rachel snorts. “Like anyone actually enforces shit. Besides, I just use the already-illegal kettle.” She yawns. “Mmkay, mmkay. Let’s pack up. I guess.” She sighs, leaning forward and trying to get her hair out of her face with her hands. “Too bad. It was a good night.”

“It was?” Chloe asks, sliding down the truckbed and finding her boots resting on the step up to the bumper, tugging them on.

“Yeah.” Rachel smiles, trying to make out Chloe in the dark. The half-moon is barely shining through the clouds, and the air feels wet. She wonders if Chloe still looks nice, or if her makeup’s run too much. And then she remembers exactly how the night ended, and her stomach drops a little.

“Even the last part?” Chloe asks.

“...yeah. I think even that,” Rachel answers, though she feels colder all of a sudden. “I did get to make out with you at least a little.”

Chloe chuckles to herself. “I...I’m sorry I’m…”

“No, it’s, it’s okay,” Rachel says, crawling forward on her knees so she can put her hands on Chloe’s shoulders. “I get it. Really. I…” She sighs. “I wanna figure it out, too.”

“I thought you didn’t want it to have a label,” Chloe replies, tightening her bootlaces.

“It’s...it’s hard to explain. It’s like, I wanna know, but actually knowing is...scary,” Rachel attempts to explain. “It’s like...before you told me to, I didn’t wanna look into it. It’s a lot.”

Chloe chuckles. “Sounds familiar.” She hops off the truck and turns around. “Just think on it for a while, okay? I…can’t really help,” she admits, rubbing the back of her neck. “Always knew I liked girls.”

Rachel sighs. “Yeah. God, this is like, hard.”

“Hey, come on, pack up now, identity crisis later,” Chloe says, hopping back up and starting to pull the sleeping bag off of Rachel. Rachel yawns one more time, then gets up to help, and for a while manual labor replaces the itching worry in her head. It takes a stupid long time to get everything together, with how dark and shitty and cold it is. Eventually, Chloe starts up the truck to warm it up and uses the headlights to add just enough ambient light for them to work by, and everything gets into the hideout trunk.

They pile into the cab together, Chloe turning down her music for once since this is supposed to be a stealth mission. Rachel’s glad — her head kind of hurts from the night she had, and she slouches in her seat, stealing the occasional glance at Chloe, as herself, barely illuminated by the dash lights. Her makeup is mostly gone, smudged or faded away, though Rachel notes that she’s got lipstick on her neck, the sight of which makes Rachel feel both proud and guilty all at once. Some of Chloe’s stubble grew back out overnight, translucent in the early-morning gloom, and it doesn’t make her any less pretty, to Rachel. Is that weird? Does that mean she doesn’t like girls?

This is hard.

She stares out the window instead, their drive stiff and quiet. They don’t see anyone in the lot as they park — as one would expect, it’s like six A.M. — and make their way across campus like they’re the only people on Earth. They don’t speak until the door latches in Rachel’s room.

“All right,” Rachel says, giving a limp little fist-pump. “Okay, coffee time.”

“You mind leaving while I get changed?” Chloe asks, looking down at her feet.

“Lemme get the kettle started, then yeah,” Rachel confirms, pulling the object in question out from under her desk and checking the water level before plugging it in and pushing the lever down. She takes one last look at Chloe as she turns around. She’s lanky, and a little awkward, and she looks uncomfortable now in the daytime. But she’s still pretty. She always has been, even as Caleb. She told him so the night they met.

She huffs. Okay. She walks up to Chloe and opens her arms, and Chloe walks into the hug, so maybe things don’t have to be too distant. She doesn’t want them to separate, she doesn’t want them to get less intimate, god, she wants Chloe. She pulls away before she can think too much about it, and heads out into the hall to wait.

She tries to check her phone, but it’s dead, of course, because they didn’t bring their power packs to their impromptu stargazing session. Whatever the Vortex Club is saying about last night, she won’t know for a little while, and she finds herself glad for that.

...Except now Victoria is coming down the hall. She looks trashed — if Chloe wasn’t in Rachel’s room, she’d offer her some coffee — as she wanders towards the showers, her hair mussed, makeup smeared haphazardly across her face, trudging along with her shower caddy in a death grip. She’s only got a towel on, which Rachel’s always thought of as kind of a power move, but Rachel studies her, Victoria blinks a few times, then narrows her eyes. She grips her towel to hold it closed with her free hand and approaches her.

“Did you even sleep last night?” Victoria asks.

“Good morning, Victoria,” Rachel replies with a smile.

“Come off it, Rachel,” Victoria groans, closing her eyes. “You’re like, still in costume.”

“I slept,” Rachel says, shrugging. “A little. Outside.”

“So why the hell are you out here?” Victoria asks.

“Chl—” FUCK “—Caleb’s getting changed in my room,” Rachel says, wincing at the near-slip. “He left his street clothes here last night and we couldn’t get back on campus without getting busted.”

“So you ditched with him,” Victoria seethes.

“Uh, yeah? I do that? What’s up your ass?”

“Everyone saw him in drag last night,” Victoria hisses under her breath. “And now people are saying I tried to come onto him, and—”

“You did,” Rachel points out.

“Yeah, so I know either you told someone, or he did.” Victoria glares Rachel down, stepping closer so her height is made all the clearer — damn, she definitely put on another inch or two over the summer, huh? “I thought we were cool about this, but—”

“You were telling people he’s gay, again!” Rachel argues, gritting her teeth. “I get you have a thing for him but that doesn’t mean you have to act weird about it!”

“Oh, I’m acting weird?”

“Yes!”

“You’re the one bringing a fucking crossdresser to the—”

“It’s Halloween, Victoria, we were having some goddamn fun.” Rachel crosses her arms. “Get over your homophobic bullshit, I swear to God.”

“Wh— I — “

“It’s so fucking lame of you to keep on this gay-bashing shit. What is this, 2004? Bush still trying to ban gay marriage or something? Cut it out.”

Victoria snaps her mouth closed, a blush rising up her shoulders and into her cheeks. “Why are you so fucking queer all of the sudden?”

“Why do you get like this whenever gay people come up? Got an obsession?” Rachel challenges, stepping up to Victoria in turn and meeting her eyes.

They hover there for a moment, Victoria opening and closing her mouth, but she’s looking ready to cut and run at any second. She wants the last word, Rachel can tell — but...she hit a nerve, somewhere, and as Rachel realizes that she smirks, and—

Rachel’s door opens behind her, and both of them turn to face Caleb as he comes into view. He’s still got some smears of makeup on his face. “Hey, Vic,” he says after a brief second of surprise passes over his face. “You guys good? Or should I grab some popcorn and see what happens next?”

“Whatever,” Victoria grumbles, shouldering past Rachel and stalking down to the showers. Caleb lets out an involuntary snort of laughter, and Victoria throws up a middle finger behind her as she leaves.

Rachel heads back into her room, closing the door with her back before grinning up at Caleb. “Thanks for the save.”

“I thought you had it pretty well-handled, from what I could hear in here,” Caleb says with a laugh. “Also it was...kinda nice.”

“What do you mean?” Rachel asks, feeling a strange tightness in her chest.

“Hearing you like...actually defending people like me,” Caleb murmurs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Like you’re actually invested.”

“Of course I am!” Rachel exclaims. “I...it’s not just about you, but…” She bites her lip, looking away. She’s always had this impulse. Victoria shit-talking Caleb again just gave her the courage to actually listen to it, and…

“Oh.” Caleb’s eyebrows raise. “It’s about you too, huh?”

“M-maybe. I dunno.” Rachel clears her throat. “Lemme make some coffee. You can use some of the water for noodles, too, I’m starving.” Caleb knows where Rachel keeps her emergency breakfast supplies, and he sets about preparing their cup ramen as Rachel makes coffee in her mini-French press and plugs her phone in to time all their various heating processes. “Here,” she says, once everything is taking some time to cook, “Let’s get that crap off your face.” She gets out her remover wipes and sits him down on the edge of her bed, scrubbing away at lipstick and foundation, until all that’s left is Caleb. Or Chloe. Like always, she can see both of them, and she finds her throat dry as she pulls back, examining his face.

“You’re, uh, you’re good,” she says, looking away as her phone starts to beep. They eat and drink in near-silence, avoiding each other’s eyes. Waking up more, talking about everything that happened yesterday, getting that nasty reminder that other people saw them last night and have their opinions, it all makes her feel weird and untethered. Something she’s not used to feeling around Caleb.

Once she’s finished her noodles at her desk, she finds her way over to her bed, laying her thermos on her nightstand and falling down on her back, staring into the ceiling. “You okay?” Caleb asks softly, turning from his position at the end of the bed and looking at her.

“Come here?” Rachel asks in return, and Caleb sets aside his food and scoots up the bed beside her. She takes his hand as they settle in, squeezing tight.

“Rachel…” Caleb whispers. “I—”

“Can we still do stuff like this?” Rachel interrupts, rubbing her thumb over his hand. “I...I really missed you over the summer, you know? And I like this, and…”

Caleb sits up, pushing his hair back from his face, and Rachel’s stomach drops. “Maybe we shouldn’t.”

“W-what?”

“Rachel, I…” He swallows, kneading his thigh with his fist. “I feel like we’re too close, almost, and...and I really don’t wanna get hurt again.”

“But — I can —”

“If you decide you’re straight after all,” Caleb interrupts, “What happens to us, then?”

Rachel sits up with him, trying to hold herself together. “I — we could just go back to how it was before last night?” she suggests.

“But…” Caleb sighs. “How it was before was...I mean, we both knew something was gonna happen again, right? How long can we keep that up?” He sniffs, wiping his nose. “I don’t wanna just keep doing this over and over again. I have enough shitty repeating patterns in my life, y’know?”

“What are you saying?” Rachel asks, her eyes starting to sting.

“I — maybe we should…” Caleb scratches at his ear fervently. “Not...hang out so much. For a while. If you decide you can’t be with me after that, we’ll have some, y’know, distance, and maybe we can stop doing this.”

“And if I decide I can be with you?” Rachel asks, a little spark of hope flashing in her chest, putting her hand on his shoulder to see if he’ll meet her eyes.

“That’s a big if, Rachel,” Caleb mutters, staring down at his feet.

He doesn’t believe her.

It hurts to think that, to know that, that he can’t trust her when she says she loves him, as Chloe and as Caleb, and she knows it’s all her own fault. She closes her eyes and holds her breath for a second, not wanting to cry like last night. All right. Think forward.

“So...how are we working that out?” Rachel asks. “Like, us not hanging, because it’s kind of part of my schedule.”

“And it’s all of mine, yeah,” Caleb admits with a chuckle. “I, um...I’ll hang with Justin and Tre a little more. And, well, Steph did invite me to a DnD game…”

Rachel’s mouth goes dry. Steph. The only out girl at Blackwell, as far as Rachel knows. The one who shares a bunch of Chloe’s nerdy interests. The one with a sly sense of humor and a laugh that sounds like Chloe’s. The one she never mentioned to Chloe, not by name, not until she spotted them yesterday and barged into their thing without a care in the world, congratulating Chloe on her ‘crossplay’ or whatever. Steph is so much like Chloe, so easy to talk to, so good to be around. And she’s a lesbian. Like Chloe. Unlike Rachel.

“DnD, man?” Rachel asks, elbowing him. “You really wanna get spotted playing in the dyke’s Dungeons and Dragons den?”

Caleb looks over at her with his eyebrows raised. “Nice wordplay, Rachel, but you’re implying I have some kind of reputation to lose,” he says with a smirk. “That’s a you problem, not a me problem.”

“I...yeah. I guess you’re right.” Rachel looks away. She can’t keep pushing back, even though she just — really, really doesn’t want this, because the thought of Chloe having another girl to talk to, to confide in, makes her stomach feel sick. But she’s supposed to be fucking trustworthy. She’s supposed to be good for her, or him, or fucking, whatever, God. “Well, I’ve got her number,” Rachel says at last, standing up and finding her phone.

“Oh, good.” She hears Caleb swallow. “Maybe you should talk to her, too.”

“About?” Rachel asks as she scrolls her contact list.

“You know. Girls.”

Rachel blinks twice at her phone, at Steph’s contact card. If Steph could theoretically be something nice for Chloe, something that could threaten Chloe and Rachel’s thing...then Steph might be good for Rachel too. Chloe’s so smart. She doesn’t have all these other concerns in her life, not like Rachel, and it makes her see to the heart of things so easily. Maybe that’s why Rachel loves her so much.

Fuck.

“You don’t have to!” Caleb says, and Rachel realizes she’s been sitting here thinking way too long. “Just a thought, you know?”

“No, no, it’s not a bad idea. I’ll think about it,” Rachel promises. “Ready for Steph’s number?”

“Yeah.”

Rachel recites Steph’s digits to Caleb, then asks, “So I should probably shower and junk, since, like you said, I got a rep to maintain. You gonna stick around, or...?”

Caleb stands up and stretches. “Nah, I’m gonna do damage control with Mom. Got a buuunch of texts from her,” he says, taking his phone out of his pocket and frowning at it. “And I got like five percent battery, so, better hurry.”

“All right. See you at lunch?” Rachel asks. “We can, um, still do that, right?”

“Sure, yeah.” He sucks air through his teeth. “Catch you then.”

Rachel sinks into her chair as he leaves the room, still looking at Steph’s contact card on her phone. She opens up their text thread, their last messages just being about Rachel coming to pick up the hammer once it was done. They’re not...really friends. Steph’s a great stage manager and has an easy rapport with the techies and the actors, but they’ve never hung outside of class or rehearsals. Rachel considers her schedule.

Yeah. She can slot this in.

Me: wanna grab lunch on saturday? my treat for helping out with the hammer. caleb loved it

Rachel waits for a response for a few minutes, chewing on her lip. With a sigh, she realizes Steph might not even be awake yet, and gets to work getting herself ready. She scrubs her makeup off. Checks her phone. Readies her shower caddy and strips down to her underwear, wrapping herself in a towel. Checks her phone again.

She taps her fingernails on the screen. Nothing. Fine. She’ll shower and get ready for the day properly if she has to.

When she returns to her room, the first thing she does is check, just one more time. And finally, there’s Steph’s response.

Steph: That sounds great! Where and when?

Gotcha.

She finds Steph at the bus stop at the edge of campus, sitting on the bench and staring at her phone with her leg jiggling up and down. Steph looks nice today, if a bit strangely out-of-season, her band tank top showing off surprisingly muscled arms. As Rachel gets closer, she can see a hint of lipgloss and eyeliner — nothing bold, but they do give a nice dimension to her face. “Hey, Steph!” she calls, and Steph’s head snaps up from her phone and she smiles as Rachel comes over to join her.

“Hey, yourself. What’s up?” Steph asks, holding out her hand for a fist-bump. Rachel pounds it, then sighs.

“Oh, you know. VC bullshit,” she complains. “We actually have to start setting up for the winter dance or whatever. I’m definitely bailing on that, especially with all the shit Asher gave me today.”

“Asher’s a fuckin’ tool,” Steph says with a nod, “But what’d you do to piss him off? You’re so his type.”

“He’s all pissy because I brought Caleb in drag to the Halloween thing,” Rachel groans. “We hooked up once and me hanging with Caleb always pisses him off anyway, and now he’s the president, so…”

“This is why I never fucked with those guys,” Steph says, leaning back on the bench.

“I heard you don’t fuck with guys in general,” Rachel shoots back with a smirk, and Steph laughs.

“Oh no, my secret’s out,” Steph deadpans, relaxing now. “How will I ever recover.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage,” Rachel says, patting Steph’s knee.

Steph’s smile is a little shaky, and she clears her throat before she talks again. “So, Two Whales, right?”

“Wow, good guess,” Rachel says, raising her eyebrows.

“Rachel, there’s like, one good place to go in town that’s not a chain, c’mon,” Steph says with a laugh. “And this bus goes right to it. I got some deductive skills.”

“Okay, fair point, tiny-ass town,” Rachel grumbles. “Gotta spoil my surprise.”

“You’re gonna have to try way harder than that to surprise me.”

“Ooh, is the wise elder going to teach me the ways of the world?”

Steph lowers her voice. “Only if you’re good.”

Oh. Rachel shivers a little. Well, a little playful flirting never hurt anyone. “Oh, I’m never good,” she says with a wink. “Ask Caleb sometime.”

“That kid’s pretty cool,” Steph remarks, looking away from Rachel momentarily, a slight blush coming to her cheeks. “You known him long?”

“Since last year, yeah. Why? You guys hanging out now?” Rachel asks, suddenly finding herself curious. Caleb mentioned offhand during yesterday’s lunch that they were gonna meet up after school…

“Yeah, I’m helping him get set up to join the campaign. He insists on playing a barbarian named Barb, but he’s actually like invested in her somehow. His character portrait kind of kicks ass,” Steph says with a smile.

“Oh, you should see his tat designs,” Rachel sighs happily, remembering getting to flip through his sketchbook. “Super badass.”

“I bet.” Steph clears her throat again. “So are you two like, together, or…?”

“I, uh, no,” Rachel says, looking away. “It’s...complicated.”

“Complicated,” Steph repeats.

“Kinda, uh, personal.”

“So you’re single?” Steph asks.

“For now.”

Steph chuckles. “You always answer questions this vaguely?”

“Hey, things might change,” Rachel says airily, meeting Steph’s eyes.

The squeal of the bus’ brakes make them both jump and focus on the task at hand, flashing their school passes at the driver before finding a seat near the back.

“So what kinda stuff do you listen to?” Rachel asks as she leans against the window, their thighs touching.

“You asking for an earful of my weird shit?” Steph replies, fishing a pair of earbuds from her pocket.

“I mean, I’m prepared for that in any conversation with you, but I’m specifically talking music.”

“Smart-ass.” Steph connects her earbuds and holds one out for Rachel. “Here. Let me educate you.”

Once Rachel’s hooked up, Steph starts the song. It seems slow at first, a single guitar playing under a man’s smooth tones, the lyrics dark and moody. And then, suddenly, the drums kick in, pounding powerfully in Rachel’s ear, joined a second later by an electronic melody. Just as she’s getting used to that, the tempo shifts again, even faster, the electric guitar setting off an explosive beat. As the song slows (only slightly) for the next verse to come in, Rachel turns to Steph, raising her eyebrows.

“Fucking rocks, right?” Steph asks.

“Dude, fuck yeah. Who is this?”

“Pendulum. New album this year. All the drums are live, if you can believe it.”

“Badass.” Rachel leans away again and closes her eyes, letting the songs wash over her. Steph drums on her leg to the beat of the music, just barely perceptible, and Rachel smiles. It’s cute.

It’s not the first time she’s had a thought like that about a girl, but having it for Steph feels so different, it hits her so suddenly that she thought that. She swallows. She can’t think about that too much right now. She has to get Steph comfortable, first.

Once they arrive at their destination and file out, Rachel heads through the front doors of the Two Whales and beholds Joyce behind the counter, as she had half-expected. She gives Joyce a smile and a wave before tugging Steph over to the corner booth where her and Chloe usually hang out, sliding in across from Steph. Rachel finds herself looking at Steph’s arms again, and has to ask.

“So what’s with the gunshow?” she inquires, leaning forward on her elbows and gesturing vaguely at Steph.

“Oh, these?” Steph says with a laugh, flexing. “Turns out when you do a bunch of drumming in your basement, your muscles think they’re actually doin’ something.”

“C’mon, that can’t be all you do for ‘em. You a gym rat?” Rachel goads.

“Look, I got some freeweights when I first came out ‘cuz I thought I’d go butch,” Steph admits, slouching a little, but still smiling. “Turned out the shaved head look did not work for me. I still like being tough, though.”

“Oh yeah? Does that get the girls?” Rachel teases.

“I dunno. Does i—”

They’re interrupted by the clearing of Joyce’s throat as she steps up to their table. “Rachel,” she says, crossing her arms. “Where’s Caleb at? Figured he’d be right on your heels.”

“Dunno today,” Rachel says cheerfully. “I’m hanging with Steph right now.”

“So I see.” Joyce’s expression softens a bit as she regards Steph. “How’re you, sweetie? Ain’t seen you around in a hot minute.”

“Eh, you know,” Steph says with a shrug. “Pretty good. Just haven’t had the cash to come here since school started back up and I quit the pizza gig.”

“Your other friend gonna join y’all? What was her name, Hannah? Swear you two were here every other night for a while.”

“She’s...not around, anymore,” Steph says, her expression darkening. “Just us for now.”

“Gotcha. All right, ladies, what’re you having?”

Steph and Rachel give their orders — it seems both of them have been here enough that they’ve got their favorites, and Rachel has, unfortunately for her aspirations of veganism, become addicted to the omelettes here. As Joyce puts her notepad away, she looks at Rachel one more time.

“You sure you don’t know where he is?” she asks.

“Not a clue, Joyce.”

“How about where he was, Sunday night?”

Rachel rolls her eyes and scoffs. “Exactly where he said we were, Joyce, your husband freaked us out, okay? If he wasn’t so aggro I would’ve just slept in my room.”

Joyce sighs. “All right, stick to your story, then. I’ll be back with your food.”

As she walks off, Steph raises her eyebrows. “What was that about?”

“She’s Caleb’s mom, and we had a little...adventure when he was trying to drop me off after the Halloween thing,” Rachel explains. “You know David?”

“Weird fascist security dude?”

“Yep. That’s her husband.”

“Shit. Fuckin’ small towns, man,” Steph complains. “God, I’m so looking forward to getting out of here.”

“Really? Where’s college for you?”

“Seattle, WSU.” Steph leans forward, one hand on her chin. “So what was your adventure?”

Dammit. Rachel was really pulling for that subject change to work. “Oh, we just got caught coming back to campus late and had to bail. Slept in the back of his truck,” Rachel says, waving her hand. “So—”

“That musta been uncomfortable,” Steph points out.

“Nah, we have supplies for that kinda emergency, sleeping bags and shit.”

“You two sound pretty...involved,” Steph says slowly, raising an eyebrow.

“His parents really, really suck. I just try and let him have some fun once in a while,” Rachel says. “We’re close, yeah. Sorry, really didn’t mean to drag you into our drama, I thought he handled Joyce himself.”

“She definitely seems nosy, yeah,” Steph says, leaning back. “Didn’t mean to interrogate you, just, y’know, you two are new in my life, wanna scope you out. I don’t keep a close eye on popular types.”

“Popular types?” Rachel asks with a smirk. “Should I be insulted by that?”

“Not unless you’re trying to keep up your punk cred, which isn’t really a vibe I get from you,” Steph notes. “I feel like...Caleb’s your outlet for doing wild shit.”

Rachel laughs. “Oh, I don’t need Caleb to do wild shit, he’s just always down for it and has a car.” She runs a hand through her hair. “We’re...laying low for a while, though, and he’s trying to branch out. Hence the DnD.”

“Got it,” Steph says with a nod. “Anyway. I showed you my music. What’s yours?”

Rachel thinks, not sure where to start, because a lot of her music is tied up in Caleb too, at this point. Steph’s almost too sharp. But Steph’s heard of the Mountain Goats, and Rachel doesn’t need to tell her when and why Rachel got into them, so eventually they find a rhythm. Joyce doesn’t bother them again for the rest of their lunch, and a lot of their time is spent eating and talking music and movies and shows, once Rachel gets into the things that Caleb’s showed her. Steph gets into a story from her last DnD campaign and it’s actually pretty funny, and it’s...nice. Hanging with Steph. Being her friend.

Once their bill’s paid, Rachel almost feels sorry to leave. They head out for the bus stop and share headphones again, and it reminds Rachel of her first shopping trip with Chloe, out here in town. She finds herself relaxing — and then has to stop herself as they get on the bus back home. She still has questions she needs to ask Steph, and she has to not chicken out, not like she did with Kris last year. She knows why she wanted to ask those now, and she doesn’t care about being cool, not with Steph. Steph makes being uncool seem very cool.

As they emerge out into the Blackwell parking lot, Steph stretches out. “Well, thanks for the food, Rachel, this was fun,” she begins. “I gotta go make sure all my notes are ready for tonight, but—”

“Hang on,” Rachel blurts out, grabbing at Steph’s hand. Steph jumps. “Uh, do you smoke?”

“Weed?” Steph asks.

“Yeah.”

