Rede needed to rest. That was what Mara said, anyway, and no one had argued. Everyone else had left the back room, gone to do one thing or another, and left Rede hunched against her crate, drifting in and out of dreams.

Lacey had short hair when they met. They were at a party, some stupid get-together in the park with a bunch of other fourteen-year-old idiots and several bottles of cheap booze. Rede had taken a shot and instantly regretted it — the liquid burned her chest and made her cough. She had wiped her runny eyes and gone back in for another. Within an hour, Rede had lost count of how much she’d had, which, as far as she knew, was the way this was supposed to go. There had to be a reason her dad did this so often, right? There must be some appeal? And then Rede was on her back in the grass next to a pool of vomit, staring up at a rotating sky, and someone was hunched over her, nudging her shoulder, urging her upright. She didn’t remember anything after that.

Inna entered the room at some point. The sound of the door opening and closing woke her; she watched through half-lidded eyes as her friend fussed silently over her. Inna draped a jacket over her shoulders and pat her on the arm. “We’re just figuring out some details,” he whispered — or, at least, Rede thought he did. She was already half asleep.

Someone must have brought her home, because that morning, Rede woke up on her couch. Her dad was wrong, she decided: there was no appeal to getting wasted. At least he was still asleep so he wouldn’t yell at her for smelling like booze. After she threw up, drank water, threw up the water, and then took a shower, Rede went to check her phone. While she’d been sleeping, someone had sent her a DM. She didn’t recognize the profile picture: a girl with short-cropped black hair and a smattering of freckles across her cheeks. Her most recent post showed her in front of the Willamette, hoisting an oddly shaped paddle and opening her mouth in a shout of victory. Rede almost didn’t respond. The girl’s name was Lacey — what kind of preppy bullshit name was that? — and she was a pretty, put-together-looking athlete. There was no reason for Rede to embarrass herself. But Rede’s dad was asleep and her throat hurt, and this stranger wanted to know if Rede was okay. She found herself typing out a reply.

The door opened and closed again. Thanh bustled around the room, opening boxes and examining the contents with a series of irritated sighs. “…won’t even pay us more than…for this job, it’s just…what a fucking joke…not even good food anyway…how long has this shit been in here?” Eventually, she left with an armful of goods. Rede welcomed the silence.

School started two weeks after that godawful party. Lacey and Rede texted sporadically, but it was less a matter of chemistry and more about Lacey being too nice to ghost — which made it that much more surprising when Lacey took a seat next to Rede in Algebra I and started chatting about the dumb illustrations in their textbook. She said something about outrigger canoe, whatever that was, and invited Rede to an informational meeting at lunch. Again, Rede almost refused to respond, but then she wondered: what else was she supposed to do with her time? It wasn’t like her dad would care, so long as he thought the team would be a good influence and Rede’s mom would pay for it all. So she went.

Lacey sat on top of a table, dangling her legs over the side and munching on an apple. She chewed too loud, Rede thought sourly. Also, everyone else there looked either scary or boring. Rede decided to leave as soon as possible.

Then a shy-looking girl with glasses noticed the Ham radio license in Rede’s phone wallet. She grinned and whipped out her own. Her whole face lit up when she smiled; her joy was infectious. They got to talking, and their conversation attracted the attention of a self-proclaimed sci-fi nerd in a leather jacket and Docs. Two days later, Rede found herself getting off the Line 15 bus and walking toward the waterfront for her first day of practice.

“I’m not good at this,” Rede had said. Lacey was seated behind her in Bench Three, watching her stroke and giving her pointers.

“No one’s good at this to begin with,” Lacey replied. “At least you held the paddle perpendicular to the water like you’re supposed to. When I started out, I held it horizontal, like you do in crew.”

“Why did you start if you didn’t know how to do it?” Rede didn’t bother hiding her snide tone.

“It looked fun and my mom told me that I needed to do a sport,” Lacey said, unfazed. “This one’s cheap and easy. And it’s okay if you start out awful. Not like other stuff.”

Shay entered at some point, bringing her scent of unwashed skin and river water. She hesitated before touching Rede’s head with the back of her hand, as if to check her temperature, before removing something from a box and tiptoeing out.

Getting to a race on time almost always meant two-hour car trips that started before dawn. Rede had to get used to sleeping around strangers — a habit that years of her father’s drunken guests and her mother’s sleazy corporate get-togethers had taught her to avoid like the plague. No matter how much her gut coiled, though, Rede couldn’t fight her own exhaustion. On the way back from a twelve-mile distance race during their sophomore year, Rede found herself nodding off with her head propped against Lacey’s shoulder. She woke sweating from the afternoon heat, a wisp of Lacey’s hair tickling her nose and the seatbelt cutting into her neck. Rede felt more rested than she had been after spending the previous night in her own bed. Lacey felt her shifting and pressed her cheek against Rede’s temple. Rede didn’t know she was smiling until her face started to hurt.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“We’re going to leave in a few hours.” Inna was here again, kneeling by Rede’s side. “Sundown’s later than usual today. We’ve all eaten and we’re going to be protected and all. I guess Shay’s got…some stuff? Probably dangerous stuff? I don’t know. Anyway. Be prepared, I guess?” Rede knew she should care, but she just wanted to be alone. She shooed Inna away with a lifeless wave.

