Sleeping Over

“Remember to work slowly. Rushing through your art will impact the final product; we are looking for something better than that.”

My brush made a noise like a horse’s tail over paper. It was too small to do much outside of a thin, streaky line running along the top of my paper like an ugly wound. 

At the front of the Social Center, in a room usually reserved for spaghetti dinners, Mr. Sheridan stood before an easel, mixing paint as he spoke. 

“The farther away things are, the more blue they look. So for our mountains, we’re going to mix blue and violet, then add a hint of orange or yellow to cut the saturation.”

Even half-finished, his painting looked like real life, like if you squinted little deer would start frolicking over the grassy hills. Down the long tables, brushes were dipped and watercolor palettes clattered as the class sought the elusive periwinkle hue he had mixed. Bianca was across from me with her face scrunched tight, near tears behind her oval glasses.

I was weightless, watching my surroundings through a television screen. The only wet color in my palette was red— brighter than all the others, spilling from its well and coating the cheap thin brush with gummy detritus.

On the other end of the table, an aide was leaning over some shoulders and smiling at the series of lovely identical paintings we were making. Mr. Sheridan tucked his brush into his apron and moved to check on our work as well. Even with my nose to the grindstone, I could follow his path by the sound of his walk; the metallic clunk of the prosthetic and the near silent squeal of rubber soles.

Too many kids had asked about the leg over the years, and the story never stayed the same. I had been told that it was lost in a tragic car crash; a rumor circulating around the first graders pinned it on a hungry bear.

“Add light to the dark, not the other way around,” Mr. Sheridan said, a hand on Josh’s shoulder. The boy nodded as if being held hostage. Mr. Sheridan’s stern finger hovered in front of his nose. “And no white.”

As my neighbor stuck his brush down, bristles splayed from the pressure, Mr. Sheridan went over to me. As he got closer, the smile slid off his face. He made a sound, clearly unconscious, like a gasp whistling through the gap in his teeth.

“You’ve ruined it!”

I stopped. So did the rest of the class. 

Blinking, I white-knuckled my brush. The uncut red not only filled the sky. . . it raked across the fields, blooming like swathes of angry eczema over the Windows wallpaper.

“Sue, can you please get Lauren a fresh sheet of paper?” Mr. Sheridan called to the aide. He turned to look down at me. “Mind elucidating what you were thinkin’ with this. . . color?”

Even with someone so close, I wasn’t quite there. “I like it.” 

“Maybe so. But this isn’t free period. You had an assignment to follow. And now you’ll have to take extra time to make up for your mistake.” He slipped a finger under my paper. My brushwork had worn a hole through the thick paper, so it had bled through, staining his calloused fingers.

“I did it on purpose,” I said, staring ahead.

“What was that?”

“It’s not a mistake.” My voice rose in pitch. “I meant to do it!”

The aide hurried over with the blank paper. “Oh, honey, no need to be upset. We’ll let you start over!” 

“I don’t want to start over!” I snapped.

The aide took a step backwards. Mr. Sheridan’s eyebrows furrowed. “Watch your tone, dearie.”

“And you watch your own freaking business!” 

In the front office, I sat on the bench with my arms folded. The old clock ticked away in the corner as the vice-principal watched me with her fingers intertwined. “You swore at your teacher.”

I crossed my legs. “I didn’t swear.”

“You used a replacement swear,” she said. “That’s just as bad.”

I had a few replacement swears in mind for her. Maybe take the Lord’s name in vain, while I was at it. Maybe sin in more than just my thoughts.

 But the school day was almost over and the office uncomfortably warm. I didn’t want to stay any longer than I had to. I was just waiting for Dad to arrive.

In the meantime, the vice-principal studied me behind her tiny glasses like a bug. She said, “You’re wearing a winter polo.”

I scratched my arms. “Yeah.”

“It’s June.”

“Yeah.”

She sighed and sat back in her creaky chair. “I will speak with your father. If this behavior continues, Lauren, you will stand to lose a lot. Recess privileges. Extracurriculars. How would you like to spend your Field Day inside?”

“That’s fine,” I said.

“California gurls

We're unforgettable

Daisy Dukes

Bikinis on top—”

“I don’t know how they’re allowed to play this,” Sydney said. “It’s very inappropriate.”