“I’ve been known to indulge occasionally…”

“Wanna come to my room? I’ve got a stash.”

Steph swallows. “Oh, um, sure, sounds good.”

Rachel lets go of Steph’s hand, trying to project confidence like she does on stage as she leads them to the dorms. Steph follows a half-step behind, and Rachel doesn’t look back at her, or acknowledge anyone else around campus, until she’s shut the door behind them and they’re alone in Rachel’s room.

“Since you’ve been hogging the tunes, it’s my turn,” Rachel declares, going over to her laptop and starting up her chill playlist — it’s mostly Joni Mitchell, but she has the right to love old shit.

Steph laughs. “It’s your room, dude, I figured that was the idea. Where’s your supposed stash?”

“Right here,” Rachel says, crossing the room and taking out her supplies. They busy themselves grinding and packing the bowl for a minute, letting old folk music wash over them once they’ve lit up, sharing their bowl silently. Steph keeps making eye contact, like she’s waiting for Rachel to do something, and she wants to ask something, but she doesn’t know where to start. So she smokes. And when the bowl is dead, she lays back on her bed, Steph falling down beside her, their fingers nearly touching.

“You okay, Rachel?” Steph asks.

Rachel turns her head, and Steph’s looking at her with her brow crinkled just a little, and her lips slightly pursed, her green eyes piercing, and Rachel can only think: Shit, I could kiss Steph.

She turns away and stares at the ceiling instead, taking a deep breath. She has a question to ask. Her head might be fuzzy, her skin might feel tingly and weird, and Steph might be kinda pretty, but she had a mission here. “How did you know?”

“Huh?”

“You know. That you’re gay.”

Steph gets her elbow under her, raising herself up slightly so her face is in the periphery of Rachel’s vision. “Wait—”

“Was there, like, a moment, or—”

“Oh my God.” Steph sits up fully, putting her face in her hands. “I’m such an idiot.”

“What?” Rachel asks, raising herself up on her arms, squinting at her. “I’m just—”

“Why did I fall for this again?” Steph groans. “Lemme guess, next you’re gonna be like, oooh, we should kiss as an experiment, and then you can be like, ugh, gross, and then we never talk again—”

“Wait, Steph, I’m—”

“Can’t believe I let Mikey convince me this was a date or something. Fuck this.” Steph stands up and heads for the door, her shoulders tight.

“Steph!” Rachel pleads, sitting up and looking at her, and for a moment, Steph looks back. Their eyes meet. Rachel wants to say something, but the problem is that it feels like Steph’s right, that this was all just shitty and manipulative, and she has thought about kissing her just to see, and—

And Steph just shakes her head, wrenches the door open, and slams it shut behind her as she leaves.

Rachel tries to make it right.

She tries to catch Steph after rehearsals, or around campus, or at lunch, and Steph avoids her eyes and makes excuses, or just pretends not to notice Rachel’s approach, and Rachel can’t just start blurting out apologies in front of everyone. She considers texting Steph, but she can’t make the words come together, and it’s easier to tell people things and have them believe you when they can see your face. After almost a week of this, Rachel decides to take another angle, at lunch with Caleb in the woods behind the dorms.

“So...how’s Steph been lately?” she asks, nudging his foot with her as they sit against opposite trees.

“You trying to find a way in?” Caleb asks with a smirk. “Still haven’t talked to her about girls?”

“Just...wondering,” Rachel says, shrugging. “She’s been like crazy busy.”

“She seemed a little down in our first session. I swear she was trying to kill me specifically, but I think that’s just because she hates Barb The Barbarian’s name,” Caleb muses, smiling to himself. “She did catch me after, though?”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, she just like, grabbed me and asked if I was okay? It was weird. I said I was, and she was all, ‘you know you can talk to me about anything,’ and I was like, Steph, cool it, we like just met.” Caleb shrugs. “But she’s like that with Mikey, too. I think she’s just a mom type. Unless…”

“Unless?” Rachel asks, fingers tensing on her knee.

“You think she might...know? Since she first saw me in drag?”

“Um...I really don’t know,” Rachel admits. “Not like either of us exactly has gaydar, so how do we know if you ping it?”

“Well, half the school decided I was gay even before Vic started running her mouth,” Caleb sighs.

“Which you are, but, like, wrong direction.”

Caleb laughs softly to himself. “Maybe she just thinks I am too? I bet she really wants some gay friends. She said some things during the session...she’s a little cynical about straight people. The other kids just laughed.”

“...do you think you might tell her?” Rachel asks, looking down at her lap, tightening her fist, trying not to let that idea feel so wrong to her. She wants him to come out, right? She wants Chloe to exist as more than a name and an ephemeral idea between her and Caleb at some point, doesn’t she?

“I, ah,” Caleb stammers, “Didn’t even consider it, honestly. We just started hanging and she’s not the type to like instantly drag you into her orbit, unlike someone I know,” he adds with a smile, tossing a wrapper at Rachel.

“Oh! Well, you know. Just figured I’d ask.”

“Don’t worry, you still hold my life in your hands,” Caleb says, raising his eyebrows. “You got your hooks in me no matter what, thanks to my own dumbassery.”

“I — C, that’s not—”

“Just giving you shit, Rach. Mostly.” Caleb squints at her. “I — look, this distance thing, we won’t stop being friends, okay? Promise. Whatever you decide...I’ll be here, you know?”

Rachel nods. “Yeah. Okay.” She wants to add, I love you, but that might just scare him off that promise he just made, so she holds off, and separates from him willingly when the bell rings.

But she never does manage to get Steph into a proper conversation. Instead, another opportunity drops itself right in her lap.

Nathan: KRIS IS BACK IN TOWN BITCHES

Rachel giggles at her phone, curled up on the couch, leading Victoria to glance over at Rachel over her shoulder. “Check the group message,” Rachel tells her, and Victoria fishes her phone from her pocket and snorts once she sees it, turning around fully in her desk chair.

“I kinda love how excited he gets about her,” Victoria admits. “He doesn’t get excited about much.”

“I know, right?” Rachel says, an involuntary smile coming to her lips. Things between her and the VC kids have been...a little tense since Halloween, but Victoria hasn’t mentioned their conversation in the hall since it happened, and so Rachel’s just let the whole thing slide. Victoria gets weird about her crush; she has the right to that, at least, and it’s nice to see her and Nathan’s strange little friendship once in a while.

Nathan: PARTY TONITE MY PLACE

Nathan: ONLY THIS GM

Nathan: FUCK BLACKWELL FUCK VC JUST US!!!!

“He’s still cranky Varte gave him a B, isn’t he?” Rachel says with a laugh, though her heart jumps. Kris is back. Kris, who was never anything but kind and understanding to her, who’s bi, who’s got a tendency to walk off from the group and be available. And now, she’s going to a party with her again. Last year, she let fear stop her. Not this time, she promises herself.

“I’m pissed about Varte’s fucking, grading and advice and shit,” Victoria grumbles. “You know what she said in our meeting?”

“That she saw you blatantly copying her style and she wanted you to find your own eye?” Rachel asks with a raised brow.

“I — fuck you! How’d you know that?”

“I’ve got eyes and I know you, Vic? And her?”

“God, you would get along with her,” Victoria despairs, leaning back in her chair and staring up at the ceiling. “Why’s shit so easy for you, huh?”

“You think things are easy for me?”

“You never act like you have any problems,” Victoria murmurs.

“I’m just quieter than you and Nathan, Vic,” Rachel says. “It’s called mystique.”

“You fuckin’ love that word,” Victoria says, though she’s smiling slightly, looking at Rachel again, her eyes flicking up and down.

“I live aspirationally.”

“God you’re pretentious.”

“You love it.”

“I don’t!”

“Hey, you’re the one who keeps inviting me over.”

Victoria laughs, running a hand through her hair. “Okay, okay, you’re fun, I admit it,” she says, looking down at her lap. Is she blushing?

Is she…?

“Anyway,” Victoria says, looking up and cracking her knuckles. “If we’re partying, we better get ready.”

Rachel feels kind of silly, hanging out with Victoria, Nathan, Courtney and Hayden, all of them waiting in the parking lot for Kris in the cold, all the girls in skirts so they’re shivering. But she feels instant relief at the sight of that minivan coming into the lot, and then Kris hanging out the window and shouting, “Get in, children, let’s go to daycare!”

“Fuck you, Kris!” Nathan shouts back, but he runs over and practically throws himself into shotgun as the rest of them file in, Courtney taking the furthest back row with Hayden this time, with Rachel and Victoria in the middle.

“What are you doing back, Kris?” Victoria asks almost immediately.

“And what’s the party favor?” Nathan demands after her as Kris sets the car into gear and laughs at the two of them.

“I get the whole week off for Thanksgiving, so once I figured out Mom and Dad were doing that benefit in Portland tonight, I decided to do this again for all you little shits,” Kris explains, reaching over and ruffling Nathan’s hair, to his sputtered whine. “And it’s just alcohol tonight, sorry, my guy moved to like Florida or something.”

“Booo,” Victoria complains, and Rachel elbows her.

“You love getting drunk, Vic, you don’t always need some fuckin’ upper,” she goads.

“Yeah, but I’d like one!” Victoria retorts, and Kris just giggles.

“I know, I know, Vic. Next time, maybe,” Kris promises. “But tonight, I’m leading the drinking games.”

Rachel looks around as she leaves the bathroom, squinting at the living room occupants as the beat pounds in her ears. Hayden and Courtney putting on an obnoxious show of pelvic-thrusting, and Nathan and Victoria standing off to the side, drinks in hand while Nathan cheers them on and Victoria rolls her eyes. Both Victoria and Nathan brighten up as Rachel approaches them, only one concern on her slightly blurred mind (honestly, she’s glad she was mostly paired with Kris for beer pong.)

“Hey, guys,” Rachel begins as she steps up to them. “Where’d Kris go?”

“Out back, for a smoke. She was whining that I switched to my music instead of hers,” Nathan laughs.

“Smoke sounds good. I’ll be back in in a bit, okay?” Rachel says, putting on her best sweet smile.

“You’re not gonna ditch us again, are you?” Victoria asks, putting her free hand on her hip. “This is like, exclusive.”

“Is it exclusive or are we still lame underclassmen?” Rachel replies, raising her eyebrows. “Partying without the rest of the Club because they won’t have us?”

“Oh, it's exclusive,” Nathan laughs. “You just watch. Vic’ll be President next year.”

“Oh, really?”

“Heard some of the seniors talkin’ about it. They don’t want me officially in charge because of optics or whatever — but they know Vic’s my best friend and I got all the hookups in town.”

“You cool with being used like that?” Rachel inquires, raising an eyebrow.

“Fuck if I care, dude!” Nathan says, throwing up his arms and sloshing beer over his shoulder. “Like I wanted fuckin’ responsibilities anyway. Vic’s way better at that shit.”

“High praise,” Rachel comments with a side-glance at Victoria, who just holds her head high.

“It’s true, and you know it.”

“If you say so. Back in a sec,” Rachel says, stepping out past the dancing...couple? And sliding the door open to the backyard. She can see that this time, Kris has lit the firepit, and she’s slouched back in one of the chairs beside it, lips wrapped around her cigarette.

Okay.

Rachel slides the door closed behind her, muffling the music, and as she steps further into the backyard the wind eats at her bare calves and leaves her shivering, hugging herself. Sucks out tonight. But the fire’s warmth makes itself known as she approaches, and all the way out here near the cliff, the music’s almost inaudible, just the crackle of the fire and the whistle of the wind.

Kris looks over her shoulder and sees Rachel, beckoning her forward, and Rachel gratefully sinks into the chair beside her, leaning close to the fire, which seems to be struggling to stay alive in the wind. “Hey, Rachel!” Kris says brightly, giving her a wide, lightly drunken smile. “I was hoping you’d come out. Everything good? Nathan behaving himself?”

Rachel cringes, remembering their last conversation, when she’d bailed because Nathan was being pushy and Kris had divined that truth without Rachel even hinting at it. But it might be good to have that kind of insight on her side tonight, so she stays honest. “Yeah, he’s cool. We talked early in the year and sorted shit out, mostly,” Rachel says. “You got a cigarette?”

“Yeah, sure.” Kris passes over a cigarette and lighter, and leans over to help shield Rachel from the wind so she can light up properly.

Rachel takes a long drag once they’ve managed to get a cherry going, closing her eyes and savoring the taste. Kris smokes nice, smooth cigs. As she breathes out, Kris cocks her head. “So Nathan’s not the problem…” she says slowly, “But you look a little down, Rachel. Something up?”

“I, um, yeah,” Rachel admits, checking over her shoulder. The kids have vanished from the living room. Must be doing more shots or something. “S-something is.”

“Well...I can’t promise anything, but I’ve got some practice at this older sister thing, if you wanna talk,” Kris says quietly.

“Yeah, I’m an only child, don’t know what that’s like.”

“No offense, Rachel, but duh.” Rachel shoots her a glare, and Kris giggles guiltily. “Sorry! It’s just, Victoria’s one too, and every once in a while she comes to me too. So I’ve got more practice than you might even think. But you don’t have to say anything!”

“No, I…” Rachel swallows. “I came out ‘cuz I wanted to talk to you. I do have my own cigarettes these days.”

“All right.” Kris leans back slightly, pulling her hair back from her face and putting on a serious expression. “Older sister advice mode: activated.”

“You’re a dork,” Rachel says with a giggle, feeling a little lighter already.

“Who isn’t? Go on, seriously, shoot.”

Rachel takes in a deep breath. Don’t fuck this up like you did with Steph. “How, um, how did you find out you were bi?” she asks, looking away from Kris’ face.

“Oh,” Kris says softly. “Rachel—”

“Just, just answer the question, okay?”

“All right.” Kris clears her throat, takes a pull from her own cigarette. “I...There was a girl.”

“...and?”

“And I liked her. A lot. We met in my senior year of high school, and I just wanted to be near her all the time. We got along fast, and we ended up hanging out a lot. I didn’t live in the dorms, not like Nathan, and sometimes she’d come over here just to like, study and chill, away from all the VC shit on campus.” Kris takes in a deep breath. “I’d, you know, I’d been feeling stuff. But making excuses for it, you know? Just like, ah, she’s really cool and smart and funny, I probably just wanna be like her, like she’s an idol or something. But then…”

“Then?” Rachel breathes out the word between puffs on her cigarette.

“Then she kissed me.” Rachel can hear the smile in her voice. “And I knew.”

Rachel feels goosebumps rise up along her arms. “Just like that?”

“Just like that. She was always a little smarter than me. A little quicker on the uptake.” Kris laughs a little.

“What happened to her?” Rachel asks, finally looking over at Kris just in time to see her withdraw into herself. “You’re talking like...like she’s gone.”

“Dad caught us,” Kris says bitterly, tossing her cigarette into the fire. “Fucking prick chased her out of the house and yelled at me for an hour. Lucky Nathan wasn’t home. She...she broke up with me, after.” Kris sniffs. “We were gonna be separated anyway, going to different colleges, but...but I know it was because he scared the shit out of her.”

“I’m...I’m really sorry,” Rachel says, wanting to reach over and comfort Kris, somehow. She looks so pained.

“I stayed out of town once I went to college. Skipped Christmas. I was still really fucking mad, so I crashed with some friends. That made Dad realize I might actually leave, so...apology car.” Kris sighs. “I come back to keep the peace, but...I’m gonna bail once I graduate. I’m signing up for the Peace Corps. I still can’t stand looking at his face, some days.”

“I — sorry. I didn’t think asking would be...bad for you,” Rachel murmurs, looking down.

“No, it’s okay, it’s — you know, it’s been years.” Kris swallows phlegm in her throat, then clears it, her voice regaining some of its fullness. “So...why’d you ask, Rachel?”

Rachel closes her eyes, taking in a deep breath. “There’s...there’s a girl.”

Silence, for a minute. And then...

“Oh.” Rachel hears Kris’ chair creak, and then her voice again, “Come here.”

Rachel opens her eyes, and Kris is standing next to her chair, arms open wide. Rachel flicks her cigarette into the fire and rises up into her embrace, and she finds herself wanting to just cry, because why does this have to be so hard? Why is it like this, for everyone, for Chloe, and Steph, and Kris, and Rachel? Why does it have to hurt for all of them? It’s not fair.

She lets out a sob, and Kris tightens her hold. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” she murmurs into Rachel’s hair. “You’re gonna be okay. I promise.”

“B-but how will I know?” Rachel begs, pulling back to meet her eyes.

“That you’re...gay? Bi?” Kris asks.

“I...yeah.”

“Well...I kissed a girl.”

“And you liked it?” Rachel replies, laughing a little despite herself.

“Yeah. I did.” Kris smiles down at her, smoothing her hair for her.

“So...should I do that?”

“Only if you want to.”

Rachel doesn’t know how to explain that she already has. That she’s kissed Chloe, more than once, and loved it every time despite whatever followed, and that she’s not sure if it counts. That she needs to know if it’s just because Chloe looks mostly like a guy most of the time, or if it’s because Chloe looked like a girl for an evening and was beautiful. She doesn’t know how to tell Kris that she wants to kiss a girl more than anything in the world, but that for that particular girl, it’s never made anything more clear.

And before she can even start to think of a way to muddle through this, the sliding door opens back up. “Yo, Kris!” Hayden shouts across the yard, “We’re running low!”

“I got more in my room!” Kris says, jumping back from Rachel like she’s guilty of something. “I’ll get it for you!”

“Kickass.” Hayden gives them the horns, and the door closes again, and Rachel sighs, shivering.

“Duty calls,” Kris says, but she puts her hand on Rachel’s shoulder. “But...Rachel, it’ll be okay. I swear it’s not always, you know, like that. I’ve had a girl or two since then, and it was just fun. You can find that, too.”

“Okay,” Rachel says, nodding. “Um...yeah. Let’s go back in.”

They head back to the glass door together, and just as Kris grabs the handle, Rachel takes her wrist. “Kris…thanks. Really. You’re a pretty good sister.”

“You think so?” Kris asks with a little smile.

“Yeah. You are. Nate loves you so much.”

“I know,” Kris sighs. “Now go get drunker, missy, we barely lost any rounds.”

Rachel laughs, following her in. She meets up with Nathan in the hall and enlists his and Hayden’s help getting the extra booze down from Kris’ bedroom, so Rachel goes to the kitchen to check out the scene there.

And it’s a very interesting one indeed.

Courtney pushes Victoria back as Rachel enters the room. “Fucking stop it,” Courtney hisses, turning around and barging past Rachel on her way back out to the living room, tossing a “Gross,” over her shoulder. Rachel watches her go, but when she turns back to look at Victoria, her heart pounds.

Victoria’s standing in the middle of the kitchen, holding a shot glass and staring down into its contents, her eyes shut tight and her lips pursed, wobbling a little. She runs a hand through her hair and just musses it up more, and she doesn’t even react as Rachel comes closer, despite the loud clicks of her heels on the tile. Rachel’s never seen her look this sad.

But she thinks she knows how to cheer her up. And maybe...she can find the fun that Kris mentioned.

“Hey,” Rachel says quietly, lifting the shot glass out of Victoria’s hands, putting her other hand on Victoria’s shoulder. Victoria’s eyes snap open and she gasps slightly at the contact, her pupils dilating as Rachel holds the shot glass to her own lips and knocks it back. “Fuck that bitch,” Rachel adds, setting the shot glass down on the counter, keeping her gaze on Victoria. “Let’s do a few more to forget about her, huh?”

Victoria looks frozen, mouth agape in the cutest way, until Nathan announces, “More shit is here!” as he barges in with a 12-pack in his arms.

Victoria shakes her head and goes for another shot. Rachel watches her all the while.

Rachel’s right.

She rides on that high for the rest of the night, sticking to Victoria’s side, doing shots and shotguns with her, until everyone’s so tired out and blasted that Victoria decides it’s time to put on a show or something. Nathan picks this time, fucking Jackass of all things, so Rachel feels no particular need to actually watch. Instead, she pays attention to where people are sitting — Vic takes the long part of the sectional again, Nathan beside her on a short cushion, but Hayden and Courtney cuddle up near the opposite end of the couch. Kris just lies on the floor, barely propping her head up against Nathan’s feet, looking silly and happy. Rachel chooses her place last.

So she tells Victoria to scooch over, and joins her on the long cushion, between Victoria’s body and the armrest. She lays her arm on Victoria’s thigh, squeezing her knee, and Victoria makes that little gasping noise again and looks over at her, her cheeks flushed, expression unguarded for once, and Rachel just raises her eyebrows. Victoria looks back to the screen, but her hand slowly crawls down Rachel’s arm and lays over her hand, their fingers interlacing.

Kris gets up at one point to get water from the kitchen, and she passes by Rachel while she’s drawing a design on Victoria’s inner thigh. If it was someone else, Rachel would stop, but she feels bold with Kris. As Kris comes back, bottle in hand, she stops, wavering in place, her eyes on Rachel’s hand. Then they flick up and meet Rachel’s, and Rachel smiles guiltily at her.

Kris just gives her a very subtle thumbs-up and heads back to her spot.

After Courtney, Hayden and Nathan have all passed out on the couch and Kris has excused herself to her room, Rachel stands up and stretches. She can feel Victoria’s eyes on her back. She looks over her shoulder, then cocks her head towards the stairs. Victoria practically scrambles off the couch to join her, and Rachel takes her hand, leading them giggling and stumbling up the stairs, into one of the guest rooms, and as soon as they’ve closed the door behind them Victoria circles around to Rachel’s front, hands on her shoulders.

“Rachel,” she breathes, licking her lips. “I—”

Rachel kisses her.

And she likes it.

More than just likes it, in fact. Victoria’s lips taste like sour-apple flavouring, a hell of a lipstick choice, but the more delicious part is the desperate moan that escapes her as Rachel pulls her close with her hands on Victoria’s waist. Rachel breaks off, and Victoria chases her, but as soon as their lips reconnect she melts into Rachel’s control, slouching slightly so their height difference isn’t so great. Rachel pulls back again, breathing hard, and Victoria’s so flushed and pretty and so plainly, visibly wanting that Rachel can’t resist going for her neck next.

Victoria lets out a strangled cry as Rachel sucks on her pulse, and Rachel pulls back. “Shhhhh,” she whispers in Victoria’s ear, slowly pushing the both of them back towards the bed. “Or do you want everyone to know?”

“No, no, I’ll, I’ll be quiet,” Victoria pants, swallowing as the back of her knees hit the mattress. “J-just, fuck, Rachel—”

Rachel pushes her back all the way, makes her fall, climbs over her and captures her lips again. She can feel how hard Victoria’s trying not to make noises, especially when she nips slightly at her lower lip, then drags it out before releasing it to watch it pop back against her face. And looking down on her like that, Rachel’s struck with how beautiful Victoria is like this, how tempting she is, and how she kind of wants to fuck her.

She tries to fight back against that thought. She still doesn’t know if she’ll like all of it, even though this feels, just, amazing, and special, and new. But her mind is swimming. She’s still drunk, they both are, they shouldn’t. And then Victoria whimpers out, “Rachel, please.”

All of Rachel’s reason leaves her, and she gives in.

She wakes in the morning to a pounding headache, Victoria wrapped tight around her, and two realizations.

She’s bisexual.

And she has really fucked up this time.

Chapter Text

For the first time in almost a year, Caleb spends lunch at school alone.

He starts to get nervous after about five minutes; usually she’s here by now. He’s in their usual spot (he eventually gave up the game because he ran out of hiding spaces, so it’s the woods behind the dorms) and to his great annoyance he’s...hungry. Rachel’s presence in his life tends to come with making sure he eats, which he tends to skip if he can, just to avoid David. And once he starts eating regularly again, he starts to get hungry regularly again, which is even more annoying.

He sighs, bringing out his phone, but...but this was his idea in the first place. Keeping some distance so he doesn’t have to always feel that ache in his chest around Rachel, so that she has room to figure herself out without her feelings for him getting in the way. So that, with all their shit out in the open, they can re-evaluate where this whole thing is going. It was a good idea, so he should probably stick to it.

So he doesn’t text Rachel. He smokes a few cigarettes to kill his appetite instead, and gets on with the rest of his day. Even if he wanted to talk to Rachel about the upcoming break, and even if he misses texting her, and even if this is starting to feel familiar already, he’s not gonna...trail, pathetically, when this was his idea.

