Chapter 31

alyssa

I don’t know what time it is when I wake up, but it’s still dark outside, and I can hear rain spattering against the window. Elliot’s legs are tangled with mine, and her slow, deep breathing right against the back of my neck tells me she’s asleep. There’s such a rush of sudden happiness over being in her arms that it takes me a moment to even realize that something woke me up.

Elliot’s phone is set on my bedside table next to a now-empty carton of peaches and onion ice cream. Blearily, I try and scooch out of her arms just enough so I can see who’s calling.

Neema. At this hour?

I pick up, rubbing my eyes and preparing to say that it’s me, not Elliot. But I’m cut-off.

“Elliot, someone’s been posting about you on the Insta.”

“Wha—”

“I think it’s the swim girls,” she continues, her voice a heavy whisper. “It-it’s not good. At all. I just wanted to let you know, because really, I think you might just want to delete the app and walk away.”

“Neema?”

“Oh shit.” It’s certainly an ‘oh shit’ tone of voice. “Alyssa. Hi. Are you with Elliot?”

“She’s asleep,” I whisper hoarsely. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. But, um, you might want to wake her up.”

“Okay?”

I roll over and gently nudge Elliot. She doesn’t stir. I end up having to shake her after ripping off the covers. I have to tell myself that now is not the time to find her deep sleep cute. She mumbles something, and I hiss, “Elliot, Neema’s on the phone.”

“Wha?” I feel her sit up. “What’s going on? Is she okay?”

“I don’t really know. Here.”

“Neema?” Elliot asks, her voice heavy with tiredness. In the dim light of her phone screen, I can see her rub her eyes and prop her head up on her hand.

I can hear Neema faintly telling her exactly what she told me about the Instagram, whatever that means.

“What?”

“I know,” says Neema. “It’s so fucking awful. I just wanted to tell you. I don’t think you should look at it, but I also figured you deserved to know as soon as possible.”

“It’s three a.m.,” Elliot mutters. “Why is it three a.m.?”

“Elliot, are you even listening to me? This is defamation of character. This is libel. There are some fairly serious accusations on there.”

Goosebumps prickle up my arms. “Like what?” she whispers.

“They were all saying you did creepy things and sexually harassed girls in the locker room and in the showers. That you try and get girls to let their guards down so you can, like, benefit in some perverted way. Someone stood up for you, but only because it hadn’t been definitively confirmed that you’re gay.”

“How long did that last?” Elliot asks.

“A couple of minutes. Someone shot back that you were making out with a girl at Jace’s tonight. Elliot, I thought what they did to Jace was bad, but this is just … so disgusting. Like, I’m tempted to call the cops.”

“Can we even do that?”

“I don’t know.” Neema’s voice is tight. “I know that this is a libel case for sure, because you didn’t do any of these things. You might be able to get them again on emotional distress? I think if the authorities were to get a warrant, they could find out all the identities of these anonymous senders. Probably. I hope. I don’t know how cyberbullying goes in a court of freaking law.”

“And then?” Elliot’s voice is twice as tight as Neema’s, and sounds way deeper than usual. “Neema, do you think the ‘authorities’ would even care?”

“I don’t know, okay? I don’t know what a punishment for these girls would look like. If you get the police involved, there might be charges, and their parents are all well-off enough to fight against those. And with the probability of their numbers against you in a ‘she said, she said’-kinda case, well.”

“Well what?”

“You like The Crucible. These are the village girls, your Winona Ryders.”

Elliot makes this small strangled noise. “And I’m Daniel Day Lewis?”

“You’re John Proctor, yeah.”

“Fuck.” Elliot jumps out of bed suddenly, and the sudden intensity of her voice makes me shrink back under the covers. Only half of her face is lit up by the light of the phone screen, but it’s a frightened, terrifying half. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. How? Why?”

Neema says something, but I don’t quite hear it.

“Neema, you know I can’t tell them. They don’t even know I’m queer. I don’t need this to be the first experience they have with my sexuality.” It sounds like Neema shouts something at her. Elliot is whispering, but it’s just as intense. “I don’t care. I can handle this, okay? I can handle it.”

Neema says something else, but Elliot must have cut her off. “I need to go,” she says coolly. “Thanks for letting me know.” She cuts her off again, this time by hanging up.

She keeps running hands through her hair as I roll over to turn on the light of my bedside table. We both blink atway the sudden brightness as our eyes adjust. “Are you okay?” I ask her.

“I’m fine,” she says shortly, even though she’s obviously so, so not. “I just—I don’t get how this could have happened.”

“I’m really sorry,” I whisper.

“It’s okay,” she says back. “But, um, I think I might go home.”

It feels like all the air has been sucked out of me. And then used to slap me in the face. Hard. “What?”

“I—I need some time to process this. I’m sorry.”

I cross my arms, covering my shirtless chest. “Can’t you process it here? I’m not going to judge you, Elliot. Please, let me help you.” So she gets to be there for me, but I don’t get to be there for her?