She was standing over me, her t-shirt tucked into pink mesh shorts. Her hair was pulled back behind an elastic headband, the bridge of her nose sunburnt and doubly freckled. 

I sat on the grass, picking at my hot dog bun. All across the park, the middle school was eating their lunch off foam plates while the younger kids played their round of games. The second graders were falling over like bowling pins in their 3-legged race. 

I had seemed too eager to get out of Field Day, and my punishment was thus reversed: I had to participate. So instead, I refused to be a team player. I let my partner drag me through the 3-legged race. I sat down and ignored capture the flag. I hadn’t even touched a boccie ball. 

But still, my suffering was endless. 

“Just because there’s no swearing does not make it okay. I should go over and let the DJ know my mind right this moment.”

“Please do.” The quote-unquote DJ in question was just one of the student teachers, anyways. He wasn’t going to care.

Sydney huffed. She glared at the booth and pounding speakers, all the way over at the stone wall. Then she turned to the bounce house behind us, no doubt ready to find something to complain about there, too. 

I bit into my watermelon slice without finishing my hot dog or little bag of Lays chips. This aberration must’ve brought Sydney back to Planet Earth. She sank down in the grass, next to me.

“I’ve noticed,” she said, “how moody you’ve been recently. You’re ignoring teachers. Breaking uniform—” She tugged on my hoodie sleeve. “ — And your eye bags are getting darker. You never talk to anyone. You don’t have any friends at all.” 

Her bony knee dug into mine.

“Your point?” I picked off a chunk of grass.

Sydney leaned towards me, her blue eyes wide. She whispered, “Are you on your period?”

“No! What the heck?”

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Sydney said. “We’re both girls here.”

“Leave me alone.”

Sydney’s expression hardened. “I’m only trying to help.”

“Well, you’re terrible at it.” I threw the grass at her. “Fuck off!” 

In an unusual act of mercy, Sydney did not tattle on me to the teachers. Instead, she skittered away to her own friends. But I could tell by the shape of her crinkled brow and the sharp not-looks thrown my direction that she was complaining about me.

Thus, the school year ended with a whimper.

Sun glaring against my neck, I marched out to Dad’s car. I was so out of it that I didn’t notice anything amiss until I wrenched open the door and was hit with a wave of wailing guitars and a bloodcurdling scream.

“Eris!” I smiled.

She winked from the driver’s seat, turning down the music. “Sorry to disappoint, my dear.”

“No, no!” I climbed in. “Thank you.”

She ruffled my hair. “I insisted that your dad didn’t need the trouble.”

An unbidden smile crept across my face. I was so happy to see Eris. Having her thrust upon me like this— with no warning— was almost too much to bear. 

Eris began to back out from under the tree’s shade. She was wearing a pair of big sunglasses that made her look like a model— if it weren’t for the dangly zipper earrings flashing in the sunlight.

“Are you looking forward to summer, Ophelia?”

I shifted in my seat, hugging my backpack tight. I was, in certain ways, but mostly—

“I can’t believe I’ll have to be gone for two whole weeks.”

It was family tradition— one of the few not damaged by divorce. Dad and I would take a trip to Beryl Mountain campground in the middle of June. I had no qualms about it, normally— there were kids my age there, two seasonal girls I always hung out with. But now that I had Eris. . .

“Aw, don’t worry, beautiful. I have good news.”

“Really?” I looked up.

Eris nodded. Her hair brushed over her bare shoulders; she was wearing a fitted tee, but the sleeves had been torn off. Her chunky bracelets clicked against the steering wheel. “I talked to my mother, and she gave her blessing. I’m coming with you.”

“No way!”

Eris laughed.

I continued, “Oh, Eris, you’ll love it there! It’s so pretty and green. There’s a playground and an arcade and I even know a cool path that goes to a waterfall— it’s a secret hike that I found all on my own. . .”

It rained all morning. Eris rode in the passenger seat, and I was in the back.

I spent the whole hour staring at the back of her head with my headphones on. 

Even as we drove further into the woods, and the small country streets turned to long, winding roads through green mountains, I was watching Eris. My head bobbed against the car headrest.