Rachel doesn’t come back the next day, either.

There’s not even a “goodbye” shared between them at the end of Tuesday. He doesn’t see her around campus, and ends up hanging out in Trevor’s room instead, sharing one last bowl before Thanksgiving break. His phone buzzes at one point and he checks it frantically, but it’s just Steph checking in with everyone that the DnD group will be back on campus by their usual Saturday playtime. As he looks up from the screen, Trevor gives him a raised eyebrow from his position on the bed.

“You okay, man?” he asks.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine, why?” Caleb replies, shifting on the couch.

“Liar,” Justin opines from the floor between them, lying on his back and raising up a still-smoking pipe into the air.

“What?”

“Dude, you’re barely talking today. Nor are you taking my pipe, which is hard to hold for this long,” Justin explains, waving his arm back and forth. “Come on, spill, what’s up? David on your ass again?”

Caleb sighs and takes the pipe, though he leaves it on his lap for the moment. “Sorry, just...a little spacey, I guess.”

“Haven’t seen you and Rachel hang out for a while,” Trevor says, saying each word carefully. “That what’s up?”

Caleb groans. “You guys—”

“I’m not teasing, man! Seriously asking. I am rooting for you two, you know,” Trevor says, holding his hands up. “So…?’

Caleb takes a hit off the pipe instead of answering, leaning over Justin’s prone body to pass it to Trevor as he thinks. “...yeah, she hasn’t been around a lot,” Caleb admits. “I haven’t even seen her around campus lately. You guys heard anything?”

“Why don’t you just text her and ask?” Justin says. “You know, like a normal person.”

Caleb bristles. “It’s—”

“Complicated,” Trevor and Justin say at once, and Caleb groans, putting his hands over his face.

“Yeah,” he admits. “It is. Sorry.”

Trevor clears his throat. “Um, I bet she’s just, like, busy. She’s in VC and Drama, right? The play and the winter dance are both like, right after break. You’ve been hanging with us more, anyway, did something happen?”

“I...yeah,” Caleb says. “We decided we’d get a little distance.”

“Dude, why?” Justin asks, sounding downright offended.

“Complicated.”

“Okay, seriously,” Trevor says, setting the pipe down beside him and closing his eyes, putting his hands together and taking a deep breath. “Caleb. No joking, no judging, but seriously, are you actually gay?”

Caleb remembers what Rachel said. He’s gay, but not in the direction they think, and...and, fuck. “I’m not into guys,” is what he says after maybe too long. “C’mon,” he adds as they look at him doubtfully, “When have you ever seen me say a damn thing about any guy, ever? Catch me looking at anyone?”

“He’s got us there,” Justin notes.

“And he is one hundred percent in love with Rachel…” Trevor muses.

“Guys,” Caleb warns, though he can’t find his way to denying that charge, either.

“Sorry, dude, you don’t tell us what’s up, we’re gonna fucking Sherlock our way to it,” Trevor says, pointing at him accusingly. “Or, you fucking fess up. You two have been kinda-dating for like a whole year now. When is anything gonna become official?”

“Look, she’s...she’s got a lot going on, okay? We both gotta figure some shit out.” Caleb leans back against the couch and groans. “I get you’re like...worried. But I just wanted to chill and smoke, not talk about my love life.”

“Speaking of, did Vic try and fuck you again or what?” Justin asks with a giggle.

“Huh? No, we haven’t talked in ages.”

“She’s gotten way into shit-talking you again. It’s kinda sad how obsessed she is,” Justin says, snickering to himself. “‘Least that’s what people were saying Sunday.”

“I bet it was the drag last month,” Caleb says, glad to be off the Rachel subject for a moment. “You think she’s got a thing for guys in skirts? Was I too hot for her to handle?”

“I’d kill to get my hands on her internet history,” Trevor says, leaning back on his hand and chuckling to himself. “I bet she’s into all kinds of weird shit. You don’t act that stuck-up unless you’ve got some kinda outlet…”

As the discussion turns to speculating on the kind of things Victoria’s into, it becomes familiar ground, making fun of the rich assholes of the VC.

But Rachel’s silence keeps eating away at him.

He returns home late that night, unlocking the front door with Rachel still on the brain. The past few weeks they’ve kept up hanging out at least once in a while, and always at lunch, just nothing as intense as a party or a sleepover in his truck. So what gives? Why is she—

“Caleb.”

He jumps at the sound of his name as he opens the door, seeing David sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for him. It’s been a while since they’ve exchanged a single word, and Caleb freezes at the door, ready to close it at any moment.

David puts his hands up. “Not tryin’ to fight, Caleb. Just want to talk.”

“Like you did last summer?” Caleb asks.

“The hell are you talking about?”

Caleb groans. “Are you drunk again?”

“Wh—no! Jesus, Caleb, I wanted to talk to you about Thanksgiving.”

Caleb sighs. He supposes that this would come up, given his habits lately, so he finally walks in and approaches David’s position, leaning on the wall opposite. “Okay, what about it?”

“We’re going over to my parents’ place this year, a bit out of town. I want you to be there,” David says.

“Why?”

“Because it’s a holiday and you’re a part of my family?”

“Am I?” Caleb scoffs. “Come on, dude.”

“I am married to your mother and—”

“And what? That’s supposed to mean something to me?”

“Can you just — Caleb, I know we’ve had our differences. I, the night you got your truck, I know I…”

“If someone did that to you, you’d try to shoot them,” Caleb says, gritting his teeth, heart pounding. “You acted like a fucking stalker. I don’t wanna be anywhere near you.”

“I’ve noticed that,” David says dryly, “And it’s concerning. To both of us.”

“Both of you,” Caleb repeats, “but where’s Mom?”

“Out working late. Again. Because she hates coming home every day and finding out you’re not here, again,” David growls, his fists tightening on the table. “Why are you punishing her?”

“It’s not about her. It’s about you, and you know it. Tell me, what’s the plan if I say no?”

“What?”

“If I bail in my truck and go somewhere else.”

“And where would that be?”

“Away. If I’m gone on Thursday, is the idea that you’re gonna hit me again? You think that’s gonna fly with Mom? You know she’s only letting me off this much because she’s afraid of what you’d do to me, right?”

“I…” David huffs, looking down at his hands. “That’s not true. You’re the one causing her all this grief. The only reason she isn’t listening to me is because something that Rachel girl said got into her head and she’s—”

“Wait, she told you that?”

“I’m her husband! Of course she talks to me!”

Caleb laughs to himself. “So Rachel’s got better ideas about how to parent me than you or Mom. At least you’re admitting it.”

David shoots up from the table, and Caleb takes a step further down the hall, taking his keys from his pocket and squeezing them between his fingers. “Back off,” he warns, taking another step towards the front door. “Don’t think it’ll make a great impression on your parents if I show up with another black eye. Or did your dad do that to you, too, and that’s why you’re such an asshole?”

David opens his mouth, but suddenly the door opens behind Caleb, and he turns to see Joyce coming in. “Caleb! You’re home!” Joyce says, like it’s this huge shock. “...what’s going on?” she asks, looking between Caleb and David, the two of them with their hands in fists at their sides.

David relaxes his posture, splaying out his fingers at his sides. “Just asking Caleb to come over for Thanksgiving with the family. That’s all.”

“And I see you’re being very civil,” Joyce sighs. “Caleb, hon, can you just do this one thing for us? I’ve barely seen you lately. I miss you.”

Caleb groans, running a hand through his hair. “I...fine. I guess. Whatever.”

“David, a word?” Joyce asks, brushing past Caleb and taking her husband’s arm. Caleb bolts for the stairs, up into his room, and shuts the door behind him. He falls down onto his bed without even turning the lights on, squinting at the screen of his phone in the dark. Normally, Rachel would text him around now, if she wasn’t on her flight. Normally he could explain what just happened to her, bitch a little, get something out.

He could try to talk to her.

He doesn’t.

He takes his own truck to Thanksgiving, just in case.

He finds himself heading out to it around the time everyone moves to the living room for football, opening up the glove compartment and finding his cigarettes. He lights up, leaning against the driver’s side of the truck so that he’s obscuring the little house in this quiet neighborhood, all gray and freezing under an overcast Oregon sky. He takes out his phone, considers texting Rachel. He has stuff to say.

His step-grandparents making jabs at his blue hair and ratty clothes. David and Joyce just letting them slide, or laughing along. The way David’s voice gets when he’s drunk, how it reminds Caleb of the night that he almost threw himself from the cliffs. The way being here at all feels so fucking fake, pretending to be David’s stepson, part of a family, when he’s lived like a roommate at best for the past few months.

He never texts first. That’s what Rachel was good at. Drawing him out of his shell, in her words. But, God, he’s already tired of this and it hasn’t even been a week. He remembers a long chain of unsent drafts, radio silence from another girl who meant a lot to him, and he just gives in, this time.

Me: so whats thanksgiving like in ca

He’s almost shocked when he gets something back immediately, relaxing against his car at the buzz.

Rachel: what thanksgiving lol

Rachel: mom n dad are like catching up on emails

Rachel: i think were ordering in tonight too

Rachel: soooooo guess whos fuckn DRINKING

Caleb laughs to himself. Okay. Maybe nothing is fucked, actually, and Rachel really has just been busy.

Me: count urself lucky thanksgivings bs anyway

Rachel: o rly? nvr really had em here. i think ive met any relatives like, once

Me: not even for xmas?

Rachel: nah they just send us stuff. our familys out in like fuckin wisconsin or w/e my parents moved here before i was born

Rachel: hey what do u think the chances are that the condom broke

Caleb blinks at his phone, mouth twisting. Is she...okay? She never talks about her family, or her life back home.

He’s not sure how to make a joke out of it, the way she does. He hasn’t been this person to her, and it makes him feel guilty, that things have been so one-sided. Maybe this is his fault, after all. But as he’s thinking, he hears the door to the house open behind him, Joyce calling out, “Caleb, dessert!”

He curses and throws his half-done cigarette to the road, stomping it out. “Coming!” he shouts back, and his phone buzzes one more time.

Rachel: sorry that was weird. no more emo shit. hbu? ur holiday going shitty as usual?

Caleb shakes his head. If she doesn’t want to talk about it, she doesn’t have to. He’ll give her the report she’s asking for, and it’ll be...it’ll be fine.

That night, in the dark of his bedroom, Caleb finds himself wanting to ask. The conversation with Rachel died out, but he’s still curious, and he wants to know if she’s okay, and...and he misses her. Maybe just start with that? Or would that be too romantic?

Fuck it.

Me: where were u at this wk btw? didnt see u at lunch

Rachel: sorry im being swamped with vc bs lately

Rachel: and i mean BOTH vcs. got a situation w vic im trying to run dmg control on

Me: a situation?

Rachel: u dont need to worry about it

Me: u know when i say shit like that u poke and prod at me until i spill it

Rachel: ill tell u about it when its dealt with, ok? and

Caleb waits for a few minutes, not sure what’s taking so long. Rachel double-texting isn’t exactly unusual, but it is weird for her to take so long to get to the next one. He gives in again.

Me: and?

Rachel: sorry

Rachel: i might not be around for a while

Rachel: idk how long but im gonna be busy ykno w vc and photo and play

Rachel: and u wanted distance

Rachel: promise well talk again when i figure it out ok?

Caleb sits up in bed, his stomach dropping. He knows what this is. He’s seen Rachel do it before, when she wanted to get out of a meeting to go and hang with him, whenever she talks to other people about their friendship, when Rachel just wants to do anything but talk to the person she’s talking to. His blood runs cold.

Me: so now im just another one of the people you use excuses on

Rachel: theyre not excuses not with you i just

Rachel: i need to figure this out

Rachel: without you

Me: why?

Rachel: i cant say not right now

Rachel: im sorry

Caleb feels pressure building behind his eyes, pains in his chest. He knows what this is, what it feels like. And like always, it’s his fault, for being what he is. Stupid to think Rachel would stick around when no one else has. Like he said last year, he always drives people away at some point. It just took a little longer this time.

What can he even say to her? Sure, it seemed like she cared, but that’s how it goes, right? Spend enough time apart and people figure out that he’s poison. Anything he wants to say now will just confirm that, push her further away.

Fuck this. He needs to stop thinking.

He knows where he can do that.

He gets his shoes back on and grabs his keys, sneaking out the window so nobody bothers him. He starts up his truck, and heads for the beach.

He’s happy Frank’s RV is still there, sitting in the parking lot. Maybe his Thanksgivings are shitty or nonexistent, too. He parks a little across the lot and walks up to his door, banging twice, and Frank’s dog starts barking from inside.

Frank opens the door, narrowing his eyes before recognizing Caleb. “Hey, kid,” he says, raising an eyebrow, putting a hand on Pompidou as the mutt comes to his side. “Not our usual day.”

“Just wanted to hang somewhere I could drink,” Caleb explains with a shrug. “Mind if I come in?”

“Hell, I’m not doin’ anything.” Frank steps aside, and Caleb steps up, offering a few scratches behind the ears to Pompidou as he walks in and takes a seat at Frank’s table. Frank goes to the kitchenette, rummaging in the cupboards above the stove.

“What’s the feelin’ tonight? Got...whiskey, vodka, tequila, some warm beer.”

“Any of them good?”

“Nope. All bottom shelf.”

“Figured. Vodka, then.”

“You’re the boss.”

“I am?”

“Hell yeah, man, you know how much effort you save me every week?” Frank asks, looking over his shoulder with a smirk. “Haven’t seen that girl around in a while, though. How come?”

“I got a car,” Caleb says, shrugging and looking away as Frank pulls down a bottle and shot glasses, laying them out on the table. “Easier for me to get out here.”

“Gotcha. So you’re not on the outs or anything?”

Caleb takes up the shot glass as soon as Frank fills up and knocks it back. “Wouldn’t say that,” he says, sighing.

“Shit. Was wondering what got you pissed enough to come around here on Thanksgiving. I figured it was your, what, step-dad again?” Frank asks, sliding into the booth across from Caleb and taking the bottle again, filling Caleb’s glass.

“It’s kinda half-and-half, right now. I figure all my other friends are with their families or whatever, so…”

“Feel you there, Caleb. Cheers.” Frank clinks his glass against Caleb’s, and he takes his second shot. He winces at the burn of Frank’s cheap-ass vodka, coughing a few times into his hand. “To another shitty Thanksgiving, huh?” Frank says, slumping back in his seat with a sigh.

“You do anything this year?” Caleb asks, rolling the glass between his hands.

“My dad’s as shit as your dad—”

“Step dad.”

“Stepdad, right, so, no. I don’t know if they even know my number anymore,” Frank admits, filling his shot glass again. “Good you came by or I would be drinking alone, how fucking sad is that?”

“It’s still pretty sad.”

“You know, I could charge for this,” Frank warns with a smirk.

“You could, but you won’t. You like me,” Caleb shoots back, relaxing a little.

“Like is a strong word.” Frank knocks back his second shot. “But you’re not the worst. Definitely the least annoying Blackwell brat I’ve had to deal with in a while.”

“Aw, how sweet.”

“Seriously, I dunno how you ended up so chill when that school’s full of rich assholes.”

“Didn’t you go to Blackwell?”

“Had a scholarship, if you can believe it.”

“Oh yeah? Me too,” Caleb admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t think about the whole...money part of it a lot, but I got in on chem exams back in the day. Plus I think I get a discount ‘cuz step-dick is head of security.”

“You keeping that scholarship up? ‘Cuz I got mostly expelled for slacking,” Frank says, leaning over and patting a patient Pompidou on the head. “Sure, I got caught selling, but I bet that woulda gone away if I had a better GPA.”

Caleb cringes. “Uh...keeping up on the chem. Mostly. Trying. I don’t spend a lot of time at home, so, homework…”

“It’s hard when you got an asshole waiting for you at home, huh?” Frank says with a sigh. “Watch out for yourself, Caleb.”

“You’re giving me advice?”

“Hey, gimme a break, never had a younger brother,” Frank says with a laugh. “Don’t blame me if it’s shit or if I never followed it.”

Caleb’s phone buzzes, and he takes it out and scowls.

Rachel: are you mad at me?

“Rachel?” Frank asks with a wry smile.

“Yeah.”

“So...what happened? I’m no stranger to girl trouble, you know.”

Caleb laughs softly, putting his phone back in his pocket. “You? Really?”

“Hey, when you got the hookups, a lot of girls get into you all of the sudden, all right?”

“...so you traded sex for drugs? Real classy.”

“I — no, I mean, I just had stuff and people wanted to party and I was chill and — it wasn’t, like, a transaction, you know, it…” Frank growls. “You know what, forget it, then, asshole. You don’t want me asking, just say it.”

Caleb breaks into laughter. “Damn, you’re easy to piss off, huh?”

“And don’t forget it.” Frank pours them another round. “Anyway. I didn’t tell you what happened when I went out to my shrooms guy last week, did I?”

“Frank, we basically don’t talk.”

“Right, well, someone’s gotta hear this one. So I pull up to his house and already I’m a little worried because the whole thing’s lit up purple…”

Steph: Is Barbara joining us this weekend or not, dude? We really gotta know.

Caleb squints at his screen, rising up out of the booth he fell asleep in, his head blurred and painful. Right. The campaign. That he’s completely been ignoring like an asshole, because he’s been all Rachel-obsessed. Stupid. He’s managed to snag himself a new friend, he should make sure he doesn’t lose this one, because Steph is actually really cool (even if the age spread of the party leans towards freshies.) He checks the time, nine A.M., and with no texts from Mom, he appears to have successfully escaped consequences for ditching home. Thank God.

But there is a text from Rachel.

Rachel: chloe

That’s it. All she sent.

Fucking bitch.

What does she want from him? Does she want him to beg her to come back? To say he forgives her for ditching him to deal with Victoria, of all people? And now she’s using this, his secret, his pain, to try and force him to talk to her?

Fuck this, man.

He gets up and considers the idea of drinking again, but only briefly, because standing up puts the sun right at eye level and it stabs his brain unpleasantly. He finds the bathroom and locates ibuprofen, at least, downing it with water from the sink. He checks the bedroom, but Frank’s door is closed, and he’s already up, so he’s not quite sure what to do with himself. He looks at his phone again. Trevor and Justin are both out of town for the holiday, but Steph isn’t. He hasn’t been to Steph’s yet — the DnD crew meets in the band room on Saturdays since Steph’s got a key — but that’s where they’re meeting tomorrow, in theory. He’s even got her address.

Maybe he should take the advice he gave to Rachel, and branch out a little more.

Me: yeah ill be there

Me: you mind if i drop by actually? didnt rly sleep and dont wanna go home. know ur a gamer. wanna fight?

Steph: Oh, I have heard about your victories, Price. But don’t get cocky. I still own a Dreamcast. Our battles will be legendary.

Me: ofc u were a sega kid

Steph: Is that some lesbian stereotype I’m unaware of?

Me: no its just written in ur whole personality. be there soon

He relaxes as he reads her responses, stepping out of the RV into the brisk morning air. She’s always easy to talk to, to get into this kind of verbal sparring match with. Not so different from Rachel, really. But so far, unlike Rachel, she isn’t after anything from him.

And she’s willing, somehow, to accept that he wants to come over at nine A.M. just to hang. He wonders why Rachel and her aren’t closer, if Rachel ever tried to talk to her about her feelings. Maybe he’ll find out.

He checks his past texts with Steph, figures out how to get to her place with his own mental map of the Bay. She doesn’t live too far from his place, actually. Walking distance. As he climbs into his truck and starts it up, he finds himself looking forward to this. Steph’s a good DM. She’s probably a good friend, too, if he just...lets her.

He parks outside of a squat little house in the suburbs, lights shining through drawn curtains as he approaches. He’ll probably at least have to have a token interaction with her parents, he realizes. He braces himself as he heads up to the door, backpack slung over his shoulder. He doesn’t know if he’ll need his character sheet, but hey, just in case.

A short man answers his knock at the door, balding with glasses, and Caleb finds himself relaxing a little. “Hello?” Steph’s dad says.

“Hey, uh, I’m one of Steph’s friends?”

“You are?” The guy looks him up and down with a little smile. “I think I’d remember if she brought you around before. Her usual type is a little...nerdier.”

Caleb laughs. “Hey, man, don’t judge on looks! I can be a punk and a nerd at the same time. She offered to school me on the Dreamcast.”

“Of course she did. I’m George.”

“Caleb. Where’s she at?”

“Basement. I know what you kids are like, I’ll stay out of the lair,” George says, stepping back and letting Caleb by, pointing him down the stairs to the right. He nods and takes them two at a time, as loud as he can to announce his presence, and finds himself in a pretty big den, Steph just stepping back from a TV on his right as a loud beeeeep resonates through the room.

“Hey, dude!” Steph says, bouncing over to him and offering him a fist to pound. “Wild night out, huh?”

Caleb snorts. “I wish. Just got drunk in an RV.”

“Caleb, Caleb, Caleb,” Steph sighs, putting her hands on her hips. “You do know that you’re my most delinquent friend, right? That is a wild night out to me.” She looks him up and down. “Did you have breakfast yet?”

“Nah, just got your text when I woke up,” Caleb says with a shrug, shying away from Steph’s searching green eyes.

“Yeah, I figured. Dude, do you ever eat?” Steph asks, walking back over to the TV and taking two utterly ugly beige controllers from the floor, stretching out their cables to the coffee table in front of the couch.

“I eat plenty. Just...not at home. Or at school. Usually.”

Steph snorts. “Those are the two places a teenager spends most of their time, Caleb. Here.” She takes a foil package from the coffee table and tosses it at his face. “Game fuel. Before I wreck you.”

He just barely catches it and determines that it’s some sort of breakfast bar, promising the taste of strawberries and milk. With a shrug, he heads over to the couch, opening it on the way. “Anyone ever tell you you’re such a mom?” he asks as he sits down beside her.

She elbows him. “I’m the DM, man, it’s my job to look after my players.”

“I thought it was your job to kill them.”

“It is my job to kill their characters. Important distinction. If I don’t look after my players, then suddenly everyone’s cramming for tests or breaking up with their girlfriends or getting kicked out of school and I don’t get to play anymore,” Steph explains, taking the remote and turning on the TV. “Oh, good, I haven’t hooked this up to the flatscreen yet, wasn’t sure it’d work,” Steph notes, pointing at the screen, which appears to be playing—

“Oh, shit, you have the original Soulcalibur?” Caleb asks with a grin. “Nice.”

“Like I said. I’ve heard what you’re good at. Let’s see if you can go retro.”

“First one I played was two. Can’t be that different, right?”

“Nope, but I’m still whupping you.”

“Hey, I’m supposed to eat first.” Caleb takes a defiant bite of the bar, and, damn, it’s pretty good to get something in his stomach after all. Steph smiles a little at him. “What?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “Got something on my face?”

“No, just, kinda glad we get to hang out a little. You always look pissed off at school.”

“Do I?” Caleb ponders, stroking his chin and instantly regretting it; he hasn’t shaved in a while.

“Especially lately. Just nice to see you a little relaxed, is all.”

“My stepdad works security,” Caleb explains, taking another bite.

“...yeah, I heard about that,” Steph admits, looking away.

“You been stalking me?” Caleb asks.

“You weren’t on my radar until you suddenly showed up in kickass cosplay. Just scoping you out.” Steph clears her throat. “Your stepdad why you don’t wanna go home?”

“It’s really both of ‘em.”

“Shit. Had plenty of friends like that. I’m glad my parents are cool.” Steph glances up the stairs, but doesn’t seem to spot anyone.

“Oh yeah? How’d they take the gay thing?” Caleb asks, a chill settling over his body the second he says it, instantly regretting asking, God he must look so weird—

“Awkward, but...sweet. I think they weren’t exactly surprised, but they were in this place of like, well she hasn’t told anyone, she might just be weird,” Steph says, chuckling. “I mean, Mom did walk in on me watching a lesbian sex scene…”

“Ouch,” Caleb hisses.

“Mass Effect, man. Changed my life.” Steph notices him taking his last bite, and shoves the controller into his hands. “C’mon. Let’s battle.”

He loses himself in the game, for a while; though he complains of how easy ringouts are in this version and there’s not enough buttons on the controller, he learns his way around his favorites well enough (though he does grouse about the lack of certain characters from the sequels.) Steph trash-talks the shit out of him, which only makes his victories sweeter, and the bouts are fast enough that they find themselves nearly in the triple digits before Caleb gets another text between rounds.