She shakes her head and sharply inhales. “No, I’m sorry. I just, I can’t do this right now. I’ll text you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” I say, swinging my legs out of the bed so I can cross over to her. As soon as my feet touch the ground, though, a sharp, searing pain tears through my entire body. I let out a sharp cry before I can stop myself, grabbing the end of my bed to steady my stance.

Elliot is frozen, eyes wide. “Are you okay?” she asks, and I can tell that a ‘yes’ is the last thing in the world she needs right now.

There’s a harsh fizzling in my legs, stabbier and worse than ever before. Somehow, I manage to smile and shake my head. “Just landed on my ankle wrong,” I assure her, and suddenly, everything feels gross. Wrong.

“Oh, okay,” she says, nodding like she doesn’t believe it but desperately wants to. “I’m gonna get going home, okay?”

I give her a tight smile. “Okay.”

She doesn’t even hug me goodbye. She just tosses on her shirt and leaves.

I don’t turn off my lamp right away. Instead, I just stare at my legs and wonder what’s making them hurt so bad. What if this is it? What if this is the big one? The one that hurts so much I wish I was dead, and I either make a big ordeal that stresses everyone out like we’re living in some Alyssa-driven Hell, or I leave. Just like Mom.

I lie in bed for a while, waiting for the fizzling to disappear. It doesn’t, and it certainly lessens, but it becomes easier to ignore. Which is perfect, because then all I can think about is Elliot.

I get whatever the fuck happened on that Instagram page was mortifying. If my phone weren’t sitting all the way over on my dresser, I would probably be able to convince myself to read at least a few of the messages. Is anyone even sticking up for her?

She deserves that. She deserves that so fucking much.

But also, at that same time, I can’t help but wonder if she actually does. She’s seen me fish out twice now, and both times, she was amazing, but as soon as helping me becomes inconvenient for her, she just rushes off, no problem. No. Shits. Given.

Maybe she’s more like Max than I wanted to admit.

Y’know, maybe that’s my problem. I tend to think things are better than they are. I thought that Max was It, my big highschool love, someone I could see myself marrying and raising kids with and loving forever. Looking back, though, it’s obvious the whole thing was about Max. Max, who’s actually kinda fucking weird and a bad partner to me and I probably shouldn’t have stayed with them for so long, because I think I most definitely deserved better than the romanticised dysfunctionality we had.

I feel disgusting. I mean, I slept with Elliot tonight. I slept with her, and suddenly, she’s all-too-ready to just up and ditch me. Elliot is important now. Elliot lost her virginity, and now, she’s okay. She doesn’t need me anymore. Me, the one gay girl in town willing to be with her and her fucking closeted ass.

Was I being used this whole time?

I don’t want to believe it, but as my legs continue to worsen and my head begins to ache, I can’t help but believe it.

I grab Elliot’s sweatshirt from the end of the bed. Then, with unstable, jerky steps, I make my way across the hall and gently knock on Tanner’s door before slipping inside. I don’t even know if he’s here, but it’s worth a try.

I hear soft breathing, and I’m about to say something when a step feels too wrong and I whimper. Tanner stirs. “Alyssa?” he murmurs. “Is that you?”

There’s more breathing. Jace must be here.

“Yeah,” I whisper, too tight. “I, um, nevermind.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I whisper. “Nevermind. It’s chill. See you in the morning.”

“Okay?” he says, the same volume as his boyfriend’s gentle breathing. Did Elliot and I sound like that before Neema just had to call? Ugh, Neema why? “Seriously, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I assure him. “I’m all good. Go back to sleep.”

“Fine,” he says, and it seems like he is before he’s even finished the word.

“Night, dude,” I whisper, and it suddenly feels like the last time. “I love you.”

He murmurs something indistinct back as I shut the door gently.

Then, before I lose the nerve to do what I need to, I grab the car keys and slip out the front door.

A/N – okay so like im back for 2 seconds… we have a few chapters left till the end, which i think i might rewrite?? because as it stands, i think you guys deserve more than i’ve given with the climax. sooo. yes.

anyways i only had like one major mental breakdown, over my dual credit spanish course which i am now happy to say i passed and kept my 4.0 with let’s goooo! also, got my second vaccine dose, and i’ve got my fingers crossed that i passed my three AP exams.

aaaanywhos, wish me luck as i try not to die, lol. i won’t have time to respond to PMs for a bit, sorry. also, for those of you reading lucy schraan is gay, i’m going to write it offline and query because ahhhh stress.

anywhos, have some gifs over who i have been over these past few weeks lollll:

hopefully i can regain some summance of normalcy sooooon 😉

in the meantime, i love you dorks. till … well. till the next time (i’m still on hiatus you saw NOOOTHING)

UPDATE (August 17th, 2021): I passed the AP exams ;))) I got a 5 in APUSH and then pulled 4’s in AP Lit and AP Lang. I … I should be happy with 4s. I’m instead mad at myself for not getting 5’s. Oh well. Sucks to suck. I still got the AP Scholar Award so I literally can’t complain. Gonna have to fight my school to put me in AP Human Geography, because they only put me in AP Stats and AP Bio, and they cut AP US Gov and AP Micro-economics, so I am NOOOOT vibing.

School is stressful lolololol ;)))