For one moment, the clouds parted. Eris turned with no warning, the light nearly a prism against her cheek, and gave me a smile that sent a shock through my system. It felt like I’d been punched. . . but not necessarily in a bad way.

The music in my ears blared, “Sometimes I give myself the creeps. . .”

She’s in love with me, I thought. She’s a lesbian. She fell in love with me because she’s a lesbian. That’s why she wants to go on this trip. To spend time with me.

The smile, the sparkling moment passed as if it meant nothing. But it didn’t. It was everything. I wanted to hold on to it forever, to remember. To have Eris smile at me for no reason over and over again.

“. . . my mind plays tricks on . . .”

I looked out the window, where the thinning cloud cover made mottled patterns against the grassy fields. Dad cracked open my window to let the air in, and my nose was filled with the scent of manure. I dug my nails into the soft gap between the window and door.

But what does that make me?

The clouds parted not ten minutes before we arrived. Watery sunlight shone through the car windows as Dad rolled up the rocky hill. The campground smelled like dirt and burning wood, caught on the breeze from the neighbors. The trap rock underfoot was still slick.

Dad got started unlocking and airing out the rental trailer while Eris and I unpacked the trunk. We were surrounded by a copse of trees, and as a result our site was shady and cool.

Eris’s bag was twice as heavy as the others, but I insisted on taking it out myself. Inch-by-inch I dragged it towards me, the nylon strap digging into my palms. Finally, teetering on the edge of the trunk—

“Lauren!”

I looked up. The bag tipped over and landed over my foot. “Ow!”

Across the road, my friends(?) were running to greet me. Well, Mia was running. She was the younger of the two, a perpetual wild child. Her dirty blonde hair flowed down her back, frizzy like a rat’s nest.

Following coolly behind, thumbs hooked into her belt loops, was her older sister. 

“H-hey guys!” I hopped backwards one-legged, massaging my sore toe. “Chloe, you look nice.”

“You look dead.” She snapped her gum.

Chloe and I had always been weird, together. Sometimes, friendships were just what you made do with the people around you. 

Once upon a time, we had been weird in a good way. The summer we met, Mom had promised to come camping with me and Dad— then didn’t. Dad was too overwhelmed by packing and food prep to tell me she’d canceled until we were already there. I’d taken it badly. At first, I had stormed off in anger, my eight-year-old feet wobbly and uncertain in their stomping. But by the time I planted myself on the swing set, I was crying.

Diana was an hour away and valleys below. I was stuck high and dry, all alone in a big buggy place where nobody knew me. This park wasn’t our park— it was too dusty, too small, too sun faded. But if I covered my eyes and sobbed, I could pretend. I wished for Diana to come back like I was wishing upon a star.

Please God, I need her!

That was when Chloe popped into existence above the slide in a pair of jelly sandals, her hands on her hips, a half-braided friendship bracelet between her teeth. I was so startled I forgot to cry. But she noticed my red eyes, so she slid down in front of me and presented the bracelet, still wet with her spit.

“Want it?”

Now, I wasn’t an expert, but I thought that made us friends. Though we had little in common, we stayed on each other’s radar. Chloe shared with me her palette of glossy chapsticks and sticks of fruity gum from the camp store. We traded Silly Bandz and— the one time I slept in her camper— lice.

A shadow leaned past me. I jumped back. Eris smiled, and picked up her bag with one hand.

“Sorry,” I said.

She patted me on the head, sauntering back to the camper. I turned my attention to the girls.

 Chloe had always cared about her looks, like a preening magpie. And I knew she would have changed at least a little— she was a freshman in high school, now. But she still caught me off guard.

She’d lost weight, her baby fat gone and replaced with taut, tanned skin. She looked like she’d stepped straight off the glossy pages of Teen Vogue: beachy waves in her hair, winged eyeliner and a subtle smokey eye.

“Did you get contacts?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said. Then, “Your eyeliner’s messed up.”

My hand whipped up to my eyes.

Chloe hissed, “Don’t smudge it more!”

“Sorry.” My fingertips were black. “I’m— uh, not used to wearing it.”

“Here.” Chloe reached out, her fingertips just barely brushing my face. She shrugged her little purse off her bare shoulder. “I can fix it.”