Rachel: look if your mad at me just say it. this is bs and you know it

He growls, stuffing the phone back in his pocket and selecting his character again, but Steph’s cursor doesn’t move on the screen. He looks over at her, and she asks, “Parents?”

“No,” he sighs. “Rachel.”

“Rachel,” Steph repeats, looking away, leg jiggling up and down. “You guys seemed really close for a while. Something up?”

“It’s — it’s nothing, really,” Caleb mutters. “She’s just...being…”

“You okay? You seem tense.”

“She’s my best friend, okay? But sometimes she does things that I just…” Caleb leans back and groans. “I don’t know. She’s being all vague with me and she ditched me at our usual spot. She’s using all these excuses that I know are bullshit. It sucks.”

“You shouldn’t let people treat you like that.”

Caleb looks over at her, and finds she’s still avoiding his eyes. “Huh?”

Steph takes in a deep breath. “You’re a nice guy, Caleb. You don’t deserve to get jerked around by people like Rachel.”

“What the hell do you know about people like Rachel?” Caleb demands, fists clenching up at his sides.

“I — woah, Caleb, I’m just—” Steph stammers, holding up her hands.

“I’ve known her way longer than you, you don’t know shit about us—”

“Caleb! Ease up!” Steph hisses, sweeping her head back and forth as though waiting for an authority figure to come out of nowhere and bust them. “Can I explain before you bite my head off?”

“Explain what?” Caleb asks, fighting the urge to just up and leave, because he doesn’t really wanna torpedo this — at least, not without Steph’s apparently-needed explanation.

“Look, I didn’t tell you this yet because I wanted to stay out of your business...and it was kinda embarrassing,” Steph sighs, pushing her bangs back from her forehead. “But...it’s obvious by the way you’re talking that she didn’t tell you.”

“Didn’t tell me what?”

“A...a couple weeks ago...she made a move on me.” Steph folds her hands in her lap. “Sort of, anyway.”

Caleb opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again, mind blanking. “Sort of?” he asks.

“In the way straight girls do. You know. Ooh, tell me how you knew you were gay, maybe I’m into girls, who knows, wink wink, let’s kiss and find out,” Steph groans, covering her face with one hand.

“Wait—”

“I bailed once I figured out what she was doing. I get why you’re into her, like, she’s got this...thing, about her, but…” Steph grunts. “It’s not my first fuckin’ rodeo with this shit. It’s been happening since I came out in freshman year. Honestly, it was fucking disappointing coming from her, I thought she was cooler than that.” She looks over at him, meeting his eyes at last. “So, yeah, I think she’s stringing you along, okay? I think she’s using you, because she tried to use me, too. Don’t let her.”

“H-hang on,” Caleb stutters, swallowing. Why didn’t Rachel tell him about this? She was supposed to be figuring herself out, they’d agreed, so why didn’t she share this part of that with him? But still, he feels like Steph has this wrong. “I, um, shit, Steph — how did she make a move, exactly?”

“Oh, just…” Steph leans back in her seat. “She took me on a like, quasi-date thing, then got me high in her dorm room and started asking about gay stuff. The way she was talking, it just...set off red flags.”

“I, um, I wouldn’t normally tell you this, and, like, keep it to yourself, okay?” Caleb begins, drumming his fingers on his knee. “But I don’t think...I mean...she really has been questioning.”

Steph sits up again. “Oh?”

“Yeah, um, we had a talk about it. A while back. I think...she might’ve just been trying to ask someone who knows, you know? Not that she was trying to...hook up or anything. She might’ve just been trying to talk.”

Steph scratches the back of her neck. “I...I dunno, man. You weren’t there.”

“She can definitely be kinda intense,” Caleb admits, feeling sweat bead on his neck. “And she didn’t tell me, and — fuck, I don’t know. Maybe she was trying to like, figure it out by kissing you, which would be shitty because you’re not the girl who’s making her—”

“There’s another girl?” Steph interrupts. “Who?”

Caleb shuts his mouth. He and Steph definitely aren’t close enough for that, and besides, the thought of Rachel going out and kissing someone just to figure out if she likes it isn’t that out of left field for her, she always goes straight for the throat on stuff like this, and Caleb practically gave her permission to do it, and—

Oh, shit.

“Victoria,” he breathes, shoulders tensing.

“Who?” Steph asks. “Someone I—”

“I, no, shit,” Caleb curses, standing up and fishing his phone from his pocket, reading the texts back over. “Steph, I — I gotta go. I need to talk to her.”

“Caleb,” Steph warns, “I’m telling you, this isn’t good for you, whatever she’s doing—”

“I know, okay? I know.” Caleb swallows spit, heart dropping into his stomach. They aren’t even together, let alone exclusive. Rachel’s not cheating, if she’s done what Caleb thinks she has. And yet, the thought of her just, being with someone else, without even telling him, and dodging him, and, and — it feels familiar. It feels like being abandoned for someone who’s easier. Like he’s been afraid of, ever since he told her. “I really...I gotta go,” he says again, taking his backpack from the floor and heading over to the stairs. “T-thanks, though.”

“For what?” Steph asks, looking genuinely baffled. “Caleb—”

“For telling me. I’ll...talk to you later.” Caleb jumps up the stairs, shaking as he heads out into the sun, staring at his phone, at Rachel’s messages. He gets into his truck, not sure where to go. Where’s better than here, after all? Middle of some random neighborhood, Steph probably figuring he’s gone already. But if he asks her outright what she did, what Caleb fears she did, she’ll just...evade, or blow him off, won’t she? The same way she does whenever things get too serious, unless he’s right there and looking her in the eye.

Me: if you want to talk to me again do it in person. this IS bullshit. i deserve better than this

Rachel: i cant

Me: then i guess i AM mad at you.

Rachel: im trying to protect us both this isnt me ditching you i swear

Rachel: chloe please

Me: fuck off

Caleb fights the urge to just toss his phone at his windshield, anger filling his whole body with heat. How dare she try and use that name, here and now, just to try and manipulate him? He’s always known she has this side, but it’s never been turned on him so obviously, not since the fire at American Rust.

Serves him right for ever thinking he was special to someone. He should’ve learned that lesson last time. He can be tossed aside as soon as he’s inconvenient. It’s always been that way.

He considers going back to Frank’s. Finding more ways to be out of his own shitty fucking head, drink and smoke until Rachel’s off his mind. But just as he’s putting his phone in his pocket and reaching to turn the keys in the ignition, he gets another text.

Steph: I didn’t mean to get so intense. I’m sorry.

Steph: It was totally out of line for me to even get into your friendship. I think what happened between me and her just bothered me a lot and I wanted to get it out. But it was selfish and shitty for me to make it your problem.

Steph: I won’t bring it up again if you don’t want me to. I’ll stay out of your business.

Me: why are you apologizing what do you care

Steph: Because I think you’re cool and I like hanging out with you. I know we haven’t known each other long, but I want to be your friend. I don’t wanna blow that on being an asshole about a girl.

Caleb feels tears sting at his eyes, and he wipes them away, feeling stupid for letting this, of all things, get to him. It’s weird to see someone being so...kind to him, that isn’t Rachel. Someone who’s putting in the effort to make sure he sticks around. Who else in his life does that, totally unprompted?

Steph: Are we okay?

Me: yeah

Steph: See you tomorrow?

Me: you know it. barbs gotta kill a god

Steph: I keep telling you that’s not how this campaign ends.

Me: well see about that

Caleb taps his fingers on the steering wheel. He’s surprised Rachel hasn’t responded yet. He decides against Frank’s place, for now — he doesn’t need to try and talk to Rachel again while he’s blasted, and if he stays there a second night, David and Joyce will definitely figure it out. He considers asking Steph if he can still hang, but...maybe they should chill for a minute and let that whole thing blow over before he does that again.

So, it’s back home. He needs to shower and shave.

He knows he might slash his wrists again, once he’s in the bathroom and staring at sharp edges. But of all his options, it feels the least destructive.

Rachel never texts him back.

Not during the DnD session on Saturday, held in Steph’s basement lair. Not during his and Steph’s post-session hangout, where they avoid the subject of Rachel and focus purely on good-natured shit talk and arguments about whether or not the campaign should involve God-killing exploits. Not when he finds Trevor and Justin at the skatepark on Sunday afternoon, whiling away his hours with them much as he did before Rachel ever entered his life.

And not when he finds himself alone at lunch again.

After five minutes and a cigarette, he gives up and heads into the cafeteria, avoiding the watchful eye of David at the front of the room. He scans the tables for Rachel, just in case, but the VC’s usual place is devoid of both Victoria and Rachel, which makes him clench his fists.

But he does see Steph near the back of the room, chilling with Brooke and Mikey, and once she sees him she brightens up and beckons him over to join the conversational war over Star Wars versus Star Trek. Caleb has no stake in the fight, and neither does Steph, but the two of them are content to throw in the occasional jab as the two freshmen argue passionately for their pulp sci-fi franchise of choice. Justin and Trevor walk in nearly halfway through the period, stinking of weed, and Caleb gives them a respectful bro-nod as they spot him. They end up dropping in on the table too, next to Caleb, and it’s...fine. Even with David’s stink-eye on them all, he doesn’t approach them, and maybe being around non-Rachel people for lunch isn’t so bad after all.

Without a word from Rachel, or even more than a brief sighting of her, the week goes by pretty smoothly. Caleb ends up at home for dinner most nights, which seems to please Joyce, and while David still gives him the evil eye for coming in smelling like cigarettes, no more searches get conducted. Caleb only knows that because he overhears them arguing from downstairs, David insisting that they should start searching his truck because his grades are slipping, and Joyce holding firm. That pit of dread in his chest grows with each night he spends in his own bed, checking his phone to see if Rachel’s going to fucking fess up already, waiting to see if David’s gonna go against Joyce again and find some way to attack Caleb.

Steph has to cancel their session, since the play officially opens on Friday and runs through the weekend. David’s on overtime to cover the play and the dance, so Caleb's alone in the house for most of Friday. He only knows Mom is home by the sound of her coming in and immediately heading to bed, and then the house is quiet again, and he’s alone in his room, listening to Rachel’s music on his phone. He’s just pondering going out and taking a few shots from the stash in the junkyard when he hears something tapping.

He sits up on his bed, squinting in the dark, and he hears it again and knows that it’s coming from the window, and that can only mean one thing. His heart jumps against his will as he slides off the end of the bed and sees Rachel’s outline, crouched beyond the glass, the streetlights bouncing off her white dress and giving her a glowing silhouette. She must still be in costume from the play.

She smiles at him when they make eye contact, and Caleb knows he’s screwed. He could leave her out there, of course, could pretend she doesn’t exist, could act like he doesn’t want her back, but she’ll just keep banging on the window and making his life Hell until he lets her in.

So he slides the window open, and Rachel falls into him. She’s unbalanced and heavy and he falls flat on his back, her body on top of his. She plants her hands on either side of his head and rises up, eyes shining, mouth curved in a grin. “Hey,” she says. Like it’s that easy.

“Rachel, what the f—”

Rachel leans down and kisses him, and, fuck. It feels as good as it did on Halloween, and he doesn’t want to push her away, not now that she’s back, and a pain shoots through his body at how pathetic he is. She’s doing something with Victoria. She’s ignored him for over a week, ditched him before that, hid her experience with Steph from him. But she still feels good, even if he can taste stale alcohol on her lips, and she said she’d talk when she figured it out, so — has she?

If she wasn’t on top of him on the floor, this would be easier.

It takes some will to get his arms to move, to get around her waist and tug her back, but she does get the message. She pulls back, panting, adjusting her legs so they’re on either side of his hips so she can raise herself up, flipping her hair over her shoulder with the motion. “I missed you, Chloe,” she whispers, dragging her hands down his chest.

“Rachel—”

“I’m bi. And I want you. N’matter what.” Rachel leans down again, and Caleb gets together the will to clamp a hand over her mouth before she reaches him.

“H-hold on,” Caleb gasps, despite her licking his hand like a bratty kid. “Get off.”

Rachel pulls back, only to smirk. “Yeah, that’s the ide—”

“Stop,” Caleb says through grit teeth. Rachel looks away, her smile fading, and she clambers off him, letting him slide out from underneath her and sit up across from her on the floor.

“Sorry,” Rachel mutters, hugging herself around the knees. “I—”

“Where the hell have you been?” Caleb demands, some of the anger returning to animate him now that there’s a little distance between them.

“A-afterparty. For the play. I drank. Thought about you.”

Caleb clenches his jaw, remembering Steph telling him he deserves better. “That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

“Chloe—”

“What happened, Rachel?”

“What do you—”

“With Victoria.”

Rachel takes in a deep breath. She closes her eyes and covers her face with her hands. Oh, no, she does not get to cry, or act like Caleb’s wrong for asking, or try to blow him off, he’s ready to yell at her if he has to—

“I fucked her.”

Well.

He knew that.

“She thinks we’re dating,” Rachel adds, her voice high and strained.

Oh.

That does qualify as a situation.

Chapter Text

The morning after the party starts with Rachel lying in a girl’s arms.

She’s bi. She fucked up.

That’s the obvious part. The less obvious part is what the fuck she’s going to do now. Victoria has one arm slung across her chest, resting on her shoulder, her face buried in Rachel’s neck. Rachel can’t move without disturbing Victoria, and even if she could — can she really just sneak out of here, like nothing happened between them? Like all this tension that’s been crushing the two of them for a year and a half can be ignored, especially after this? This isn’t like a hookup with some guy. Even if Rachel wishes it was, it just...isn’t. The world’s not that equal.

God, she is so fucking stupid.

The headache, the dryness in her throat, they point to that. Being stuck in this guestroom in this fancy house, staring up at the ceiling, points to that. The fact that this isn’t the first time she’s done this, pushed too far and ended up hurting someone, that it’s something she just can’t fucking stop herself from doing, it’s all proof that Rachel Amber is the colossal idiot her parents think she is, and she deserved to get sent out here in the first place where at least they can hide from the consequences of her actions.

She can’t cry, not here, not now. She closes her eyes, counts to herself. Okay. She’ll improvise. She really doesn’t know how Victoria’s going to take this, after all. No point planning for unknowns. She tries to change her thinking, at least enjoy this little moment they’re having, even if she’s waiting for Nathan to charge through the door and find them or something.

Finally, Victoria stirs.

The movement of her body against Rachel’s grounds Rachel, the sensation of skin-on-skin suddenly sharpening. Rachel shivers. Victoria’s breath on her neck is warm. Victoria rubs her thumb against Rachel’s shoulder.

Suddenly, Victoria stiffens, drawing her head back and blinking at Rachel once they’re far enough apart to see each other. They lock eyes, and — and Victoria looks scared. She’s shaking, just slightly, her breathing irregular, and in a flash, Rachel realizes why Victoria’s afraid.

Rachel never kept her secrets before, after all.

She draws up her hand and places it gently on Victoria’s back, smiling at her. Victoria needs to know, or at least think, that Rachel isn’t gonna spread this around. “Hey,” she whispers softly.

And Victoria hugs her.

She buries her face in Rachel’s collarbone, still clearly trying to get control of her breath. “Woah,” Rachel says, reaching up and stroking through her short blonde hair. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, I’m fucked,” Victoria moans, digging her nails into Rachel’s back.

“Well, that’s true, but only in the literal sense,” Rachel says, trying to put a laugh in her voice.

“Oh my God,” Victoria mutters, though she chuckles slightly. “Do you always have to be like this?”

“I was under the impression you liked it.”

Victoria takes in a deep breath, releasing it as a sigh. “I...yeah, I do.” She swallows. “Rachel, I — why?”

“Huh?”

“You don’t actually like me, right?”

“Wait—”

“Was this some, some sort of fucked-up game or something?” Victoria asks, though she clings tighter to Rachel. “T-tell everyone I’m gay and I’m out of the way—”

“Victoria—”

“So you can be President next year or something—”

“Victoria,” Rachel groans, scooting back against the headboard so she can sit up, trying to look at Victoria properly. “How would that even work?”

“Y-you’ve always been everyone’s favorite, it just makes—”

“No, I mean this plan you’ve apparently decided I have, where I tell everyone you’re gay because we had sex?” Rachel says, raising an eyebrow. Victoria pulls back, looking confused. “When...like, two to tango or whatever?”

Victoria blinks a few times. “Then...why?”

Yeah, Rachel, why? What can she even say? I wanted to know if I was really bi so I took advantage of you? She really can’t have Victoria actively against her, too — Rachel’s well-aware that half the reason she gets away with what she does is that Nathan and Victoria both like her. If she breaks Victoria’s heart right now...that goes out the window, and especially if she immediately runs off to Chloe, she’ll make both of them targets. Maybe Rachel would weather that fine, but... it’s not what Chloe needs, not right now.

“I dunno,” Rachel says with a shrug, and Victoria scowls at her. “Really! It’s not that complicated!” Rachel insists. “I...I put things together in the kitchen, you looked kinda down, so I was like...what if we had a little fun?”

“So you’re like...actually gay, too?” Victoria asks, and it almost hurts, the note of hope in her voice, the openness of her face as she stares into Rachel’s eyes.

“Um...bi. I think,” Rachel admits, smiling sheepishly. “Definitely not straight, at least, or...well, you were super cute last night.”

Victoria flushes and lowers her head down to Rachel’s chest, hiding her smile in her skin. Rachel finds herself stroking Victoria’s back, enjoying the sensation, trying to run through scenarios in her head and totally failing until Victoria suddenly tightens around her again.

“No one can know,” she whispers. “Especially not Nathan.”

“...why not him?”

“I...I think he knows. About me. You know? But…” Victoria heaves a sigh. “He still wants to be with you, and, sometimes, when he’s mad, he kind of scares me.”

“Hey, we don’t have to tell anyone. Our secret. ‘Kay?” Rachel offers, taking Victoria’s chin in one hand, and, oops, she shouldn’t have done that, she kind of wants to kiss Victoria again. But luckily, someone’s phone vibrates somewhere, on the floor, and Victoria climbs off of Rachel to check it.

It’s...a nice view.

Fuck.

Victoria finds the guilty phone and pulls it out, squinting. “Shit,” she hisses, setting it down on the bed and starting to rapidly pull her clothes on.

Rachel sits up fully, crossing her legs under the covers. “What’s up?”

“Kris says Nathan’s looking for me. I gotta get out there and find him before he barges in.” Victoria shakes as she dresses herself, and Rachel slides out of bed, crossing the room to approach her. Victoria stops in her tracks, hand on the zipper of her skirt, eyes glued to Rachel’s body. A guilty little rush runs through Rachel as she embraces Victoria.

“It’ll be okay,” Rachel assures her, squeezing once, and when she steps back Victoria’s face is entirely red, which makes Rachel giggle.

“Not if you’re this level of subtle all the time,” Victoria murmurs, looking down and zipping herself up. “G-God. Get dressed.”

“Do you really want me to—”

“Seriously. Turn it off for a second,” Victoria snaps.

Rachel smirks at her, but she does set about finding where she’d tossed her clothes last night, and in short order she’s decent enough for Victoria to deem it worth the risk to actually leave the room. She pauses as she takes the doorknob in her hand, looking over her shoulder at Rachel. “...I’ll talk to you later,” she says quickly, before yanking the door open and heading down the hall.

Rachel takes a minute — not just to give them their plausible deniability by not showing up downstairs at the exact same time, but for herself. Once she’s dressed, she sits down on the edge of the bed and checks her phone. Nothing from anyone, which, she supposes, can only be a good thing. For the moment, it really is their secret.

She almost wants to tell Chloe. Maybe not...the specifics, but that she knows who she is now, and there’s nothing standing in their way — except, of course, for the fact that there is. Not only this Victoria shit, but for as much as Rachel tries to push her, she really doesn’t know how Chloe attempting to actually transition would go. Should she do it now? Before that pain inside her eats her alive? Or should the secret stay with Chloe and Rachel until they’re safe, until they’re out of this shithole town?

It’s times like these that really remind Rachel that she has no fucking clue what she’s doing.

A knock on the door makes her shake her head and pocket her phone, standing up to answer it. As she opens the door, she beholds Kris, and relaxes a little. “What’s up?” Rachel asks, putting a hand on her hip.

“I’m taking you kids out for breakfast, by which I mean, I’m getting you all back to the dorms before Dad gets home,” Kris says with a smirk. “You all done in there?”

Rachel checks behind her, then her pockets, and, yeah, nothing’s missing. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“All right, come on, you’re the last one up.” Kris beckons her forward down the hall, and Rachel follows obediently. But as soon as they start walking, Kris leans down next to her and whispers, “You always take advice that fast?”

“Shh!” Rachel hisses, glancing around, though they appear to be totally alone on the second floor.

Kris just laughs softly. “Relax, I’m the only one who knows. Good for Vic, though. You’re not the first kid I ended up talking through that kind of thing.”

“Wait, really?” Something in Rachel’s chest falls — last night felt kind of special, out there by the fire.

“Vic and Nate have been close since they were kids, and my whole...thing went down a while back. I’m…” Kris sighs. “I just hope it goes a little better for you two. You know?”

“...me too.”

The return to Blackwell goes smoothly enough. Rachel and Victoria are the two least-hungover of the group, so after their McDonald’s breakfast and a ride back to the parking lot, everyone else makes for their dorms to pass out again. Rachel and Victoria don’t say a word to each other at first, heading to their own rooms. Rachel showers, gets fresh clothes, and is in the middle of pouring a mug of coffee for herself when a knock comes at her door.

She lets Victoria in, and she walks in and closes the door behind her, leaning against it with her eyes glued to her feet. Rachel should...say something. But she’s not sure what she’s doing, or what Victoria thinks she’s doing. The paranoid streak in this girl is a mile wide. So Rachel starts small.

“Coffee?” she asks, searching across her desk for a second mug and managing to locate it.

“Sure.” Good, Rachel didn’t really need the second cup today, anyway. She pours Victoria a mug and hands it to her, their fingers touching as it passes between them. Victoria heads over to the edge of Rachel’s bed, sitting down there, staring into her cup. Rachel follows her lead, taking the office chair and spinning to face her, unsure what the next move really is.

She waits for Victoria to talk first. Victoria takes a sip of her coffee, and a small smile crosses her face. “You really do go all-out on this,” she says quietly, eyes flicking up towards Rachel.

“If I’m breaking the rules, I’m not doing it for shitty Folger’s,” Rachel replies.

Victoria chuckles, then clears her throat. “So...what do we do?” she asks.

“Who says we have to do anything?” Rachel raises her eyebrows. “You’re acting like we buried a body or something.”

“I just…” Victoria swallows, running a hand through her hair. “I just, I dunno, I didn’t think this would happen, and...I kinda hoped it wouldn’t.”

“...you seemed pretty into it last night,” Rachel notes.

“No, I mean — God. The whole reason things with Caleb and me exploded was because he was like, the only guy I’d ever met that I was kinda-sorta into,” Victoria groans. “I really...God, I’m really just, fucked, huh?”

“What do you mean?” Rachel asks, setting her coffee down and folding her hands in her lap. “Victoria—”

“I’m actually gay,” Victoria whimpers, covering her face with one hand, “And I don’t — I don’t know, I, I know what happened to Kris when she dated a girl, and I know my parents would be just as fucking shitty about it, and—”

“Hey, hey,” Rachel says, getting up and taking a seat at Victoria’s side instead, putting a hand on her thigh. “You’re not fucked. Really. It’s not this like...big disaster you think it is, okay?”

“Easy for you to say,” Victoria snaps, glaring over at her. “If you want you can just date some guy, can’t you? You don’t have to deal with all this shit.”

Rachel scowls. “Do you wanna talk or just lash out at me? ‘Cuz if it’s the second one, I don’t need it.”

“I — “ Victoria pales and grabs Rachel’s hand on her thigh, squeezing almost painfully. “Fuck. Don’t go.”

“Okay.” Rachel sighs. “Really, Victoria, I promise, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Not even Caleb?”

“Not even him,” Rachel lies. She’s not dumb. Chloe can see through her, always has, and trying to hide this for too long from her isn’t gonna fly. But unlike Rachel...Chloe can definitely keep a secret. What Victoria doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

“Okay.” Victoria closes her eyes and takes her hand off of Rachel’s, sipping her coffee. “You really...you’re really not that worried about this, are you?”

