Théodora Armstrong: Clear Skies, No Wind, 100% Visibility

“We hang out sometimes.”

Paul is smiling and nodding, wanting a little more. Could he actually be spying on me? Would Paul crouch in the pine tree outside my bedroom window? Can you climb a tree in Birkenstocks? I squint and he picks up his pen again and runs it along his bottom lip. “You’re friends, though?” he says.

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

“He’s barely attended any classes this year,” Paul says, flipping through attendance records. “Do you know what’s going on with him?”

“Nope.”

Paul looks out the window and catches Rana taking a long drag from her cigarette. She drops it quickly and heads for the cafeteria. “I worry about you guys,” he says, shrugging his shoulders like it doesn’t really matter whether he does or not. It’s hard to tell who he’s talking about specifically. “If you see Elgin, tell him I’d like to talk to him? Let’s make grade ten a better year, okay?” He goes over to his bookcase and fidgets with the spines of the books, pulling one out and then pushing it back in. “I gave you my cell number if you ever need to talk.”

“Sure.” I pick up my books and make a phony attempt to look like an enthusiastic student.

“I’m here for you guys.” He pats my shoulder and squeezes my arm. “Use me.” The warning bell for second block rings. As I stride out of the room, I look at Paul over my shoulder and catch him staring right at my ass.

I MAKE IT INSIDE the portable before the second bell rings, but I can feel Mrs. Sasaki watching me the whole way to my desk. She makes some kind of joke about having to put an exponential number next to my absences. It’s stupid and everyone laughs and then we learn how to graph the sine or the cosine or something like that. The portable is like a huge oven. I imagine the principal opening the door at the end of class and finding us all baked and crispy. Rana is sitting beside me gouging a big long mark down her desk with her compass. She turns to me and mouths this sucks dick and I wonder where she suddenly got such a foul mouth. She pulls her cigarettes out of her backpack, stuffing them into her pocket and raising her hand to go to the bathroom. I slump down in my chair and check my phone. Elgin’s sent me two text messages already.

When the bell rings, I’m one of the first ones out of the class and I go stand in the thick weeds behind the portable to call Elgin. I twist a long piece of grass around my finger and after the first ring he picks up. “Let’s go for a swim,” he says. I can tell by his voice he’s pacing. He hates being in the house by himself.

Mrs. Sasaki walks around the corner of the portable and I know she’s trying to catch me smoking. I turn my back to her, but she walks around in front of me to tap her watch before heading back to the classroom. The bell sounds and I peek around the portable. The parking lot is quiet and everyone is in their classes. I can hear the sound of hundreds of pencils scratching.

CARS WHOOSH ABOVE ON the overpass as Elgin pedals hard up the steep part of the trail that leads to Mosquito Creek. I’m perched on the back of his bike, one hand on his shoulder for balance. The sweat collecting on his T-shirt forms a wet band down the curve of his back and two others under his arms. He stops by a natural pool deep enough to swim in and we strip down to our underwear. The leafy trees glow pale green in the heat and the evergreens look dry enough to ignite, like one misplaced cigarette butt could send the whole forest up in flames. In the distance I can still hear the cars speeding along the highway. My gaze floats up to the big pine trees and I think about how from far away the forest looks perfect, like every tree has been chosen for its spot on the mountain, but up close it’s messier. There are rotten logs with hornets’ nests and thick, sticky spiderwebs and dried pine needles stuck to everything. Kate and I used to come here when we were younger and I wonder if she’s the one who first brought Elgin here. “I like this spot,” I say, slipping into the pool, pretending I’ve never been here before.

“My mom and I used to pick blackberries under the highway,” Elgin says, jumping into the water. “They always tasted like gasoline.”

“That’s disgusting.” I float on my back, let Elgin slip his fingers through mine and pull me around the pool. “Why’d you eat them?”

“They were there,” he says, releasing me and ducking underwater beneath my body, coming up the other side and spraying water droplets over me. “I kind of like the taste,” he says. “I’ll go pick you some.”

“No, thanks.” I close my eyes. He traces my body with his fingertips. The mushrooms we took at his house start to kick in, every sensation multiplying.

“You should stay over tonight,” he says, his lips brushing my ear underwater, sending shivers over my scalp, down my spine to my fingertips.

“I don’t think your Mom will like that.”

“Who gives a shit?”

“She doesn’t like me.” For some reason this makes me laugh, maybe it’s the mushrooms. The evergreens dip down and I stretch my arms up trying to touch them.

“What do you tell your parents?”

“That I’m at Kate’s.” The water feels like oil over my skin, colours itself pink and then back to green. “My shrooms are really working,” I say, rubbing my hands over my face, staring wide-eyed at Elgin.

“Really? I don’t feel anything. Maybe I need more.” He wades over to his pile of clothes and pulls the baggie of mushrooms out of the pocket, eating another stem. “They still think you’re friends?”

“With Kate?” I’m playing with my cheeks, hollowing them with my fingertips. “My parents don’t know anything.”

We climb out of the water and sit on a flat rock across from each other, legs crossed, knees touching, transfixed, like it’s hard to break eye contact. “If it’s any consolation,” Elgin says, “my mom hated Kate too.”

“Sure, that makes me feel better.”

“She called her a tramp.” Elgin laughs at the word. “Who says that? She assumed we were sleeping together.”

“You were.” I reach out and touch Elgin’s nose.

“Is that what Kate told you?” He kisses the tip of my finger.

“What do you mean?” I peer up into Elgin’s face.

“Hey,” he shrugs, “it’s not like I didn’t want it to happen.”

“Why are you telling me this right now?” I hop off the rock back into the water and paddle a circle in the pool. “I’m so fucking high.”

“You asked,” Elgin says, kicking water at me. “Is it a big deal?”

“She lied.” I swim up and pull Elgin back into the water, wrapping my legs around him.

“To who?” He pushes the wet hair out of my face.

“To everyone.”

“Did she?”

“Jesus,” I say. “I don’t know.”

A fat, angry horsefly circles the water, weaving between us. I swat at it, but it keeps coming back. It buzzes near my face and I throw myself under the water, my legs still wrapped around Elgin’s waist. The iciness electrifies my skull, but I try and stay under as long as I possibly can, until the air presses against the walls of my chest and I start to get dizzy. The water is a shattered mirror and I can see Elgin, a million pieces of him, swatting and splashing at the bug. He stops and the mirror fuses. I glimpse something, more of a feeling than a sight, as he stares through the water at me. His hand reaches in and pulls me to the surface, the air burning my lungs. The horsefly dives at our faces as we climb up the rocks and grab our bundles of clothes. Elgin races down the trail like there’s a cougar chasing us. I trip after him, twigs and rocks digging into the bottoms of my feet, the buzz filling my ears. We run down a hill and Elgin stops suddenly, wrestling me into his arms. He holds me close to him and covers my mouth. “What?” I say, muffled by his hand.