“What? No!” Mia snatched the bag away. The chain slid right down Chloe’s thin arm. “You promised!” 

Chloe sighed.

“What did you promise?” I asked.

“That we would go out into the damp dirty woods—” Chloe’s voice was flat.

“—and look for salamanders!” Mia grinned; her teeth were growing in lop-sided. She hugged Chloe’s purse to her chest. 

Mia was nine, and every bit like how Chloe was at that age, just more. . . loud about it. Chloe was only weird and excitable in private. Mia had no off-switch.

I said, “Sounds fun.”

“Ugh.”

“Yay!”

“Could you stand a fourth?”

I turned to find Eris directly behind me, hands on her hips.

“Y-yeah, of course!” I said. I turned to the others. “If that’s okay?”

They agreed; after I’d backtracked to tell Dad what we were up to, we passed around introductions while trekking off to a woodsy spot near the site. Eris took up the rear like a bodyguard, looming over the younger kids. She was so quiet, her sneakers hardly denting the brush, that I often forgot she was there.

The sun streaked pale green lines through the mossy trees. Mia ran circles around us, kicking up leaves and crushing nascent mushrooms underfoot.

“Look where you’re stepping!” I said. “You don’t want to crush them.”

Mia skidded to a stop with a gasp. “You’re right!”

She began to mimic me, creeping with long, slow steps held up high. 

Chloe groaned. She craned her neck, letting her hair flow out down her shoulders, and looked me in the eye. “Why are you making this even slower?”

For a moment, her anger superseded the pettiness in her words. My heart skipped a beat. “I—I—”

“Found one!”

The spell broke. Very carefully, Mia picked up the orange newt off the musty leaves and handed it off to Eris. The little thing draped beautifully across her pale fingers, like a ring. 

We circled around it, cooing until Chloe got bored and wandered off. Mia chased after her, leaving me alone with Eris’s hand nearly on my chin. I straightened up. Eris dropped the salamander unceremoniously as I ran to catch up to Chloe. 

“So, what’s school been like?” A twig snapped underneath my sneakers.

Chloe was busy tip-toeing around, her lip half-curled in disgust at every orange splotch she found. I didn’t know why; we’d done this at least once every summer.

I repeated the question. 

She said, “Fine.”

“Is high school any different?”

She snorted. “No.” 

“Oh,” I said. “I just asked ‘cause, you know— you’re different. I think.”

“You are too,” Chloe said. There went my heart again. “You’ve become an even bigger freak.”

Chloe was my friend, really. She’d given me the bracelet. It was meant as a playful jab, I was sure. But in the wake of her words my thoughts shriveled up. I didn’t know what to say, so I turned my face to the ground and pretended I was still searching. 

Upon returning to the campsite, Dad had already made us some cold cut sandwiches. I sat with him at the picnic table while Eris went into the tent to change. 

The camper only had two beds. When Eris had first announced that she was coming along, I had assumed we would be sharing the bunk. I imagined how the nights would go, pressed against her. Part of me worried she would act on her feelings, with us being so close. Another part. . .

But it didn’t matter. Instead, Dad had dug out a tent from the garage and pitched it on the site. Eris kept her independence while staying close. 

He was figuring it out. That was good; as the months with Eris stretched on, it almost felt to me that she would never leave.

Across the table, Dad and I made accidental eye contact. His lips quirked into a smile. My mouth was filled with bologna, so I looked away.

Eris emerged, and insisted we start at once.

As the afternoon disappeared, the sun lowering to cut a slash through the tree line, I took her on my favorite trail. The path was lined with pine needles and trap rock, which thinned out the further we went. Overgrown brambles— black raspberry bushes bearing early, red fruit— scratched my bare legs above my slouching socks. 

The first time I had walked the path, I was alone. It was the height of summer, the height of noon, and my surroundings were so green they were like chlorophyll itself, uncut, unfiltered. Now it was muted, austere in its beauty, special only because it was mine. 

Deep in the woods, with grass brushing our ankles, I paused. 

“You hear that?” 

Eris nodded.

“It’s not the wind.” I grinned.