“Vic, it’s 2010. There is an out gay girl at this school, and she’s fine!” Rachel argues.

“No, she’s not,” Victoria mutters. “I found out about Steph from some of the older girls, and they told all these stories...everyone treated her like shit when she came out.”

“Really? But she seems so chill,” Rachel says.

“I mean, yeah, people don’t bug her much anymore but that’s ‘cuz she only hangs out at dork places like Drama and Band and shit. You ever see her just hanging around campus?” Victoria argues. She gets up, setting her mug down on Rachel’s desk before hugging herself. “If people found out...there goes being VC president.”

“So people won’t find out,” Rachel says with a shrug. “Vic, like I said, it’s fine. Nobody’s gotta know but us. I can keep stuff discreet. I really don’t care that you’re a lesbian, okay?”

“But you already fucking spread that shit I did with Caleb all over campus,” Victoria growls, whirling on her. “Why should I believe you?”

“The same reason you shouldn’t have told me that in the first place,” Rachel says with a smirk. “Because if I tell the story, how do I come across looking like the cool one here? I made the moves on you. Victoria, relax. I’m fine with what happened.” Another lie — at least, partially. “Just...maybe cool it on the hypocrisy?” Rachel suggests.

“What do you mean?”

“Quit calling people faggots and dykes for a minute? Just...chill out. You got laid, that’s supposed to help with that,” Rachel says, holding Victoria’s gaze.

Victoria looks away, then sinks back down beside Rachel on the bed. “Y-yeah,” she murmurs. “Sorry. I know it’s shitty. I was just...I was jealous.”

“Of me, or of Caleb?” Rachel asks.

“Both?” Victoria shrugs helplessly. “I dunno. I’ve had a crush on you forever, and Caleb...God, I don’t even know what’s up with him. You two really aren’t dating, huh?”

“No,” Rachel sighs. “It’s...it’s complicated.” She suppresses a giggle at the thought that comes to her mind, that of course Caleb was Victoria’s “straight” crush. Then her brain catches up, and she does end up laughing as she says, “Wait, you had a crush on me?”

“I thought it was really obvious,” Victoria groans, covering her face with her hand. “Wait, so if you didn’t know—”

“I thought you were into Courtney, honestly,” Rachel admits. “She kept complaining about you getting touchy…”

“I get stupid when I’m drunk.” Victoria rubs at her eyebrows. “She’s not...scary, like you, so…”

“What did you do to get her all pissed at you last night?” Rachel asks.

“I, uh….kinda said that if she wanted Hayden’s attention, we could kiss in front of him?” Victoria says, visibly cringing. “I think? I was pretty wasted.”

“Girl, you are a mess,” Rachel teases, patting her thigh again, and Victoria’s face colors. “You’re lucky I figured it out before someone else did.”

“I know.” Victoria sniffs. “I — she might know, you know? But—”

“But nobody likes her,” Rachel supplies, elbowing Victoria. “So she’s not gonna say anything. Right?”

“That was always what I thought,” Victoria says with a soft laugh. “God.” Victoria sighs, running a hand through her hair. “I’ll, um, I’ll keep that shit in check. Or...try. It was really nice to actually kiss a girl,” she admits, leaning into Rachel’s side.

“Like I said, it doesn’t have to be a big deal,” Rachel assures her, feeling some warmth at the contact.

“Maybe for you, it doesn’t. Everything always seems so easy for you,” Victoria complains.

“You think so?” Rachel asks, raising her eyebrows. “I just don’t let people see me try, Vic. It’s a skill.”

“...really?” Victoria asks, her voice so small and quiet.

“Yeah. You really think I’ve never struck out before? That I just seduced my first girl completely successfully with no awkwardness or weird drama attached?” Rachel chuckles to herself. “You’re fine. Really.”

Victoria lets out a long sigh, leaning further into Rachel, and it’s...it’s cute, to see her like this, unguarded and vulnerable like last night. Rachel rubs her hand back and forth on Victoria’s thigh, feeling Victoria’s body relax against her own.

“...mind if I grab my stuff from my room?” Victoria asks. “I’m way behind on homework.”

“Except for Photography,” Rachel teases. “You like Varte, admit it.”

“She’s a good teacher, fuck off,” Victoria says, standing up and stretching.

“And you’re a little bit gay for her?” Rachel suggests.

“No. Hippies aren’t my type.”

Rachel gestures at herself, and Victoria turns up her nose and scoffs. “Whatever.”

But Rachel sees the smile on her face.

They don’t separate for the rest of the day.

Victoria orders pizza to the dorms, and Rachel goes along with it, because, hey, what’s a Sunday for if not cramming all of last week’s homework into a hungover, illegal-coffee-fueled afternoon? Courtney and Nathan don’t make themselves known, either, and everything seems...chill.

After they’re done with their work, Victoria suggests that Rachel finally smoke her out for a change, and the only thing to do after that, of course, is cuddle up on Rachel’s bed and watch some of Victoria’s anime bullshit on a pirate site.

Unsurprisingly, Victoria considers a masterpiece to involve a lot of blood, gore, and tits. But this arc ends up a little different; a story of two girls who’ve spent their lives being abused and humiliated by those in control of them, finding each other and trying to protect one another from the harsh world surrounding them. Even if one of them is like, a catgirl with psychic powers...it’s not hard to see where Victoria’s attachment to this comes from. And Victoria’s warm next to her, and a little shaky and nervous, and as the light fades from the outside world and all that’s left is Rachel and Victoria in the blue light of the LCD screen…

Well, maybe Rachel wants to kiss her again, a little. Maybe it’s the drugs. Maybe it’s because they’ve done it before. Maybe Chloe is slipping her mind, because they haven’t seen each other for a while, and things there are complicated. And maybe Victoria is just...pretty.

They lose track of time. They never figure out a dinner plan. Victoria separates to go to her own room sometime around midnight — if they want to keep this on the down-low, they really can’t be having sleepovers.

But without Victoria in the room, Rachel’s left with only her own thoughts.

She hopes she’ll figure it out tomorrow.

Photo’s right before lunch, and while Rachel’s itching to get to her and Chloe’s spot so she can tell her, yes, we can do this, we can be together, Victoria grabs her arm on the way out of class.

“Wanna head to my room?” she asks, even as Nathan comes up beside them with a raised eyebrow. “We should, uh, talk about what we’re doing for the partner project, right?”

Rachel’s not sure what to say. She goes to the cafeteria and grabs stuff for Chloe, then they hang out and smoke. That’s the routine. But Victoria clearly thinks that things have changed, and —

“We have like two weeks to get that shit together,” Nathan groans. “Come on, V, let’s get lunch and let Rachel get back to her weird boytoy.”

“Go ahead, Nate,” Victoria says carefully, glancing between Rachel and Nathan. “I’ve got food in my room, we’ll be fine. Just wanna talk about the project without having to yell over a bunch of screaming kids, you know?”

“What food do you have, ramen?” Rachel jokes. “I—”

“I got Thai leftovers in my fridge!” Victoria insists, tugging at Rachel’s arm. “C’mon, let’s eat ‘em before they go bad.”

Nathan scoffs. “Whatever. You get way too into this photography stuff. Teacher’s a bitch anyway.”

“She is not—”

“I get it, I get it,” Nathan says, holding his hands up. “Fine, fine. Catch you later, V, Rach.”

So Rachel didn’t figure out a way out of that.

And as she heads into Victoria’s room and closes the door behind her, Victoria turns and puts her hands on Rachel’s shoulders, bringing their faces close, and—

And Rachel isn’t figuring a way out of that, either.

The same thing happens on Tuesday. Rachel doesn’t know what to do.

That night, lying awake on her bed and staring at her ceiling, she realizes she’s just completely ditched Chloe, two days in a row. And, she realizes, she’d planned for her to take her to the airport tomorrow, and if she sees Chloe again, she’ll definitely ask Rachel where she was, and what answer does Rachel have? I’ve apparently fallen into a clandestine lesbian relationship with Victoria Chase and I don’t know how to break up with her without creating an even bigger mess?

No. No, she needs to deal with this situation before she talks to Chloe again. There’s just no way around it.

Of course, none of this would be a fucking problem if her parents would just make the fucking effort to come and get her themselves. But they’re always too busy. Getting a text back, even about basic fucking school supplies and textbook shit, always takes at least a day when she’s at Blackwell. Rachel tightens her fist and sits up, rubbing angrily at her forehead.

Whatever.

She gets up and heads over to her laptop, scheduling herself a bus ride to Portland. It’ll be a little tight, time-wise, but she’s not bringing much baggage. She’ll deal, like she did for Christmas last year. At least she doesn’t have to beg her parents for a pickup; Mags confirmed that she’s still coming by to grab Rachel once she’s back in Long Beach. Rachel’s fine. She’s in control of this situation. She’ll deal.

A knock comes at her door.

It’s gotta be Victoria.

Rachel can’t do this tonight. She walks over to the door and pulls it open, just enough to see her in the gap.

“What are you doing?” Rachel hisses under her breath before Victoria can get a word out.

“I—”

“You wanna keep this on the down-low, you can’t just wait outside my room like a lost puppy,” Rachel snaps.

Victoria’s face falls. Rachel won’t let it affect her. She’s dealing.

“...okay. I’ll see you after break?” Victoria asks quietly.

“Yeah, sure. Later.”

Victoria turns and walks away, staring at her feet. Rachel closes the door.

She’s dealing.

It’s not much warmer in California.

It may be a little sunnier here, but it still sucks, and honestly, Rachel needs proper cold-weather clothes at this point. She shivers as she stands outside Arrivals, waiting for the sight of Magdalene’s car. She inherited her parents’ white BMW, according to their texts, and indeed one does pull up eventually, right as Rachel’s about to call her. She hoists her duffel from the sidewalk and circles around to the back of the car, as Mags hops out to assist her.

“Rachel!” she cries happily, wrapping Rachel in a hug. And, despite the fact that the past few days have felt like crossing a tightrope, Rachel relaxes into her, pulling back to behold her last remaining friend in California. Her brown hair’s been cut short, dark eyes almost obscured by her perfectly round glasses. It’s a nice look on her. She always had a bit of a Velma vibe, in Rachel’s mind.

“Thanks for the pickup, Mags. Open the trunk?” Rachel asks.

Mags nods and pulls the lever for her, grinning at Rachel as the trunk swings open. “Got you a present, too,” she says with a wink, reaching in and taking out a handle of whiskey, swishing it back and forth in front of Rachel.

“You are such a lifesaver,” Rachel says with a grin, dumping her duffel and backpack into the back before hugging her again, then taking the bottle for herself. “Southern Comfort?”

“I took what I could get,” Mags says with a shrug. “C’mon, stuff it in your bag and let’s go before someone yells at us.”

Rachel unzips the duffel and tucks the bottle under her dirty laundry, zips it up, and heads for the passenger seat. As the two of them leave the terminal, Mags asks, “So...how come your parents aren’t doing this?”

“Didn’t wanna bother them,” Rachel mutters, looking out the window. It should be nice to be home, but she’s not even sure this is home anymore. Pine trees feel more welcoming than palms.

“...are they really still mad at you for what happened in eighth grade?” Mags asks, frowning.

“I don’t know, Mags,” Rachel sighs. “You know how it is with them. If I’m not in the room, I stop existing. They’re like babies, you know, lacking, what is it, object permanence?”

Mags laughs to herself. “Yeah, that sure was the vibe whenever I went over last summer. Every single time I left they’d see me and it was like they were shocked I was still there in the first place.”

“Well, you know. Lawyers,” Rachel says with a shrug. “Anyway. Your year going all right?”

Rachel lets Mags talk; hears about how their friendgroup from middle school has essentially completely collapsed, that Magdalene is hanging out with a more chill scene these days, though she keeps up with Laura for the sole purpose of acquiring a drink once in a while from her older brother, who’s still living at home. Mags tries to drag info out of Rachel, but Rachel’s practiced at deflecting, even if it does sting when Mags asks about that Chloe girl you talked about, with the bad dad.

She ends up checking her phone after the music gets turned up, about halfway through the drive.

It fucking sucks to notice that the last text she shared with Chloe was over a week ago.

She puts her phone away, and sets her head against the window. Mags sneaks worried glances over at her until they pull up in front of Rachel’s stupid McMansion.

They pile out of the car and unload it, and Mags gives Rachel another hug. “It’s always good to see you, Rachel. We should hang out over the weekend or something, before you gotta go back,” she suggests, patting Rachel on the shoulder. “Get my money’s worth outta that bottle.”

“I’ll see if I’ve got time. I’m heading back Sunday,” Rachel says. “...thanks for sticking around, Mags. If it was just me alone with my parents I think I’d go fucking insane.”

“You never were one for being alone,” Mags says with a soft smile. “Catch you later, okay?”

Rachel nods and shoulders her bags, heading inside. She doesn’t see anyone as she makes her way to her room. Her parents must be in their offices.

She doesn’t bother to tell them she’s home until dinner.

She cracks open Mags’ bottle that night. To help herself sleep.

Four o’clock is supposed to be the Thanksgiving time to eat. Rachel knows that much from TV shows. So she figures it’s a fine time to take a few swigs from the bottle as she lounges in her room, listening to one of Chloe’s albums, something she picked up as a kid. She said it’s pop-punk, which Rachel’s always down for, and the name of it reminded Rachel of California. Palm Trees and Power Lines.

She wishes she had some weed, but Mags doesn’t indulge in anything “harder” than alcohol. Their arguments on the subject of which one really counted as “hard” are a staple of her visits over here. So whiskey it is, and Rachel’s considering just passing out and waiting to be asked for her order for tonight’s meal when her phone buzzes, and her heart leaps out of her chest at the name on screen.

C: so whats thanksgiving like in ca

Chloe never texts first. It’s part of how their friendship always worked, before, until Rachel was told to back off. But this means she wants to talk. And Rachel wants to talk to her, too, so much, so she starts typing back as fast as she can.

Me: what thanksgiving lol

Me: mom n dad are like catching up on emails

Me: i think were ordering in tonight too

Me: soooooo guess whos fuckn DRINKING

She stops herself there, chest feeling strangely tight. She doesn’t talk about her parents. Not with anyone but Mags. Even what she told Chloe last year, that was it, just enough to convince Chloe that Rachel isn’t exactly having the time of her life at Blackwell Academy. She doesn’t need anyone looking at her with pity or giving her advice or fucking anything. But...now’s the time. This is supposed to be a family holiday, and look how much fun Rachel’s having.

C: count urself lucky thanksgivings bs anyway

Me: o rly? nvr really had em here. i think ive met any relatives like, once

C: not even for xmas?

Me: nah they just send us stuff. our familys out in like fuckin wisconsin or w/e my parents moved here before i was born

Rachel feels hot, like her muscles are burning, like she wants to hit someone. Of course not. Why would her parents ever try to give her like, a fucking family experience of any kind? She was a fucking accident. She had to be.

She finds herself typing before she can stop herself.

Me: hey what do u think the chances are that the condom broke

Chloe doesn’t respond for a while. Rachel curses at herself. Stupid. Stupid. This isn’t how their friendship is. Chloe has enough bullshit going on in her life, she doesn’t need Rachel’s burdens, too. Rachel will deal with this the same way she does everything else. No reason to bother Chloe with it.

Me: sorry that was weird. no more emo shit. hbu? ur holiday going shitty as usual?

She lets Chloe talk. Chloe deserves to talk. Rachel doesn’t.

After a quiet, very much unthankful dinner, Rachel retreats back to her room, still warm from the whiskey she drank and not sure what to say to Chloe now that the conversation’s dead. She just stares at her phone, feeling stupid, until Chloe finally texts her:

C: where were u at this wk btw? didnt see u at lunch

Rachel freezes, staring at her phone above her head, mouth dry. She needs to throw her off. Chloe can’t know. Not the whole thing, not yet, she’s not ready, she has to solve this first. She takes another swig off her bottle before she answers.

Me: sorry im being swamped with vc bs lately

Me: and i mean BOTH vcs. got a situation w vic im trying to run dmg control on

C: a situation?

Fuck, she’s not supposed to ask for clarification, Chloe shouldn’t care about Rachel’s stupid drama, it’s not important, it doesn’t matter, fuck.

Me: u dont need to worry about it

C: u know when i say shit like that u poke and prod at me until i spill it

God, Chloe’s so smart. Chloe’s going to figure her out and get angry with her again and Rachel’s not sure how to start this.

Rachel: ill tell u about it when its dealt with, ok? and

And what? Everything that’s coming to mind is so transparently bullshit that it feels almost like it’d be insulting to her to throw it out. Her mind turns in circles, she types and deletes and retypes, and nothing’s coming together, until finally:

C: and?

Fuck it.

Me: sorry

Me: i might not be around for a while

Me: idk how long but im gonna be busy ykno w vc and photo and play

Me: and u wanted distance

Me: promise well talk again when i figure it out ok?

Rachel’s not stupid. She knows what Chloe's response will be. Rachel doesn’t know a way around it, and without being there in person, she doesn’t know how to make her words work, to make the next response anything other than —

C: so now im just another one of the people you use excuses on

No. That’s not it. It’s not, fuck. Chloe has no idea how important she is, how she’s so important that she can’t know the full details.

Me: theyre not excuses not with you i just

Me: i need to figure this out

Me: without you

C: why?

Me: i cant say not right now

Me: im sorry

Rachel waits for a response that doesn’t come.

She drinks until her stomach revolts at the prospect of another sip, and sends just one word before she falls into her pillow. It’s a stupid, shitty thing to do, and she knows that the moment she does it, but she sends it anyway. Maybe Chloe’s name will remind her that Rachel is, and always has been, her girl, and when Rachel wakes up things will be okay again.

She feels terrible in the morning, but she knows how to manage a hangover.

It’s routine, automatic at this point. Wake up. Go to the bathroom, take painkillers with a glass or two of water. Shower, close your eyes, wait for them to work. Head back to your room, make sure the curtains are closed, and let yourself dry off.

She did this plenty of times over the summer, after all. She never even sees her parents on these mornings. For the best, really.

She checks her phone as the pain fades from her head. Fucking nothing. It spikes a rage in her chest she didn’t know she had.

Chloe should know by now. Rachel doesn’t do shit for no reason. She’s earned some goddamn loyalty, hasn’t she?

Me: look if your mad at me just say it. this is bs and you know it

It takes long enough for her to respond that Rachel ends up burying her face in her pillow and feeling like an asshole again, long enough for the buzz to make her jump.

C: if you want to talk to me again do it in person. this IS bullshit. i deserve better than this

Me: i cant

C: then i guess i AM mad at you.

Me: im trying to protect us both this isnt me ditching you i swear

Me: chloe please

C: fuck off

The last text hits her like a kick to the chest, and she drops her phone to the bedspread. She remembers Chloe tossing those words over her shoulder, the second time Rachel tried to force her into something she wasn’t ready for.

She told Victoria that she makes sure nobody sees her try. Nobody gets to see her cry, either. At least no one’s going to come and check on her today.

Despite that, someone actually does. Mags texts her halfway through the day.

Mags: Wanna hang out today or tomorrow?

Rachel squints at her phone, swallowing and wiping at her eyes. God, she really doesn’t deserve this. She never talks to this girl when she’s at Blackwell, doesn’t even think about her, and yet every time Rachel’s home for a break, here she is.

Me: maybe tomorrow

Me: todays not good

Mags: You okay?

Me: i dunno

Me: any chance i could go over there instead of you coming over here

Mags: Only if you’re okay with being checked on every ten minutes to make sure we’re not watching R-rated movies or sneaking boys over.

Me: right right why would i think your parents would change if mine didnt

Mags: I think when you turn 30 you’re stuck that way. That’s it, no more development for you!

Me: god i hope not

Me: anyway yeah tomorrow

Mags: Looking forward to it. <3

Rachel closed her eyes fifteen minutes ago, leaning into Magdalene’s shoulder. They’re side-by-side on Rachel’s bed, watching her TV on the wall opposite, and Rachel’s just...done. It’s not necessarily a bad movie they’re watching, Rachel’s just...struggling to pay attention. She’s tired, and drunk, and in her own head. Suddenly, the sound stops, and Mags wraps an arm around Rachel’s shoulders. It’s warm. Nice.

“You dying on me?” Mags asks, jostling her a little, and Rachel shakes her head against Mags’ shoulder.

“Sorry,” Rachel mumbles.

“It’s fine, just…” Mags’ body rises underneath Rachel, then falls as she lets out her breath. “You seem really down, Rachel. Do you...wanna talk?”

Rachel feels a spike of pain in her chest. It’s not the first time Mags has asked her that, and Rachel knows why, knows that Mags only really sticks around because she’s scared Rachel’s gonna do something stupid again like she did in 2009 and get arrested, or worse, OD. Mags can try to hide her concern all she wants, can act like they’re just friends, but Rachel knows. It’s so fucking obvious. Blackwell’s better because only one person there knows, and Chloe’s never pitied her.

“Rachel?” Mags asks again.

“M’ fine,” Rachel grunts. “Just turn the movie back on.” She lifts herself off Mags for a second and reaches for the bottle on the other side of her body, but Mags grabs it by the neck and keeps it out of her reach.

“You’ve had plenty, girl,” Mags says cautiously.

“Ugh, narc,” Rachel complains, leaning over Mags’ body as she stretches to try and grab the booze.

“Rachel, stop,” Mags says, grabbing Rachel’s wrist with her other hand. “Can’t we just chill?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m trying to do,” Rachel says with a roll of her eyes, reaching again, but Magdalene pushes her off and she nearly tumbles off the bed.

“Seriously, you don’t need any more, and you’re kind of freaking me out.” Mags sets the bottle down on the floor.

“God, you’re just like your mom,” Rachel groans, rolling onto her back. “Lame.”

“Fuck off with that,” Mags snaps.

“Huh?” Rachel turns to look at her, and she’s scowling.

“I’m not like her at all. If you don’t wanna talk, fine, but don’t lash out at me.” Mags kneads her hand on her knee. “Sorry for caring about how you’re doing, I guess.”

Rachel winces, sitting up and folding her legs beneath her, wobbling a little in place. “Sorry,” she murmurs. “Didn’t think it was that...that big a deal for you.”

“I — sorry, it’s just, we’ve been fighting,” Mags sighs, slumping back. “Ever since I chopped my hair. She’s on my ass now about how no man’s gonna want me or whatever, and we argued about me coming over tonight, too, and just…” Mags runs a hand through her hair. “Ugh. I dunno. I’m just worried about you. I’m not like her, trying to like, make you a perfect pure girl or whatever, I just…I care about you, okay? A lot. You’re my oldest friend, now.”

“M’sorry.” Rachel picks at the covers, shoulders tense. Stupid. Why can’t she stop doing stupid shit, lately? “It’s...it’s sucked at school lately, and it’s my fault because all I do is fuck up.”

“That’s not true,” Mags says, so easily.

“Mags, I got arrested when I was fucking fourteen.” Rachel leans forward and puts her head in her hands. “‘Cuz I can’t stop doing stupid shit.”

“You know I don’t see you like that,” Mags says softly, putting a hand on Rachel’s shoulder.

“Of course you do. That’s the whole reason you still hang with me, isn’t it? So I don’t do something stupid on my own again.”

“What?” Mags sounds...strained, like she’s in pain. “Rachel, this isn’t a like, pity-friendship. I just like you. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Nobody else here likes me,” Rachel mutters. “They all saw what I am. You’re just...doing the Christian charity thing.”

“I just don’t judge people on their worst moments!” Mags exclaims. “There’s...there’s a lot I like about you, okay? You’re funny, and you’re smart, and you’re…” She huffs. “Look, you’re not the only kid I know who messes things up sometimes, okay? Is this what’s been bothering you lately?”

“I…” Rachel swallows. “I just messed up really bad at school.. I thought I was handling shit but I ended up hurting people, like I always do.”

“...is this about Chloe again?”

Rachel’s breath catches in her throat. She’s not used to hearing that name from any lips but her own. Even Chloe doesn’t call herself Chloe. God, it was so shitty to tell Mags about her, even if Rachel left out the more prurient details.