The team started having movie nights which turned into impromptu alcohol tastings which turned into sleepovers. Rede had been invited to a few more parties since high school started, but it wasn’t really her scene. Even with her friends, she didn’t drink nearly as much as she had the first time — just enough to get buzzed, no more. Lacey, on the other hand, drank like a sailor. She stood on tables and sang and cried about how much she loved everyone. The team often ended up huddled together on the floor, limbs entwined like roots, letting teenage secrets pour freely from their lips. Thanh was tired of feeling like she wasn’t pretty, or that ‘pretty’ was all she had to offer. Inna didn’t think he was smart enough to make it to college. Rede hated her mother for being too distant to care about her husband’s constant drinking.

Lacey talked, too, and when she talked, people listened. Rede was no exception. She kept finding reasons to hang out alone with Lacey. Her endless ramblings washed over her like summer rain. To her surprise, Lacey didn’t seem to mind.

One afternoon, they lay on their backs on Lacey’s bed, staring up at the dusty overhead lamp. “I know it’s not a big deal,” Lacey said. “Seriously, dumb teen drama or whatever. But it’s that I like this guy, but I don’t think he likes me. And if he doesn’t like me, well.” She bit her lip. Tears had started rolling down her cheeks. “I just…God. I must be doing something wrong, you know? If he doesn’t think I’m good enough, it’s got to be my fault.”

Rede swallowed. “I know the feeling.”

“God,” Lacey repeated.

“It’s not you,” Rede said. “It’s him. He’s just an idiot who doesn’t know a good thing when he sees it.”

Lacey gave her a watery smile. “I guess.” She wiped her nose and rolled onto her belly, staring down at Rede. “It’s not like I’d even know what to do if he did like me, you know? I’d be a terrible girlfriend.”

“You’re smart,” Rede said. “You know how to make people laugh. You’d be the coolest girlfriend that stubbly-faced bitch could ask for.”

“Ah, quit it.” Lacey rolled her eyes. “I’m not all that. You’d probably be better.”

Rede snorted. “I think the fuck not.”

“Quit it,” Lacey said. “Come on, you’re way more grounded than me. Down to earth. Plus, you’re crazy smart.”

“That’s not girlfriend material,” Rede insisted. “I’m not exactly soft and cuddly. Besides, I’ve never dated anybody. I haven’t even had my first kiss yet.”

“I’ve only ever kissed someone, like, twice,” Lacey said. “I’m pretty sure I’m terrible at it.”

They looked at each other.

Lacey picked at her pillowcase. “Well, if we ever start dating people, we’re gonna need practice.”

“Yeah.” Rede’s mouth felt very dry.

“I mean…” They made eye contact. Lacey cleared her throat. “I know it’s kind of a cliche girly thing to do, but. You know. If you want to.”

“Fuck it,” Rede said. “Let’s be cliche.”

And so they were.

Lacey pulled away first. Her hair was longer now, pooling on the mattress on either side of Rede’s head, and it smelled of coconut shampoo. She took a shaky breath. “Am I doing okay?”

“No clue,” Rede said, through tingling lips. “I think we need to try again, just to be sure.”

They didn’t speak of it, but it happened again, and again, and again. Rede came over to Lacey’s house to lie lay in bed, listen to her talk, and watch the space between them diminish until there was nothing else to be done but press as close to each other as possible.

Weeks passed. Lacey asked the boy on a date; he said no; she cried on the couch while the rest of the team comforted her. They drank wine and made cookies from scratch at eleven PM, leaving the kitchen covered with flour. By the end, Lacey couldn’t stop laughing.

Later that night, after everyone else had gone home, Rede sat curled on a cushion with Lacey’s head in her lap. She combed her fingers through hair that now reached the middle of Lacey’s back.

“Is it supposed to feel like it does with you?” Lacey asked.

Rede could barely hear anything over the staccato of her pulse. She wanted to ask what Lacey was talking about, just to stall, but instead she said: “Feel like what?”

“Like…” Lacey squeezed her eyes shut. “Kind of warm, all in your chest?”

“I think it’s supposed to,” Rede said. “Kind of like alcohol, but good.” And she realized why her father liked to drink.

“Something like that, yeah.” Lacey opened her eyes. “It’s…new. For me.”

“Good new or bad new?” Rede asked.

Lacey was quiet for a long time. Finally, she said: “I don’t think I have a crush on that boy.”

Rede blinked and tried to look calm. “But you were so upset?”

“But I was so stupid,” Lacey corrected. She sat up, reached out a shaking hand to brush an eyelash off Rede’s cheek. “I think I just wanted to be normal.”

Rede caught Lacey’s hand before it could leave her face. “You’re so much better than normal.”

Lacey stared at their hand, fingers intertwined, hovering just above Rede’s mouth. She closed her eyes, climbed into Rede’s lap, and laced her arms around Rede’s neck. She tasted like tears and wine.

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” Lacey whispered.

Rede pressed their foreheads together. “You have no idea how long I’d wait for you.”

And then Rede was in Shay’s house again, surrounded by junk and stench, with Inna shaking her gently awake.