The path sloped down, and I had to dig my heels in to keep from skidding. The trees thinned out until they revealed a wall of black rock. Down its face, branching out like veins, were thin streams of white water. They spilled into a shallow green pool, the edges thick with algae, the bottom lined with rocks that surfaced in white reflective rings, like a dead giant’s spine.

“It’s not very big today,” I said, shrugging off my backpack. “We haven’t gotten much rain.”

“It’s lovely.” Eris came to a stop beside me.

“Yeah,” I said. “No one, like, ever comes here. I didn’t even know it existed ‘til I got lost one day.”

Eris gave me a look.

“Don’t tell Dad about that!” I blushed.

“Of course.”

Above us, birds were chirping from the tree cover. The breeze had stilled, and the air was lousy with humidity. Eris grabbed the rubber band at the base of her neck and shook out her bun. 

“I’m going to get closer!” I said. 

As I stretched out my arms, taking careful steps across the rocks, Eris unzipped her wide-sleeved black jacket (the back was laced like a corset). She dropped it on the dirt, which seemed a shame to me. Underneath, she was only wearing a thin white camisole.

It wasn’t that warm out. Now, with the sun below the trees, it was finally cooling. Not to mention the shade and the fine mist coming from the mighty waterfall. My arms were covered in goosebumps. Eris’s body resembled our surroundings; her collarbone was covered in a faint sheen of sweat, sparkling like the ripples in the pond. 

“Did you remember bug spray?” I said. 

Eris didn’t respond. With the angle of the sun and her hair flowing free, she looked like she’d been set on fire. Her arms faintly glowed. Her shirt was so thin, I could see the imprint of her belly-button piercing pushing out underneath. It was hard to look at, so I leapt my final step and turned my attention to the waterfall.

It was right in front of me— even when I craned my neck as far up as I could go, I couldn’t see the top. I reached a hand out to brush it with the tips of my fingers. The water was cold and clear, which was good. I was covered in sweat from the walk over, my hands scabbed and sore. The sensation over my knuckles was a balm.

“Eris! You should—” I turned fast. Underneath me, the rock flipped.

My fall hadn’t even finished before Eris was upon me, tugging on my arm like a baby doll’s and hauling me to shaky feet. In my mind’s eye, I was seeing rainbows from where I’d dinged my elbow. Eris hugged me, too tight. 

I shivered.

“Be more careful, Ophelia,” she said, voice quivering. “You’ve frightened me.” 

“I’m fine,” I said, though my teeth chattered. I was more worried about ruining her clothes— her tank was all wet, now. She must’ve been cold, too. My face, dripping spring water, was against her chest, my ear to one of her erect nipples.

“And I won’t be if I have to see you like that ever again.” Eris was petting my head. “Little dear, you don’t understand yet how pretty and frail you are in this state.”

I couldn’t pull myself away. “You don’t need to worry about me, E-Eris.”

“Of course I do! That’s what happens when you’re in love, sweetheart.” She held me tighter, taking a long deep inhale. She waited a beat too long to speak again— I could feel it in the air, where it was going to go next. The half-second wait was agonizing. “And, Ophelia, I’ve noticed that you’ve yet to tell me how you feel.”

“I-I don’t know.” My cheek was growing paradoxically cold. For some reason, I couldn’t feel her heartbeat. “I’ve never been in love. So how would I. . . ?”

“Of course. And all the better for it.” She raised both hands to my cheeks. “Would you like a taste?”

“I. . .”

Before I could finish, Eris leaned into the space between my jaw and my neck. She pulled back my hair with cold fingers and kissed me there. Her teeth brushed the bone. All was still, tangled between the waterfall and birdsong. Something left me for a moment— whatever it was that kept me upright.

My legs buckled. Eris caught my limp body, but she couldn’t stop laughing. My heart was beating so fast, it was all I could hear. I hooked my arms around her shoulders, and she lifted me. Her fingers raked underneath my shirt and up my back. I imagined it would leave a mark, and maybe it would stay forever. 

Something was happening to me, something big. Bigger than going to the mall without a parent, bigger than a school graduation, bigger than a recurring nightmare. I was about to lose something that I would never find again. 

The setting sun dried the remaining crust of algae over my eyes. Eris leaned in to take my mouth next.