“Did she…” Mags swallows. “Sorry if I’m prying, but did she try again or something?”

Rachel shakes her head. “No, it’s not — she didn’t do anything. I did.” She takes her hands away from her face and looks at Mags.

The worst part is that Rachel knows she’s just going to keep doing this, keep dumping on Mags because she’s the only person in her life not connected to Blackwell. But, hell with it. Maybe if she tells Mags what she’s done, what she is, that’ll break this friendship too and she can completely divest from California.

“... do you wanna tell me?” Mags asks. “You don’t, um, have to.”

“We, um…” Rachel sighs. “We’ve been getting really close. And she said she couldn’t be with me if I didn’t know I was into girls.”

Mags’ eyes widen. “Oh, wow.” She swallows. “I didn’t know you were…”

“I was having trouble, like, figuring it out, with her,” Rachel stammers. “So we’ve been keeping our distance while I worked it out, and, and I got drunk and did something stupid and slept with a different girl.”

“Oh, shit,” Mags says.

“Problem is, the other girl thinks we’re a thing now and I don’t know how to break it off without, um, fucking us all over, because it’s a stupid small town and she’s rich and connected and stuff,” Rachel stammers. “And now Chloe’s really mad at me because I’ve been avoiding her, and....” She sniffs. “I dunno. I dunno why I can’t stop screwing up.”

“...I probably shouldn’t keep bringing booze over, huh?” Mags asks, wringing her hands in her lap.

“I dunno. Might’ve done the same thing sober. I just never think things through,” Rachel says bitterly.

“I know this is gonna sound like obvious advice,” Mags begins, “But...with this other girl, can’t you just say you don’t wanna see her anymore?”

“That’s not how she works,” Rachel groans. “Rejecting her means she goes after you, and I don’t wanna...it wouldn’t be good for me or Chloe.”

“But you’re gonna break up eventually, right? You might as well get it over with,” Mags points out.

“I’m just scared,” Rachel admits at last, falling back onto her back and staring up at her ceiling. “It’s all so much. And it’s all my fault.”

“I dunno what to tell you,” Mags says after a moment, laying down beside her. “That all sounds complicated and hard. But...thanks for telling me. I think you’ll be okay.”

Rachel chuckles. “What makes you say that? When am I ever okay?”

“You’ve bounced back before, from worse than this. You’re tough, Rachel. Sometimes I wish I was as bold as you,” Mags admits. “You screw up, but...at least you try things. You go after what you want when you see it. That’s why I like hanging with you. Sometimes I wanna do something and I freak myself out thinking about what my parents are gonna say or do...but then I think, What would Rachel do?”

Rachel shakes her head, closing her eyes. “Rachel would find a way to mess it up.”

“No, Rachel would do it and damn the consequences. I thought about you when I cut my hair...and when I joined the GSA this year.”

Rachel turns her head to see Mags, and she’s smiling at her with a little sadness in her eyes. “I had this whole big plan to confess to you, but I completely chickened out as soon as I picked you up from the airport, ‘cuz you seemed so down.” Mags admits with a little laugh. “Typical me.”

“Shit,” Rachel says. “I’m — God, this was shitty of me, complaining about my girl problems when you’re—”

“Rachel, I like you, and I care about you, and I’m glad you talk to me about this stuff.” Mags reaches out and squeezes Rachel’s hand. “So I’m a little late. Happens. I’m still here for you.”

“I know.” Rachel scoots closer and leans her head against Mags’ shoulder. “Sorry anyway.” Sorry I use you like I use everyone. Sorry I conned you into caring about what happens to me. Sorry I’m not gonna stop acting like this because I never goddamn learn.

All things she can’t bear to say, because she doesn’t want Mags to refute them.

“You’ll figure it out,” Mags repeats. “You’re Rachel Amber. You always land on your feet.”

Rachel doesn’t believe her.

They share a long hug before Rachel heads into the airport terminal. It’s pretty much the last thing Rachel feels even a little good about for the whole week.

She doesn’t speak to or see Chloe, other than glimpses in the halls. She’s too damned busy. She’s working with Victoria on the Photo project, and also she’s still kissing her, and they spend every lunch break holed up in one of their dorms because Rachel has no idea how to reject her. Her evenings are spent either dodging requests to actually help the VC plan the winter dance or in rehearsals, awkwardly tiptoeing around Steph because she knows she’s definitely screwed that up beyond repair, too.

Being on stage, presenting herself as Miranda of all fucking roles, feels like as much a lie as everything else she’s done lately. So of course, it comes easily to her just like that does, and she gets nothing but praise from Mr. Keaton on opening night. But as soon as their performance is done and the bows are finished, Rachel’s ready to bail. To go anywhere else, out of this auditorium and somewhere real.

So when the kid who’s playing Caliban nudges her and tells her the cast is having an afterparty in a few minutes in his dorm, she accepts without hesitation. He just says, “Cool,” and gives her a grin, sauntering offstage to join the rest of the cast. Rachel’s about to follow him when she sees Victoria come through the curtain and freezes.

“Vic!” she says, blinking in surprise as Victoria comes up to her. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you talking about?” Victoria replies, raising an eyebrow.

“I thought you said theater was lame and I was basically committing social suicide by joining,” Rachel reminds her.

“I…” Victoria looks around and sees that everyone around them is either talking among themselves or disassembling the stage, and leans in close. “Because I wanted to support my girlfriend,” Victoria whispers.

Oh, fuck.

“I can do nice things sometimes, you know,” Victoria continues, stepping back and airily examining her nails like she didn’t just drop a bomb. “You were really great tonight. You, um, got any plans, or—”

“I, yeah, there’s an afterparty that Kyle’s hosting in the boys’ dorms,” Rachel interrupts, scanning for an exit as quickly as she can.

Victoria twists her mouth. “Kyle? That creepy short kid?”

“He’s not creepy,” Rachel admonishes.

“Well, if he’s got booze, I guess—”

“V, you really don’t gotta commit your own social suicide for me,” Rachel says, patting Victoria on the shoulder with a smile she doesn’t mean.

“I...okay,” Victoria mutters, looking away. “Let me know when you’re coming home? We can chill in your room.”

“I’ll see where the night takes me. If I get back at like three A.M. you’re not gonna want to deal with me,” Rachel says with a fake laugh. “Don’t sweat it, Vic. It’s nothing serious.”

“Right.” Victoria bites the word off her tongue before pivoting on her heel and starting back for the stage curtain.

Rachel catches her by the wrist. “Don’t be mad,” she chides, holding Victoria’s gaze.

“Please, Rachel,” Victoria begins, smiling a little. “I’m a little annoyed. You’ll know when I’m mad. Trust me.”

“Ooh, sounds exciting,” Rachel replies, and Victoria smirks and rolls her eyes.

“You’re the worst. See you later.”

As Victoria walks off, Rachel knows one thing.

This is unsustainable.

She’s heading down her hall, nearly home free. Kyle’s vodka buzzes in her stomach, and so what if she maybe had a little more than she needed to? She’s almost back in her room and it’s not even midnight. She didn’t kiss anyone or fuck anyone or break anything. Score one for Rachel.

A door opens further down the hallway. Victoria’s door.

Without even thinking about it, Rachel ducks into the bathroom. She hides herself in one of the stalls. Which, even as she does it, she knows is kind of stupid. If Victoria’s going anywhere right now, it’s right here. She breathes shallowly as, indeed, she hears the door open, then Victoria takes the stall beside her.

Quickly, she unlocks the stall and rushes out, towards her room, fumbling with her keys as she tries to get inside and out of Victoria’s potential line of sight quick. As soon as she’s in she closes the door behind her, but as she reaches for her lightswitch she realizes that that would give away that she’s home, and Victoria will want to see her apparent girlfriend, and she’s fucked.

She used to go see Chloe, whenever she felt like this. When things were pressing in on all sides because she overextended herself and needed a break. Chloe did tell her that if she wanted to talk, she’d have to go in person.

And back in California, Magdalene said Rachel goes for what she wants and damn the consequences. Rachel would hate to disappoint her.

In the dark, she waits. She hears Victoria’s door close. She turns on her phone’s flashlight, swaps out sandals for sneakers, and grabs her skateboard. She doesn’t know what she’s gonna do or say when she gets to Chloe’s place. Her mind is blurred and she just wants Chloe back, however that has to happen.

As she heads out into the night, winter air freezing on bare arms, she hopes Mags was right. That she’ll figure this out. That she’ll land on her feet.

She’s not sure she can handle any more of her own mistakes.

Chapter Text

“She thinks we’re dating.”

Caleb stares at Rachel, across from him on the floor, head in her hands and a squeak in her voice, and he can’t find a way to process this all fully. He’d assumed that whatever happened between Rachel and Victoria was a problem because Vic was using it for blackmail, or otherwise being her usual shitty self about things. That maybe it was an experiment that went too far, or something, and Rachel had blown past Vic’s consent the way she did to him, and that she deserved what she got from that, especially if Rachel was gonna just ignore him to deal with the problem.

But this…

“Holy shit,” is all he can offer.

“I know,” Rachel agrees with a sniff, falling back against the wall and dropping her hands into her lap. “I really fucked up.”

“So your plan was to come here and get all over me, as if that would make it less fucked up?” Caleb asks, raising his eyebrows. “Dude.”

“Plan,” Rachel scoffs. “When the fuck has me planning anything ever gone right, huh?”

Caleb swallows, looking away from her, picking at the carpet. She’s obviously not doing well, and his anger’s faded away in the light of just...seeing her again, and knowing she wants him still. “Um...I think Halloween went pretty well.”

Rachel groans. “But that’s how all this started,” she complains.

Caleb laughs softly. “Rachel, I don’t think helping me cosplay a chick from a nerd movie led inevitably to you fucking Victoria goddamn Chase.”

“No, I guess not,” Rachel admits, slumping further down so she’s nearly vertical on the floor. “But there, there wasn’t a plan when I came over here. I’m just a little drunk and stupid and I...I missed you a lot.”

“You could’ve just talked to me. You’re the one who decided to back off that far,” Caleb notes with a sting of irritation in his head.

“I just wanted to solve this before we talked again, but I just...I dunno what to do.” Rachel hangs her head. “And finding you at school was tough, and I know David’s working late tonight ‘cuz I saw him outside the show, and you said you wanted to talk in person, so...here I am. I guess.”

“Why couldn’t you just meet me for lunch? Like we always do?” Caleb asks, his gut sinking at the memory of her just ditching him like that.

Rachel sighs. “Victoria seems to think that lunch is the perfect time for us to sneak away and make out. I dunno how to tell her no without...I dunno. I’m basically just waiting for her to freak out at this point.”

A thought strikes Caleb, and before he can help himself, he giggles. Rachel glares at him. “What?” she asks, sitting up a little more.

“You know what you sound like right now, Rachel?” Caleb begins, unable to stop smirking.

“Wha—”

“A guy. Oh, woe is me, the girl I fucked has the audacity to think I might be into her or something.”

“Chlo-eee,” Rachel moans, “I get it, okay, I’m being an asshole.”

“Don’t do that,” Caleb snaps, heat rising in his face.

“What?”

“Call me that to try and like, make me not be mad.” Caleb stands up at last, angrily scratching at his hair. “It’s messed up.”

“I — oh.” Rachel curls up into herself. “Sorry. It’s — I don’t mean it that way.”

“Bullshit. What was that text last week about, then?”

“...maybe I meant it that way that time.” Rachel hugs herself. “But it’s — I really do always think of you as a girl, unless we’re around other people and they keep calling you Caleb and shit.” She rubs her nose. “I like thinking about you as a girl. It’s nice. And, um, I’m...I’m definitely bi.”

“So you had a good time fucking Vic?” Caleb asks, and Rachel recoils.

“I — I mean, yeah. Fuck, would it make it better if I said no?” Rachel shoots back, raising her head to look at him properly. “I mean, you told me I had to know for sure. I do now.”

“I meant, like, think about and talk it over with Steph or something!” Caleb exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. “Instead, she told me you tried to make a move on her, too!”

“She told you about that?” Rachel asks. If she curls up into herself any tighter she might just disappear entirely.

“Of course she did, ‘cuz I told her about how weird you were being.”

“That’s — “ Rachel stands up suddenly, fists at her sides. “That’s between us, why’d you tell her—”

“Uh, what?” Caleb interrupts with a disbelieving laugh. “I’m not allowed to talk to my other friends? Rachel, people talk about you when you’re not around, you can’t just fuck with everyone’s lives and expect none of us to fucking add it up.”

“I — fuck, I just…” Rachel clutches at her hair. “I—”

“I figured out you fucked Victoria before you told me, ‘cuz I’m not a fucking dumbass and once Steph told me what happened after you namedropped Vic...” Caleb paces back and forth. “Fucking Christ, Rachel. You really struck out once and then just did it again anyway, huh?”

“I get it, I’m a piece of shit, okay?!” Rachel shouts suddenly, and Caleb shoots forward and clamps a hand over her mouth.

“Mom’s home,” he hisses under his breath, “So keep it the fuck dow—”

“Caleb?”

Fuck.

Joyce knocks on his door. “Caleb, who’s yellin’ in there?”

For fuck’s sake.

Caleb groans, takes his hand off of Rachel’s mouth, and heads over to his door, opening it to behold his mother in her pajamas and looking very tired. “It’s Rachel, Mom,” he says bluntly, crossing his arms.

Joyce groans. “Caleb, I thought we were perfectly clear that she’s not allowed here—”

“Yeah, well, she’s here.”

“Take her home. You’re lucky I don’t smell nothin’,” Joyce warns, narrowing her eyes. “Get back before David does.”

“And if I don’t, you’re gonna let him hit me?”

“Well, if you’re back to sneaking Rachel in—”

“She just showed up!” Caleb argues. “And that’s a yes? Jesus Christ—”

“No, but we better not find any more drugs in your room,” Joyce says, narrowing her eyes. “Get movin’.”

“Fine,” Caleb snarls, closing the door in her face and flipping the light on. He sets about finding his boots while Rachel shifts nervously in the corner, watching him.

“I can just go. I boarded over here,” she murmurs, looking down at her shoes — red sneakers that stand out against her classy white dress.

“No, we still need to talk,” Caleb says, sitting down on the edge of his bed and lacing his boots up.

“But...aren’t you angry?”

“Oh, I’m pissed. But…” Caleb lets out a sigh. “I missed you, Rach, and I know how much it sucks to feel alone in this town. Okay?”

Rachel nods. “Okay.”

He finishes getting his boots on and fishes his keys from under his pillow, taking a jacket from the floor and pulling it on as he leaves the room. Rachel follows him, out past his mother’s open door. He doesn’t look in.

As they emerge into the night, Rachel points him to where she left her board behind the garbage cans. Once it’s in hand, they start marking their way to the truck parked by the curb — and then headlights sweep over them just as they reach the doors.

David’s car stops in the middle of the street, and he climbs out. “Get in!” Caleb hisses.

“It’s locked!”

“Fuck,” Caleb grunts, taking his keys out of his pocket as David shouts, “What the hell’s goin’ on out here?”

Caleb manages to get his door open and climb in, but as he reaches over to unlock Rachel’s side, David comes up to her and grabs her by the arm. “You aren’t supposed to be here,” he snarls. “Like Caleb needs any more fuckin’ trouble in his life—”

“Get off me!” Rachel shouts, dropping her skateboard and struggling against David while Caleb clambers across the truck bench to reach her. Rachel pulls back, leaving David directly in front of the truck’s passenger-side door.

“I know you’re his dealer you little slut—”

Caleb unlatches the door and slams it straight into David’s side. David loses his grip on Rachel and lands with his shoulder against the curb, Caleb hopping out of the truck and taking Rachel’s board from the ground, holding it like a club. “Don’t fucking touch her,” he seethes as David gets to his feet. “Rach, get in the car,” Caleb adds as David takes a step back from him, fists curled at his sides. Rachel quickly retreats around the back while David and Caleb stare each other down.

“Did you think you were getting away with something?” David demands, taking a step closer, and Caleb tightens the grip on the skateboard in response. “When your mother finds out—”

“She knows already, dickhead,” Caleb interrupts. “In fact, she told me to watch out for you.”

“That’s bullshit, you’re sneaking around again,” David argues, pointing a finger at him. “I bet she was just coming over to give you your fix—”

“My fix? Am I on meth now, is that what you think?”

“Would sure as hell explain your hair—”

“Oh my God,” Caleb mumbles, lowering the board slightly. “David. Mom knows. Rachel came over, she needs to go home. Take it up with her if you want, but don’t fucking touch my friends, ever again.”

“I can report your little friend to the school for this,” David seethes. “It’s past curfew.”

“So, what, gonna call the cops on your own stepson for taking her home? Or should she stay here instead?”

“C, come on, let’s just go,” Rachel urges, and Caleb turns around to see that she’s in the driver’s seat. But as soon as he looks away from David, David lunges forward and takes hold of Rachel’s board, trying to yank it out of Caleb’s grasp.

Caleb doesn’t have the time to ask why he’s trying to do that until David’s strength overpowers his own and he’s slammed back against the seat, David ripping the board from his grasp. He tosses it back onto the sidewalk and grabs Caleb while he’s still dazed, taking him by the collar and pulling him to his feet, raising his other hand in a fist. “Quit mouthing off,” David says. “You aren’t going anywhere. Ever since you got that goddamn truck you’ve been acting like you’re the fuckin’ man of the house, can do whatever you want, well, you can’t, and if you don’t give me those keys right now I’m gonna—”

Caleb finds his footing and brings his knee up between David’s legs. That shuts him up, but he doesn’t even fully let go of Caleb as he wheezes in pain, until Caleb puts both hands on his shoulders and pushes him back as hard as he can. David stumbles back, and Caleb rushes to grab Rachel’s board and get the fuck out of here, but before he can David tackles him to the ground, David straddling Caleb’s body and raising his fists. A punch in the gut knocks the wind out of Caleb. David’s bigger and heavier than he is, and he can’t move, and—

Rachel kicks David in the face.

He falls off to the side, and Caleb’s able to get his breath back as Rachel snatches up her board, plants a foot on David’s chest and raises the skateboard threateningly. “Leave him alone!” she shouts, and he raises his arms to protect his face as Caleb gets back to his feet.

The front door to the house swings open, and Joyce appears silhouetted in the doorway. “What in the name of God — all’a y’all, get off each other!” she yells, running over to the three of them. Rachel jumps back from David, and Joyce reaches out a hand for him to take. “Why the hell can’t you two ever have a conversation that don’t get physical?”

David waves her off and stands up by himself, glaring at Rachel and Caleb, standing side-by-side now on the street. “He said you knew about this,” David says accusingly. “That true?”

“It is. I told Caleb to take her home,” Joyce explains, folding her arms. “The idea was that we’d talk after she went home.”

“But—”

“No buts. Who started the fight?” Joyce demands.

“He did,” Caleb and Rachel both say at once, pointing at David.

“How?”

“We were trying to leave, and he grabbed her and called her a slut,” Caleb continues, and the look of horror on Joyce’s face feels sweeter than anything.

“Now, I know you didn’t use that language,” Joyce says lowly, turning and staring at her husband. And he laughs.

“Hon, if you heard what I heard up the grapevine about this girl—”

Joyce grabs him by the ear. “You do not talk to a woman that way, David Madsen, I don’t give a damn what she did or didn’t do. You know what? Caleb, Rachel, you head on out to Blackwell. Me and David are gonna have a little talk.”

David growls and shoves her away, and she lands on her ass on the sidewalk. “What the fuck?!” Caleb shouts, stepping forward, Rachel moving with him.

“I — I, hon, shit, I didn’t mean to—” David stammers, looking panicked as his gaze flits from his wife to the kids.

“Go inside,” Joyce says through gritted teeth, getting back to her feet. “Now.”

David stalks off toward the house without another word, and Joyce lets out a heavy sigh, pinching her brow between two fingers. “Caleb?” she asks.

“Yeah?” Caleb asks, his posture relaxing the further David gets from the scene.

“Take as long as you like gettin’ her home. Got a feeling this ain’t a discussion I’m gonna want to have in front of ya,” Joyce says with a nod in Rachel’s direction.

“...okay,” Caleb says suspiciously, narrowing his eyes. “If he hits you…”

“He won’t — “

“Why not?” Caleb challenges, and Joyce just looks away.

“You just don’t understand him. I do.”

Caleb snorts. “Sure.”

“Just get goin’ before I change my mind.”

“Right, threats, I’m used to that.” Caleb sighs, patting Rachel on the back. “C’mon, Rach.”

“Caleb—” Joyce begins as Caleb starts to move over to the driver’s side. He stops and looks at her over the hood.

“What?”

“I know what you’re thinking, but I’m not on anybody’s side here. I’m just trying to make this work.”

Caleb rolls his eyes and gets in the truck. He fastens his seatbelt, checks to make sure Rachel’s in, and starts up the truck. In the rearview mirror, he sees Joyce getting in David’s car to pull it into the driveway, and lets loose a sigh.

Once they’re out of sight of the house, Rachel mumbles something that Caleb doesn’t catch. “Huh?” Caleb asks.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble. Again.” Rachel leans her head against the window, staring at the streets as they zip by in the dark.

“Not your fault. He’s an asshole. Actually…” Caleb pauses, then pulls the truck over to the side of the road, putting it in park. He’s starting to shake. He shouldn’t drive, not until it passes. “I’m, um, I’m glad you were there.”

“But...the whole reason they were mad was because I just showed up,” Rachel argues, shrinking further into her seat.

“Yeah, but...you did kick David in the face. That gets some points from me,” Caleb says with a little chuckle. He unbuckles his seatbelt. It feels hard to breathe. “Fuck, man.”

“Are you okay?” Rachel asks, taking her own belt off and sliding across the bench toward him. “You look a little...rattled.”

“Just...shit.” Caleb swallows, drawing a hand down his face. “I dunno. It’s been a while since I argued with him. Sometimes I forget how much of an asshole he really is.”

“I’ve never seen him like that,” Rachel admits, slumping against his shoulder, and he wraps an arm around her by instinct. “Jesus. I knew he hit you, so when he touched me…”

“Yeah.” Caleb squeezes Rachel against him, and despite everything that’s happened tonight...it’s calming. He breathes easier with her. He always has. It’s good to have her back.

“I’m sorry, still.” Rachel buries her head in his chest. “I should’ve thought more before coming over. I need to think more before I do things, but I don’t.”

“Yeah,” Caleb admits, ruffling her hair. “But, sadly for me, I think I still like you.”

“Yeah?” Rachel looks up at him with a soft smile.

“Yep.” Caleb sinks further into his seat. He closes his eyes. The last month has been too much. He wishes things could...go back to how they were.

“So what do we do about Vic?” Rachel asks, and Caleb scoffs.

“Where’s the we here, Rach?” he asks, poking her in the side. “This really seems like your problem.”

“But — but if I run right to you, she’s gonna make your life hell. And mine. And, God, if Nathan gets wind of this…” Rachel groans.

“And? Who gives a shit? They’ll get over it eventually.” Caleb shrugs.

“But —”

“Do you really give a shit about the Vortex Club? Being popular, here?” Caleb challenges, looking down to meet her eyes.

“I — I just…” Rachel lays back against him and huffs. “I just want things to be smooth, you know? I wanna coast. I don’t want constant fucking fighting.”

“Join the club. I didn’t wanna be the angry, violent, dead-dad kid, happened anyway.”

“Things were supposed to be different here,” Rachel says. “I wasn’t supposed to be a fuckup like I am back home. I just want...I dunno.”

“Vic wants to keep shit quiet, right?” Caleb suggests. “So even if you break this off — just tell her you’re not feeling it anymore and that you won’t tell anyone. She’ll be mad, but what can she actually throw at you?”

“I dunno. That’s what scares me.”

“Well, you’re just gonna have to deal with it as it comes, you know? Rachel, it’s just fucking Blackwell. It’s just some fucking boarding school, right?” Caleb reminds her.

“...yeah. I guess you’re right.” Rachel sighs. “I guess I just needed to hear you say that. You’ve got my back, yeah?”

“Yeah. Assuming you actually do the right thing and break it off with this girl you don’t even like,” Caleb warns, flicking her ear.

“Hey! I always do the right thing,” Rachel says, then adds, “Eventually. You know. Plus, I don’t not like her.”

“Oh?” Caleb raises an eyebrow.

“I mean, like, yeah, she’s annoying and mean and shit, but...I dunno. She’s kinda cute when she lets her guard down, and she’s so stressed about being gay and how that’s gonna change her future or whatever, and you know she’s hot…” Rachel gestures uselessly at the windshield.

“So you’re not just scared to break it off just ‘cuz she might fuck with us,” Caleb says slowly, putting things together. “You feel bad that you’re gonna hurt her.”

“I...yeah.” Rachel reaches out, and Caleb realizes she’s looking for his hand. They twine their fingers together on Rachel’s knee. “It sucks, you know? She’s a bitch, but she’s just, you know, a girl. I’m tired of hurting people. It feels like that’s all I do.”

“It’s not. You…” Caleb pauses, trying to put his thoughts together. “You’ve had my back, too. I needed you. I still do. You...shit, Rachel, you might’ve saved my life this summer. I’m not forgetting that, even if your problem-solving methods are way too fucking brute-force.”

Caleb’s phone buzzes in his pocket, and the two of them reluctantly separate. He peers at the screen.

Mom: I know I said you could take a while getting her home, but I need to talk to you before I head back to bed. Come back soon, please.

“All right,” Caleb sighs, pocketing his phone. “Gotta actually take you home now.”

“You feeling okay to drive?” Rachel asks, wringing her hands. “I noticed you were shaking…”

“I’m good now, really — and I’m sure you’re not doing much better. How drunk are you?” Caleb teases, waving a hand in front of her face.

“Not much anymore. Took a while to get here, and everything else...I’m good. I’ll make it to the dorms, anyway.” Rachel shrugs. “...thanks, Chloe.”

Caleb’s throat is dry. The last few times she used that name, it hurt. Now it’s back to feeling how it did before, and he realizes just how much he missed it. “You got it,” he chokes out, buckling back up and taking the truck out of park. Rachel places her hand over his on the gearshift, and it feels like coming home.

“So…” Rachel begins carefully as they set off toward Blackwell proper, “Um, we can be together now. Right?”

“I, um…” That was the condition they set, and glancing over at Rachel proves to be a mistake because she’s looking at him with all this hope in her eyes and she’s so pretty and her hand is warm, and, fuck. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“You guess,” Rachel repeats with a little chuckle. “You’ve...you’ve really never been with anybody, huh?”

“Have you?” Caleb shoots back. “Not counting your current not-girlfriend?”

“Not seriously,” Rachel admits, rubbing her thumb along the side of his hand. “But...I’ve never felt like this before. About anybody.”

“I know what you mean. But…” Caleb considers for a moment. “You gotta break this shit off with Vic. Nothing’s happening until you fix that. Get me?”

Rachel looks down at her lap. “Yeah. That’s fair. I’m sick of it anyway, I feel like an asshole like 24/7 right now because of this whole situation.”

“Just keep me in the loop, all right? I’m your best friend, at minimum. Don’t cut me out again.”

“Yeah. I’ll let you know how things are going.” Rachel laughs to herself. “Obviously not talking to you didn’t work out, after all.”

“I feel like I keep having to tell you that.”

“Maybe it’ll sink in this time.” Rachel leans against the window as they pull into the Blackwell lot. As he pulls to a stop, Rachel unbuckles herself and slides over to him again, looking up at him expectantly.

“What?” he asks, smiling against his will, heart pounding in his chest.

“Kiss for the road?” she offers, reaching a hand up and cupping his cheek. Her lips look so soft.

He nods silently, closing his eyes. No harm in it, not for now, and...and she’s so pretty, and the heat of her skin on his is making him stupid, anyway.

She keeps it light and soft, thankfully — he’s not sure he wouldn’t do something stupid if she pushed. He feels like he’s all over the place. As she pulls back, she pats his cheek twice. “Yup,” she says with a smirk. “Feels like kissing a girl to me.”

Caleb flushes, ducking his head to hide behind a veil of hair. “Shut up.”

“Hey, I’m the one with experience kissing boys and girls. You have to listen to my expertise.” Rachel brushes some of his hair behind his ear and kisses his nose. “Seeya soon, Chloe.”

“Bye,” Caleb offers lamely as Rachel scoots across the seats, grabs her board, and opens her door. He looks up once she’s out of the car, and she walks backwards across the quad, bowing and blowing an exaggerated kiss in his direction. He hides again. When he looks back up, she’s out of sight.

He lets loose a long sigh. Hell of a night. But it’s those last few words that keep resonating in his head, the name Chloe bouncing around like an old screensaver. He chokes without meaning to, tears stinging at his eyes, and he takes a minute to collect himself. He has to drive, after all.

Another text from Mom comes in and breaks him out of his own brain. David’s not here tonight, if that’s what’s keeping you out.

He blinks. He almost just flat-out doesn’t believe it, but his mom usually isn’t the lying type. But...he has to head home eventually, anyway. He texts Mom that he’s on his way and puts the truck back in gear.

He nervously taps his fingers on the wheel all the way home, and as he pulls up to the house, he sighs with relief that there’s no sign of David’s car in the driveway. Sure, it could still be in the garage, but he’s betting that Mom probably just pulled it up there and then sent David on his way. Wherever that is. God, this is weird.

He opens the front door to find all the lights on, Joyce sitting at the kitchen table with her forehead in her hand, staring down at the papers she’s shuffling there. She looks up as he enters.

“Siddown with me a minute,” she says, waving him over.

“...all right,” Caleb replies, taking the seat across from her and folding his hands on the table in front of him, checking the documents over. Something from the bank, looks like.

“Rachel get home all right?” Joyce asks, looking up at him.

“Yeah. I mean, think so. Dropped her off in the lot.”

“How come she was wearing a toga?”

Caleb snorts. “She came straight from the play.”

“Huh. Didn’t know she was in a play.”

“Why would you?” Caleb asks. “It’s not like we talk. Especially not about her.”

“I —” Joyce pauses, looking pained. “I know. And I know why. I’m not blind, son, I just—”

“Don’t care that much?” Caleb asks.

“Caleb, I’m trying to fix this,” Joyce pleads. “Please.”

“How?” Caleb asks, shifting back in his chair. “You kicked him out of the house, huh? Not for good, I’m guessing.”

“You two need some time apart. Caleb, I miss having you around. What the hell happened this summer, huh?”

“You know what happened,” Caleb seethes. “The wreck. David acted like a piece of shit about it, constantly. He was working on beating the hell out of me when I got back! Whenever he’s mad at someone who seems weaker than him, he goes fucking insane,” Caleb continues. He almost starts to tell her about how David showed up in Caleb’s room, but he stops himself for the same reason he always has. She wouldn’t believe him. It’s too scary, too weird. But she witnessed this fight. “You saw that. Just now.”

“No, I don’t — that’s not why he — he’s trying to keep order the only way he knows how,” Joyce stammers. Caleb starts to interrupt, but Joyce holds up a hand. “And it’s wrong. I know it is, Caleb, and I’ve been trying everythin’ to get him to see that he’s just drivin’ you away, and besides that, it’s just…” She heaves a sigh. “It’s not right. What he did tonight, what he said to Rachel. I guess I just didn’t expect him to lash out like that at me, or her.”

“Why not?” Caleb asks with a snort.

“Well, because — because you’re men,” Joyce argues. “That’s how men settle things.”

“That’s some bullshit.”

“Excuse me?”

“Dad never settled anything like that,” Caleb points out, folding his arms, nails digging into his skin, foot tapping on the ground. “He never hit anyone, especially not me. It’s not about us having dicks, mom, it’s about him being a powertripping asshole.”

“Caleb!” Joyce hisses, narrowing her eyes. “Watch the language!”

“Is that all you care about? What people say, and not what they do? Apparently him being a bastard to me and beating me isn’t as big a deal as him calling my friend a slut, right?” Caleb struggles to keep his voice level. He wants to shout, but that won’t help anything.

“I — I just don’t think he’s that kind of man. He’s always treated me with respect.”

“Yeah, ‘cuz you usually don’t go against him.”

“And I’m his wife. He’s just, traditional, like my dad. My brothers weren’t no strangers to the belt, but he never said a bad word, never raised a hand to Mom or me,” Joyce argues.

“You really think that if I was…” Caleb swallows, the thought making a lump form in his throat. “If I was a girl, he wouldn’t hit me? You think anything would really be different?”

“...I wanna say no,” Joyce says, looking away. “But after tonight...I don’t know. Something’s gotta give. I already gave him an earful, you can believe me on that. I’m sick of him going ahead and punishing you his way and just rollin’ over me. But I still love him, Caleb. I dunno if you can really understand that.”

“Maybe I will when I’m older, right?” Caleb says with a roll of his eyes.

“I dunno if you ever will. Depends on if you and Rachel keep this up,” Joyce says with a smirk. “I see that lipstick, don’t think I don’t.”

“Wait, really?” Caleb wipes his hand across his mouth, coming away with light red on his fingertips. “Son of a bitch…”

Joyce clears her throat. “Sorry. Not the point. I just wanted you to know, he’s taking tonight away so you two don’t get to fightin’ again, but he’s comin’ back tomorrow, and I expect y’all to apologize to each other and start gettin’ along.”

“And, I assume, you’ve got ideas about how to punish me for Rachel showing up tonight?” Caleb asks. “Go ahead, name ‘em.”

“...no.”

“No?” Caleb repeats, raising an eyebrow.

“I heard y’all yelling in your room, and I know she wasn’t here when I got home. Think it’s obvious it wasn’t your idea that she came over — you’re a little smarter about getting caught these days,” Joyce says with a tired smirk. “And David lost his right to do anything to you when he went off half-cocked like that, and he got a sneaker in the face for his trouble. I figure tonight’s as resolved as it’s gonna get.”

“I...thanks, I guess.”

“David kept telling me we should take your truck. No way, no how. You earned that on your own. I want you to keep earning things on your own, so taking that away from ya, that just tells you not to bother doin’ anything legit.”

“Okay. Yeah.” Caleb sinks into his chair.

“Now, this ain’t a hall pass. You need to keep yourself together too.”

“Hey, I’m not trying to get in trouble, I’m just trying to like...” Caleb shrugs. “Get through high school.”

Joyce laughs. “Okay. I understand that feelin’, believe me.” Joyce stands up and walks over to him, patting him on the shoulder. “Get to bed, hon. It’s late.”

Caleb nods and stands up, then finds himself wrapped in an unexpected hug. It feels weird. He doesn’t remember being taller than her. “I’ve got the mornin’ off, ‘kay?” Joyce murmurs, squeezing him tight. “Stick around for breakfast?”

“I...yeah. I don’t have plans or anything.” And David won’t be here.

“All right. I miss talkin’ to ya, son. You can tell me about how you’re actually dating Rachel now, maybe,” Joyce teases, ruffling his hair. “And maybe we can get this cleaned up. You don’t gotta chop it, but it’s pretty raggedy, you know. Long hair needs maintenance.”

“Don’t push it, Mom,” Caleb warns, pushing her hand away, and she laughs softly.

“Okay, okay. ‘Night, Caleb.”

It feels weird to watch her go after a night like this and not hate her. To feel like she’s actually on his side, right now. He stays on the ground floor for a moment, letting her get upstairs and go to bed, getting a glass of water for himself from the fridge and letting the events of the evening settle over him.

Rachel’s pulled a Rachel and landed herself in an insanely annoying situation. But she’s also bi, and she loves him, as Chloe, with no doubt. David finally did something so blatantly stupid in front of Joyce that she’s taking Caleb’s side. He has a day to relax tomorrow, while Rachel will no doubt be busy with the Victoria situation and the dance the VC is putting on (no way in hell is Caleb going to any school event), while David’s out of the house.

He flips off the lights and heads up to his room, falling down on his bed. Maybe things will change tomorrow. Maybe it’s all just false hope, and things will turn to shit again in short order. But Rachel’s kiss still lingers on his lips.

Breakfast goes fine. Caleb tactically avoids questions about Rachel, but he does share that he’s joined a DnD campaign with a senior DM and a bunch of freshies, which Joyce finds just hilarious, that he takes after his nerdy father. They don’t talk about David at all, and while that comes with its own anxiety, it’s just such a relief to have a morning where Caleb can be out and about without worrying about running into him and his nasty, suspicious glare.

His mom leaves for the afternoon shift around eleven, and he has the house to himself. He and Rachel used to have Saturday afternoons as their hangout time — he wonders if he can make that happen again. At the very least, he owes her a check-in, so he flumps down on the living room couch and pulls his phone out.

Me: so hows ur life post opening night

Me: break up with ur fake gf yet

She doesn’t respond right away, and he ends up dozing off, since it was late as hell by the time he actually got to sleep last night. He wakes with a start when his phone suddenly buzzes in his pocket.

Rachel: well

Rachel: i think you just did it for me

Chapter Text

Rachel awakens the next morning to a knock at her door, shaking her out of pleasant dreams. The sun streams bright through her window — she must’ve slept in decently late. Well, she deserved it. She had a hell of a night.

The knock comes again, and she shakes her head. It can only really be one person — she’s friendly with a lot of people, but nobody besides Victoria is gonna try and get her attention without at least a text first. She sighs. Fuck. Okay. She’s supposed to be breaking this off, like Chloe told her to.

This is gonna suck.

She rises to her feet, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. She peers through the peephole just to make sure it is Victoria, and indeed the girl in question is beyond the door, holding two coffee mugs and looking pretty annoyed. Rachel can’t blow her off again, not right after last night, so...is now the time?

At the very least, she can open the door.

As she does, Rachel puts on her best smile. “Hey, Victoria!” she says brightly. “That for me?”

Victoria’s expression softens, and a pang of guilt strikes Rachel’s heart. “Yeah. People said you came in late last night.”

Fuck. Rachel thought that she made it back home perfectly stealthily, but someone must’ve seen or heard her coming in after hours. “Not that late,” Rachel says with a shrug, taking the offered mug and standing aside to let Victoria in. Rachel takes a seat at her desk, while Victoria curls up on Rachel’s bed, crossing her legs and staring into her cup.

“People also said you left the cast party kinda early,” Victoria says after a moment, tapping her nails on the side of the cup. “You said you’d let me know if you did that.”

“Victoria—”

“So, where’d you go?”

Rachel takes a sip of her coffee before answering. She’s gonna miss Victoria’s extremely fancy and expensive coffee and her proper drip coffeemaker, at the very least. “I—” she begins, but Victoria interrupts first.

“Did you go and hang with Caleb?”

“...yeah, I did,” Rachel admits, wincing. “We haven’t had a lot of time to chill lately. Kinda my fault. Just wanted to see him, he’s my best friend.”

“I thought you were done with him,” Victoria spits. “You should be.”

“What?” Rachel asks, setting down her mug and narrowing her eyes. “Excuse me?”

“You fucking know we have history. And you two aren’t dating, you’re complicated, and when you’re with someone you shouldn’t be hanging around people like that,” Victoria says, so confidently that Rachel wonders if she’s been practicing this little speech.

“You’re making a lot of assumptions,” Rachel replies carefully. This is as good an opening as she’s likely to get.

“What the fuck are you—”

Rachel’s phone buzzes on the nightstand. Victoria snatches it, disconnecting the charger in the process, and her eyes narrow at the screen. “Oh, he’s asking how your day is going,” she says, with a completely unnecessary amount of venom in her voice. “Yeah, you’re definitely not over-invested in—”

The phone buzzes again, and Victoria’s face goes white.

“What?” Rachel asks.

Victoria turns and throws the phone at Rachel as hard as she can. It hits Rachel square in the jaw and she recoils in pain, the phone dropping into her lap as Victoria stands up, knocking her coffee mug to the floor, her hands in fists.

“Victoria, what the fuck—”

“Break up with your fake girlfriend yet?” Victoria hisses, her shoulders tense, her nails digging into her hands. “You fucking bitch.”

Rachel takes her hand off her jaw and beholds that exact text from Chloe, open on her lock screen.

Fuck.

“Victoria, I—”

“You said you wouldn’t tell him. Why did I believe you?” Victoria’s voice breaks, and tears shine in her eyes.

“He’s my best friend—”

“So I’m fake, huh? Is he the real boyfriend? Just fucking around with me, huh? Just fucking experimenting, right?” Victoria stalks up to Rachel and slaps her across the face. She shakes with rage as Rachel tries to come up with something, anything to say to her, but there’s no way to deny what Victoria has just seen with her own two eyes. “F-fuck you, Rachel,” she chokes out, storming out of the room and slamming the door behind her.

Rachel blinks. The slap and the hit with the phone still sting on her face, and she rubs it absently, staring down at Chloe’s message and trying to understand how she fucked this up so quickly. She slowly rises to her feet, pockets her phone, and leaves the room, checking the hall for people. Right now, it’s empty, so she heads down to Victoria’s door, wondering if she can possibly salvage the situation.

She presses her ear to the door, and Victoria’s just...crying. She’s trying to keep it quiet, but it’s clear. Rachel knocks, and Victoria quiets for a second. Rachel hears movement, then the door cracks slightly open, just one reddened eye glaring through the gap.

“Fuck off, whore,” Victoria whispers. The door slams shut in Rachel’s face, and she takes a step back.

Rachel takes a deep breath, closing her eyes and trying to center herself. She’s okay. She’s all right. This was going to happen anyway, at some point. There was no graceful way out of this. Sure, this was about as ungraceful as things could get, but...there’s something honest about it, too. If she’d handled it herself, no doubt it would’ve taken ages, and made it take longer for her to feel comfortable being with Chloe instead, and it would’ve involved more lying, and more hiding, and more sucking up to people she doesn’t really like that much, and...well. Maybe Chloe’s method is the best, after all.

She heads back to her room in a kind of daze, unsure what’s going to happen next. Is Vic gonna tell Nathan, after all? How quickly is Rachel getting blacklisted from VC shit? Will Victoria just keep everything on the down-low and keep quiet about Rachel, or is this the start of a scorched-earth campaign?

She’s lost in thought as she cleans up Victoria’s spilled coffee, finishes off her own mug — it’s the last time she’s getting anything like that from Vic, so she resolves to enjoy it, staring out the window at the sunny afternoon. Once she’s finished, she realizes she hasn’t eaten yet today, and that she hasn’t responded to Chloe’s text. Might as well do that.

C: break up with ur fake gf yet

Me: well

Me: i think you just did it for me

C: o shit

Me: yeah she saw your text and completely flipped

C: congrats on ur divorce

Me:  do you think shell take the house

C: oh definitely. the kids too. child supports gonna be off the chain expensive

Rachel laughs, the tension in her chest breaking. It sucks, of course. Hearing Victoria cry, bearing the brunt of her aggression, it’s been sinking into her gut since she saw that text from Chloe. But Chloe can’t help being funny, and her irreverent attitude is exactly what Rachel needs right now.

Me: i gotta get outta here

C: o rly

Me: lets get brunch

C: most rich girl sentence youve ever said

Me: yeah yeah. imma take a shower and shit but seriously come over. board not truck. meet u outside the dorms

C: sounds good

C: i missed you

Me: sap

C: see if i let you kiss me again

Me: ur a sucker for me and u know it

C: rubber glue etc. go shower. cya soon

Rachel finds Chloe just outside the door of the dorms, leaning against the wall and smoking a cigarette. Rachel hops up on tiptoes and snatches it out of her mouth. “Hey!” Chloe sputters, as Rachel takes a long drag that finishes the thing off completely.

“No smoking on campus,” Rachel reminds her as she snubs out the butt with her shoe.

“C’mon, everyone knows the weekend security chick just sits on the fountain all day,” Chloe complains with a roll of her eyes.

“True, but also, I needed the nicotine.” Rachel closes her eyes and sighs, breathing out. That drag did get her chest a little tight. “Let’s bail. Two Whales?”

“You paying?”

“This time. I owe you.”

“Kickass.” Chloe gives her a grin. “I love not paying for shit.”

“I know.” Rachel hops down the stairs and sets her board down. “Race you, Price!”

“You’re gonna regret that!” Chloe shouts after her as she sets off.

But Rachel very much doesn’t. Sure, Chloe’s got longer legs, and a lot more general skating experience, and she knows the Bay better than Rachel does. But Rachel’s got spirit, and more important than winning is trading places back and forth on the streets as they ride through town, shouting trash-talk at each other as they pass, and finally, colliding into Chloe at nearly full speed outside the Two Whales, hopping off her board at the last second to tackle Chloe against the wall and kissing her.

Rachel’s board clatters against the wall, and she breaks down in giggles, pulling away from a shocked and flushed Chloe to run and pick it up. “Going right for it, huh?” Chloe asks with a breathless laugh, swallowing and hoisting her board up to her waist.

“Hey, you broke us up, now I’m rebounding. It’s all your fault,” Rachel says, poking Chloe’s shoulder. She looks beyond Chloe’s body, through the diner window, and spots Justin and Trevor staring right back at her, Trevor giving her a thumbs-up. “Oops.”

“Oops?” Chloe looks behind her, sees her friends, and chuckles. “Well, shit. Nice PDA, Rachel.”

“Eh, it’s fine, they’ve been teasing us for a year. Let’s go in and say hi.” Rachel grabs Chloe’s hand — and remembers that she’s got to be Caleb now, that Rachel doesn’t get to say she has a girlfriend or anything even close to that, not to anyone but Mags. And Mags doesn’t even know what’s really special about Chloe.

“You good?” Caleb asks, and Rachel realizes she froze up as soon as she grabbed his hand.

“I — yeah, sorry, I’m good,” Rachel stammers. She pulls him inside and the two of them slide in beside Justin and Trevor in their booth, trading fist-bumps back and forth.

“Are you two finally official?” Trevor asks with a roll of his eyes. “Or was that a totally non-romantic makeout we just saw?”

“It wasn’t a makeout, you ass, it was one kiss,” Rachel corrects him, shoving him with her shoulder. “We’re something, all right?”

“Something,” Justin repeats. “Not going steady?”

“No one fuckin’ says that anymore, Justin,” Caleb complains.

“We’re in a fifties diner! It’s the right time to say it!”

Joyce clears her throat at the front of the table, and everyone shuts up for a second to look at her. “I swear I left you at home not fifteen minutes ago, Caleb Price,” Joyce says, cocking her hip and putting a hand on it. “You had food there.”

“It’s been like an hour, Mom,” Caleb says, smiling slightly at her.

“Be that as it may, don’t expect me to mark down those two boys’ meals. They already ordered.”

“Boo, Caleb, can’t even save us money, what the hell do we hang out with you for?” Justin says, elbowing Caleb.

“It’s fine, Mom. Rachel, your usual?” Caleb asks, and Rachel nods. “My usual too. Extra bacon.”

“Got it. You two oughta branch out,” Joyce says as she scribbles down notes on her pad. “But maybe later. And, Rachel?”

Rachel tenses up, remembering all the shit that went down at her place last night. “Y-yeah?”

“Don’t you go breaking my boy’s heart. Clear?”

“Oooh,” Justin and Trevor coo, Caleb and Rachel giving their seatmates kicks under the table at almost the same time.

“Got it, Joyce,” Rachel replies, relaxing in her seat as Joyce gives the table a satisfied hmph and walks back to the kitchen.

“She’s got a point. You’re a bit of a heartbreaker, aren’t you?” Trevor asks, and Rachel freezes for a second, as if they know about Victoria — but then she remembers who they’re probably actually talking about.

“Asher’s a tool, and he barely has a heart to break,” Rachel says, waving her hand dismissively. “If I’dve known he was the clingy type I’d have never hooked up with him.”

Caleb raises his eyebrows at her. “What’s this? Don’t think I heard about it.”

“Ugh, VC drama. It was last year, I’ll tell you later,” Rachel promises. “Anyway. So what happened after I left last night, anyway?”

“Wait, what happened last night?” Justin asks. “Is that when you guys got official?”

“Sorta,” Caleb admits. “Rachel came over in the middle of the night, we were having a stupid fight, got caught by first Mom and then fucking David. David tried to grab Rachel and we teamed up on him, got him on the ground after Rachel kicked him in the face.”

“Oh, shit, Rachel’s hardcore,” Trevor says, holding up a fist for her to pound.

“If you’re all wondering why I’m in a good mood for once—” Caleb continues, but Justin interrupts him.

“You’re making out with Rachel, it’s not a mystery,” he points out, earning him a laugh.

“No, seriously, it’s cuz Mom kicked David out of the house for the night. I assume he’s coming back today or tomorrow, but…” Caleb leans back and sighs. “Fuckin’ finally, you know?”

“After all the times that prick hit you? Hell yeah,” Trevor says, looking around as if to ensure Joyce isn’t about to overhear this conversation. Rachel feels like she’s barely hearing it. It’s too good to be true; she doesn’t ever have a great impact on Caleb’s home life, not since his 16th birthday party.

“...you think it’s gonna last?” Rachel asks carefully, and Caleb’s face darkens.

He shrugs. “I dunno, man. I was just happy to have like, one day I could hang out at home.”

“You know you can chill with any of us anytime...assuming you’re not too busy with your nerd shit,” Trevor says. “How’s DnD going? Math killed you yet?”

“Tre, I’m on a chem scholarship, I kick math’s ass on a daily basis.”

The conversation moves smoothly away from Rachel and Caleb’s private lives, and the four of them share a relaxed breakfast, albeit with a little natural roughhousing between the boys (and Caleb.) Joyce kicks them out once their plates have been taken away — gently, at least — and they head outside together, skateboards in hand.

“We were just gonna chill at the park today, see if we can learn some new moves,” Justin says. “You guys wanna come with? Or did you want to sneak in a proper makeout today, since what we saw apparently wasn’t that?”

Rachel and Caleb meet each other’s eyes, and something passes between them. They nod at each other. “Yeah, we’ve got plans,” Rachel lies, smiling. “Catch you guys later, all right? I still got a show tonight.”

“You two going to the dance? I thought about asking Dana, but—” Trevor begins.

“You both chickened out,” Caleb concludes.

“Cheerleaders are scary!” Justin says. “Plus we couldn’t break our rock-paper-scissors tie.”

“No plans on dance,” Rachel clarifies. “I think I’ll skip it. Hang out with Priceless here after the play.”

“Are you two gonna become total fuckin’ cheeseballs?” Trevor asks.

“She’s always been one,” Caleb accuses. “Now she’s just gonna bring it out in public.”

“You know you owe me the story,” Justin says.

“Not a chance, dude. Private shit.”

“We’ll get you really high and then you’ll spill. Later, guys,” Justin says, hopping on his board and heading down the street, Trevor close on his heels.

Rachel approaches Caleb and leans up, kissing his cheek. “Junkyard?” she asks quietly. He nods, and the two of them get on their boards and ride.

It’s getting late already. Rachel might be pushing it a little with the play, she realizes as she gets off her board and starts trudging through the mud of American Rust. She sets an alarm — it takes some time to get back to Blackwell from here, so she’s giving herself an hour and a half head start. That leaves precious little time for them here, but it feels so necessary, after last night and this morning, for them to be entirely in their own space again. God knows Rachel’s not thrilled about the prospect of Victoria seeing them sneaking Caleb into the dorms.

Chloe, not Caleb. Not here.

She looks up from her feet at Chloe, walking ahead of her through the junk paths towards their hideout. She ducks under the big blanket they taped up above the doorframe, dropping off her board and backpack at the front and settling in on the ripped-out bus seat and looking expectantly at Rachel. She looks so gorgeous.

This time, Rachel’s gonna do this right.

She dumps her stuff, crawls into Chloe’s lap like she belongs there, and though Chloe’s breath hitches, she doesn’t start shaking. Rachel loops her arms around Chloe’s neck, gazing into her eyes with a smirk.

“Hey, Chloe,” she whispers.

Chloe swallows and gives her a shaky smile in return. “Hey.”

“Is this okay?” Rachel asks carefully, running a hand down Chloe’s side. It’s too fucking cold to get really hot and heavy, even if they bust out the camping gear from the truck, and...well, there’s something blocking Chloe from going too far, anyway. She’ll take this slow, if she has to.

“Yeah.” Chloe carefully places her hands on Rachel’s waist, holding her in place. “I...wow.”

“Wow?” Rachel replies, giggling.

“Hey, I’ve been holding in all the compliments about how fucking pretty you are, okay? I can stop if you want,” Chloe offers.

“Oh, hell no. Keep being cute instead.” Rachel leans forward and kisses her, pulling their bodies flush against one another. She has a thought, and breaks off to bury herself in Chloe’s neck because it’s dumb and embarassing and it’s making her smile and feel stupid.

“What’s up, Rach?” Chloe asks.

“Just thought about how great it’s gonna be when your boobs come in,” Rachel says, grinning as she pulls back. Chloe’s mouth drops open, and Rachel sneaks in a kiss before Chloe can start second-guessing her.

“Did you discover you’re a boob girl after sleeping with Vic?” Chloe asks with a laugh, shaking her head.

Rachel shrugs. “They’re fun! Don’t shame me!”

“No shame here, just legit curious.” Chloe looks away from Rachel, frowning slightly. “I don’t exactly have room to shame anyone, you know?”

“Hey, don’t say stuff like that,” Rachel chides, lifting Chloe’s chin with one hand and meeting her eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“...okay, I get what you’re saying, but that’s a straight-up lie,” Chloe replies.

Rachel groans. “You’re impossible to compliment.”

“Yup, Mom says the same thing.”

“Are you trying to turn me off?” Rachel asks, pulling back with her hands on Chloe’s shoulders, looking her up and down. She’s blushing, and clearly nervous. “Oh,” she says just as Chloe starts to open her mouth. “You are.”

Chloe’s blush brightens, and she ducks her head. “I — sorry, just—”

“It’s okay,” Rachel says, kissing Chloe’s cheek and climbing off of her, settling down by her side instead.

“I mostly wanted to talk,” Chloe admits, looking down at her hands as she wrings them in her lap. “I — don’t get me wrong, kissing you is great and all, but…”

“Go ahead. Talk to me,” Rachel says simply, getting up and rummaging through her backpack for her smoke supplies. “What’s on your mind?”

“...what exactly happened this morning, with Vic?”

“Pretty much what I said.” Rachel’s voice drops, and she feels a sense of dread creeping in. She swallows. “Um, she saw your text, freaked out, reasonably I guess, slapped me, and stormed off to her room to cry. I tried to talk to her but she told me to fuck off, so… I did.”

“Nothing since then?” Chloe asks. “No angry texts or anything?”

“No,” Rachel admits, heading back to the bench with weed, pipe and lighter in hand. “I...you know, I’m trying to learn, I guess.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means that when someone tells me no, or to leave them alone, I do it instead of pushing things. Figured you, of all people, would want me to do that.”

“No, hey, I’m not objecting,” Chloe says, holding up her hands,” Just kinda surprised. Scary, though. Usually Vic’s the first to start shit as soon as she’s unhappy. You think you’ll have a chance to say sorry or anything?”

“I should,” Rachel sighs, starting to pack the bowl. “I think I’ll try and catch Steph after the play tonight, at least. See if she’ll talk to me.”

“...she did mention you were trying to talk to her for a while after your half-date-thing,” Chloe admits, smiling guiltily.

“Yeah, she’s a master of social evasion. I should take notes from her, honestly.” Rachel lights up and takes a hit.

“Should I try and run interference first? Make sure she stays in one place?” Chloe suggests, but Rachel shakes her head.

She blows out smoke, then says, “No, dude, she’s jumpy. She’ll think we’re trying to go for a three-way or something and then we’re both out a friend.”

“Okay, okay,” Chloe concedes as she takes the pipe from Rachel’s grasp. “I’ll let you work your magic. Guess we’re just gonna wait for the other shoe to drop with Vic, then, huh?”

“That’s my best plan so far,” Rachel says, leaning against Chloe, watching her take in the smoke. They haven’t done this for a while, too busy exercising Chloe’s newfound truck-based freedom, and there’s something Rachel just likes about watching her smoke. She just likes Chloe in general, though, which feels like a problem still even though they’re supposed to be together now.

“Well, whatever happens, I’ve got your back,” Chloe says, puffing out plumes with each word. “If you end up banned from all the cool parties, you can always slum it with me — plus, we’re the ones with the direct line to drugs now.”

“Parties aren’t as much fun without you.” Rachel takes the pipe from Chloe.

“We’ve had like, one good party together.”

“We’ve had three, they just all had tough endings. And now, they don’t have to.” Rachel taps her finger on the side of the pipe, thinking of how to phrase this. “And, um, speaking of...that…”

Chloe shrinks into her seat, looking down so her hair covers her face. “...yeah?”

“So, you being trans, that’s why you didn’t wanna do stuff, right? ‘Cuz I was treating you like...like a guy?”

“Um, partly.” Chloe clears her throat. “It’s also, like...it freaks me out. M-my body, I mean. The idea of doing things with it. Dysphoria, I guess. It’s hard to explain.”

Rachel nods, setting the pipe down beside her and leaning into Chloe’s side, taking her hand. “It’s okay. Talk to me.”

“I — that’s all I got,” Chloe says with a shaky laugh. “There’s just a, a block, and when things get too heavy, it...hurts. I don’t know how to describe it.”

“So to be clear — you’re a virgin. Never done anything.”

Chloe nods. “Yeah. Except with you. You were, um, sort of my first kiss.”

“Sort of?” Rachel asks. “You’re telling me you never kissed Max?”

“I — well, I mean, we were kids, it was a dare, it didn’t count. We talked about getting married and shit but mostly as a joke?” Chloe winces. “Hard to explain. You were the first like...real...one.” Chloe shrugs. “I dunno. That’s just what makes sense to me, to think of it that way.”

“Well…” Rachel purses her lips. “What should I do to make you...comfortable? I’m sure you know this, but, um, I’m not exactly a virgin.”

“Never could’ve guessed,” Chloe deadpans, pushing hair back from her face, and Rachel’s relieved to see that she looks a little more relaxed.

“I turned fifteen and was like, all right, let’s get this out of the way,” Rachel says, shaking her head with a laugh. “Just kinda went for it.”

“Spare me the details,” Chloe says, elbowing her. “Gross hetero sex isn’t shit I need to know about.”

“Oh, believe me, there is not much to tell. Drunk high school boys are fun sometimes, but nobody has any clue what the fuck they’re doing. Including me. I’m sure people think I’ve got a big body count or whatever, but…” Rachel counts on her fingers. “Counting Victoria, I’ve got maybe four?”

“Maybe?”

“Four and a half. Depending on how you count.” Rachel looks over and punches Chloe in the arm. “Don’t give me that look.”

“What look?” Chloe asks innocently.

“That smug superiority look.”

“No, that’s my bewildered look because I’m just trying to work out how you’re counting things.”

“You quoted Offspring at me! I’m trying to be polite.”

Chloe falls back into her chair, chuckling to herself. “So what’s your point, Rach?”

“My point is, I — I really like you. And I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable, so I’m trying to make it less scary to talk to me about this. And I wanna figure out like...where we stand. So?”

“I...just take it slow? For once in your life?”

Rachel scoffs. “Rude. Accurate, but rude. I promise I won’t push, not on this. ‘Kay?”

“Okay.”

“And when we’re together, alone like this…is it okay if I just always call you Chloe? I really like it,” Rachel confesses, squeezing Chloe’s hand. “Kinda cool, having a girlfriend.”

Chloe wraps an arm around Rachel and squeezes her close, so Rachel figures that was the right thing to say. Rachel nestles herself into Chloe’s chest, closing her eyes. “I love you,” Chloe says quietly.

“Love you too.” Rachel sighs. “Thanks for hanging out today. I needed this. I’m already sick of this school and I haven’t even been here two years.”

“We gotta get movin’ to LA as fast as we can,” Chloe agrees. Rachel pulls back and scans the wall, where they’d declared L.A., BITCH! in Sharpie months ago. And beside it, their names, proclaiming they were here, they mattered. CALEB stands out to Rachel’s eye.

“Can’t wait to write Chloe over there,” she says airily, looking up at Chloe, and she’s surprised to see that she’s wiping her face with her free hand. “Woah, you all right?”

“Y-yeah, just…I didn’t think anyone would…” Chloe takes in a gasp of air, and Rachel wraps an arm around her waist. “Sorry,” she mumbles.

“Hey, nothing to say sorry for.”

“People don’t stick around for me,” Chloe says.

“Well, they should. You know you’re really likable, right?”

“C’mon, Rachel, you already got me, you don’t need to sweet-talk me any more,” Chloe says, looking away from her.

“I’m serious!” Rachel insists, reaching up and turning Chloe’s chin to face her. “You are funny, and smart, and cute as hell. Get that through your thick skull, Chloe Price, or I’ll just have to keep hammering it in.”

“I’m getting mixed messages from this,” Chloe says with a smile. “Am I smart or do I have a thick skull?”

Rachel pulls herself up and gives her a quick peck. “Both,” she says simply. She checks her phone as Chloe chuckles and shakes her head. “Quick, let’s kill that bowl. I can be late to rehearsal, but I’ll be fucked if I’m late to an actual show.”

“All right, all right. It’s fine if I watch, right?”

“Uh, duh, of course, even fuckin’ Victoria knew that girlfriends are supposed to support you when you do nerd shit,” Rachel says, elbowing her as she picks up her pipe and re-lights it.

“Aaaaaah,” Chloe says, like she figured something out, smug bitch.

“What?” Rachel asks, narrowing her eyes.

“She dropped the girlfriend word and came to your show. That’s why you freaked and ran to me. It all makes sense now. Pass.”

Rachel passes the pipe to her. “I told you you’re smart. She just…she wanted stuff I can’t give her. She can be a total asshole, but I didn’t wanna string her along, you know?”

“Well, keep an eye out in the VC. If you set her up with some rich girl, she’ll forgive you. Probably,” Chloe suggests.

“You’re implying I have a gaydar. With how long it took me to work out your deal, how easy do you think it’s gonna be for me to spot the next lesbian who comes along?” Rachel asks, watching Chloe take in her hit. “You figured out Vic, right?”

“Yeah, but…to be honest, she’s not subtle. The only reason I didn’t work it out before was ‘cuz I wasn’t looking.”

“Rach, I never feel subtle either. I’m always kinda shocked people don’t…know. Just by looking at me, or seeing the weird shit I do. It’s weird that people believe my excuses,” Chloe says, scratching the back of her neck with one hand, passing the pipe with the other.

“Well, people aren’t looking. Guess that’s all there is to it.” Rachel takes in a hit. “But I see you.”

Chloe leans into her, kissing the top of her head.

“I know you do.”

Rachel bumps into Steph as she enters the dressing room, nearly knocking her clipboard from her hands. “Shit, there you are! Get in costume,” Steph says, poking Rachel’s chest with her pencil.

“I’m not even late!” Rachel replies, holding up her hands.

“Yeah, but you’re not early, either. See you on stage,” Steph says, starting to move around her, but Rachel grabs her by the sleeve. “What?” Steph asks, tensing under Rachel’s grip.

“I just wanted to apologize,” Rachel says, getting a little closer and dropping her voice. “You know, for the other day.”

“Your eyes are red as shit,” Steph says with a raised eyebrow. “You good to be on stage?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Rachel says, waving her off. “But, seriously. I acted like a shithead straight girl at you, I get it.”

Steph looks over her shoulder. “Did Caleb put you up to this?”

“I — not directly? We made up last night. We were sort of in a fight. Not important. Just, Steph, you’re really cool, okay? I don’t want things to be weird between us.” Rachel gives Steph her best pleading look.

Steph closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath. She lets it go, and her eyes really are a very pretty green. It’s not fair that Steph’s single, honestly. “Okay. As long as you promise not to be weird at me, okay?”

Rachel holds up two fingers and crosses them. ”Promise. I was just…going through stuff. You’re the only out girl I know.”

“Hey, same,” Steph says, cracking a smirk. “Unless…?”

“I, uh, d-don’t spread it around,” Rachel stammers. “I mean…yet. But let’s just say I got some positive results.”

“Hey, you wanna talk about it sometime, let me know. Just, you know, be up-front.” Steph chuckles. “I’ll forgive you for being an idiot sophomore, all right?”

“For sure. Thanks, Steph.”

“Yeah, yeah, now get it together, Rachel,” Steph says with a smirk. “Get your costume and let’s put on some Shakespeare.”

Rachel watches Steph strut away, looking for all the world like she owns this whole department, and sighs in relief. Maybe nothing’s screwed as a result of her…explorations over the past month. Maybe everything can blow over this smoothly, and people will get over it, like Chloe said. Maybe things will be all right, in the end.

She hopes so.

Once again, after the curtain’s fallen and Rachel’s taken her bows, her girlfriend comes on stage to meet her. But this time, Rachel welcomes her with open arms, and they share a kiss as the rest of the cast breaks off to form their own groups.

“You were awesome up there, Rachel,” Chloe says, smiling down at Rachel. “Not that I could really understand most of the dialogue, but you sure as hell sold it.”

“You made me watch Blade Runner. Tell me the dialogue in that isn’t weird as shit,” Rachel shoots back. “Besides, you’re telling me Steph doesn’t give you giant fantasy speeches in her sessions?”

“That’s different.”

“How?” “It’s like, Lord of the Rings dialogue, not ancient-ass English. Different things.”

“Are you talking shit about my DMing, Caleb?” Steph asks, and Rachel jumps. She was too busy looking into Chloe’s — Caleb’s — eyes to even notice her coming over.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Steph, I don’t even have anyone to compare it to,” Caleb replies, shifting onto his back foot and putting a hand on his hip. “You’re in charge of all the technical shit, right? You did good too.”

“I know you don’t know a damn thing about theater, but thanks anyway, man,” Steph says, punching him in the arm. “Didn’t think you were gonna be here in the first place. So you two really did make up, huh?”

“I said we did!” Rachel insists while Caleb laughs.

“We’re cool again, don’t worry,” Caleb says, but Steph points a finger at Rachel.

“Just so we’re clear, you’re not allowed to hurt him.” Rachel puts a hand to her chest. “I would never! I’m his girlfriend!”

“Oh, that’s official now?” Steph raises one eyebrow, glancing back and forth between them. “Interesting. But I’m still watching out for him. You made the mistake of letting him become one of my players, he’s totally under my protection now.”

“I’m like one year younger than you, Steph,” Caleb says, rolling his eyes. “You can’t be my mom.”

“I can sure as hell try.” Steph looks to Rachel. “Anyway, great work out there tonight, Rachel. I was gonna ask if you’d stick around to help us tear stuff down, but I’m guessing since he’s here, you’re sneaking off again?”

“That’s the techies’ job and you know it, stop trying to rope me into free labor,” Rachel replies.

“Well, can you at least not steal the costume this time? And bring back the other one tomorrow,” Steph says, putting a hand on her hip. “Go backstage and change.”

“Ah, so that’s what this was all about, you didn’t wanna see me at all,” Caleb says.

“Don’t talk back to the DM, Caleb…”

“Okay, okay,” Caleb says, putting his hands up. “I’ll wait out here for you, Rachel. Good to see you, Steph. We on for next week?”

“You know it,” Steph confirms. “Later, guys.”

Rachel gives Caleb a quick kiss before heading backstage and getting her old clothes on, grabbing him on the way out and pulling him across campus to the dorms. He follows without complaint, and the two of them are just about home free, unlocking the door to Rachel’s room, when Victoria emerges from her door down the hall. Rachel looks over at the sound and freezes, keys still in the lock, their eyes meeting.

Victoria’s a mess. Her eyes are red and baggy, her hair out of place, clothes rumpled. She glances between Rachel and Caleb, then rushes back into her dorm before the door fully swings shut.

“Shit,” Caleb remarks.

“My thoughts exactly,” Rachel sighs. “Too late to do anything now. Come on.”

Once they’re inside Rachel’s room, it feels safer. Caleb’s Chloe again, and they keep the lights off so that Rachel’s stars glow, and though Rachel limits herself to soft kisses and lazy cuddling throughout the rest of the night, it’s perfect. They spend their time blowing smoke out the window, watching pirated shows on Rachel’s laptop, and fall asleep together in the same bed for the first time, even if Chloe’s keeping her jeans on like some kind of maniac.

It was all worth it. Rachel’s sure of that.

Rachel wakes in the morning to the sound of Chloe’s phone buzzing on the nightstand. She reaches over groggily and grabs it as Chloe stirs beside her. “It’s your mom,” Rachel informs her.

“Fuck,” Chloe complains, but she takes the phone from Rachel’s grasp anyway. “Yeah, Mom?”

Rachel sits up and watches as Chloe listens, unable to hear exactly what Joyce is saying. All she gets is Chloe’s side.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I slept over at Rachel’s. I — Mom, it’s not about — I wasn’t even — Mom. It wasn’t about David, chill out. I just wanted to spend the day with my girlfriend. I — okay, sorry I didn’t tell you. Fine. Fine. Jesus.” Chloe casts a glance at Rachel. “I’ll be home soon. I gotta board. Because I felt like skateboarding? Shouldn’t you like it when your kid gets exercise? Look, I’m still in Rachel’s room. We can talk more when I get home if we have to. All right. Later.” She takes the phone away from her ear and ends the call, stretching out with a sigh.

“Did I get you in trouble again?” Rachel asks quietly, taking Chloe’s hand.

“Nah, I got myself in trouble, probably should’ve headed home.” Chloe turns and gives her a smile. “Not your fault I can’t say no to you.”

“Of course you can say no,” Rachel says softly. “Whenever. Okay?”

“I — nothing serious, Rachel. I’ll manage.” Chloe gets up, finds her boots, and sits on the edge of the bed to tug them on. Rachel comes up behind her and wraps her arms around her, kissing her neck and giggling at the way she tenses up.

“Let me know how things go, okay?” Rachel mumbles into Chloe’s back.

“Yeah, I will.” Chloe puts one hand over Rachel’s, closing her eyes for a moment and smiling. “Thanks.”

“For?”

“Being here.”

“Sap.”

“Yep.” Chloe wriggles out of Rachel’s grasp and finishes getting ready to leave, strapping on her boots and backpack and grabbing her board. She pauses as she heads out the door, looking back at Rachel. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Priceless. Seeya soon?”

“Eh, we’ll see how much shit I’m in this time. Apparently Mom really wanted me home last night for talks with David or something.”

“Boo. Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

Rachel falls back onto her bed, closing her eyes and nesting back into her covers. Chloe sends her a message not long after, though, reading, vic saw me again lol.

Me: this must be why we dont have coed dorms, runnin into ur ex constantly is the pits already

C: ever heard the expression dont shit where u eat

Me: yeah yeah rub it in

C: you said im funny any digs i make at u are ur own fault

Rachel laughs softly at her phone, smiling. She’s gonna be so happy to take today off of all of this. She’ll do her homework, only leave her dorm for lunch and the play, and just relax for once. She’s lucky that she and Victoria finished their Photo project before the breakup, otherwise she’d really be screwed.

But today is hers, and everything seems to be settling down. Vic hasn’t made a move, when last night would’ve been a totally reasonable time to do it. Her phone’s not blowing up with VC nonsense from skipping the dance yesterday, because the play made a perfectly good excuse and she did her organizing and planning work for it already.

The only thing that still worries her is what will happen to Chloe when she returns home.

She’s in the dressing room by the time she actually receives a text. She’s early, for Steph’s sake if nothing else, so she’s alone as she’s changing, and she’s just gotten her dress over her head when her phone buzzes on the desk. Finally, she thinks, walking past the privacy screen and picking up her phone. Chloe was supposed to keep her in the loop, dammit, what’s going on over there?

But as she unlocks her phone, she sees that the new message isn’t from Chloe. It’s from Victoria.

Victoria: have you seen nathan today?

Rachel frowns at her phone. What on Earth is this about?

Me: no whats up

Victoria: get somewhere with lots of people he said something that really freaked me out and i dont know where he went

A chill runs down Rachel’s spine, and she glances at the door instinctively. Nothing. Everybody must be busy elsewhere.

Me: what the hell is going on

Victoria: i just need to find him

The door to the dressing room opens and Rachel jumps a foot back and drops her phone, swiveling to look at the person coming in — and it’s Nathan. He stops as the door swings shut behind him, his hands in fists, face contorted into a snarl, his eyes glaring into Rachel.

“Nathan,” Rachel says cautiously, backing up against the desk and pawing at the surface behind her. She’s not even sure what she’s searching for, just something to put in her hand and hold onto, because everything about Nathan’s posture is screaming danger in her ears. “You’re not supposed to be back here.”